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The playlist: Americana – Alice Gerrard, Spookyland, East River Pipe and more The playlist: Americana – Alice Gerrard, Spookyland, East River Pipe and more
(35 minutes later)
Alice Gerrard – Bear Me AwayAlice Gerrard – Bear Me Away
In the 60s and 70s the bluegrass recordings Alice Gerrard and Hazel Dickens made for Folkways would prove to be hugely influential — not only were they wonderful records but, set down at a time when the genre was dominated by male musicians, they would inspire generations of female performers. In the 60s and 70s the bluegrass recordings Alice Gerrard and Hazel Dickens made for Folkways would prove to be hugely influential – not only were they wonderful records but, set down at a time when the genre was dominated by male musicians, they would inspire generations of female performers.
Gerrard is now 80 years old, yet her voice is in fine fettle — still carrying that beautiful lonesome twist so particular to mountain music. At the end of this month Tompkins Square will release Follow the Music, a collection of traditional songs and some of her own compositions, produced by the hugely talented MC Taylor of Hiss Golden Messenger (no stranger round these parts). It’s a beautiful album, showing the full range and colour of Gerrard’s voice — a smoky, deep, sour, stirring thing. Gerrard is now 80 years old, yet her voice is in fine fettle, still carrying that beautiful lonesome twist so particular to mountain music. At the end of this month Tompkins Square will release Follow the Music, a collection of traditional songs and some of her own compositions, produced by the hugely talented MC Taylor of Hiss Golden Messenger (no stranger round these parts). It’s a beautiful album, showing the full range and colour of Gerrard’s voice: a smoky, deep, sour, stirring thing.
This is the opening track — one she learned from the fiddle-player Bruce Greene and one she’s been singing for many years. There is in fact a wonderful rendition of her singing the same song a few years ago at the Blue Ridge Old Time Music Week, enlisting the audience to give her a drone of B to bed her voice against.This is the opening track — one she learned from the fiddle-player Bruce Greene and one she’s been singing for many years. There is in fact a wonderful rendition of her singing the same song a few years ago at the Blue Ridge Old Time Music Week, enlisting the audience to give her a drone of B to bed her voice against.
On this recording that drone is provided by glowering viola, the perfect weight to carry the briny quality of Gerrard’s voice, and to shoulder this tale of a home long left and a mother lost and buried. On this recording that drone is provided by glowering viola, the perfect weight to carry Gerrard’s briny tones, and to shoulder this tale of a home long left and a mother lost and buried.
Spookyland – Rock & Roll WeaklingSpookyland – Rock & Roll Weakling
There’s some really exciting Americana-tinged music coming out of Australia at the moment, and to that we should add Spookyland, who release their debut UK EP on Play It Again Sam later this autumn. The title track is a beautifully structured piece of music, with some of that burnished Southern Rock feel, as if somewhere between rambling and near-ruckus. At the heart of Spookyland is singer Marcus Gordon, with the kind of voice that is either going to leave you prickly or delighted. I’m in the latter camp, but I’m a fan of that kind of Jeff Mangum near-curdle. I also think the instrumentation here — at times vaguely reminiscent of Cave Singers — offers a lovely rich setting for a voice that sits right on the turn. There’s some really exciting Americana-tinged music coming out of Australia at the moment, and to that we should add Spookyland, who release their debut UK EP on Play It Again Sam later this autumn. The title track is a beautifully structured piece of music with some of that burnished southern rock feel, somewhere between rambling and near-ruckus. At the heart of Spookyland is singer Marcus Gordon, a man with the kind of voice that will either leave you prickly or delighted. I’m in the latter camp, but I’m a fan of that kind of Jeff Mangum near-curdle. I also think the instrumentation here – at times vaguely reminiscent of Cave Singers – offers a lovely, rich setting for a voice that sits right on the turn.
Jennifer Castle – Sailing AwayJennifer Castle – Sailing Away
This month Toronto’s Jennifer Castle released her fourth album, Pink City (her first two were recorded as Castlemusic). It’s one of this year’s beauties. The songs are dreamy, folky creations, but witty rather than winsome, graced by Owen Pallet’s strings and showcasing Castle’s stunning voice — by times dusky and jazz-toned and at others a high, winged fluttering. This month Toronto singer Jennifer Castle released her fourth album, Pink City (her first two were recorded as Castlemusic). It is one of this year’s beauties. The songs are dreamy, folky creations, but witty rather than winsome, graced by Owen Pallet’s strings and showcasing Castle’s stunning voice – at times dusky and jazz-toned and at others a high, winged fluttering.
