Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, "I See A Darkness"

Bonnie 'Prince' Billy
"I See A Darkness"
Palace (1999)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die + 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

It's obvious that most musicians dwelling in depressing topics draw some reverie from proclaiming their sadness. It's the the cliched concept that misery loves company. "Welcome To The Black Parade"-era My Chemical Romance exemplified this, with Gerard Way prancing around praising the wonders of gloom. Others sound so mournful when delivering good news that they gain a reputation as one of the most depressing acts in existence, despite writing cheerful numbers such as "Friday I'm In Love" (hint hint…The Cure). Will Oldham, known as Bonnie 'Prince' Billy for a few albums, walks a tighter emotional tightrope than most during "I See A Darkness."

Oldham and any performer's level of woe is most accessible in their lyrics. The title track, "Another Day Full of Dread" and "Black" are honest to their dour titles (the lattermost convinces us that Oldham does indeed suffer from bouts of depression). Not everything on this album shares the same mood however. Uncovering Oldham's true intentions is difficult because of the songwriter's mixing of different lyrical and instrumental moods.

Tracks such as "Song For The New Breed" sound so mournful, it's easy to ignore what's going on in the lyrics. The song is obviously an ode from a pregnant mother to an unborn child and the meaning can't be mistaken for anything but affection, but Oldham sounds so downtrodden. Other tracks take bleak subject matter and frame it against upbeat instrumentals. "Death To Everyone" explores the inevitability of our demise, but Oldham sounds pleased by this. The live version included on the re-release could be described as "rocking," a term not applicable to the rest of this album.

Oldham creates darkness with his instrumentals without relying on minor keys, normally the go-to source of sadness in music. Instead, he uses minimal and sparse instrumentation to create a sensation of loneliness. The instruments shuffle, but the style remains the same. Drumming tends to consist of infrequent bass notes and brushes on cymbals, guitars quietly pluck, and piano chords have extended gaps between them. Harmony vocals come from a distance during "Dread," emphasizing Oldham's loneliness, and more meta, his emptiness. It's a recording technique in line with what Paul Bley did during "Fragments"

Sad albums often scare listeners away, and minimalist albums often send listeners packing. If you can handle the sparsity of Oldham's approach, I challenge you to overcome the bleak facade of his album art and song titles. There's more than meets the eye in "I See A Darkness" on both sides of the emotional see-saw.

INTERESTING FACT: Oldham's moniker is a combination of the names of Bonnie Prince Charlie, an 18th Century British prince, and Billy The Kid. The songwriter rarely sticks with a performing title too long, saying that listeners don't expect the same product if he switches aliases. A valid perception on consumer philosophy.

Dock Boggs, "His Folkway Years, 1963-68"

Dock Boggs
"His Folkway Years, 1963-68"
Revenant (1997)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

It's tough to find music unique to the United States that didn't originate in the South. Throughout Tom Moon's book, we'll see dozens of collections compiling music from artists in two of these genres: blues and bluegrass. One is traditionally accepted as black music, the other as white music. But you can't argue the forms are far removed from each other. Both were prominent among the non-wealthy, and both called for simple instrumentation (no pricey pianos here). Dock Boggs is a bluegrass artist to be sure, but he's special in that he learned from blues artists and applied it to his craft.

As a resident in a Virginia coal mining community, playing the banjo made sense for a fellow like Boggs. He learned the instrument like most: by observation. But young Boggs snuck off to watch black blues guitarists play. He soon adapted a picking style referred to as "up-picking," rather than the traditional "clawhammer" banjo form. Boggs performs solo during every track on this album, so he needed to provide both rhythm and melody, just like the country blues performers he admired. Up-picking involved Boggs holding the "bass" notes on the top string with his thumb, and plucking the melody on the low strings with his remaining fingers.

