FARM FAVES
(<- Hawkland Farm mk II, a k a Utanåkern, 1930)
Where the keeper of the keys
reveals some of the wax being on frequent rotation at the Hawkland Farm, usually
trying to steer clear of things that have seen plenty of praise elsewhere...
it might be rare, it might be dirt cheap, always mighty good though. New titles
added as time & mood dictate, get in touch if you would like to know when
it happens. And don't forget - Hooray For The Farmer! At least as long as
he's organic.
RICK & JEAN SUTTON - Down Home (Bison 101) USA 1976/7
Very obscure folk/countryfolk album, with a sound so simple and sparse that
it's likely to pass you right by unless some attention is being paid. Recorded
at Sutton Sound Studio (probably the basement of the Suttons' home), the overall
feeling here is that of friends and family gathering for a few nights of playing
some of their favourite tunes in front of a cracklin' fire while the taperecorder
just happened to run, luckily documenting the outcome for posterity.
Line-ups and instrumental settings change from track to track; neither Rick
nor Jean is present on all cuts, which vary from Rick solo to full six-man
band. As far as I can tell none of the material is original, but the cover
selection is tasty, including a couple of Hoyt Axton's - always a good sign
if you ask me. His "When The Morning Comes" opens the LP in style,
a crisp dawn-like purity shimmers in the laidback groove as it dances gently
over the morning dew, with Jean's vocals immediately grabbing hold of your
ears when she first appears in the second strophe. If there's one stand-out
feature here it is her quavering voice, equal part young girl and mature Earth
Mama, and all beautiful; her leads on "Coal Tattoo" and "Whatever
Became Of Me" lift these songs into higher spheres. Rick sings leads
as well, managing nicely if not as distinctively as Jean, with a warm honest
voice suiting this type of material very well (his solo take on "Diamond
Joe" is one of the LP's highlights), and the same can be said for a couple
of other guys that get to sing a song each. In fact nothing on here is out
of place - the musical and vocal bits mesh perfectly all the time and any
other title but "Down Home" would just not seem appropriate.
One could lament the lack of original material, I for one usually don't enjoy
covers very much, but the Suttons' interpretations are really solid, adding
and distracting on its way, coming out with something wholly - or damn near
- their own. Backwoods americana with dirt under its fingernails, the backyard
dry and dusty with an endless view of the plains. Oh, label name is Bison
- how could it not be?
NORMAN GREENBAUM - Petaluma (Warner MS 2084) USA 1972
Yeah, Norman "Spirit In The Sky"
Greenbaum - not much one can do to get around that fact. A nice-enough tune,
sure, on a pretty good LP too, but if you wanna find out how exceptionally
good Norman Greenbaum could really be, this is the album you have to look
out for. Wasting no time, he gets right down to it in the first chorus:
"Greenbaum's dairy, that's our name
Norman, Vicki, Jethro and Sara Jane
Oh me, oh my
Such a long way from Spirit in the sky"
("Grade A Barn")
Because, when everybody and their mother had at least one song dealing with
the back-to-the-land movement then currently in vogue, Norman and his family
took the royalties from "Spirit In The Sky" and invested them in
a farm, where they built up a small dairy business (for "the folks who
wanna be healthy, who wanna live right"). No weekend hippie fare here,
you see, but rather put on your coveralls
Tracktitles like "Grade A Barn", "Dairy Queen", "Country
Lad", "The Day The Well Went Dry" give you a good idea of what
"Petaluma" is all about. Very gentle and mellow - though not in
the southern CA lame-ass sense of the words - with finely carved tunes and
a nearly all-acoustic setting, including several instruments often associated
with bluegrass or old-time music, like washtub bass, clarinet, accordion,
jug etc, handled very ably by Ry Cooder, Richie Olsen, Russell Dashiell, Norman
Mayell, Bill Douglas a o. Despite this the album sold no more than 5,000 copies,
according to a 1975 interview with Norman in the UK mag ZigZag. And somehow
this beauty continues to slip through the cracks; I've long considered myself
something of a connoisseur when it comes to rural sounds, but nevertheless
I didn't pick this one up until 2005. It has since then, however, seen constant
playing. Several of my friends with similar tastes in music report that they
too hadn't bothered with it for years. Shame on all of us!
Anyway, being a stone solid LP there's little need to single out specific
songs; they're all great and they grow on you considerably after repeated
plays until they feel like old friends hanging around after a day's work repairing
the roof of the barn. An extra mention must be made of the excellent packaging
though: a thick gatefold cover with a booklet stapled in the middle, loaded
with great photos, lyrics, a comic strip, and short comments by Norman. Try
this one: "We were raising a pig on goat milk and grain. Her name was
Sadie. She had a room of her own in the barn with a yard, but she was lonely
there, so she found a way out and would hang around with the goats. That was
kind of neat, so I let her do it. Then she figured out a way to get from the
goat yard to the sheep yard, so she could alternate her hanging around. Sadie
was great." She looks happy and beautiful in the photo accompanying the
words, and no wonder - Shady Grove, where all the pigs have tails, is the
place to be, no matter if you call your take on it Petaluma, Olema, Black
Bear Ranch, or the Hawkland Farm.
JOHN PALMER - Shorelines (Celebration CEL 1868)
Canada 1971
Having seen this Canadian LP in lists a few times I had made a mental note
of checking it out, should the opportunity arise, even though I was a bit
weary of descriptions along the lines of "Skip Spence-like downer psych"
- those seldom turn out to be much more than dealer fantasies, with little
or no resemblance to reality. Anyway, I eventually traded for a copy and let's
just say I wasn't disappointed; while I don't think it's terribly reminiscent
of "Oar" I can understand the comparison, and as for "downer"
you can't get much more of that kind of headtrip than what's on offer here.
Opening with "Clouds", complete with backwards bits, heavy keys
& drums, fuzz, and a voice that just sucks you right in, Palmer chills
your mind and body with a truly tormented lament over a life no longer what
it used to be:
"Well I guess it's over
I'm not dreaming
It's just over
Somewhere a voice is screaming
In the dead of night
It sounds like mine"
The nightmare trip through a shattered psyche never stops for a break throughout
the rest of the album either. The musical setting may vary from the seriously
heavy monster fuzz/pounding drums/howling vocals of "Free Me" to
12-string raga-esque bits, complete with chanting by pals from the local commune,
but they're all important parts of the puzzle and the whole that eventually
comes out of it is one of the most amazing personal musical documents I've
ever heard.
Most of the keys & strings are handled by John himself, with drums usually
added later on, which may explain the somewhat rudimentary percussion style.
