I'm starting to think of myself as an archaeologist when I go to the - can't call it record anymore -to the music store. I'm still willing to dig through the mounds of bargain CDs searching for the discarded gems of Chicago, the Mississippi Delta, Detroit, the whole universe of blues, jazz, funk and soul that barely exists in the chain store galaxy. True, they do relegate tiny categories in distant aisles to the genres, but the real action takes place out front.
You can spot them as you approach the corporate logo mounted on some giant neon arch that is visible halfway across the mall, the rows of hastily assembled wire bins brimming with this week's offerring of already obsolete DVDs and CDs priced to move at 3.99 - 7.99 (funny how nobody ever says 4.00 or 8.00 - it's like the .01 makes a big difference ?). In preparation for a dig last week, I steeled myself with firm resolve - I would not buy anything that cost more than ten bucks. Armed with only my debit card, I began my methodical examination of the glittering plastic sea arrayed in the CD repository beneath, orange dots across their spines tossing like whitecaps in an ocean of "loss leaders" - basically artists dumped unceremoniously by the labels.
Forty five minutes of intense scrutiny unearthed Little Walter's Greatest Hits for about five bucks, plus Leon Russell's and Tina Turner's Greatest Hits at seven each. A word about alleged "hit" collections - make sure you read the back carefully to ensure it's not the typical scam of including one decent song with lots of sort of hits - a vicious fraud perpetrated on me in numerous purchases of James Brown collections or - even worse - Canned Heat.
Case in point - Henry Vestine passed away in October, so I thought I'd try to find some really good Vestine/Canned Heat licks to play on my show. The guy's face went blank when I asked innocently at the music store in what turned out to be a vain attempt to find anything by the group at all - I wanted "Evil Woman" and "Fried Hockey Boogie" off the one and only Heat album I ever bought. My new found buddy searched his database only to announce that the tunes in question were available on a French re-release of the original (ironically, I found out later that Henry actually passed away at the end of the band's tour in France- is there a link??) which nobody in the Western Hemisphere has a copy of.
Over the years, my expeditions have uncovered lost treasures in the hundreds: Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker back to back, dozens of re-released, re-mastered versions of Robert Johnson, not to mention Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Howling Wolf, or Paul Butterfield, Buddy Guy, Albert Collins, Lonnie Mack, or Albert King, Leadbelly, and Lightnin' Hopkins - just to name a very few - plus all of those Motown Golden Hits compilations - the Temps, the Miracles, Jr Walker , Stevie, etc - , as well as all the Jukebox collections, the Blues one being superior for its inclusion of artists like Champion Jack Dupree, Memphis Slim, Roosevelt Sykes, Jimmy Witherspoon, Lowell Fulsom, Bessie Smith , Big Joe Williams- the greats that rarely get the recognition they deserve- if any at all.
There's a great big wilderness of unexplored low price bins out there waiting for intrepid explorers just like you. I say - forget the Pyramids, the Acropolis and the Taj Mahal - head for your local record - I mean - music store instead.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Chilling With The Iceman
I'm not sure when I first heard Albert Collins, but once I did, I couldn't get enough. His style is unmistakable - the stinging notes ripped out of his guitar to hang in the ear like icicles - so hot they're COLD - hence the nickname Iceman. Born outside Houston in October, 1932, Collins' career spanned session work (He replaced Jimi Hendrix in Little Richard's back up band) and years of patiently waiting for his turn to step into the spotlight. It took so long that Collins had to keep working construction jobs to make ends meet.
Could be that's why the Iceman's songs are so down to earth. "The Lights Are On But Nobody's Home" deals with mundane marital issues - his mother-in-law, infidelity, money - showcased by some of the best, sharpest "chicken picking" leads contemporary blues has to offer. "Too Many Dirty Dishes" not only features Albert actually "washing" pots and pans by sliding his fingers up and down the guitar's neck - as well as the sound of water filling a glass - but also depicts the suspicious husband getting home to find dirty dishes in the sink, his wife's infidelity also evidenced by the residue of steak and caviar and other delicacies that she never serves him. Despite Collins' musical musings on infidelity, he was married to the same woman for most of his life.
