Music biographies mesmerized me when I was a kid. Whether it was Glenn Miller or Elvis Presley, it was always the same fascinating formula: talent and tenacity leading to the precipice of success, with the artist always searching for that one elusive element to define his signature sound, to breakthrough. With Miller it was the addition of trombones. The proceedings always put me on the edge of my seat and the breakthroughs set me reeling. I guess it was in my blood.

It persists. Last night I watched two great documentary-style bios on TV, one on Johnny Cash, another on Willie Nelson. Willie, as many of his fans may not realize, was actually a Nashville songwriter, penning such classics as “Crazy,” which Patsy Cline etched into the music lexicon. Despite his pre-eminent status as a writer, Willie couldn’t get arrested as an artist in Music City. His quirky phrasing was way too off beat for the 60’s sound, which was infused with sweet strings and pop arrangements.

At the age of 40, Willie returned home to Texas. Such a move would have meant a life sentence selling insurance had history not intervened. As fate would have it, Woodstock Nation had opened the doors to multiple music movements by the early 70s, and Willie realized that Austin clubs were ready for a new kind of country artist. He enlisted his buddy Waylon Jennings, among others, and set about launching a novel sound to a new audience. His ultimate success turned country music, and the music establishment at large, on its head. Ultimately, he was responsible for redefining music, establishing its “outlaw” class, creating the Austin revolution and worldwide social activism that persists to this day.

Despite his huge outsider success, Nashville rejected this giant yet again. By the 1980s, you couldn’t find a Willie song on mainstream country radio, and forget about a major label deal.

Okay, let’s get right down to the hard part. Cash was just another music god to be tumbled unceremoniously from Olympus. By the 80s, he, too, was cast out like so much trash. His popularity was dwindling, and he was struggling to find an audience and make a living.

So these outlaw outcasts banded together, literally, forming the country supergroup The Highwaymen, along with Waylon and Kris Kristofferson. Talk about a Mount Rushmore of talent. They had taken fate into their own hands and, once again, set out to redefine the music scene, outside the establishment, all on their own.

A Bronx boy, I was still getting my country legs under me, when I hit Nashville in the late 80s. At the time, I couldn’t understand why the likes of Willie and Johnny weren’t getting mainstream air play, why I could eat lunch with Emmylou Harris but couldn’t hear her songs on country radio, why Nanci Griffith was considered a darling in all the clubs, to all the execs, but couldn’t get the chart toppers and eventually carped about it in interviews.

I was just getting introduced to the hard truth of the music industry: bitterness. Griffith was bitter, my friend Artie Traum (from back home in Woodstock) — one of the sweetest guys to ever grace the business — was expressing a degree of bitterness, too, in interviews of the day. I was just learning.

The songwriting trade in Nashville was rough. By year two, I was saying you had to learn to live on a diet of stones. Rejection was the blue-plate special everyday. It took me two years to get my first major song contract and more to get my first staff writing job and my first cut. Everyone who stuck with it had war stories: the song on hold that never happened, the artist cut that got dropped by the label or never got released as a single or didn’t make it above 20 on the charts. But, despite eventual successes and even industry support, I left after a decade to pursue to a career as an artist, packing scars and wisdom, love and hate.

But back to Johnny Cash. One of the greatest artists to “walk the line,” he faced the pure pain of artistry more deeply, more movingly than anyone before him. Late in his career, with the help of producer Rick Rubin, Johnny faced his inner darkness, his demons, his truth, his soul. With such albums as “American Recordings” and “Unchained,” he found a vast and vital new audience, just years before his death. His new material was so raw that family members had a tough time listening. They told him it sounded like he was saying goodbye. He told them he was.

Pure Johnny Cash

In the Cash bio, artists such as Sheryl Crow, John Mellencamp and Vince Gill expressed the true painful tumble that all artists must face. Mellencamp himself recently penned a telling if rambling article on the biz in HuffPost, a blog post that established a wellspring of conversation in the social media sector.

So, this little Bronx boy, who reeled from the Glenn Miller story and cut and broke his teeth on Music Row, finally came to understand bitterness and the role it plays in any music career. No one is exempt. It may be (excuse me) a bitter pill to swallow, but I recommend downing it to develop a good artist-immune system. Another words, one has to learn to deal with it, to embrace it, pain and all, and find a way to move on, carry it on your back, in your suitcase, in your heart, on your skin — the rose tattoo of the music artist.

Emmylou Harris exemplifies the hot Silver Fox

Meryl Streep as a Silver Fox

Anderson Cooper is the original "Silver Fox"

Move over Anderson Cooper.

According to recent conversations with “cub” aged Florida men, “Cougar hunting” is old news. The newer, more interesting breed to hunt for ultimate bragging rights among the cub pack is “The Silver Fox”.

The Silver Fox is defined by these men as any woman 40 or older who functions as a cub’s “sugar mama”. She may not be as sexual as the 30 to 40-year old Cougar who the men continually refer to as “mostly smokin’ hot”, but she is sexual enough and most importantly, an ample provider.

Why would a Jacksonville beach stud with his pick of bikini clad women want a woman 17 years and upward his senior? According to our “cub” sources, there are quite a few reasons, and not necessarily limited only to the ones listed below:

1. “Women look hotter now, longer. Some Cougars are actually still smokin’ hot at 40. Sometimes they even look hotter than the girls my age. Silver Foxes can be hot too”.

2. “Why not date someone who makes one hundred thousand dollars a year and has her own house? Hey, it’s cool… I like to hang out with a big TV.”