Yet very apt they are, like if the drummer had tuned into John's demons and
wanted to help him get rid of them by pounding the skins as heavily as possible.
The songs are usually folkbased, though the end product is much more than
a folk LP; the arrangements are rich and purposeful with lots of nice keyboards,
great electric and acoustic guitars, effects, some almost proggy bits... and
those vocals. John Palmer is certainly not your average coffee-house singer,
I tell you.
"Better Later Than Never" is one of the acoustic tracks, with droning
guitars, echoing hand percussion and amazing background vocals, like if a
few angels had dropped by the studio and decided to give the underground music
biz a shot. So beautiful. The last track, "Salvation's Den", might
by comparison to what went down before offer some refuge, but it's still a
bleak and painful road ahead:
"I have looked over
The long and winding ways toward salvation
And I have been over
A final line that some would call damnation
Some have called it godless - when I'm lost in it
But I've paid them the loss in the process"
I emailed a bit with John last year and he confirmed that his life wasn't
easy at the time of "Shorelines". Love, confusion, and drugs all
played their part, but luckily things improved later on and he now seemed
to be doing fine. A reissue is in the works and hopefully that will help to
get this masterpiece the recognition and respect it's long been devoid of.
Perhaps some of the recording anecdotes John told me will be presented along
with this new edition - background details are pretty interesting in this
case.
STEVE ELLIOT - Steve Elliot (no label; SE 1000) USA 1969
NYC private pressing, known in the sense that
it's listed in many of the books dealing with this type of LPs, though rather
unknown judging by how few there seem to be who've actually heard it. To my
ears this could have a pretty wide appeal these days - if Gary Higgins can
sell a few thousand copies this should at least move some 500 units. Sure,
this is rarer and not as accessible as "Red Hash", with longer tracks
lacking in the "hooks" department, but I for one play Elliott far
more often than Higgins (whom I do like a great deal). Something with the
quirky, edgy quality of this demo LP keeps drawing me back to it over and
over again; the raw unpolished vocals spin riddles in my brain and I still
feel I haven't really grasped it completely, despite having listened to it
countless times.
The formula is rather simple: really good acoustic guitar and worldweary vocals
by Elliot, session musicians helping out on bass, piano, organ, sax, flute.
No slick vibes, but an organic, inventive, slightly jazzy style (especially
obvious on the long tracks), where the musicians can do their own thing, perhaps
not "freaking freely" as they say elsewhere, but they're certainly
left with quite a lot of freedom for being a backing crew. Of course, that
could just be the result of little time learning the songs; in any event it
works to its advantage.
My personal favourite would be "Magic", which gets a good folk psych
thing going with flute and organ, and lyrics open for interpretation ("There's
magic in the madness" goes the first line), and the "could've been
an ESP-release"-thought in my head is never stronger than here. Yeah,
the New York origin does show, but I also get a UK feel from much of this,
even though I can't think of any immediate comparisons.
Oh, lyrics must be noted too - Elliot has a nice way with words, and presents
a heady mixture of observations, hallucinations & poetic grace, leaving
us with the question "Is there no peace without the horrors that must
come?". Lifted from a song called "Death Rush", those words
could mean lots. More of us should spend some time figuring out exactly what
is hiding in these grooves.
(Note: this album is sometimes referred to as "Free")
THE FARM BAND - The Farm Band (Mantra 777) USA
1972
Kind of a given here, don't you think? The Farm Band (also operating as Stephen
& The Farm Band and the Tennessee Farm Band) was the houseband at The
Farm, flagship of all hippie communes. I strongly recommend anyone with an
interest in the rural revolution to check out this amazing place more; the
book "Voices From The Farm" (Rupert Fike, ed.) is a good start.
This massive 2LP set was the Farm Band's first release and also by some miles
their finest moment (later LPs are pretty good too, though, and I wouldn't
want to let go of any of them). A nine-piece outfit, the standard rock setting
is augmented by flute, electric fiddle, and French horn(!); mixed vocals and
long, jam-oriented material give this an undeniable late-stage West Coast
feel (not much of a surprise, really, as most of the Farm residents originated
from San Francisco). The mood is one of joy and spontaneity, where you easily
can imagine a few hundred longhaired freaks out in the fields groovin' all
night long into the morning sun, as the last jam slowly fades away.
This spontaneity also results in performances that are perhaps a tad "loose",
shall we say, or even sloppy, with vocal harmonies going all over the place.
Songwriting never was the Farm Band's forte either. What they do succeed in
is creating a sort of tribal Earth Rock, where the leadguitar of Walter Rabideau
cuts through time and space leading the band further and further away into
holy man jam land; the rhythmguitarist steps on his wah-wah, the violinist
comes sweeping in from the cornfield ready to push things into even higher
grounds, and eventually it's a wall of sound-effect that soars high above
the watertower, leaving Summertown, TN, as nothing but a tiny dot on the map
that stretches out far below. Get the picture? When the jams here really gel
it's an amazing power at work, a psychedelic testimony with a groove that
appears to be endless.
This being a very communal effort it feels contradictory to single out any
specific player, but I can't let the opportunity pass to praise Walter Rabideau's
guitarplaying. One of rock's unsung guitarheroes, his solos have a rich tone,
an amazing flow & if you like me have an inclination towards air guitar-moves,
Walter's all you need for a night of good fun. Ok, the last statement may
not really be serving his reputation much good, but he really is fantastic,
and an Acid Rock Legend in this household. On this album he also benefits
from having some hot rhythmguitar to play against, by someone named Joseph
(last name unknown to me), who wasn't on any of the subsequent LPs.
In all, this is a document of a time where possibilities seemed endless (the
heading on the Farm Band's touring bus read "Out To Save The World"),
the music being only a fracture of what it was all about. The Farm is still
there though, with some 300 members, but the Farm Band called it quits in
the late 70s or so. Like any other Farm product the packaging here is awesome;
a thick gatefold cover, huge poster and printed inners. A piece of art, a
statement and an essential piece of underground head sounds.
HAPPY AND ARTIE TRAUM - Happy And
Artie Traum (Capitol ST-586) USA 1970
Well-known staples of the 60s & 70s US folk scene, the Traum Bros can
be found on lots of LPs together or individually, but their own albums are,
decades later, somewhat neglected, especially this magnificent slice of gifted
songcraft.