Could be that's why the Iceman's songs are so down to earth. "The Lights Are On But Nobody's Home" deals with mundane marital issues - his mother-in-law, infidelity, money - showcased by some of the best, sharpest "chicken picking" leads contemporary blues has to offer. "Too Many Dirty Dishes" not only features Albert actually "washing" pots and pans by sliding his fingers up and down the guitar's neck - as well as the sound of water filling a glass - but also depicts the suspicious husband getting home to find dirty dishes in the sink, his wife's infidelity also evidenced by the residue of steak and caviar and other delicacies that she never serves him. Despite Collins' musical musings on infidelity, he was married to the same woman for most of his life.
Besides love, Albert Collins' best tunes deal with another familiar topic - money. Songs like "Master Charge", in which the Iceman makes fun of his wife for constantly overloading the credit card (The refrain simply repeats "Master Charge - Bank Americard" over and over), "When the Welfare Turns Its Back on You ", or "Travellin' South" , the lyrics pointing out that the singer "has no money for the telephone", heading "back down to Texas" on the shoeleather express. "If Trouble Was Money" features one of the best refrains in blues in my opinion, pointing out that: "If trouble was money / I'd be a millionaire". Last but not least, Collins first came to prominence with his instrumental tunes - "Frostbite", "Don't Lose Your Cool", and "Meltdown" , just to name a few.
Albert Collins died in Las Vegas of lung cancer , way too soon. Fortunately, he left behind some of the coldest blues tunes ever recorded - too bad it was just the tip of the iceberg.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Happy Birthday Riley King
I've seen B.B. King (Born September 16, 1925 in Itta Bena, Mississippi) perform twice. The first venue was in the middle of downtown Waterbury, Connecticut at Loew's , a relic of the golden age of cinema, when people flocked to the "movie palaces" in search of affordable entertainment. It seemed entirely fitting to enjoy BB's blues in that particular setting, the faded curtains and chipped balustrades and badly stained seats evoking distant memories of prosperity. King's lyrics seemed to match the city's woes, the word pictures of lost loves and lost opportunities mirroring the grim sidewalks and empty buildings. The bluesman had just released what amounts to his "hit" record - "The Thrill Is Gone." BB's voice and guitar work are as dependable as ever, honed from years of one night stands, but what really flavors "Thrill" is the insertion of strings in the background, the orchestration providing a full-bodied sound that smooths out the rough edges. The other signature tune that BB always delivered was "Lucille", the story of his guitar.
The second time I heard him was at the end of the Newport Jazz Festival in 1985. I had dragged my poor pregnant wife just to see Miles Davis play, figuring it was one of those "see him before he dies" type opportunities. Unfortunately, after finally seeing the jazz great on stage, some idiot in front of me babbled about her summer escapades over most of the solos. As BB was starting up, my wife was melting down. I ended up helping her back to the car with the strains of "Everyday I Have The Blues" tickling my ears.
You've probably heard by now that young Riley King made his way from the Delta to Beale Street in Memphis and was originally known as Beale Street Blues Boy King, which eventually became BB King. He just celebrated his 84th birthday. In a way, King is similar to Picasso because he has lived long enough to experience his own fame and success. The only problem is that most TV viewers - who know nothing about his music - will associate BB with ads for Wendy's and/or blood sugar measuring devices. Check out BB's latest - "One Kind Favor". He still plays flawlessly, his voice shows no signs of aging, and he is still touring. The month of September unfortunately marks the passing of blues legends Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown (9/10/05) , Jimmy Witherspoon (9/18/97), Canned Heat's Al "Blind Owl" Wilson (9/3/70) and Bessie Smith (9/26/37). At least BB King is still alive and well and singing the blues.
("Blues With A Feeling" is back on 88.3 FM, Sundays from 3:00 -5:00, or at wqri.rwu.edu)
The second time I heard him was at the end of the Newport Jazz Festival in 1985. I had dragged my poor pregnant wife just to see Miles Davis play, figuring it was one of those "see him before he dies" type opportunities. Unfortunately, after finally seeing the jazz great on stage, some idiot in front of me babbled about her summer escapades over most of the solos. As BB was starting up, my wife was melting down. I ended up helping her back to the car with the strains of "Everyday I Have The Blues" tickling my ears.