3. “Easy sex. They want it.”

4. “Older women aren’t as needy. Girls my age want stuff. They need me to spend money on them.”

5. “Every guy wants a sugar mama… hey, you ladies date old guys.”

6. “They work out and want someone with lots of energy.”

When asked if they or any of their friends ever considered a long term relationship with a Cougar or Silver Fox they snorted. That’s why they call it hunting, the cubs say. It’s over before it gets started.

Tell that to Ashton, I say.

I will not try to go into details about why this was a bad week, but I would rather just give you some music that is just now pulling me out of it.

The three tracks have absolutely nothing to do with each other, but are merely how iTunes shuffle chose to present them to me. And for that lack of effort on my part, I am thankful.

The first is from a band I enjoy, Passion Pit. Good fun and it puts a smile on my face.
MP3-Passion Pit- Sleepyhead

The second is from Emmylou Harris’s most exquisite album from 1995, Wrecking Ball. If you do not own it, you need to buy it. Seriously, as in right now. It is produced by Daniel Lanois and has parts by Steve Earle (a beautiful version of Goodbye, which you can listen to below:

The album also features Neil Young, Larry Mullen, Jr. and others. Brilliant. And this is my favorite track from the album.
MP3-Emmylou Harris-Goin’ Back to Harlan.

The last is another of my favorite bands, Beirut. If you haven’t heard of this band, you should have. Go and listen. My mother would not appreciate the title of this track. Mom, it is all about the music and where it takes you. Emotionally, that is. As in not to Marseilles.

2.01 Beirut – My Night with the Prostitute From Marseille

And this is what I have chosen to for the work week that just ended on 11.20.2009. This, I suppose, is what mattered to me now.

I went and saw the Dirty Projectors tonight in Williamsburg, and I went in cold. My dear Meags had asked me a while ago to buddy up under the auspices of whiskey and music, and since Meags has impeccable taste, I agreed. Not knowing what to expect, it was like: Fluffy made sirens and made them sing Trio Q-sides as if they were covering deep cuts from Remain in Light.

The show was totally amazing. It was the best band I’ve seen live in a while, and their live show was exponentially better than anything I’ve found that they could sit down and auto tune. When was the last time you felt like that?**

This video sort of serves as the anti-apotheosis of strange nomadic gowanus eau de vie, in that no matter how many hofner lutes you alpaca into the wilderness, you’d be better off seeing the Dirty Projectors live.*

I drank the Kool Aid.

*dear and seemingly pure of heart singers Amber Coffman, Angel Deradoorian and Haley Dekle have essentially perfect intonation and make “studio magic” type sounds in person… She crushes this song. No loops, little reverb. For loops: opening band Tune Yards is like Jahan Ramazani’s post-colonial nightmare version of Townsend’s porch party … in a good way.

** note: I didn’t want to dance, I wanted to watch them (specifically Angel Deradoorian’s bangs) with my hand over my heart and thank goodness that a) someone besides CSN&Y remembered three part harmonies and b) that I was alive in this strange world where some people are left handed.

*** “writing about music is like dancing about architecture”~ woodpecker

Another wonderful Guy Clark song – though I seem to recall he may have had a co-writer for this one. Anyway, as an immigrant myself, and a lucky grandson to boot, this song tugged at my heart strings. Emmylou Harris also has a stunning version of this song.

Gear used:

Ovation Elite T
Kentucky KM-675 mandolin
TC Helicon Harmony G

Walk with me for just a minute. The other day I heard Willie Nelson and Family were playing a show at the famed Ryman Auditorium in downtown Nashville. It was too late for tickets as the show was sold out, like almost all are these days.

I read one time that when Willie started playing with Ray Price in the mid 60’s, that the first run was a string of 99 one nighters. Can you imagine? Nobody does that anymore.  Before all of that, Willie had been in constant motion. Born in Texas but living many places while searching for his dreams to materialize. Landing in Nashville in the 60’s and becoming a pretty powerful songwriter, “Crazy” by Patsy Cline and “Funny How Time Slips Away”, just to name a couple. It wasn’t until his house burned down that he went back to Texas. He just wanted to play music and the crowds there were and are more open to music that doesn’t fit in the box. Thank God for that.

So anyway, back to the road. Willie is 76 and still on the road over 200 days a year ! When you look at the itinerary , there are still a lot of one nighters. It amazes me the energy it must take. It became a way of life long ago for him as well as his traveling family. I think he just loves to play and works off of the energy of the crowds. The idea of Willie conjures many impressions from people. His voice is an acquired thing and if you are looking for the perfect voice it’s not for you. But if you are looking for a storyteller, a voice that has heart and is totally unique, then give him a chance. In the current state of Country Music, and entertainment in general where you can’t tell one artist from another, his striking individuality is always refreshing. Some people look down on him due to his open use of weed. They say weed lessens someone’s drive, not Willie’s !

This writer has been enjoying Willie’s music since about 1978. It took me a little while, but I did get it and his voice now to me is like an old friend. It’s warm and reassuring. I like Emmylou Harris’ comment “That if America only had one voice it would be Willie’s”. I think he is more comfortable in his skin than most any other entertainer. Beyond a star, superstar, Willie is an honest American icon. His picking ain’t perfect, his look is worn, and his heart has suffered. Kind of like life itself, right ?