Released to great reviews in 1970, "Happy And Artie Traum" was their
debut-LP as a duo but newcomers they weren't, and the album certainly shows
no sign of being a first, stumbling effort; instead it's a remarkably well-realized
collection of words & tunes that stand with one feet in the mystical,
mythical America of previous decades and centuries, and the other in the back-to-the-land
subculture of its own time & place. It's as rustic as a log cabin in the
mountains and as authentic as the old mountain man living there; the dry,
sparse production lets not a single note sound out of place (ok, I could do
without the honking sax in "State Line"), just like a mountain man
would not speak if he didn't have something important to share. The instrumental
and vocal delivery is rather stunning but completely without flash, and in
that sense perhaps recalling The Band a bit, although this is far looser and
without the unfortunate scholarly fake hicks-vibe that to my ears plague some
of the Band's material. Actually, one of the two non-original songs here is
Robertson/Danko's "Going Down To See Bessie" (a k a "Bessie
Smith"), so the influence was there (the Traums apparently learned this
from the writers, as they were friends living nearby; the Dylan/Band-version
didn't see a release until the 1975 Basement Tapes), but just like with the
Goose Creek Symphony, another Capitol outfit who'd been listening more than
once to Robertson & crew, the brothers come out way on top of anything
the Band could ever have dreamed of.
The second cover is "Uncle Jedd Says", written by Billy Batson (session-guy
and member of Holy Moses!! amongst other things), also recorded by Perth County
Conspiracy, and a fit choice both musically and lyrically. Noteworthy too,
perhaps, is that the "Hungry Dogs Of New Mexico" had previously
been recorded by Bear (featuring Artie; an earlier incarnation included Happy
as well and released a 1966 Columbia single that I need - can you help?) on
their excellent sole LP, "Greetings, Children Of Paradise" (Verve,
1969).
Personal picks for highlights here, should I be forced to, include "Farmer's
Almanac" (with genius drums by Jerry Carrigan; a sidenote, that), the
almost psychedelic tabla-driven "Brave Wolf", the tale of rural
hardship that is "Trials Of Jonathan", and the mesmerizingly beautiful
and mysterious banjo/fiddle/guitar-closer "Golden Bird".
Happy says in his liners that "after living in the mountains for a few
years one begins to understand the stuff that ballads and lore are made of.
The Catskills are filled with legends, its woods steeped in ancient mystery".
A spin of this album gives you ample proof that he wasn't just saying so -
these tunes speak of a life far off the main road, where the ancient and the
current, reality and dreams meld together in the shadow of the mountain, and
had Happy and Artie not learned this first-hand they simply couldn't have
written these songs.
Artie Traum sadly passed away on July, 20, 2008; his legacy is one of importance
and this is the perfect place to start if you're yet uninitiated.
BILL MADISON - Sunday Mornin' Hayride (Saloon Records sr-0001) USA 1973
A little-known gem out of New Hampshire, this terrific acid cowboy in the
wild west outlaw private pressing simply reeks of a rural America that probably
doesn't exist anymore, and I imagine it wasn't much left of it back in the
early 70s either, but Bill Madison delivers such a solid songbook that you'll
be excused if you find yourself believing you've been taken on a ride in a
time machine - only the captain here's a bonafide head & wouldn't drop
you off in the 19th century without first stopping at the local freak club
for a pocketful of smoke. How about this to get you in the mood:
"Well I got an old house upon a hill
Where they got some woodsmoke
And dungaree silk
And all the time the frontdoor rattled
To the beying of the cattle down... beddin' down
I got a palamino, pinto clip-clop heels
A wagon wheel too splintery to feel
And just as Custer fired his last shot
With war-hoop cries and whiskey casks
I got drunk"
("Old House")
A cool, lazy vibe permeates the entire LP, rootsy countryfolk with a slight
jazz influence at times, which may sound like it'd be out of place but in
fact just broadens the palette with a small-town smoky nightclub feel. "Rather
Be The Devil" actually goes pretty far in this direction, but yet fits
perfectly in the overall atmosphere which is an equal mix of the gentle and
dreamy ("Penance"), good-timey ("Sunshine Cowboy"), and
haunting ("Buffalo Skinners"). It's hard to say whether the very
consistent feeling of the album is carefully planned or just the only way
it could've been, and it really doesn't matter much. What does matter is that
it's really, really good & that it works just as well in end of the year
December midnight darkness as it does in the sunshine of an early July morning;
"Sunday Mornin' Hayride" has that hard to define aura that
some music carries with it, which makes you feel like you're allowed a glimpse
into a secret room behind the bookshelf, where a band is forever captured
in playing mode - all mystical musical magical hour all day & night long.
As you stand there watching in silence, the band gets going with "Sunshine
Cowboy", where Bill hips you to the basics:
"Well when he walked out, stalked out and blew his lid
He barely knew all that he hid
With Lady Godiva naked on some horse
She proclaims in jest... the world seems rather coarse
You come on too heavy, and he extends his hand
Six-shooter saloon you got no backs down to the door
Black-Jack and whiskey, he knows the score
Setting up the bar with cokes and ginger ale
That stick-eyed gambler, he knows he cannot fail"
... and just as you think you'd better close the door before someone sees
you, the light dims & a cold wind chills you to the bone & you won't
be able to shake that feeling for days... such is the spell of the "Buffalo
Skinners". Seance-like and mysterious in its quiet magnificence this
is the track that will call you back over and over, and soon you realize that
all the other songs have crept under your skin as well. Or at least that was
the way it worked for me - just like Red and Mescalito, Bill robbed my head
in no time.
Another case of great packaging too, neat paste-on cover with a huge four-page
insert with lyrics & photos that go hand in hand with the music itself.
I'm sure both Zeb Macahan and Ken Kesey would agree wholeheartedly.
ROY BROWN JOSE GONZALEZ MIGUEL CUBANO - Distancias
(Disco Libre DL-018) Puerto Rico 1977
While we're not very far into the Farm Archives yet, you might still have
spotted a certain similarity between the titles chosen for inclusion so far
- they're American or Canadian and distinctly Western in their expression.
By comparison this is certainly one odd duck out then; a Puerto Rican trio
setting music to poems by Juan Antonio Corretjer, without a sign of "rock"
influences to be seen anywhere.
This came to me via one of my foremost trading partners. I didn't know of
it at the time, but Dave told me I'd love it & after years of shipping
LPs back and forth he knows my tastes rather well, so this comment raised
my expectations considerably. When I saw the artwork inside the gatefold cover
I was even more intrigued, as the cryptical b/w pseudo-ethnical sketches found
there were highly reminiscent of certain native art created under the influence
of peyote or similar psychoactive substances. So, I slap it on and am ready
to be blown away... only to find that I think it sucks. This first spin left
me completely cold, with only the wild percussion on the first track making
any sort of impression.