You've probably heard by now that young Riley King made his way from the Delta to Beale Street in Memphis and was originally known as Beale Street Blues Boy King, which eventually became BB King. He just celebrated his 84th birthday. In a way, King is similar to Picasso because he has lived long enough to experience his own fame and success. The only problem is that most TV viewers - who know nothing about his music - will associate BB with ads for Wendy's and/or blood sugar measuring devices. Check out BB's latest - "One Kind Favor". He still plays flawlessly, his voice shows no signs of aging, and he is still touring. The month of September unfortunately marks the passing of blues legends Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown (9/10/05) , Jimmy Witherspoon (9/18/97), Canned Heat's Al "Blind Owl" Wilson (9/3/70) and Bessie Smith (9/26/37). At least BB King is still alive and well and singing the blues.
("Blues With A Feeling" is back on 88.3 FM, Sundays from 3:00 -5:00, or at wqri.rwu.edu)
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Taking Stock of Woodstock
The 40th anniversary of Woodstock seemed like a good idea until the media got hold of it. As all those images of newly-revealed-but-still-moonwalking-junkie Michael Jackson fade from our collective memory, they've been replaced by scenes of glassy eyed hippies jerking convulsively to the music as the lyrical giants of the 60s propel waves of feedback across Max Yasgur's farm. Unfortunately, I was there ,too, but only after a last minute whim prompted all 5 of us to leave Martha's Vineyard on a perfect August weekend to go to upstate New York for something - I wasn't exactly sure what.
We parked in some nondescript field and joined the hordes wending their way to the main stage. One of the first things I saw was a 7 UP truck that had apparently gotten stuck in a roadside culvert. People were standing atop the soda truck, handing out free 7 UP, a harbinger of the anarchism that pervaded the event, a stirring indictment of capitalism - or something like that. The pretense at crowd control seemed to have been abandoned by the time we reached the famous hill of mud, the fence having been trashed. So there we were, totally clueless that it was an historic event.
The first performer we saw was Melanie, barely visible over the mists of pot smoke, which, of course, gave rise to that famous comment: " Who gives a f___k about Melanie?" Fortunately, we had more than enough weed to make " I got a brand new roller skate" sound almost palatable. She was followed by Tim Hardin, who I had always looked up to, except that he started nodding out, like, during his songs, which gave rise to that other famous remark: "You don't know? Tim Hardin's a junkie, man."
Unfortunately, we seemed to have picked the bargain basement performers hour, but the scene was somewhat enlivened by the entrance of Ravi Shanker, who proceeded to coax cosmic sounds out of the sitar in concert with the hurried pace of the tabla. Just as I thought I could stretch out next to my similarly entranced girlfriend, the skies began belching rain. We pretended it wasn't happening for a few minutes before the lethal mix of upstate New York farm mud with water began to create a distinctive coating. By the time we gave up and staggerred back to the van, it was like cement.
It would have helped when we opened our bleary eyes early the next morning, limbs cramped and filthy from the combination of dirt and trying to stretch out in the narrow van , if someone had reminded us that we were at the pivotal event of the Sixties and that all the memorable performances were yet to come. Unfortunately, it just seemed like mass confusion. We resolved that we needed to leave immediately or face showing up late for work Monday morning. Consequently, we missed all the legendary artists and got drunk in a nearby bar instead, followed by swimming in an adjacent lake.
Fortunately, we made it back to a halfway point in Connecticut in time to see Midnight Cowboy. Jon Voight and Dustine Hoffman had a bigger impact on me than Woodstock at the time. I'm glad that there's so much nostalgia about the event, but most of my memories revolve around the agony as opposed to the ecstasy. So much for making history.
We parked in some nondescript field and joined the hordes wending their way to the main stage. One of the first things I saw was a 7 UP truck that had apparently gotten stuck in a roadside culvert. People were standing atop the soda truck, handing out free 7 UP, a harbinger of the anarchism that pervaded the event, a stirring indictment of capitalism - or something like that. The pretense at crowd control seemed to have been abandoned by the time we reached the famous hill of mud, the fence having been trashed. So there we were, totally clueless that it was an historic event.
The first performer we saw was Melanie, barely visible over the mists of pot smoke, which, of course, gave rise to that famous comment: " Who gives a f___k about Melanie?" Fortunately, we had more than enough weed to make " I got a brand new roller skate" sound almost palatable. She was followed by Tim Hardin, who I had always looked up to, except that he started nodding out, like, during his songs, which gave rise to that other famous remark: "You don't know? Tim Hardin's a junkie, man."