You don’t have to go out and buy his records or go to his shows, but a little light on someone who is marching to the drum God gave him, might allow your heart to just say “Ole Willie’s alright with me”. So I wish him well out there on the Worlds highways and biways, bringing his music, his heart and his love. Always giving ! Thanks Willie

I have spent now 5 years as a Single Mama. I have a child who is not insane. I am not bankrupt. I have not traded Mr. Wrong for a slew of sugar daddies, dimwits or thugs. And, despite the spam of “Meet Men Now” that clouds my life – despite the scramble here and scramble there, juggle this and juggle that – I am happy.

But I have not seen so many happy stories. I have seen the ugly, the bad, the wrecked, the inscrutable, the sad and the just plain horrific. Being happy as a Single Mama does not fit the stereotypes of Single Mamadom in a patriarchal society. So there isn’t much information out there supporting the reality of Happy Single Mamas. Or how to BE a Happy Single Mama.

It seems that I need to delineate, exactly, how to BE a Single Mama. Or at least how I do it. I can’t guarantee happiness. Results may vary.

But I can – at least – advise avoiding a few traps that may leave you broken, bruised, or confused.

Stop waiting for Prince Charming. Amy Tan wrote that there are the types of turtles who feed on swallowing people’s tears. If someone gets a rush from playing the role of riding up on a white horse and saving you from the weight of your life – be wary. Be very, very wary. Or rather, be very, very afraid. Or rather, lets just break it down like this: JUST SAY NO.

Skip the event, eat the ice cream. Don’t over-analyze. Do nap. Let a beautician wash your hair. Let a masseuse rub your back. Drive through the full service lane at the gas station. Get a pedicure. Even if you are vegan – at least get an unsweetened iced tea at the drive through window. Outsource. Don’t think. Breathe. If you have to hang your head between your knees, remember to breathe.

Get your finances in order. Read Beth Kobliner. Read Ariel Gore – especially the Hip Mama Survival Guide. Use what is available to you. Work it out. Use every any governmental assistance you qualify for – and then work. Work, work, work.

Talk to Big Brother. Institutions are created to serve the public. They don’t make you institutionalized – unless your head is a sponge and your spine is a feather boa. Whatever you may think of the government, big government, this organization, that organization – you can be in this world without being of this world. Public resources are there for a reason. Welfare. Consumer Credit Counseling. You are a part of the public. You need resources. Go for it. Two more words: YWCA. YMCA. (OK those were acronyms, not words. I know.)

Dating: Not a requirement. Fun idea. If only because you are entitled to do it. But you are also entitled to buy every widget in Walmart that you can. You are also entitled to eat pig skin until you vomit. Entitlement is a tricky thing.

You are entitled to date. You are not required to date.
That should be a relief. A relief indeed.

Your child or children have one childhood. Just one. And you are providing it. Weigh wisely. Home Alone is a bad movie. It’s not an option. Please don’t get your options from movies or TV. Thank you.

Surround yourself with people who respect your time and your responsibilities as a mother. If someone disrespects you once – Gone! You simply cannot make time for someone who does not respect your time, your responsibilities, your family or your priorities. You cannot let anyone waste your time. You have precious little time to begin with. And it’s all already allocated . Remember this rule: One Loser per Lifetime is the Limit.

Popcorn and pancakes for dinner and pyjamas all day on Saturday is not just all right. It’s your right. The 4 basic food groups should go into your little person or little people every day. But no-one ever said you have to sit up at the table and use the right fork.
Fork that.

Find an anthem. Or two. Or twelve. “Like Babygirl, I ain’t got a motor boat but I can float your boat. We can live without the punks just you and me.”

Don’t Worry. Be Happy.

Remember nothing but happiness. Mathilde Urrutia, the last wife of Pablo Neruda was raised by a poor widow in Southern Chile. Her mother ran a rooming house, grew food in her garden and sewed her dresses from flour sacks. How does Mathilde remember her childhood?
I remember nothing but happiness, she writes.

You don’t need a partner to be miserable, but sometimes it helps. Think: Stepford wives. Talk to me.

Un-single-ifying? There will be time for that.

Single Mama does not equal SaveMeMama. It means that I divided by choice and that’s the state I chose: HELLO! MatchDotCom and FindSinglesInYourArea and BlindDates and GeekswithMoney? OhHellNo.

Empower yourself. Carpentry. Hammers. Mechanics. Logistics. Pragmatics. Locks and Doors. Popcorn and Pancakes and Music on Saturdays. Nothing more. Life is good. Can you hear me now?

Laura Hartmark is a writer and is glad you took the time to read this blog.

What happens when you mix Dire Straits and one of the most soulful country singers in recent history? You get this (the album is called All the Roadrunning and has a bunch of amazing tracks on it. This is merely one.):

Tyckte det var på sin plats att dagen till ära bjuda på liten hyllning till alla pappor ackompanjerad av country musik. Country är i mångt och mycket en hyllning av familjen, ursprunget och kärleken till det som är äkta. Möjligen vinner “mom” över “dad” i antal hyllningslåtar i genren, men det råder ingen brist på män med gitarr som uttrycker sin kärlek till sin far till tonerna av några typiska countryackord.

Så har ni inget köpt, ladda ner listan, maila hem den till far (som väl har Spotify?), skicka med en stor kram och låt Emmylou Harris, Alan Jackson, George Strait, Guy Clark, Loretta Lynn och alla de andra göra jobbet.

Listan hittar du här.