Boggs' style of picking often results in melodies that start high and go low, whereas the opposite is true in most of today's guitar music. Check out "Mixed Blues" or "Pretty Polly," the latter of which accelerates as the song progresses. The presence of the word "blues" in so many of the song titles demonstrates the influence the genre had on Boggs. Even the less secular track, "No Disappointment in Heaven," takes a more rhythmic approach to banjo playing than is typical.

Boggs doesn't forget the bluegrass he grew up with, however. Although he waxes blues themes during tracks such as "Little Black Train," he includes bluegrass standards like "Oh, Death" in equal number. Narratives of his region's history, including "Rowan County Crew" are among the most entertaining and gripping listens. "Prayer of A Miner's Child" reminds the listener that woe and worry aren't monopolized by blues musicians.

At 50 songs, "His Folkway Years" is another long listen. The downtrodden sound of Boggs' tales is aided by the fact that the performer was in his 60s when these tracks were finally recorded (folk musician Mike Seeger went looking for Boggs during the '50s). The sounds of heavy breathing, coupled with Boggs' Appalachian drawl during "Peggy Walker," sound like a voice unchanged by sudden folk stardom.

INTERESTING FACT: Seeger recorded a series of interviews from Boggs' recording sessions that shed light on the artist's life (such as how he got the name "Dock"), and back history behind songs. Boggs recalls that early in his career he learned not to play "Rowan County Crew" in the actual Rowan County because the true story still invoked bloodshed between disputing faction more than 50 years after the song's events took place.

Peter Bellamy, "The Transports"

Peter Bellamy
"The Transports"
Topic (1977)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

There's "revival" and then there's revival. Many musicians try to push their respective genres forward by experimenting with new things, but others find more appeal in reintroducing more aged fare to new audiences. This is probably best examined in jazz, where the big band era gave way to the virtuosity of the bop movements, which gave way to the wild improvisation of free jazz, and then back into straight-laced standards thanks to Wynton Marsalis and others. English folk musician Peter Bellamy reached back further than a mere half-century however. True, his most famous work is a bit more "modern" (musical adaptations of Rudyard Kipling's work), but "The Transports" is an original folk-opera that takes the listener to England, 1786.

The good news for pop-centric listeners is that by opera, I mean a musical piece with a narrative, not a classical Cecilia Bartoli-style performance. It could just as easily be referred to as a musical or, even simpler, a concept album. The bad news for pop-centric listeners is that Bellamy handles this recording as authentically as possible, meaning eighteenth-century instrumentation, and eighteenth-century diction.

The narrative is a true story: Two criminals convicted of larceny, Henry Cabell and Susannah Holmes, fell in love in prison, had a child together and were separated via "transport." The title of the album refers to convicts who were shipped abroad to England's colonies for punitive purposes. The good news is that there's a happy ending: A benevolent nobleman, Lord Sydney, heard of the separation and arranged for the two to be reunited in Australia, where Cabell would go on to gain wealth and clout following his release from confinement.

The interaction of the two protagonists is almost an afterthought, however (Bellamy, who serves the role of the narrator, ties three years of the couple's relationship, including the birth of their child and announcement of separation, into one three-minute track, "The Ballad of Henry & Susannah, Pt. 4"). Much of the performance revolves around societal trends during the era. "Us Poor Fellows" describes the economic difficulties of the lower class, "I Once Lived in Service" speaks of the drudgery in being a hired servant, and "Roll Down" is a description of the transport system, among others.

The use of traditional instruments (such as fiddle, trumpet and cello) is commendable, but the true highlight is Bellamy's impressive dedication to authenticity in his lyrics. Not only does he truthfully portray the events, he does so in the articulatory style of his characters' era and social class. The most impressive vocal performance is from baritone Martin Winsor, who satirically laments the state of British prisons during "Norwich Gaol." Particularly amusing is his lament that convicts can no longer seek a new beginning in America, following the recent revolution.

I won't lie; this isn't a recording for most people. Its educational purpose regarding eighteenth-century folk music and cultural happenings is superb, but it doesn't carry the same zing as a Broadway musical. That being said, I would especially recommend it to dedicated fans of musicals, because it functions in very much the same style, just without the flashing lights and dance numbers.