Unfortunately, we seemed to have picked the bargain basement performers hour, but the scene was somewhat enlivened by the entrance of Ravi Shanker, who proceeded to coax cosmic sounds out of the sitar in concert with the hurried pace of the tabla. Just as I thought I could stretch out next to my similarly entranced girlfriend, the skies began belching rain. We pretended it wasn't happening for a few minutes before the lethal mix of upstate New York farm mud with water began to create a distinctive coating. By the time we gave up and staggerred back to the van, it was like cement.
It would have helped when we opened our bleary eyes early the next morning, limbs cramped and filthy from the combination of dirt and trying to stretch out in the narrow van , if someone had reminded us that we were at the pivotal event of the Sixties and that all the memorable performances were yet to come. Unfortunately, it just seemed like mass confusion. We resolved that we needed to leave immediately or face showing up late for work Monday morning. Consequently, we missed all the legendary artists and got drunk in a nearby bar instead, followed by swimming in an adjacent lake.
Fortunately, we made it back to a halfway point in Connecticut in time to see Midnight Cowboy. Jon Voight and Dustine Hoffman had a bigger impact on me than Woodstock at the time. I'm glad that there's so much nostalgia about the event, but most of my memories revolve around the agony as opposed to the ecstasy. So much for making history.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Music To Rant and Rave By
My personal theory of success in the music biz involves the supermarket, in respect to the fact that whenever I was hovering over the deli counter or stalking the frozen aisles of prepared meals, if I heard an instrumental version of an artist's song, then I concluded that that particular artist had reached the peak of success. Now I'm beginning to think that radio talk shows are providing a new outlet.
Listen to Sean Hannity's show opening and you hear a burst of country, specifically a song called "Let Freedom Ring" , which has become a conservative anthem. Hannity even does concerts for his listeners, a unique form of cross promotion. Listen to the whole show, and you'll hear instrumental bridges that range from heavy metal to vintage rock and roll riffs, as if the "conservatives in exile" - as Hannity refers to his listeners - are still energized by the sounds of their youth .
Michael Savage's show "Savage Nation" is frequently punctuated with commanding guitar chords, probably as a gonzo reference to music soothing the savage beast. The intent seems to be that ripping off a powerful chord progression will make Savage sound even more important, the prophet of doom "skanking" over a bed of shrieking feedback.
The fact of the matter is that all AM radio talk shows use music. Many stations would routinely carry specific vinyl compilations of anonymous musical "bridges" to use as on air transitions as well as commercials and on air promos. Despite the spectre of fair use, the trend has been to use familiar, high profile music in place of the old timey jingles. The air of authenticity provided by real artists singing their own work can almost be a mystical experience for the boomers.
As long as the Fairness Doctrine remains a quaint memory, it's a sure bet that the right wing talkmasters will continue to dominate AM, which means that the music they use will continue to be significant. As the recording industry continues to collapse, the marriage of rock and talk may result in increased sales for the artist, truly an off the wall collaboration between fire-breathing conservative commentators and extreme left wing rockers. Politics does indeed make strange bedfellows.
Listen to Sean Hannity's show opening and you hear a burst of country, specifically a song called "Let Freedom Ring" , which has become a conservative anthem. Hannity even does concerts for his listeners, a unique form of cross promotion. Listen to the whole show, and you'll hear instrumental bridges that range from heavy metal to vintage rock and roll riffs, as if the "conservatives in exile" - as Hannity refers to his listeners - are still energized by the sounds of their youth .
Michael Savage's show "Savage Nation" is frequently punctuated with commanding guitar chords, probably as a gonzo reference to music soothing the savage beast. The intent seems to be that ripping off a powerful chord progression will make Savage sound even more important, the prophet of doom "skanking" over a bed of shrieking feedback.
The fact of the matter is that all AM radio talk shows use music. Many stations would routinely carry specific vinyl compilations of anonymous musical "bridges" to use as on air transitions as well as commercials and on air promos. Despite the spectre of fair use, the trend has been to use familiar, high profile music in place of the old timey jingles. The air of authenticity provided by real artists singing their own work can almost be a mystical experience for the boomers.