Wenn jemand wie Nanci Griffith ein neues Album vorlegt, hält die Country/Folk Szene US-Amerikas zunächst mal kurz den Atem an; schließlich handelt es sich bei Mrs. Griffith nicht um irgend jemanden, sondern um eine der Ikonen des US-Folks schlechthin – sowohl als Songwriterin als auch als Interpretin.

Im Laufe ihrer Karriere hat sie sich nicht nur als brilliante Texterin und wunderbare Musikerin einen Namen gemacht, sie hat sich auch ihre Lorbeeren als Sängerin und Interpretin von Fremdmaterial verdient. Und so ist es nicht verwunderlich, dass sie sich nach vielen Jahren Bühnen- und Studioarbeit die Zeit nimmt, ein ganz persönliches Potpourri von Songs zusammenzustellen – Songs von Weggefährten, von Wegweisern und Freunden. Mit einer erstaunlichen Auswahl an Songs und einer noch erstaunlicheren Auswahl an Gastmusikern beglücken Griffith und ihr Produzent Jim Rooney uns auf dem Album “Other Voices | Other Rooms” (nicht umsonst nach Truman Capotes erstem Roman benannt).

Als Musiker hören wir: Nanci Griffith (Gitarren, Vocals, String Arrangements), Lee Satterfield (Gitarren, Vocals), Emmylou Harris (Vocals), Pete Kennedy (div. Gitarren), Fran Breen (Percussion, Drums), Pat McInerney (Percussion, Dinner Bell), James Hooker (Piano, Keyboards, B-3, Barrel House Piano, Vocals), Stuart Duncan (Mandolin, Violin), Frank Christian (Gitarre), Edgar Meyer (Bass Strings), Alison Krauss (Violin), John Catchings (Cello), Andrea Zonn (Viola), Arlo Guthrie (Vocals), Bob Dylan (Harmonica), John Prine (Vocals), Philip Donnelly (Gitarren), Pete Cummins (Vocals), Carolyn Hester (Vocals), Guy Clark (Gitarre, Vocals), Pat Flynn (Gitarre), Roy Huskey Jr (Upright Bass), Bela Fleck (Banjo), Iris DeMent (Vocals), Don Edwards (Jodler), Chet Atkins (Gitarren), Leo Kottke (12-Seiten Gitarre), Mary Ann Kennedy (Percussion), John Hartford (Banjo, Tap Dance), Chor auf “Wimoweh”: Roy Huskey Jr, John Hartford, Odetta, Nanci Griffith, The Indigo Girls, Kennedy-Rose, John Prine, James Hooker, Holly und Barry Tashian, John Gorka, Dave Mallett, Marlin Griffith, Jim Rooney.

Als nächstes möchte ich aus den weisen Worten zitieren, die Nanci für das Booklet zu diesem wunderbaren Album geschrieben hat:

This recording project has been the dream of a lifetime come true for me both as an artist and songwriter. No other producer could have lent the knowledge and the compassion to this music with the patience and dedication Jim Rooney has put into this body of work. Nor do I feel we could have found two engineers, Mark Miller in Nashville and Brian Masterson in Dublin, who had better ears for acoustic instruments and instinctively knew that the secret of capturing Folk Music, if indeed it can be captured, is to let it roll and keep your hands off the wheel.

Nanci schreibt in diesem wunderbaren Vorwort zum Album, wie sie zu dieser Auswahl an Songs gekommen ist, und welche Künster sie noch gerne für dieses Projekt gewonnen hätte, deren enge Zeitpläne es aber nicht zuließen. Und eingedenk der Tatsache, dass das erste Stück des Albums eine wundervolle Aufnahme von Kate Wolfs “Across the Great Divide” ist, verwundern diese Zeilen Griffiths nicht: In Memory of Kate Wolf, Malvina Reynolds and Bob Claypool … please save me and Emmy a seat at the bar.

Song 1: Kate Wolf – Across the Great Divide

Eine Verbeugung vor einer anderen großen und völlig zu Unrecht vergessenen Dame des US-Folks, Kate Wolf. Nanci hat schon früher verschiedene Versionen dieses Songs aufgenommen, doch auf diesem Album legt sie ihre beste vor. Einfühlsam, schlicht und atemberaubend ruhig erzählt sie die Geschichte, die Wolf verfasste. Stuart Duncan steuert wunderbare Mandolinen-Einlagen zu den ohnehin über jeden Zweifel erhabenen Gitarren von Nanci und Lee Satterfield bei, dazu Pete Kennedys Lead Guitar. Kate Wolfs Song ist ein Paradebeispiel klassischen Folk-Songwritings, und Griffiths Interpretation mehr und etwas anderes als das “Ausschlachten” einer Cash-Cow, sondern eine zutiefst ehrfürchtige Verbeugung vor dem Vorbild, ehrlich und solide. (5/5)

Song 2: Vince Bell – Woman of the Phoenix

Zu diesem Stück steuert Nanci ein geschmackvolles aber nicht übertriebenes Streicher-Arrangement bei, gespielt von Edgar Meyer, Alison Krauss, John Catchings und Andrea Zonn. Und es scheint mir schon sehr interessant zu sein, wenn Alison Krauss sich für ein einziges Stück auf einem Album ins Studio begibt, um eine “Nebenrolle” zu spielen, was wieder zeigt, welchen Einfluss und Bedeutung Nanci Griffith hatte, und zweifellos auch heute noch hat. Ansonsten gibt es an diesem Song weder etwas besonders auszusetzen, noch zu bemerken. Wie das gesamte Album ruhig, schlicht und unaufgeregt produziert, eher zurückhaltend instrumentiert – was auch nicht verwundert, liegt doch Nanci Griffiths Interesse bei allen Songs auf diesem Album nicht in der Musik in erster Linie, sondern vor allem in den Geschichten, die die Songs erzählen. (4/5)