INTERESTING FACT: Bellamy actually earned more money, if less renown, as a painter during his lifetime than as a musician. His projects were not very popular commercially, and therefore struggled to gain interest from most labels.

The Beau Brummels, "Triangle"

The Beau Brummels
"Triangle"
Warner Brothers (1967)
1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die + 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Alright, so we just finished a long slog of Beatles albums as part of Tom Moon's book. To ease us off off the '60s pop stylings of the world's biggest band, Moon introduces us to The Beau Brummels, one of the countless bands that formed as a result of The Beatles' success (other examples we've looked at: The Kinks and The Animals).

The Brummels are a vastly different animal however. Although they started simply enough, like The Beatles, they are claimed among the purveyors of the "San Francisco Style" rock scene. San Francisco was at the forefront of the American psychedelic movement and likewise psychedelic music, thanks to its beatniks and artists. Notable (and better) examples of the style are The Grateful Dead and Santana. The Brummels certainly has its moments on "Triangle," the band's most critically acclaimed work, but you should not expect anything reminiscent of the previous two groups.

Most of the album is acoustic, save for a smattering of background electric guitar, a fact that sets them apart from the expectations of a San Francisco rock band of that era. Much of the album actually has a significant bluegrass feel thanks to the finger-plucking style used on the acoustic guitar, emulating a banjo. James Burton, a legend of rockabilly guitar, is listed as a session musician in the album's credits, which is a plausible suggestion for the method but it doesn't indicate which tracks were his. Until someone tells me otherwise, credit for the approach on tracks like "Are You Happy?" and "Only Dreaming Now" among others, goes to primary guitarist Ron Elliott.

The band doesn't stick to a strict instrumental regiment. Amongst the plucked-guitars and drums lie French horns and trombones and other instruments depending on the track. The album's single "Magic Hollow" includes the accordion and the harpsichord (played by Van Dyke Parks, a contributor to Joanna Newsom and Brian Wilson for albums we've already looked at), and "Only Dreaming Now" features accordion alongside cello and violin. Both of these tracks are also among the most truly psychedelic on the album, dabbling in Tolkien-style fantasy themes and, of course, using mild echo effects on the vocals.

If anyone is scared away by the idea of an acoustic, psychedelic band after listening to The Incredible String Band earlier in the blog, don't sweat it. The Brummels lyrics are less of a trip than String Band, and nearly every song on "Triangle" is just more than two-minutes, as opposed to the epic jams favored by other psychedelic bands. But, if you're dead set (pun intended) on hearing some true San Francisco style-rock 'n' roll, don't worry. Those bands will come.

INTERESTING FACT: The real Beau Brummel was a British fashion icon during the early 19th Century. As a friend to the king, he had some clout, and he's credited with popularizing the tailored men's suit and tie, a trend which continues to this day. "Dandyism" is the British moniker for his exact style. One piece of fashion advice from him I suggest you not follow: shining your shoes with champagne.

Bruce Springsteen, "Nebraska"

Bruce Springsteen
"Nebraska"
Columbia (1982)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

If you read Bruce Springsteen's lyrics, there is little doubt as to how politically and socially motivated they are. And yet this is lost many of his listeners. The main example is his hit "Born in The U.S.A," which is far from a patriotic anthem, but has still served as such for millions, including presidential nominees. It's easy to figure out why. With a large backing group like the E Street Band, Springsteen creates "stadium rock." Stadium rock isn't necessarily a bad thing, but when you look at some of the bands responsible for it, it's easy to understand how meaning gets tossed aside. "Nebraska" doesn't leave room for doubt.

At the onset, the album was going to be another step in the direction of "Born to Run" and "The River," the stadium rock sound. Springsteen decided to take a different approach to recording however. He completed all the work at his home with a cassette recorder, relying mainly on an acoustic guitar and a harmonica when laying down the ten tracks, intending to translate the songs for his band when he was done. After rerecording them with E Street, everyone involved (except maybe the band) agreed that the original "demo" should be the official release.