As long as the Fairness Doctrine remains a quaint memory, it's a sure bet that the right wing talkmasters will continue to dominate AM, which means that the music they use will continue to be significant. As the recording industry continues to collapse, the marriage of rock and talk may result in increased sales for the artist, truly an off the wall collaboration between fire-breathing conservative commentators and extreme left wing rockers. Politics does indeed make strange bedfellows.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Led Balloon Rises To The Occaison: May 2, 2009
In contrast to Twitter, Kindle, the IPhone and IPod ,YouTube and all the other high tech applications eagerly consumed in search of entertainment and/or diversion, a live concert in front of a crowd seems quaint and archaic. Even more shocking, in respect to the Led Balloon Jug Band concert at Northfield -Mount Hermon's newly dedicated arts center last Saturday, was the fact that there were no amplifiers or electronic devices, no software to enhance the sound, no technical wizardry to cover up human error with the exception of a few microphones. Jug band music is, after all, a sound that originated on streetcorners during the late 1920s , raucous, funky, energetic and meant to be played loudly.
The Led Balloon Jug Band was the brainchild of musicologist/songwriter/performer/educator Bruce Burnside, inspired in part by the Jim Kweskin Jug Band "revival" in the mid 1960s. He assembled a diverse group of fellow NMH students including Chris Crosby (banjo, kazoo, vocals) , Will Melton (mandolin, vocals,special sound effects), "Max" Millard and James McBean (harmonicas), Craig Roche (washtub bass, guitar, mandolin, vocals) , "Sam" Schreiber (special guest vocalist) and yours truly (jug, mediocre humor). As the band developed a following, one of the LBJB's "Special Assistants" - Deborah Wiggin - suggested to Bruce that the band should cut an album, which happened in 1967.
Flash forward to 2009, the third time the Led Balloon has re-united for a special occasion concert. This time it was different in respect to the fact that Craig Roche was no longer part of the lineup; he passed away unexpectedly last November. In order to preserve his larger-than-life memory, the concert was dubbed For The Benefit of Mr. Kite , reflecting Craig's alter ego as Mr. Kite (and lifelong love of the Beatles!). The LBJB featured two new members: Matt Snyder - replacing Craig on washtub bass - and Susan Hessey on guitar and vocals.
Thanks to Bruce's talent for arranging our generally ragged - but enthusiastic- ensemble, the audience had no idea that the entire band had not actually all played together until that particular moment. Fortunately, the charter members - who have most of these songs permanently imprinted in their memory banks by now -and the newest additions pulled off respectable versions of "Jug Band Music", "Fishin", "Morning Blues", "Whoa Mule" , "KC Moan", "Mobile Line" as well as Sam Schreiber's still flawless vocals on "Richland Woman". Susan Hessey made her official debut as the LBJB's latest chanteuse, contributing a bluesy, tongue-in-cheek rendition of the Sippie Wallace classic "You Got To Know How" (Oh, my!)". The newer tunes included "Viola Lee Blues", featuring "Shade" Melton on vocals, the jug band classic "Stealin" and the Beatles' "When I'm 64". It was Mr. Kite's idea to adapt the song to a jug band format, but the LBJB turned it into a duet, with Sam Schrieber and yours truly adding a few "dinner theatre" routines.
Ironically, the band was supposed to be embracing new technology this time around - videotaping the performance and uploading it on YouTube - but there wasn't enough time to pull it off. The Led Balloon sold commemorative tee shirts celebrating Craig Roche's life and contribution to the band, as well as Led Balloon CDs - if any of you reading this are interested in a shirt or a CD, then just respond to this blog - there are a few left. Most importantly, the band was able to make a significant contribution to the school in Craig's memory.
The LBJB would never make it on "American Idol". We're not lounge lizards or aspiring megastars, just a collection of average people who enjoy playing together. As this point in our lives, the companionship and camaraderie are just as important as the music itself, the chance to catch up and compare notes, to relive the spark of creativity that ignited back when we were 17. Although the Led Balloon has no idea where or when its next performance will be, I'd venture to say that most of the band members are already looking forward to it.
Your comments are always welcome, like this one from "Shade " himself:
In the 19th century there were lots of ways in which we built community; in fact, there were few leisure activities that did not contribute to our sense of belonging. As for music, aside from occasional troubadours appearing at the local opera house, Americans' only exposure to music was what we made ourselves. Before the advent of radio, families often doubled as musical ensembles, singing hymns, playing fiddle tunes, entertaining after dinner on the piano or Estey organ. Now we barricade ourselves behind walls of speakers and solitary headphones. No wonder we are fragmenting. Those of us in Led Balloon formed a community, preserved on vinyl thanks to our recording date in April, 1967, and it's a meaningful connection for every one of us.