Song 3: Townes Van Zandt – Tecumseh Valley

Bei einer Erinnerungen-Kollektion darf natürlich eine Verbeugung vor Townes van Zandt nicht fehlen. Und wie immer schafft Griffith es, einem Song, den schon jeder kennt (oder zumindest kennen sollte), ihren ureigensten Stempel aufzudrücken, ohne ihn zu vergewaltigen – ein Balanceakt, der in unserer Zeit angesichts Casting-Bands und Cover-Bands en Masse schon fast unmöglich geworden ist. Nanci und Arlo Guthrie erzählen die Geschichte von Caroline, der Tochter des Minenarbeiters derart eindringlich und fast schon gespenstisch gut, dass man meinen möchte, das Lied hätte sich immer schon so angehört wie hier. Weniger ihr Verdienst als der von van Zandt ist der geniale Einfall, die erste Strophe zum Schluss zu wiederholen, was der Geschichte eine emotionale Dimension verleiht, die man sonst kaum wo findet. (5/5)

Song 4: Frank Christian – Three Flights Up

Christian ließ es sich nicht nehmen, für dieses Album auf mehreren Songs in seine Saiten zu picken, und auch hier übernimmt er in seinem eigenen Song die Lead Gitarre – was herrlich klappt. James Hooker greift diesmal nicht in die Tasten des Pianos sondern in die des Keyboards, und verpasst dem Song einen zusätzlichen Akkordeon-Sound. Erstaunlich gelungen ist die Verbindung von Percussion und Gitarren in diesem Stück. Wer allerdings hier Bass spielt, ist fraglich, denn in den Credits steht nichts davon (vielleicht hat James Hooker diesen auf seinen Tasten nachgereicht). Erfrischend, herzig und wie immer einfach gelungen. (5/5)

Song 5: Bob Dylan – Boots of Spanish Leather

Ausnahmsweise überlässt Nanci die Gitarre Frank Christian und Pete Kennedy alleine und beschränkt sich hier aufs Singen. Ob Bob sich gedacht hätte, dass sein Song auch so klingen kann? Was er sich natürlich auch von Sophie B. Hawkins Interpretation von “I Want You” hätte denken können. Immerhin hat er Zeit gefunden, schnell mal ins Studio zu kommen, um den Mundharmonika-Part beizusteuern. Es ist schon faszinierend, wenn man Hawkins “I want you” mit dem Original vergleicht: es klingt zwar völlig anders, aber selbst bei Hawkins hört man einfach, dass es ein Bob Dylan Song ist. Nanci Griffith bringt es aber fertig, ihn so klingen zu lassen, als hätte sie oder Patrick Alger ihn geschrieben. Nur ihre gesangliche Interpretation verrät noch, dass hier ein Bob Dylan dahintersteckt. Und auch das ist eine Kunst. (4/5)

Song 6: John Prine – Speed of the Sound of Loneliness

Na hier hat James Hooker es aber etwas mit seinen Keys übertrieben. Etwas weniger Synth-Sound wäre besser gewesen. Vermutlich ist dies der schlechteste Song des Albums, falls man bei diesem Album überhaupt von gut oder schlecht sprechen kann. Schließlich versteht sich dieses Album durchaus auch als Konzeptalbum, bei dem Jim Rooney seine Produktionsmethoden eisern durchzieht. Was grundsätzlich nichts schlechtes ist, verleiht es dem Album als ganzem doch genau den Charme und die Ehrlichkeit, die Nanci Griffith hören wollte. (3/5)

Song 7: Ralph McTell – From Clare to Here

Es war eine weise Entscheidung, nicht McTells Standard-Hit “Streets of London” einzuspielen, sondern diese besonders traurige Ballade, deren Aufnahme hier eine echte Meisterleistung ist, sowohl gesanglich als auch musikalisch. James Hooker unterlegt auf den Keys das Ganze diesmal sehr gelungen mit Bläsern, Pete Kennedy steuert ein paar “Diamonds” bei und das ganze ergibt dann ein Gesamtbild, wie es besser hätte nicht sein können. Langsam sich aufbauend als Ballade mit einem Höhepunkt zur Bridge, melancholisch, traurig-schaurig-schön, ein Song für einsame Abende am Kamin. (5/5)

Song 8: Tom Paxton – Can’t Help But Wonder Where I’m Bound

Nach dem “Tränendrüsendrücker” (aber im Besten Wortsinn) brauchen wir etwas Aufheiterung, und auch Griffith weiß das, und bringt uns nun ein Ständchen von Tom Paxton, Country im ursprünglichsten Sinne vielleicht, nicht ganz stilecht interpretiert natürlich, etwas modernisiert, aber nicht moder-isiert. (4/5)

Song 9: Woody Guthrie – Do Re Mi

Seltsamerweise singt Arlo Guthrie bei diesem Stück nicht mit, warum auch immer. Dafür singt Guy Clark mit ihr. Nanci präsentiert sich und ihre Gitarre aber in gut gelaunter fast-Bestform, und bringt den augenzwinkernden Text perfekt und beschwingt “rüber”. Besonders erwähnenswert sind natürlich die Ragtime-Gitarrensolos zwischen den Strophen. (4/5)