The key is matching the music with the mood. "Nebraska" wasn't just a set of rock 'n' roll commentaries like "Born In The U.S.A;" this stuff is bleak. It just wouldn't work with electric guitars and saxophone solos (only one track from "Nebraska" features an electric guitar: "Open All Night," a Chuck Berry-type number that is also the only positive song on the album). The title-track opens with a telling of a true-life killing spree, "Mansion on The Hill" serves as a metaphor on the unattainability of wealth, and "Reason to Believe," closes while almost mocking the optimism of the less fortunate. Springsteen's gentle finger-plucking and Dust Bowl harmonica lend to the mood.

The best and most-telling number is "Atlantic City," an ode to the gambling town in Springsteen's home state of New Jersey, and its 1976 beginnings as a gambling capitol and the organized crime that followed. Instrumentally, it follows the same guitar/harmonica strategy employed throughout the album. The narrator is obviously in the employ of the mafia, and he knows that it could literally be short-lived. "Well everything dies baby, that's a fact," he laments to his love. "Fix your hair pretty, and meet me tonight in Atlantic City." He's come to grips with the uncertainty of life, but has passed on from pessimism to "Oh well, enjoy it while it lasts." It's a morbid outlook.

"Nebraska" seems like, but really isn't that far a cry from the Springsteen listeners are familiar with. He would jump back to the stripped-down style of the album for plenty of songs in his future, but never an entire album. I would argue that "Nebraska" represents the short folk music era of one of the world's biggest rock 'n' rollers.

INTERESTING FACT: "The chicken-man" mentioned in "Atlantic City" is Philip Testa, a leader of the Sicilian mob in Philadelphia. His murder set off the Philadelphia Mafia War, a struggle that resulted in at least 30 murders. His nickname came from his day job working in the poultry business.

Joanna Newsom, "Ys"

Joanna Newsom
"Ys"
Drag City (2006)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Joanna Newsom is the anti-single. Folk artists, indie artists, alternative artists; They can be as counter-mainstream as they want, but they all make singles. Look at MGMT and Foster the People. As alternative as rock can get, but still producing two of the biggest singles in recent years. Every aspect of Newsom's music goes against what makes a good single, but it works for her, and somehow she's still a critical darling. Her second album exemplifies three tendencies in her music that will never get her radio play.

One, her songs are nearly all epics. The five tracks on "Ys" total 56 minutes of listening, ranging from seven to 17 minutes in length. When drafting songs for an album such as this, the length serves as an end to the means. For one thing, Newsom recruited '60s alt-pop icon Van Dyke Parks to draft scores for a 29-piece orchestra. Scores for 29-piece orchestras are rarely between three to four minutes in length. The length of the tracks, and hence the length of the orchestral arrangements, are all servants to Newsom's original lyrical style however.

Newsom cannot write a hook. This might be an exaggeration, but only slightly. There are semblances of hooks in the opening two tracks, "Emily" and "Monkey & Bear," but by hook I mean a repeated stanza. And those stanzas are only repeated once. And for the former, the repeated stanza is 62 words. The longest track on the album, "Only Skin," features 1277 words, according to Microsoft Word. Newsom is verbose, and I mean that in the best of ways. Her mind is a dictionary and her diction makes it seem that she is weaving the epic tales off the top of her head, although the clever rhyme patterns suggest otherwise. 1200 words without a hook or an instrumental pause forces the listener to stick with the story, as if her phenomenal word choice doesn't.