The Led Balloon Jug Band was the brainchild of musicologist/songwriter/performer/educator Bruce Burnside, inspired in part by the Jim Kweskin Jug Band "revival" in the mid 1960s. He assembled a diverse group of fellow NMH students including Chris Crosby (banjo, kazoo, vocals) , Will Melton (mandolin, vocals,special sound effects), "Max" Millard and James McBean (harmonicas), Craig Roche (washtub bass, guitar, mandolin, vocals) , "Sam" Schreiber (special guest vocalist) and yours truly (jug, mediocre humor). As the band developed a following, one of the LBJB's "Special Assistants" - Deborah Wiggin - suggested to Bruce that the band should cut an album, which happened in 1967.
Flash forward to 2009, the third time the Led Balloon has re-united for a special occasion concert. This time it was different in respect to the fact that Craig Roche was no longer part of the lineup; he passed away unexpectedly last November. In order to preserve his larger-than-life memory, the concert was dubbed For The Benefit of Mr. Kite , reflecting Craig's alter ego as Mr. Kite (and lifelong love of the Beatles!). The LBJB featured two new members: Matt Snyder - replacing Craig on washtub bass - and Susan Hessey on guitar and vocals.
Thanks to Bruce's talent for arranging our generally ragged - but enthusiastic- ensemble, the audience had no idea that the entire band had not actually all played together until that particular moment. Fortunately, the charter members - who have most of these songs permanently imprinted in their memory banks by now -and the newest additions pulled off respectable versions of "Jug Band Music", "Fishin", "Morning Blues", "Whoa Mule" , "KC Moan", "Mobile Line" as well as Sam Schreiber's still flawless vocals on "Richland Woman". Susan Hessey made her official debut as the LBJB's latest chanteuse, contributing a bluesy, tongue-in-cheek rendition of the Sippie Wallace classic "You Got To Know How" (Oh, my!)". The newer tunes included "Viola Lee Blues", featuring "Shade" Melton on vocals, the jug band classic "Stealin" and the Beatles' "When I'm 64". It was Mr. Kite's idea to adapt the song to a jug band format, but the LBJB turned it into a duet, with Sam Schrieber and yours truly adding a few "dinner theatre" routines.
Ironically, the band was supposed to be embracing new technology this time around - videotaping the performance and uploading it on YouTube - but there wasn't enough time to pull it off. The Led Balloon sold commemorative tee shirts celebrating Craig Roche's life and contribution to the band, as well as Led Balloon CDs - if any of you reading this are interested in a shirt or a CD, then just respond to this blog - there are a few left. Most importantly, the band was able to make a significant contribution to the school in Craig's memory.
The LBJB would never make it on "American Idol". We're not lounge lizards or aspiring megastars, just a collection of average people who enjoy playing together. As this point in our lives, the companionship and camaraderie are just as important as the music itself, the chance to catch up and compare notes, to relive the spark of creativity that ignited back when we were 17. Although the Led Balloon has no idea where or when its next performance will be, I'd venture to say that most of the band members are already looking forward to it.
Your comments are always welcome, like this one from "Shade " himself:
In the 19th century there were lots of ways in which we built community; in fact, there were few leisure activities that did not contribute to our sense of belonging. As for music, aside from occasional troubadours appearing at the local opera house, Americans' only exposure to music was what we made ourselves. Before the advent of radio, families often doubled as musical ensembles, singing hymns, playing fiddle tunes, entertaining after dinner on the piano or Estey organ. Now we barricade ourselves behind walls of speakers and solitary headphones. No wonder we are fragmenting. Those of us in Led Balloon formed a community, preserved on vinyl thanks to our recording date in April, 1967, and it's a meaningful connection for every one of us.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Back to the Future in Newport
A sea change of sorts is taking place for the 2009 Newport, RI Folk and Jazz Festivals with respect to the fact that newly minted corporate sponsors have pulled out (JVC sponsored the Jazz Festival, while Dunkin' Donuts sponsored the Folk Festival) to be replaced by the venerable George Wein, who started the two events. Ironically, besides returning to the original promoter, both venues are bringing legendary talent back to Rhode Island.