Song 10: Janis Ian & Jon Vezner – This Old Town

Wieder ein Beispiel für die faszinierende Auswahl an Songs, die Nanci getroffen hat. Im stilistischen Gewand eines Country-Standards ein Text, der so politisch ist, dass er heute genauso wichtig erscheint, wie er 1929 gewesen wäre. Man fühlt sich gleich an Griffiths “It’s a hard life wherever you go” erinnert. Da ist die Tatsache, dass Bela Fleck sich für den Banjo-Part eingefunden hat, schon fast eine Nebensächlichkeit. (5/5)

Song 11: Buddy Mondlock – Comin’ down in the Rain

An diesem Song erkennt man vielleicht, wie Griffith die Songs für das Album ausgewählt hat, liest man sich den Text erst durch. Das Faible für schwermütige Texte ist aber nur ein scheinbares, denn dem aufmerksamen Leser wird nicht entgehen, dass die bisherigen Songs – trotz der oft überbordenden Melancholie – einer gewissen “Closure” nicht entbehren, einem “Aufmunterungs-Faktor”, der sich subtil ins Album eingeschlichen hat. Stuart Duncan tut wieder das, was er kann: die Mandoline zupfen, und James Hooker hält sich diesmal auch mit der B-3 zurück. (4/5)

Song 12: Gordon Lightfoot – Ten degrees and getting colder

Dass Griffith nicht nur ihren us-amerikanischen Kollegen Respekt zollt, versteht sich von selbst, und so ist es nicht verwunderlich, einen Lightfoot Song anzutreffen – glücklicherweise nicht “If you could read my mind”. Vocaliter begleitet von Iris DeMent schwingt sich Nanci durch den dankbaren Text. (4/5)

Song 13: Jerry Jeff Walker – Morning Song for Sally

Wunderschön gesungen und gespielt gelingt es Griffith und Rooney, die Stimmung des Textes perfekt musikalisch umzusetzen. Wie überall auf diesem Album ist das Zauberwort “Zurückhaltung” und nicht “da noch eine Gitarre, und dort mehr Percussion, und da noch ein paar Bläser …”. Die Beschränkung auf das Wesentliche macht einen großen Teil des Charmes des Albums aus, und in diesem Stück gelingen den Musikern (vor allem wieder Stuart Duncan und Frank Christian) die “Kleinigkeiten am Wegesrand” besonders gut. (5/5)

Song 14: Michael Burton – Night Rider’s Lament

Schon recht konventionell kommt dieses Stück daher, gemächlich und traditionell, sogar mit Gejodel. Ob das aber eine gute Entscheidung war, mag ich bezweifeln. So recht mag das ganze Stück nicht auf das Album passen. Aber ich bin sicher, Nanci wird sich schon etwas dabei gedacht haben. (3/5)

Song 15: G. P. Cook, Ralph Roland – Are You Tired Of Me Darling

Es ist schon verdächtig, wie ich mit jedem Song auf diesem Album weniger darüber zu sagen habe. Woran liegt das? Dass sich alles wiederholt, weil es schon im vorigen Song zu hören war. Ja, eindeutig. Erstaunlicherweise aber ist das bei einem Album wie diesen geradezu ein Geschenk, dass sich die Songs stilistisch so ähneln – es ist, als hätte man 17 Sonnenblumen nebeneinander hängen, allesamt beeindruckend – und doch so ähnlich. (5/5)

Song 16: Malvina Reynolds, Harry Belafonte, Allen Green – Turn Around

Malvina Reynolds kam erst kürzlich wieder – ohne dass es die meisten überhaupt wissen – in die Ohren vieler junger Fernsehzuseher, und zwar durch das Titellied “Little Boxes” der Serie “Weeds”. Griffith jedoch interpretiert hier eine Art amerikanisches Nationalheiligtum, Turn Around.

Song 17: Wimoweh

Als augenzwinkernden Abschluss präsentiert sich Wimoweh, jenes South African Tradidional, das schon in “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” verge … äh benutzt wurde. Doch so beschwingt wie hier und so geradezu amüsant wurde das Stück in der bekannten Bearbeitung von Paul Campbell wohl selten interpretiert. Neben Griffith und Rooney haben sich unter anderem die Indigo Girls, Kennedy-Rose, John Prine und John Gorka eingefunden, um im Chor zu singen. Als Abschluss für ein rundherum gelungenes Album perfekt. (5/5)

Fazit:

Es fiel mir ziemlich schwer, diese Rezension zu schreiben. Selten habe ich über die einzelnen Stücke eines Album so wenig zu sagen, wie hier. Das liegt an der Konzeption des Albums. Natürlich könnte ich über die Entstehungsgeschichte der jeweiligen Songs nachforschen, oder deren Texte analysieren, um Licht auf die Beweggründe zu werfen, nach denen Nanci Griffith hier ausgewählt hat, aber dann würde diese Rezension eher in eine Dissertation ausarten. Vielmehr als “rundherum gelungen” kann man aber über das Album nicht sagen. Es klingt technisch hervorragend, es ist herzergreifend, es ist bewegend, bei Zeiten komisch, und in jedem Falle jedem ans Herz gelegt, der ein solches hat. Ideal für alle Kaminfeuerabende, für Unterwegs im Kopfhörer, fürs Ausspannen, fürs Zuhören. Nancis Stimme zeigt sich von ihrer lieblichsten Seite, und die Musiker sind allesamt hervorragend. Die einfache, ehrliche aber wunderschöne Produktion von Jim Rooney, gespickt mit “Diamonds” der Musiker, die Kleinigkeiten, die man zwischen den Strophen hört, machen das Album zu einem echten Genuss. Nanci hat das ganz richtig gemacht, in jeder Hinsicht.