Somehow something caused me return to it soon after though, and this second
listen (which in turn led to many more, appreciation growing with each and
everyone of them) made me take notice of some very sublime studio-trickery
going on in the background; faint echo and reverb are used all over the LP
to enhance various parts, not least vocal ones, and the arrangements are also
very clever - the tracks lean toward being on the long-ish side and use the
time to go through several different moods and settings, incorporating spoken
bits and various percussion instruments of a less rhythmic character to keep
the path anything but straight. The real foundation is however comprised of
acoustic guitars and more properly rhythm-keeping percussion, all played with
a very light, "island-sounding" touch and while this will likely
give you an idea bearing little resemblance to the actual sounds, one musical
comparison that pops up in my head both now and then when listening to this
is These Trails. The vocals are an altogether different story though.
Opening track "Oubao-Moin" is one of the highlights, with a haunting
melody, amazing percussion and an intensity towards the end that is very moving;
all the previous parts coming together in one majestic whole. The last word
sung, "alabanza", is repeated over and over, and as my Spanish is
non-existant I looked this up and it seems to have something to do with praise
- very apt if so. "El Hijo" is another major highlight, with delicate
guitar/percussion tapestries that just seem to go on infinitely at their own
slow pace, but after some minutes the whole thing becomes very fragmented
and diffuse before it picks itself up again, only now with the addition of
a distant echo-laden, wordless vocal and soon after another vocal enters,
but spoken this time. Very psychedelic in a very subtle way!
I actually find the entire first side to be one gentle trip through watercolour
landscapes, where I'm leaving myself behind for a mesmerizing Sunday morning
world of clouds and faded sunlight, with a hint of darkness creeping in from
way down under. Side two maintains this feeling only in parts (notably "Dia
Antes" and its highly surprising ending where a mellotron sweeps in and
the vocals disappear in a choral/reverb-effect that's pretty mindblowing),
mainly due to the fact that much of this is taken up by the 14 minutes long
titletrack, which unfortunately loses most of the creativity found on the
first side, and is something of a disappointment in comparison. Still, it's
nice for what it is but also very revealing of the fact that the qualities
in this LP are in the mix of the songs, percussion & general arrangements,
and studio refinement, and when the song is left more or less by itself it
doesn't move me in the same way at all.
Anyway, more than half of this album is truly excellent & one to pick
up at those special occasions when the groove you're looking for lays in the
gentle breeze just out of reach in the windsung sounds of exotic trees. Blowing,
blowing away.
HILSS & LABLANC - A Time Lost (no label;
AR 3939) USA 1974
Consisting of songs written between 1969 and 1974, this rare 300 press really
does evoke the feeling of being lost, as the title implies, with a stark,
lonely-sounding basement production, reverbed vocals and acoustic guitars
being the basic foundation for short tales full of love-lorn alienation. What
could have turned out to be a very typical work of heartsick youngsters, this
cleverly (although perhaps not intentionally) avoids sounding like much else
from the era. Multi-tracking to good effect, Mike LeBlanc and Pete Hilss also
added electric guitars, bass, organ and piano to the happenings, while trusty
old Bob "Chinka" Boom offers percussion from his rudimentary machine
side of the world (I'll get back to this later), and more lively Jerry Labash
guests on flute on "The Airport Song". This is undoubtedly one of
the set's highlights (and not just because I'm a sucker for flute), with a
very succesful musical transcription of the fleeting now that comes from being
in the midst of thousands of people, all on their way to somewhere else...
or "hurrying to get there but going nowhere". There it is again:
a time lost, but we really don't know where to look for it.
The psychedelic "Photographs" is also tapping into that same fountain
of dreams once shared:
"Looking at the yellow faded pictures
It's easy to read between the lines"
Simple but trippy organ and electric guitar, aided by effective vocal harmonies,
send you deep into yourself looking for something important, the only trouble
being that once there you don't know where to start. Had this been a proper
band the mid-section could quite likely have turned into a raga-styled jam,
but part of the charm here is the way they keep it all very short, making
the most of every second there is.
Speaking of full bands, "The Drifter" is driven forward by a cool
guitar riff, and I could easily see Pigpen lead the Dead through a flamin'
hot version of this. Hilss & LaBlanc do however once again turn the limits
of their numbers into part of their artistic expression and deliver a whole
new concept, that of an introspective folk duo with a drum machine doin' a
bluesy outlaw rocker - and it's a total winner!
So, about Bob "Chinka" Boom then: in my pre-teens pretty much all
records I had were by bands with drum machines. Had I known then that just
about the only LP using this device tucked away in my collection some 20-25
years later would be this one, I'd probably have been very disappointed with
myself; these days I really can't find much saving grace for the rhythm box
(see what it did for Michaels & Hack, for example). But Hilss & LaBlanc
take advantage of the static time-keeping and come out with a highly unique
sound. Perhaps this LP would've been even better with congas and/or tablas,
but it would at the same time have robbed it of that other, undefined idiosyncratic
brilliance. By the way, unless I'm much mistaken most of the basslines - inventive
and busy as they are - are being played on a keyboard. To round up this musicians'
corner it also has to be said that the entire LP is peppered with cool guitar
fills, perhaps never more so than in the case of the twin leads (one wah-wah)
on the closing "Twenty One", also offering the following lines to
ponder for a while:
"It's your move the dealer said
The ace of spades and the jack was red"
"A Time Lost" is a rare jewel in that it sounds like a snapshot
of someone's "now", but identified as such only in the form of a
time capsule filled with days both long gone and yet to come - that's not
a "now" like we know it, is it? Listening to this through headphones
under the right circumstances can be a gateway experience of sorts... like
moving on while standing still... if the thunder don't get you the lightning
will. An incredible record for incredible times, may they be lost or waiting
to be sculpted yet.
GWYDION - Songs For The Old Religion (Nemeton
NEM-101) USA 1975
In the dark ages now commonly referred to as the early 90s, this was something
of a big ticket item and could be seen going for bids in several of the important
mailorder logs, with all the expected praise to follow it. Somehow the intervening
years haven't been too kind on Gwydion though; these days the magic people
once heard is more often than not reduced to a "Gwydion? Yeah, cool cover
but the music's really lame" or similar. But as one who fell in love
with "Songs For The Old Religion" back in the said dark ages and
still think of it very, very highly, I decided to stand up for the man and
his music. Here goes...
The cover is indeed a classic, with Gwydion dressed up in full druid regalia,
holding a spliff in one hand and a goblet in the other. Not only is it a distinct
cover which you're not likely to forget anytime soon, but it also gives away
where Gwydion is coming from - he's both the Renaissance Faire pagan and the
hippie mystic (not at all always the same thing, mind you), and as one takes
on the other the result is magickal folk music with a psychedelic glow &
shimmer to it.