Despite her amazing wordplay, many are turned off by Newsom's voice (which brings us to why-she-can't-make-a-single-number-three: delivery). Newsom describes her voice as "untrainable," or at least she makes it out to seem so. Despite hints of a nice soprano in "Only Skin," most of her vocals are delivered in a childlike warble. Newsom hates the description of "childlike" for her voice, but it's a sad-but-true issue. Newsom's famed instrument of choice, the harp, is also not a platinum-selling gig, but Newsom sticks with what she knows. The orchestra partially drowns out her playing on the first two tracks, but "Sawdust and Diamonds" allows her to show both her songwriting and virtuosic instrumental ability.

"Ys" is as challenging a listen as you'll find in this blog. The complex and involving tales that Newsom weaves require utmost attention from the listener. If you thought that the harp was an instrument for relaxing music, here's a wake-up call.

INTERESTING FACT: She's a indie-darling who is also a virtuoso on a classical instrument. She must date Juan Diego Flórez or something right? Actually, she currently dates Saturday Night Live actor and Lonely Island frontman Andy Samberg.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse, "Rust Never Sleeps"

Neil Young and Crazy Horse
"Rust Never Sleeps"
Reprise (1979)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Rare is the act that stays relevant years beyond its peak. There are many a classic rock band that have released one or several huge albums, but twenty or thirty years later, its releases don't get a second glance from the public. For every Tom Petty, there's a hundred Journeys. Neil Young wrestled with this idea more than most. Young first caught the public's attention during the mid-'60s with Buffalo Springfield, forged an acclaimed solo career, and had added his name to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. By 1979, he was wondering what, if anything, could come next.

Young saw the rise of punk music during the '70s, and naturally drew contradictions between the wild abandon of the genre against his own style. Young appreciated the movement, but understood that he couldn't pull it off. The band Crazy Horse offered him an outlet away from his folkie ways. It offered Young an opportunity to play "extra-amplified" rock

"Rust in Peace," the collective's best known album, was largely recorded live. The tour was a peculiar one, featuring oversized amplifiers and crew members dressed like jawas, probably the influence of Young's new friend Mark Mothersbaugh, the ever forward thinking front man of DEVO.

To his credit, Young adjusted to the times without changing what he knew. "Sedan Delivery" is a dramatic jump in pace for him, but it's not trying to be punk. "Welfare Mothers" is significantly heavier than a typical Young joint, but it isn't Zepplinesque hard rock. Young's ability to make his own name with someone else's instrument is impressive, ending up being just as influential as his acoustic approach. His rough, scratchy soloing on the electric guitar on "Powderfinger" inspired J. Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. and a whole generation of Seattle guitarists, thereby earning Young the nickname "godfather of grunge."

As much credit as Young deserves for adjusting with the times, the acoustic first-half of the album is the highlight. During live shows, Young would play an acoustic set before being joined by Crazy Horse onstage, as presented here. Young opens with what would become one of his biggest songs, "My My, Hey Hey (Out of The Blue)." "My My" (which has an electric version titled "Into The Black" closing the album) is a track on which Young considers the question of his own relevance, and whether "burning out" or "fading away" was the better option. It's a sad and haunting song, especially considering events it inspired (see Interesting Fact), and Young is the center of attention with his guitar and harmonica. It stands as the best song in Young's repertoire in my opinion, and the following track, "Thrasher," about his falling out with CSNY, uses the same formula to similar success.

Young ultimately came to the conclusion that it was better to burn out than to fade away. He didn't suggest the even-better option however: to stay relevant for 50 years. Thanks to his ability to readjust his approach to music without reinventing himself, Young has neither burnt out nor faded away, putting him in elite company among those who have lived a full life in music.

INTERESTING FACT: The song "My My, Hey Hey (Into the Blue)" gained newfound attention when Kurt Cobain quoted the line "It's better to burn out than fade away" in his suicide note. Young was shocked by the news, and took to dedicating the song to Cobain while emphasizing the line "Once you're gone, you can't come back" when he plays it live." John Lennon famously objected to the line in question during an interview, saying he would much prefer to fade away than burn out.