5 von 5 Sternen für das Gesamtkunstwerk.

Rob’s comments took me back more than 30 years to Dundas Street Dunedin where the girlfriend of one my flatmates introduced me to Emmylou Harris.

I still have an LP on which she sings this song. (That’s a long playing record for anyone who doesn’t know there was something before CDs).

In response to comments from Andrei and Paul on the previous post, Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris:

Gram Parsons är min husgud. Han kommer således att få sin beskärda del, förmodligen mer än så, av uppmärksamheten på den här bloggen över tid.

Gram levde ett intensivt, men alldeles för kort liv innan han 1973 dog han av en överdos i Joshua Tree, Kalifornien. Gram skapade musik med ett sound som blev något av en brygga mellan country och rock. Även om det  möjligen var med en försiktig, men fullkomligt magisk version “Love hurts” i duett med Emmylou Harris som han röjde störst framgångar.

Jag hade inte tänkt fördjupa mig i Gram genom detta inlägg, utan endast ge en första introduktion för er som inte är bekanta med honom redan. Och det med en låt som passar bra idag, novembers första kväll.

Kan du inte hålla dig till nästa inlägg om Gram, som presenterar honom betydligt mer grundligt, går det självklart alldeles bra att upptäcka hans musik helt på egen hand. Detta gör du allra bäst med dubbelalbumet “GP/Grievous Angel” från 1973. Du hittar dem som två separata skivor på Spotify via nedan länkar:

GP
Grievous Angel

Här är “November Nights” med Gram Parsons:

As it has probably been stated before around here, I’m a little weird when it comes to female musicians. For whatever reason, there are very few of them I like, even fewer that I respect, and almost none that I admire. In particular, other than pop and all the other genres, I tend to despise Country female vocalists.

So let’s talk today about a female vocalist I not only really like, but also respect and quite admire:

Mind you, at first I’m sure my admiration for Emmylou Harris, the 62 year old rightful queen of Country, reaches back to when my Dad used to listen to the cassette tapes of hers that he had while learning her songs.

“I’ve always had a crush on Emmylou” my dad admits, “in fact your mother and I have an agreement that I can date her if I get the chance.”

Sure enough, looking at her from back in the day, I can agree, heck even now she’s a gorgeous lady. Still, what struck me about her wasn’t so much her looks or my dad’s pre-nuptual agreements, but her actual music. Emmylou’s the quintessential female vocalist when it comes to Folk/Country, she’s got this voice that’s just crystal clear, and her sense of melody is never to be denied, she can glide across these majestic tunes with an effortless grace; also, and this is most important, she has no Country twang.

Yeah, it’s in fact the non-Country-ness of her voice that makes her appeal so much to me. Female vocalists in Country music tend to go for this overly brash, tequila-soaked dirty cowgirl twang (I’d blame Reba McEntire for this but there are so many others), and it’s disgusting. I mean, Southern accents are bad enough, but having to effect them, and not even that well? Go to Hell, Sugarland, and please stay there this time.

No, Emmylou’s voice is that of an angel, if indeed I’m right in believing that angels are created by God specifically to sing His praises. That voice is featured quite heavily on All I Intended To Be, if you can believe that.

The album is Emmylou’s newest, and easily the best Country album of last year (ok, so more like the only Country album I heard last year, so what). It follows hot on the trail of about a million other things she’s been doing lately; apparently the girl is in high demand as a vocalist (surprise) and seems to spend more time helping her friends than herself, which I can support. The album is rather long, with 13 full-sized tracks, each one either slow or mid-tempo and extremely relaxing. Most of the tracks feature acoustic instruments, but ‘lectric guitars find their ways in there sometimes, but like Emmylou’s voice, the instrumentation is absolutely void of any kind of twang or other cheeseball antics that appeared in every other Country album of late.

The actual songs are a mix of Emmylou’s masterful songwriting and some… unusual covers. Well, not all of the covers are unusual, in fact a particular favorite of mine is “Moon Song” by Austin, Texas’ own Patti Griffin (not sure if she’s really from there, but they love claiming her). The song tells it from the perspective of a poor girl who has been left alone by her love, and the song never states why (my theory is that the person has died and this is more of a “denial” kind of song), and the moon keeps showing up to follow her home:

Waited for you till the snow fell down
Over my skin like a thin nightgown
Waited for you but you never came around at all
Waited for you till they pulled the plug
Bartender emptied out his big tip jug
They swept all the floors
Vacuumed the rugs and went home
Drank all I could swallow
Now the moon’s gonna follow me home

There is a lot of drinking in this song, which figures, if indeed it was written by someone from Austin. Either way, that is a nice cover, and another nice cover is a tune you can usually hear at Starbucks (at least I’ve caught a note of it from time to time), called “Hold On”. The song was written by a songwriter gal called Jude Johnstone, and in my constant need to tie every artist back to The Man In Black, I will mention that she also wrote “Unchained” which he popularized. Anyway, “Hold On” is a decent song, lyrically (it does rhyme “desire” and “fire” which is a cardinal sin of songwriting unless you’re, well, you know who), but the melody is probably the catchiest thing on the album. The way Emmylou commands that chorus of only two words is mesmerizing, and unlike most other Country songs, you actually want this one to repeat the requisite 240 times before the song’s end.