A local Californian private pressing, the sound is rather lo-fi, murky and
thin-sounding at the same time, almost as if you're pressing your ear to a
wall hoping to catch the drifting notes from the next-door room. On this album
this is a benefiting factor - close your eyes as Gwydion counts in "The
Lord Of The Dance" and you'll likely find that the room the California
Wicca Blues Band, as they call themselves, play in is in fact a forest glade
where the master of ceremonies is holding his musical court. Whenever I slap
this on I find myself standing there, shadowed by a tree & carried away
into a world that's part dream and part something else, but certainly not
reality.
The aforementioned "The Lord Of The Dance" is the perfect introduction,
a joyous upbeat tune with a near-bittersweet undercurrent performed on acoustic
guitar, recorder, percussion & femme backing vocals, and lyrics that set
the scene:
"I dance at the sabbat when you chant the spell
I sing and dance that everyone be well
When the dance is over, do not think I'm gone
I live in the music, so I still dance on"
Following this trad tune is mostly original material, one by femme singer
Dana Corby (who provides the harmonies here, as well as lead vocals on two
songs) and the bulk of the others by Gwydion. The instrumentation basically
sticks to the same formula as used on the first cut, with additional electric
guitar, dulcimer, mandolin and tin whistle, while the hypnotic feel mainly
stems from two things: the highly effective percussion (congas, handclaps,
bells, hi-hat & more) that's used on many songs, and the effectladen vocals.
Sometimes the two work together, as on the chorus of "The Wintry Queen",
and in fact what studio trickery there is here really doesn't sound like that
of any other LP I know of; there are odd scraping sounds from strings &
percussion run through some cheap reverb and delay units and they come and
go on most tracks, creating a wobbly, trippy feel. Check out the end of "The
Raven Is Calling" for example.
A sidenote, which I've always found fascinating, is the similarities between
several of Gwydion's songs, especially his vocals and melodies, and some of
Dando Shaft's material (try "Whispering Ned" off their second LP
and tell me you don't hear it!); perhaps a coincidence, perhaps not. In any
event I like the idea of seeing Gwydion groovin' to the sounds of the Dandos,
grabbing a guitar & coming out with something beautiful.
Most reviewers single out "The Sungod", one of Dana Corby's contributions,
as the highlight of the album, and rightly so I guess - but then again I think
all tracks are highlights. She has a piercing, vibrato-fueled voice which
I've seen compared to Grace Slick's & that gives you a rather good idea,
and it would certainly have been interesting to hear more of her material
as it differs considerably from Gwydion's; hers is less trad-influenced and
more psychedelic folkrock, with plenty of congas, electric leads, and again
those effects.
As is often the case with the LPs I describe here I find it very hard to single
out specific tracks, these are after all some of my favourite albums &
as such usually solid spins all through. A special mention here could be made
for "Harvest Dance" though, not only for it being a killer track,
but because it, like "The Lord Of The Dance", has that very special
upbeat but to me also slightly sad groove going on, which is one of the most
appealing things with "Songs Of The Old Religion". "Harvest
Dance", and the LP as a whole, is steeped in tradition but takes it elsewhere
with very small steps at a time, warping your mind so slowly that you may
not even notice it at first. I've been heading out to this forest glade every
now and then for fifteen years, and am still not really sure what I'll be
coming back like.
Loads could be written about the late great Gwydion and his life, and perhaps
one day the story will be told in full. For now though, here's as much as
he will offer:
"Though mortals deny and deride me
Till love must rise up and depart
In a dread, secret place She will hide me
Sealed up with the blood of my heart"
bless
'im
MIKE & LORNA McCLELLAN - The Life Of The
Land Record (Topsoil TSR-7064) USA 1974
Unlike the other records I've written about here, this a rather new acquaintance
but one that I've been listening to so much the last few months that it feels
like an old pal already.
A concept album of sort (but unlike most other such that I've encountered)
this has two dominating themes: Hawaii and environmentalism. The Hawaiian
bit's obvious both musically, with side one especially being seriously influenced
by traditional island music, and lyrically/thematically, where the lyrics
On the first side the Hawaiian slack key stylings meet a sort of lazy, laidback
folkblues thing, sometimes instrumental, sometimes with vocals. Very relaxing,
to the point of me just throwing away whatever I have at hand for the sake
of just sitting down with a slight smile thinking of warmer days (not hard,
as I'm writing this in November with a snow-covered field in front of me,
could I see it out there in the absolute darkness). Both Mike & Lorna
sing and they do it just like they play their instruments - good, but far
from flashy & I'm all the more grateful for just that. This side has the
same sort of old-timey friendly feeling as "Petaluma", and if you
wanna feel mellow, this is all you need. A further reference could be the
most trad-sounding moments of Leon & Malia.
So, if the first half is a Hawaiian Norman Greenbaum, then side two must be
a similarly coloured Michael Hurley or even Holy Modal Rounders; the instrumental
setting expands to include fiddle, violin, clarinet and odd effects, with
all vocals in English. "Let The Beer Flow Through" is a sort of
happy freaks mariachi (notice the whistling that goes all the way through
the song!) about the way people just drop their cans & other junk where
they stand.
In "You Are A Man Of The Soil", a folky singalong done by Mike solo,
the lyrics put down straights, hippies and most others too:
"In your air-conditioned car
You're doing 90 miles an hour
Do you know where you are?
You are on a concrete freeway
Cement above and below
Where there used to be trees
Making air that you breathe
But that didn't you know"
/.../
Now your brother is the eagle
and your sister is the toad
Likewise the armadillo that
We kill on the road
We're kin with the wildweed
I want you all to see
When the poison and the kill's
Given time it surely will
Get around to you and me"
/.../
I don't use LSD
I can't escape DDT
In the place of my birth"
Yeah... this is perhaps not too
hard to swallow for most people, although few actually bother to do something
about it, but I reckon more would feel a bit uncomfortable with the "Talking
ZPG Blues", a talking blues delivered so utterly lazy and blase that
it really doesn't feel like one at all, about the consequences of setting
kids to this world. The laidback sound is as prominent on the wonderfully
titled "Rhubarb Morning Air (Granny's Garden)", with that sloppy
sparse rhythm & fiddle that I happen to love. Best of all though, at least
if you were to take the LP one track at a time, is the bizarre clarinet-driven
"Garbage", full of effects (engine sounds, cartoon-like backing
vocals) that make you wonder just what the hell's going on here... you know
the feeling where something is sort of normal-looking but as you dig deeper
you come on layer upon layer of very un-normal stuff. In fact that might be
a good way to describe this LP altogether - Mike & Lorna look
HANK & LEWIE WICKHAM - Back To Back (Motherlode ML SLP 1020) USA 1973
Everytime I find an LP with a reversed negative covershot, my expectations
are raised considerably. Hank & Lewie Wickham's "Back To Back"
tucks away this special treat onto the back cover, just so you'd easily miss
it when browsing the bins. Symbolically telling of the record's contents too,
but more about that later on.