"My My, Hey Hey (Into The Blue)"

Joan Baez, "Joan Baez"

Joan Baez
"Joan Baez"
Vanguard (1960)
1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die + 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Remember when we looked at the Almanac Singers' album and I complained that the collection of standards presented didn't properly represent the typical socio-political tracks from the group's repertoire? The same idea is in effect for Joan Baez's self-titled debut. Baez is an artist who, although well-respected by music critics, is perhaps even more well known for her social activism. Her debut is also a collection of standards, but in her defense, these takes on the traditional songs is far more interesting than that of the Almanacs.

Moon hits the nail on the head when he describes why Baez's versions sound so fresh. She has a strong voice, a voice that might normally would sound out of place in the generally quiet genre of folk. Baez balances out her sometimes soaring highs with tremendous lows, almost whispered vocals that sell the downcast moods of tracks like "East Virginia" and "John Riley." The biggest positive to this recording is the proper balance of voice and guitar. There are no other instruments and there doesn't need to be. Baez's voice is the highlight and, accordingly, the volume of the guitar is quiet.

The good news with this collection of standards is that they're drawn from a wide background. There are the American classics of course; Baez tells female-narrated versions of "House of The Rising Sun" and (note the change in title) "Girl of Constant Sorrow." The former doesn't add up to The Animals' classic take, but Baez's feminine version is interesting (it should be noted that the song was originally written in a female voice however). There are a half-dozen standards from the United Kingdom, probably the influence of Baez's Scottish-born mother, and more interesting, the Mexican "El Preso Numero Nueve" (her father being Mexican).

Baez does manage to slip one political song into the mix. "All My Trials" was a popular spiritual (derived from the popular "Hush Little Baby" lullaby). The story of a mother about to pass after "all her trials" was adopted by activists during the '50s as a symbol of upcoming change. "Joan Baez" is a pretty good listen even without the political songs and, in all honesty, Baez's best work was "Diamonds and Rust" (a track dealing with her relationship with Bob Dylan), so the political aspect doesn't make all that much difference.

INTERESTING FACT: Joan has gotten more attention, because society cares more about musicians, but her father Albert Baez deserves some credit as well. Albert is the co-inventor of the x-ray microscope.

"East Virginia"

Richard and Linda Thompson, "I Want To See the Bright Lights Tonight"

Richard and Linda Thompson
"I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight"
Island (1974)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

An almost surefire way to draw attention to your band is to have a female lead singer. A modern example is Allison Mosshart of The Kills/The Dead Weather. Jamie Hince and Jack White respectively do most of the leg work for the two bands, but the sales wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for Mosshart’s sultry vocals. “I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight” by Richard and Linda Thompson is a similar idea. Richard’s first solo album, “Henry the Human Fly,” was critically panned. He married backup singer Linda Peters and brought her to the front, and boom, success.

Okay, no, it wasn’t that simple. The success of “Bright Lights” is based more on Richard’s better songwriting than just simply letting Linda sing. “Bright Lights” is a look at the various layers of English society, and much like all of his work to come, it isn’t optimistic.

To call some of the tracks on this album “bleak” would be a significant understatement. In “Has He Got a Friend For Me,” Linda laments “He wouldn’t notice me passing by, I could be in the gutter or dangling down from a tree.” The bitterly titled “The End of The Rainbow” features Richard’s sigh: “There’s no reason to grow up anymore.”

More enjoyable to listen to are the tracks that disguise the pessimism with upbeat instrumentation however. “We Sing Hallelujah” are the words sung during that same track as the chorus by Richard and Linda, making the listener forget about the bleak narrative in the verses. “The Little Beggar Girl” takes a sarcastic look at panhandlers in London, complemented by an buoyant accordion. The album’s title track might be a jab at the nation’s upper class youth, but otherwise is the most upbeat song on the record.