The unusual cover in this album is something called “Broken Man’s Lament”, which is a tune written by Mark Geronimo, who is a rather obscure poet/singer-songwriter/trucker from North Carolina. That’s right, a trucker poet wrote this song, and it kind of shows:

I was once a broken man
I was once a broken fool
Lost my wife and children
To one basic broken rule
Now I live my life in silence
Though I’m not quite in a shell
I drink and listen to that song
A whiter shade of pale
Oh, a whiter shade of pale

See then the song traces his journey, in ballad form, through getting married, being a shade tree mechanic, having his wife leave him a “Dear John” letter, and all that…. wait a minute! Yeah, Emmylou’s singing a ballad from the viewpoint of a man. I… kind of can’t figure this out. I mean, at first I thought that she wrote it, because she’s pretty dang good at writing songs (see “How She Could Sing the Wildwood Flower” for an amazing song about The Carter Family’s beginnings), but I was wrong. This is a song written by a man, about a man, sung by one of the most feminine voices in female singing. I still don’t understand it, other than that it actually is a really good song, maybe she decided to sing it just so confused folk like me could be having this discussion about it. I don’t know.

Either way, this album is excessively brilliant, though regular yee-haw Country fans, damnable creatures they are, will probably find it a bit on the “where are the jokey songs or the God Bless America songs” side of folk. Still, those of us who appreciate music made by amazing musicians and whose ears appreciate a silver-haired woman with a golden voice, this album is a must-have and comes with my highest recommendation.

Wait, that almost sounded like a review. Where’s my paycheck?

Back in June I had a few specific posts which got mothballed due to time constraints around the sad passing of Gordon Lennon, over the next couple of weeks I am going to address them thus if the dates or timings seem strange you now know the reason.

First up is the great Nanci Griffith who released a new album The Loving Kind back in June, now I am no fan of Country music in its real sense, however, it has generated many a great singer/songwriter who has crossed over into more mainstream genres.

Here is the title track from the above album, it tells the tale of the Richard and Mildrid Loving who due to their mixed marriage of white man and black woman were forced out of Virginia due to the real possibility of arrest under the state’s Jim Crow Laws.

“The Loving Kind” – Nanci Griffith

The 1967 landmark civil rights case – Loving v. Virginia – ended the ban on inter racial marriage.

Nanci Caroline Griffith, (born July 6, 1953 in Seguin, Texas) is an American singer, guitarist and songwriter from Austin, Texas.

Griffith’s career has spanned a variety of musical genres, predominantly country, Folk, and what she terms “folkabilly.” Griffith won a Grammy Award for Best Contemporary Folk Album in 1994 for her recording, Other Voices, Other Rooms.

This album features Griffith covering the songs of artists who are her major influences. One of her better-known songs is “From a Distance” by Julie Gold, although Bette Midler’s version achieved greater commercial success. Similarly, other artists have occasionally achieved greater success with Griffith’s songs than Griffith herself. For example, Kathy Mattea had a country music top five hit with a 1986 cover of Griffith’s “Love at the Five and Dime,” and Suzy Bogguss had one of her largest hits with Griffith’s and Tom Russell’s “Outbound Plane.”

Griffith was married to singer-songwriter Eric Taylor from 1976 to 1982. In the early 1990s, she was engaged to singer-songwriter Tom Kimmel, but the couple parted before marrying.

Griffith has in recent years toured with various other artists including Buddy Holly’s band, The Crickets, John Prine, Iris DeMent, Suzy Bogguss and Judy Collins.

Griffith has recorded duets with many artists, among them Emmylou Harris, Mary Black, John Prine, Don McLean, Jimmy Buffett, Dolores Keane, Willie Nelson, Adam Duritz (singer of Counting Crows), and Darius Rucker (singer of Hootie & the Blowfish). She has also contributed background vocals on many other recordings.

To buy the music of Nanci Griffith click HERE

Coming Soon……..Emmylou Harris

Last weekend I had the great pleasure to see Emmylou Harris at the Hampton Beach Casino Ballroom. It was my first time (seeing Emmy and going to the ballroom) which was a surprise considering I have been a fan of hers since 1975- back in my solo-drives-across-the-country days. As good as Emmylou was (as good as ever at 62!) the revelation of the evening was seeing her friend, guitar player and opening act Buddy Miller. Buddy is only 2 months my senior but sounds like the penultimate American sage. He won the Americana Music Association Album of the year  award in 2005 for Universal United House of Prayer a steaming concoction of rootsy gospel and blues. I’m taking his version of Mark Heard’s  I Worry Too Much as my new theme song. How can I not love a song with a lyrics like “it’s these sandpaper eyes. . .it’s the way they rub the luster from what is seen” or ”it’s the way we beat a hot retreat and heave our smoking guns into the river” or “it’s the way there’ll be no muffled drums to mark the passage of my generation. . ”  Whoa.  Coming to the gig a few minutes late we could hear Buddy’s voice and guitar coming though the venue’s walls from across the street in the parking lot. I totally recommend the above album and the newer Written in Chalk which he did with his wife June. These are readily found on iTunes and Amazon. He was the guitar player on the Alison Krauss-Robert Plant tour last year. You can find him on YouTube as well. Check it out.

[ Buddy Miller Lyrics are found on www.songlyrics.com ]