The front cover would likely have you believe that this is an average early
70s Southwest lounge/barband/rodeo entertainment act, and in a way that's
exactly what these brothers were; having been blown away by "Back To
Back" I've picked up every record of theirs I've come across, and all
but one have been archetypical local coverband offerings (and the one exception,
Hank & Lewie Wickham With Johnny Dagucon, wasn't all that exciting
either).
However, the Wickhams had one masterpiece in them, the stunningly personal
document that is this little beast. Interestingly, it's billed as a sort of
split-LP, with Lewie doing side one, Hank the other, but I doubt anyone would
really hear it as "split" - these guys are together...
even when they're apart. Mental connections notwithstanding, I reckon they
participate heavily on each others' sides.
Their time around the bars certainly shows, as the album is often only inches
away from being cheesy, with bittersweet and easily accesible melodies
Already having said that it doesn't sound like a split-LP at all, I nevertheless
have to tip my hat in Lewie's direction as his side is definitely the stronger
one overall. "Family Picnic" is full of uncles, cousins, hot dogs,
cakes & snakes, smelly kids - "what a lot of fun" - and the
perfect opening on a perfect side. "Answer The Wind" starts out
like a country ballad, but turns into something else everytime the Chill City
stick comes out of nowhere with its percussion and heavenly Brewer & Shipley-styled
harmonies. "U Haul Trailer" tells the tale of separation in a disarmingly
frank manner:
"I've filled the tank
I've checked the tires
I've packed the trunk
By someone else's standards
With a lot of junk
A trailerload of memories
From happy times
I just wish someone was here
To say goodbye"
"This Good Life" is total homesick truckdriver sappiness, but gets
away with it, strings n' all (they actually benefit the tune, as does the
electric guitar, with a tiny Beatle-shade to it).
"Sweet Bye And Bye" (based on an old trad number) finishes the side
in glorious style; an odd mix of sad, observing verses and a brief, joyous
gospel-like chorus. Lewie's voice is as intimate as if he was singing right
in front of you, with an underlying tone of sorrow and regret:
"I knew a man who couldn't lift his leg
Or wiggle his toes
And he couldn't bend his arm to crack an egg
Nor blow his nose
He couldn't scratch his head
Nor wink his eye
Ain't it weird how things stop working
When you die
In the sweet bye and bye
In the sweet bye and bye
We called a doctor in to try to find
The cause of death
'Cause his soul had left his body far behind
And out of breath
We asked the doctor where the blame belonged
When you're dead he said
Most everything is wrong
In the sweet bye and bye
In the sweet bye and bye
We laid him out and they dressed him up
Fit to kill
He sure looked nice
The family lawyer came and he read the will
And gave advice
The preacher said his soul had been set free
Ain't it weird that's the way that things should be
In the sweet bye and bye
In the sweet bye and bye
Well, I can lift my leg and turn my head
From side to side
But something way down deep inside is dead
I think it dived
And if my poor old spirit took a dive
Ain't it weird that it should leave me
here alive
In the sweet bye and bye
In the sweet bye and bye"
So, how do you follow this? Hank Wickham decided to kick in with a song about
his girlfriend who died from an overdose, "Ode To Mary". Yeah, this
stuff is almost painfully real - they don't care one bit about keeping it
cool & not going over-the-top, and on their way they build a mountain
over hip cynicism before going straight from heart to tape.
Side two's other highlight is "Luana", a loungey love song with
an odd background effect, congas, and a spoken intro soon giving way to falsetto
harmonies... almost psychedelic in the same way as Jove, for example, can
be just that at his best.
Hank's remaining contributions round off the album in a good, lovesick style,
aided by light fuzz ("Everything") and flute ("Lyrics").
There are so many private/local records out there which are said to portray
the real smalltown America of the 1970s, but to my ears many of them
are just third division takes on the mainstream artists of the era. "Back
To Back" doesn't sound like much else though, and is in some ways a brief
look into the Wickham's own photo album, all faded pictures of a distant time
and place, and as such the perfect snapshot of a reality as it was and never
will be again.
SOWER - Sower (Grand Trine Records, no #) USA
1977
Let's stay for a while in New Mexico, shall we? I'd happily place a bet on
the fact that the bus heading for New Buffalo (mentioned above), had two outtasight
hippies in it, known to themselves, and perhaps a tiny few others, as Sower.
The counterculture was still alive & happening in the Southwest during
the second half of the 70s, with communes of all sorts quite literally dotting
the landscape. Lama Foundation, Reality Construction Company, Red Rockers,
Ortiviz Farm, Libre... all the stuff of legend. Exactly where Sower fit into
all this isn't clear to me, but they are so much of their time and place that
it would feel weird writing about them without at least namedropping some
of the head communities of the area.
I'm sure the cover photo on the back would scare off most people who can't
stand smelly longhairs, but should anyone brave it a bit & stay long enough
for the opening track "River Road" to come on, this is what would
greet them:
"I can tell where you been
From the calm that's within
And the faces you don't try to hide
For the love you've got within
Is flowing again
You've been listening to the river again"
Yes, Sower dip head first into the deep hippie mystique & they don't bother
to get out of there for the rest of the LP either. Me, I'm most thankful for
that - there are more than enough goodtimey bands of this ilk, celebrating
their lifestyles with a goofy sense of humor, and there are also those overly
serious ones heading off into pomposity, but this particular record doesn't
fit in with either of these archetypes. Instead it follows its own quirky
road, which is part laidback happy pothead, part New Age (lyrically rather
than musically) third eye revelations & part offbeat basement manifestos.
The mentioned opening song stands out a bit on side one, as it attempts to
be some sort of typical hippie duo/vocal harmony folk thing, but not really
getting anywhere near the slickness usually associated with that genre. Batdorf
& Rodney would've been heading for the hills, had they heard this one!