The addition of Linda is a significant advantage to Richard’s solo work, even if he did write all of the songs. Richard’s Scottish accent has its charms, but imagining the title track or “We Sing Hallelujah” without Linda’s voice seems to relegate them to being merely hip. Linda’s vocals add a level of pop sensibility to Richard’s bittersweet tales. Granted, this folk was never meant to be a best seller, but Linda’s contributions make it more feasible for a wider audience. Thompson earns his own credit for songwriting of course, but also for supplying the guitar, and traditional instruments like the mandolin and dulcimer.

This album’s influence can be heard in its successors. Celtic punk group Flogging Molly might travel at a faster pace, but much like the Thompsons they shift tempo between tracks and incorporate traditional instruments, and P.J. Harvey’s 2011 album “Let England Shake” echoes the conceptual look at English society.

INTERESTING FACT: The only difference between a silver band and a brass band is that members of the former can afford to get their instruments covered in a coat of silver. This has very little to do with this album, except for the title track.

"We Sing Hallelujah"

The Almanac Singers, "Their Complete General Recordings"

The Almanac Singers
"Their Complete General Recordings"
General (1941)
1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die

Rarely do I second guess Tom Moon, because he’s a respected music journalist and he proves his knowledge by filling “1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die” with variety. This is one of those rare times where I call him out.

The Almanac Singers was a folk group that was as historically significant in the United States as any musical group, ever. It was what would now be referred to as a “supergroup,” consisting of established artists Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger among others. The group was one of the first to openly play politics in its music, and was blatantly communist in its leanings, a rarity among American acts during any generation. Moon knows all of these facts and he writes of them in his entry for “Their Complete General Recordings.” And the aforementioned album that he chose is possibly the least politically-inspired albums in the group’s discography.

First, realize that “Complete General” does not mean every track recorded. General was the name of a label, and this 14-track album includes every song recorded under it. These sessions produced two albums: “Deep Sea Chanteys and Whaling Ballads” and “Sod Buster Ballads.” The songs are about exactly what the titles describe. Whether any were actually written by The Almanac’s members is uncertain, as the liner notes don’t attribute writers, but that suggests these are all standards. Regardless of who wrote them, none of them have a thing to do with politics.

Several of the “sod buster ballads” describe how tough it is working the plains, but such is the case. Work is tough, a truth any blue collar individual an handle. It's not a political issue. None of the tracks deal with union rights, one of the group’s favorite topics. “State of Arkansas” is a humorous bit on why the eponymous state sucks, but it doesn’t attempt to place blame for why the people are starving or why animal skins serve as currency (their words, not mine).

Looking past the disappointing lyrical content, the group is still an efficient folk band. Seeger plays the banjo well and Guthrie supplys the harmonica, and the song structure is the same as the group’s other work, with a lead vocalist (who alternated between tracks) singing the verses and the rest of the group chiming in on the refrain response.

However, the group could play Beethoven’s fifth symphony and I would still be disappointed because Moon builds you up for some uniquely radical political perspectives, and the compilation just doesn’t deliver. I’d advise looking elsewhere, such as their debut “Songs for John Doe.” It has eight less tracks than this album, but three times as much meaning.

INTERESTING FACT: The group popularized the term "hootenanny," a word ABC used as a title for its '60s folk-based music program. Ironically, Seeger was banned from the show for his leftist politics.

Ramblin' Jack Elliott, "Jack Takes The Floor"

Ramblin' Jack Elliott
"Jack Takes The Floor"
Topic (1958)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

Classic folk musicians (only classic in a sense of not being the Avett Brothers or other popular modern artists) are often attributed an almost unearthly status. Just like West African griots are respected by society for their overarching grasp of history, so to did the beat generation idolize folk artists like Woody Guthrie, Jack Elliott and Bob Dylan for their wide breadth of musical knowledge.

No album demonstrates this as well as Elliott’s “Jack Takes The Floor.” Elliott is often considered the middle generation in the family tree of folk legends, with Guthrie being his father and Dylan being his son. On this album, Elliott sings no original tracks, which wasn’t surprising for that era. What sets the record apart is that nearly every track comes with an introduction explaining the song's roots.