Headlining the Folk Festival from 7/31/09-8/2/09 for its 50th anniversary are four giants of the folk world. Pete Seeger returns to the concert he helped to create, underscoring his lifelong commitment to change the world for the better through his music. Joan Baez, Judy Collins and Arlo Guthrie will join Seeger in a nod to the Festival's traditions, evoking the earnest, unjaded quality of the protest movements that characterized the early 1960s, the forced complacency of the white middle class in the 50s fractured by racism, sexism and the other institutional barriers which the Boomers decided to decimate. The "pure" folk music of these particular artists was clean and respectful, suggesting that the need for change could be lifted out of the isolated "beatnik" cultural pockets of the era and injected into the mainstream without the scruffiness and anarchism; it was OK to protest even if you were a product of the prep school/Ivy League circuit. The groundswell of change that would topple the Patti Pages, Doris Days and Frankie Laines who lulled America into the musical coma of the 1940s-50s started at the Newport Folk Festivals.
George Wein's Jazz Festival turns 55 with Tony Bennett, Etta James, The Dave Brubeck Quartet and Branford Marsalis topping the bill at Fort Adams from 8/7/09-8/8/09. Bennett has become an American icon, the top "brand" of jazz influenced vocalists, his mellow phrasing and rich voice instantly recognizable. I don't think I've ever heard another blues/jazz singer who can infuse lyrics with more power than Etta James. She is able to mutate a song into a rich vocal tapestry, cajoling, demanding, lamenting and prying the mood out of the melody. Dave Brubeck looks like the quintessential 1950s geek, bespectacled, short-haired,well dressed and well spoken , the most unlikely portrait of a musical innovator. Yet he and Paul Desmond among others lifted jazz out of the inner city and dropped it in the nation's living rooms, a bridge between black music and the white middle class, similar in a way to the rise of Elvis Presley. Branford Marsalis brings a rich New Orleans traditional background to blend the past with the present, personalizing the style to insure it survives the 21st Century.
The overwhelming sense of irony is reflected in the Folk Festival lineup. Although the "folkies" have been pushed aside by age and their "quaint" form of protest music, the recent economic and social upheavals have revived some of that sentiment. You'd have to go to to Fort Adams in Newport this summer to see if that's true, if the quintessential "old" has become new again.
Headlining the Folk Festival from 7/31/09-8/2/09 for its 50th anniversary are four giants of the folk world. Pete Seeger returns to the concert he helped to create, underscoring his lifelong commitment to change the world for the better through his music. Joan Baez, Judy Collins and Arlo Guthrie will join Seeger in a nod to the Festival's traditions, evoking the earnest, unjaded quality of the protest movements that characterized the early 1960s, the forced complacency of the white middle class in the 50s fractured by racism, sexism and the other institutional barriers which the Boomers decided to decimate. The "pure" folk music of these particular artists was clean and respectful, suggesting that the need for change could be lifted out of the isolated "beatnik" cultural pockets of the era and injected into the mainstream without the scruffiness and anarchism; it was OK to protest even if you were a product of the prep school/Ivy League circuit. The groundswell of change that would topple the Patti Pages, Doris Days and Frankie Laines who lulled America into the musical coma of the 1940s-50s started at the Newport Folk Festivals.
George Wein's Jazz Festival turns 55 with Tony Bennett, Etta James, The Dave Brubeck Quartet and Branford Marsalis topping the bill at Fort Adams from 8/7/09-8/8/09. Bennett has become an American icon, the top "brand" of jazz influenced vocalists, his mellow phrasing and rich voice instantly recognizable. I don't think I've ever heard another blues/jazz singer who can infuse lyrics with more power than Etta James. She is able to mutate a song into a rich vocal tapestry, cajoling, demanding, lamenting and prying the mood out of the melody. Dave Brubeck looks like the quintessential 1950s geek, bespectacled, short-haired,well dressed and well spoken , the most unlikely portrait of a musical innovator. Yet he and Paul Desmond among others lifted jazz out of the inner city and dropped it in the nation's living rooms, a bridge between black music and the white middle class, similar in a way to the rise of Elvis Presley. Branford Marsalis brings a rich New Orleans traditional background to blend the past with the present, personalizing the style to insure it survives the 21st Century.
The overwhelming sense of irony is reflected in the Folk Festival lineup. Although the "folkies" have been pushed aside by age and their "quaint" form of protest music, the recent economic and social upheavals have revived some of that sentiment. You'd have to go to to Fort Adams in Newport this summer to see if that's true, if the quintessential "old" has become new again.
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