Most likely, the rest of Sower LP would not have been enough to bring them
back down either... the loose, rambling vocals & guitarpicking (acoustic
& electric), halting drums, flute, violin & primitive synth all hover
around in the air looking for something, but seemingly with their eyes closed
& seldom touching base (nor bass - no such on here) with each other. Far-out
it certainly is, but never gimmicky, as such a notion could imply; this is
the sound of local freaks with a rightly disdainful view of the big stages,
the sound of an organically raised middle finger directed at plastic LA crap
& the people behind it.
Much of the LP is rather moody, but there are plenty of sidesteps, like the
joyous hippie hoedown of "Reborn" which starts off side two with
a blissful smile & follows this with the nearly-rockin' "Waiting
For The Rock To Roll", the psychedelic lead guitar of which serves as
a perfect introduction to the total barn-brand acid folk dementia of "Song
For The Singer". Crashin' & splashin' cymbals, rolls on shoebox toms,
seagull electric guitar leads & forceful acoustic rhythm, haunting violin,
warbling flute & on top of it all a monotone vocal from someone who's
been over to the other side shaking hands with God. Did he make it back? Hard
to tell, really.
"Green Fields" is only slightly less of a headfuck, and may lyrically
be the epitome of what I tried to capture a few sentences back:
"You can keep away from me: TV
Keep me off the screen
Concrete buildings, cardboard boxes
Plastique! makes me nervous
I can't think!
Look at your feet
I think we're flying"
Some of the LPs I've written about here may not be something I expect legions
of collectors to go crazy over, but why Sower is not a household name amongst
the hipsters looking for buried local US sounds of this era escapes me. They
don't sound like much else, it's pretty rare, it has the look for sure...
and it's awesome. Little Joe Gomez nods in approval.
GABRIEL GLADSTAR - A Garden Song (Flying Guitar,
no #) Canada 1973; USA 1981
Gabriel Gladstar arrived here in spring 2005. I can't recall why I bought
it, as I'd had at least the bulk of the LP on tape for years prior without
it making much of an impression; perhaps the timing just wasn't there until
this beautiful day, with clear blue skies, sunshine, melting snow dripping
from the roof & a head full of plans for the intensity of the coming months.
Plant me now, dig me later... harvest time, alligator. Whatever, from the
moment I slapped this on I knew it was a very special record. Separated by
years & continents, our garden songs were/are much the same:
"I'm out in the garden
Planting the ground
You might think I'm crazy
But I'd like to have something to eat
You can fly around in your 707
With the chicks eatin' out of your hands
But if you ask me, boy,
You're wasting time
You better learn to live with the land"
Few songs have seen so much playing time in this house as "Garden Song"
- the best possible start of a day when groovin' good & mightily with
Mother Nature is on the agenda & the roar of the world just isn't anywhere
to be found.
A Laguna Beach trio relocating to WA, before eventually heading back to CA,
is about as much as I know about Gabriel Gladstar, but they seem to have made
some impact back in the day - Phil Pearlman was a fan, as was Bobbi, Clyde
& The Seaweed Cowboys... and the need was apparently there for a 1981
2nd pressing of the LP too (shown above to the right). Judging just by the
musical qualities I'm not surprised; "A Garden Song" is an accomplished
hippie folk LP, with stellar songwriting, good acoustic guitar picking &
excellent flute work, very sparse percussion, great vocal harmonies... as
gentle and dreamy as it gets, but never once losing its edge. It's kinda rural,
but in a very West Coasty way... no signs of pending snowstorms, lack of firewood,
or washed-out dirtroads in these grooves; this is in celebration of the green
& flowering garden, the cliffs & the rolling ocean, and the strolling
on a highway trying to hitch a ride to Mendocino. In no way should this be
construed as them being lightweight though, because they're certainly not;
just an easier soil to work with, if you know what I mean.
A very consistent vibe is present throughout, the kind of record
you put on & dream away to; not even the frantic fuzz of "Phantasy
Power" breaks this spell (fuzz breaking a spell? Unheard of!). There's
a feeling of them being slightly distant too, as if they play & sing from
afar, separated from the listener by a thin layer of silk which leaves them
as shadows in the fading sunlight, only the notes & a whiff of incense
passing through from the other side. The songtitles amplify this impression:
"Flow", "Gone Tomorrow", "Sunset Song", "Alone
With The Ocean", "Rain Song"... "a channel is created
for the soul to ride through on a beam manifesting truth", to quote the
liner notes.
As I'm writing this, spring is on the horizon again, small bags of seeds are
picked up from the drawers, pots being cleaned, sketches of the garden are
laid-out on the kitchen table, and the sound of "Troll Jam" mixes
with the crackling from the woodburning stove still going most of the time.
The farm ain't no movie, but Gabriel Gladstar is its soundtrack.
CLAY RINESS - Rollin' In My Changes (Weary Wolf Records WW-DCT 001) USA 1983
I challenge anyone with a sizeable record collection
to come up with as few 80s LPs in it as I have in mine... yeah, I know a statement
like that may seem rather boneheaded, but I have a serious problem
with the sound aesthetics of this era & it takes a lot for me to see through
it. Enter Clay Riness & "Rollin' In My Changes", an LP from
the dreaded decade but nevertheless a big fave of mine. How come?
Well, it isn't because of its sound, because I do think that had it been recorded
ten years earlier it would've come out even better, but to be fair it has
a fully ok aural presentation. My old lady usually points out that "this
sounds new" when I play it, but I don't quite hear it that way anymore.
Granted, it has a lot to do with the music; countryfolkblues lends itself
to a certain type of treatment, namely acoustic, and the worst aspect of the
80s usually lay in the electrics & electronics. So, to get this subject
out of the way: yes, here's an 80s LP, and yes, I think it's amazingly good.
Often one can get a pretty good idea about a record just by checking out the
titles & various details on the cover and/or in the liners; this is a
prime example of such examination. How could it not be raw, rustic folk with
a label name like Weary Wolf & a publishing company called Folked Up Musics,
with songs like "Trapper", "Yodelin' Cowboy", and "Knock
Kneed Country Woman"? How could it not have a slight beat/jazzy/coffeehouse
cool to it with a poem like that by Robert "One Man" Johnson on
the back? Right - what you see is what you get, and it's all the better for
it.
If you haven't noticed yet, I'm a sucker for the Americana mythology of the
hidden lands of the backwoods - the mountain men & outlaws, the log cabins
by the tiny creeks, the homesteads & run-down farms; that an album which
digs right into this type of stuff would be to my liking is perhaps no major
surprise:
"Twenty some odd years he rode the mountains
Just to get away from family life
Pullin' bucks from people there who didn't
Chose to leave his family and his wife
/.../
Later on I guess he chose the backwoods
Trap to trap, loaded gun in hand
Say the coyotes "Hell, he never missed one"
And the people that he'd take a stand"
This track, "Trapper", is one of only two songs that have full accompaniment
with drums, bass & femme backing vocals; otherwise Clay sticks to himself
& he's doing just as good that way. The guitarplaying is absolutely topnotch,
vocals are soulful & deliver the moodiness of "Me And My Old Man"
(perhaps my favourite on here; my father is walking the greener pastures but
I still relate heavily to this song) and "Yodelin' Cowboy" with
the same ease as the ironic wit of "Movin' To The City Rag".