This track is one of Pink City’s finest. While it sounds charmingly sweet it’s actually about not needing anything or anyone. I have a great love for solo female travelling songs, and this one makes an excellent companion Tift Merritt’s Travelling Alone, telling of “one of my girls” out in a cabin, another who’ll be “out on the river, she’ll be out there til her dying day”, and of the “certain kind of game you play” when you choose to isolate yourself — a game that is proud, defiant, self-sufficient and sometimes self-defeating. It’s a Littlest Hobo of a song: “I don’t need a home, don’t need a lover, no friends around me to support each other,” Castle sings. “And I’m sailing away ... I’ll be out on my own come hell or high water.” This track is one of Pink City’s finest. While it sounds charmingly sweet, it is actually about not needing anything or anyone. I have a great love for solo female travelling songs, and this one makes an excellent companion to Tift Merritt’s Travelling Alone, telling of “one of my girls” out in a cabin, another who will be “out on the river, she’ll be out there ’til her dying day”, and of the “certain kind of game you play” when you choose to isolate yourself – a game that is proud, defiant, self-sufficient and sometimes self-defeating. It’s a Littlest Hobo of a song: “I don’t need a home, don’t need a lover, no friends around me to support each other,” Castle sings. “And I’m sailing away ... I’ll be out on my own come hell or high water.”
East River Pipe – Down 42nd Street to the LightEast River Pipe – Down 42nd Street to the Light
Fifteen years ago FM Cornog — aka East River Pipe — was described by Rolling Stone as “the most gifted of the new loners” and his record, The Gasoline Age, named album of the year by the New York Times. His musical champions have included David Byrne, Lambchop and the Mountain Goats. It seems faintly peculiar that he is not more widely-feted than he is. Still, this autumn the Gasoline Age will be re-released by Merge, along with a heap of previously unreleased material heaved out of Cornog’s archive. The album was in part inspired by night drives along New Jersey’s Route 22, Cornog’s eye dwelling, as he phrases it, “on the lower rungs of the American ladder”. And so we travel to Atlantic City and meet the 14th Street Boys Stolen Car Club as well as the Shiny Shiny Pimpmobile. Like many of the tracks on this album Down 42nd Street to the Light has a forlorn quality, and a sense of spacey, electronic dreaminess, but while many of Cornog’s other tracks are characterised by a sad sort of drift this one has a sweet hopeful jangle to it; like a man walking with change in his pocket. The perfect song for a crisp autumn day. Fifteen years ago FM Cornog – aka East River Pipe – was described by Rolling Stone as “the most gifted of the new loners” and his record, The Gasoline Age, named album of the year by the New York Times. His musical champions have included David Byrne, Lambchop and the Mountain Goats. It seems faintly peculiar that he is not more widely feted than he is. Still, this autumn the Gasoline Age will be rereleased by Merge, along with a heap of previously unreleased material heaved out of Cornog’s archive. The album was in part inspired by night drives along New Jersey’s Route 22, Cornog’s eye dwelling, as he phrases it, “on the lower rungs of the American ladder”. And so we travel to Atlantic City and meet the 14th Street Boys Stolen Car Club as well as the Shiny Shiny Pimpmobile. Like many of the tracks on this album, Down 42nd Street to the Light has a forlorn quality, and a sense of spacey, electronic dreaminess, but while many of Cornog’s other tracks are characterised by a sad sort of drift this one has a sweet hopeful jangle to it; like a man walking with change in his pocket. The perfect song for a crisp autumn day.
Smoke Dawson – The MinotaurSmoke Dawson – The Minotaur
We began with bluegrass this week, so let’s end on it too. Last month brought the re-release of George ‘Smoke’ Dawson’s 1971 private press LP Fiddle a brief yet glorious burst of fiddle music. We don’t know a great deal about Dawson’s life, but the fragments that we do have seem revealing: we know, for instance, that in 1960 he was playing banjo in MacGrundy’s Old-Timey Wool-Thumpers with Peter Stampfel, though he had upped and left by the time that outfit evolved into the Holy Modal Rounders. We know, too, that for some while he lived at the folk music venue Caffe Lena, in Saratoga Springs, NY, but mostly we know about his restlessness — evident in his life as a travelling musician, playing not only fiddle but bagpipes, but also in his playing itself. There’s a wild little itch to Dawson’s music, much of it reflecting the twitching activity of life on the road — Wild Goose Chase for instance, Lark in the Morn, Cacklin Hen or Forked Deer. This track, The Minotaur, is my favourite: it’s smudgy rather than shrill as some fiddle playing can be, and seems to me to hover in a similar space as some of Arthur Russell’s cello-playing. We began with bluegrass this week, so let’s end on it too. Last month brought the rerelease of George “Smoke” Dawson’s 1971 private press LP Fiddle: a brief yet glorious burst of fiddle music. We do not know a great deal about Dawson’s life, but the fragments that we do have seem revealing. We know, for instance, that in 1960 he was playing banjo in MacGrundy’s Old-Timey Wool-Thumpers with Peter Stampfel, though he had upped and left by the time that outfit evolved into the Holy Modal Rounders. We know, too, that for some while he lived at the folk music venue Caffe Lena, in Saratoga Springs, NY, but mostly we know about his restlessness. This is evident in his life as a travelling musician, playing not only fiddle but bagpipes, and also in his the way he plays. There is a wild little itch to Dawson’s music, much of it reflecting the twitching activity of life on the road – Wild Goose Chase for instance, Lark in the Morn, Cacklin Hen or Forked Deer. This track, The Minotaur, is my favourite: it is smudgy rather than shrill, as some fiddle playing can be, and seems to me to hover in a similar space as some of Arthur Russell’s cello-playing.