From each introduction, the listener can draw a road map of Elliott’s travels across the country. He sings California standards like “San Francisco Bay Blues,” Texas prison songs (“Dink’s Song”), Southern Negro (his words, not mine) tunes (“Black Baby”), and songs from right in his backyard of New York City (“Cocaine”). Jack was truly Ramblin’.

More impressive is his attempt to keep the original version present in his renditions. Elliott, a native New Yorker, put as much Texas twang as he could into tracks like “Ol’ Riley.” The tendency in those days was for white artists to put a friendly caucasian spin on the black mans’ blues (see Elvis Presley’s “Mystery Train”), but Elliott would do no such thing (see INTERESTING FACT section, however).

I must warn you that an original version of “Jack Takes The Floor” is nearly impossible to find. Topic Records later released the entire album under the title “Muleskinner,” and added two new tracks: “Old Blue” and “East Texas Talking Blues.” The latter tracks don’t detract from the original material at all, as they were probably recorded during the same session.

Give this record a shot for a primer on classic folk music. Guthrie’s influence is heavy (he even makes an appearance on “New York Town”) and Dylan cites it as one of his biggest inspirations. Along with Elliott, those are three names you can’t disagree with on the topic.

INTERESTING FACT: A “muleskinner” is someone who drove mules, a popular animal to have for tugging boats in canalled areas. More interesting is the variance in versions of this song. The track as performed by Elliott was released in 1930 by country star Jimmie Rodgers, featuring an Uncle Tom-ish black man looking for labor. In 1928 however, bluesman Tom Dickson released “Labor Blues,” a track with nearly the same lyrics but with the black man telling his white boss to stick it.

The Incredible String Band, "The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter"

The Incredible String Band
"The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter"
Elektra (1968)
1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die + 1,001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

The modern understanding of Hippie culture has been largely misdirected by tie-dye t-shirts, drug use and Woodstock. With the exception of drug use, most of our beliefs on hippies veer from the true nature of the movement: communal living and the creation of a pan-culture. The Incredible String Band is a true hippie band, unlike say, The Doors.

The band’s largest qualification is its adoption of foreign instruments. As the name might suggest, the group specialized in stringed instruments, and boy did they have a lot of them. Along with instruments from its native Scotland, “The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter” features the sitar, the oud (see my post on Dimi Mint Abba) and the gimbri, a Moroccan guitar-like instrument made from camel hide. As incredible as it might be with strings, the group didn’t limit themselves to that category. Robin Williamson is credited for 12 instruments on the album. The rule of thumb is that if it’s an “unplugged” instrument, it would work.

The band also bought heavily into the idea of communal living, an idea it promotes on the track “Mercy I Cry City.” Perhaps its psychedelic style, regardless of how truly hippie it is, earns the band the most references to the movement.

Layering was a relatively new concept when the band was at its height, and it took advantage of it. The group only consisted of three fulltime members, but the tracks on “The Hangman’s Daughter” make it seem like a dozen. Thanks to layering, the group could work large numbers of instruments into its recordings, and by interweaving them off of the beat, create a very psychedelic sound. Add the curious lyrics and overlapping vocals on tracks like “The Minotaur’s Song” and it almost feels like an aural high.

The group fell apart (critically, and soon after structurally) after “The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter,” but they had left their mark. Robert Plant often invokes the inspiration the band had on Led Zeppelin, and the evidence is in the largely unplugged, fantasy-filled “Led Zeppelin III.” The group’s methods had a deep influence on the so-called “world music” genre, and even bigger on the “new folk” movement. There’s nothing quite like them in the folk world at the moment, and it would do a folk fan well to extend a branch into this twisted tree (in my head, this sounded like a lyric the Incredible Strings might use.)

INTERESTING FACT: The DC Comics character Crazy Jane, a schizophrenic superhero, has 64 personalities, each with a separate power. “The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter” is an artist who can make her paintings come to life.