The songwriting is also of a very high class, balancing the derivation that
is part of this game with original ideas that stand up to comparisons with
(should-be) classics of the genre, like the Bob Frank LP on Vanguard (another
likely Farm Faves review subject, that). Also mandatory for folkblues LPs,
at least to my ears, is the need for a few spins to let the songs grab hold
of you - it hardly ever happens right away.
Rivaling "Me And My Old Man" for the hotspot is the, also afore-mentioned,
melancholic "Yodelin' Cowboy", full of nostalgia and late-night
sadness that may come when looking back upon happier and/or easier times -
been there a whole lot myself - but I wouldn't want to be without any
of these ten songs. "Rollin' In My Changes" is a seemingly lost
chapter in the history books (=record lists), but I'm sure collectors will
catch up eventually. Be the first one on your block to have it comin' home
in a box.
'and
while you're at it...'
JEFFERY LIBERMAN - Jeffery Liberman (Librah No. 1545) USA 1975
This was one of the first private pressings
to gain recognition amongst psych collectors, and it was also one of the first
such I heard. It blew me away & I've remained that way for almost twenty
years now.
My blown mind aside, the record seems to be currently stranded in a sort of
Nowhereville - old news to old heads, new heads either don't exist or perhaps
they're too busy freeloadin' on other, hipper sounds.
However, I can't see any reason why this shouldn't be cock o' the walk when
it comes to late-stage (circa 1975-1980) vintage private pressing psych, as
all the required elements are here: the 'deep', 'lost' mystical vocals, enough
guitar trippiness to last you a lifetime (fuzz!
wah-wah! twin leads! phasing! backwards!),
electronic weirdness, and not least that rare & yet undefined quality
of being really, really, out-there, which many private LPs from the
same time are said to come with, but hardly ever do. If you ask me, the first
Jeff Liberman is just about the only record I know of from said era that fully
delivers these goods, leaving all other contenders way behind (Marcus? Bobb
Trimble? Ho-ho). Perhaps a considerably less refined Bob Smith a few years
down the road is a decent-enough comparison, should such be needed.
There are obvious guitar god aspirations at work here, and these are likely
what once drew people into its vortex, but to me it's 50-50 between every
single component of the record. I love the moody, folky-yet-heavy songs, like
"Dreamin' Sailor" and "Catherine", as much as the whole
8:57 of "Phenaphen #3", where Liberman unleashes every psychedelic
guitar trick in the book, coupling it with simple lovelorn lyrics (delivered
in such an emotional manner that they come across as pure poetry by way of
a fragmented psyche), or the straightforward-but-lysergical "Boogie Blues",
which sounds like Canned Heat with a guesting Steve Hillage taking all solo
cues.
Overall it's very hard to single out specific tracks or even moments here,
as it basically is 37 minutes of dreamstate music (only slightly interrupted
by "All That Jazz", where an acoustic guitar steals the solo space
- it's still very good, but perhaps a tad out of place). That said, side one
is utter perfection, while side two is a notch or two less as it drops the
heavy vocal stuff & go for instrumental flights of fancy only - but this
is getting close to splitting hairs, there's really not a wasted moment on
the entire record. Or, well, there are several, depending on how you look
at it...
Like with many other albums of the same ilk, this is initially best heard
late at night, and/or through headphones. Come to think of it, my introduction
to it was a tape that I used to have in my Walkman when taking long mid-winter
walks with our dog a long time ago; the moonlit snow and dark trees were the
exact right environment to be in when first experiencing this. Should you
be stuck in Californian sunshine, or similar, I have no doubt that you'll
still find the right set & setting for Jeffery Liberman to step inside
your mind & shred it to pieces... you just gotta poke around, as the Dead
put it.
The effort will be rewarded, or rewarding rather, with your inner self stumbling
forward in a long, winding tunnel through the earth, where only the occasional
root will be sticking out for you to grab when you wanna slow things down...
the kind of trip that could change you for life if you let it. If not, well,
not all can follow... on the bus or off? I guess you may still enjoy the backwards
guitar though.
TOM HUNNICUTT - Escaping From Today (Hillside
HSC 103) USA 1974
I'm pretty sure that I only have one LP in my collection that's the work of
a Marine Corps officer
Recorded 1974 in Nashville, with backing from seasoned session cats, one could
fear that the sound & playing would be a step or several too far in the
pro direction. And sure, it's well-played, well-written, well-arranged, but
so genuine & down home, and created with so much heart & care, that
a word like 'pro' just gets robbed of its meaning, had it ever had one.
Musically
While there may not be all that many of us around, I pretty much guarantee
that anyone with a penchant for ecological concerns, old-timey rural tales
& things (Into the future!, obviously), and authentic backwoods music
will love "Escaping From Today". I strongly suggest that all others
check it out too - you may be sucked into this jukebox that plays like a '74
road movie where the actors are few & quiet, the roads poor & the
mailboxes along them about to fall over. Doesn't that sound just like what
the doctor ordered?
(Tom Hunnicutt was later in the magnificent Honeybee Ridge, whose self-titled
1979 LP will eventually/hopefully also be part of this slowly growing collection
of ramblings. Amongst other things it contains a great song called "Big
Ol' City", which is partly "Arkansas" in new clothing. Many
years later he released a cd-r, "The Astral Years", which is amazing
spacey psych folk & with some editing and an LP release it would become
an instant classic.)
KINGDOM - Kingdom (Specialty SPS 2135) USA 1970
These days there aren't all that many heavy psych albums still lingering around
here; it never was my favourite mindexpanding subgenre to begin with, and
over time I've come to feel that many of these records tend to sound cool
but offer little in terms of songs, and/or overall moods that move me beyond
the pantomime aspects that the style lends itself to so well. There are, however,
exceptions, and here's one of the best: Kingdom, a Californian four-piece
with a sole LP on Little Richard's label, coming with the sound, songs and
moods that send me into mental overdrive everytime I slap it on.
On paper they don't look like anything special, with a line-up of twin guitars,
organ, bass & drums and a blues-based sound, but the sum of it all goes
way beyond the separate parts as there's basically nothing here that's not
incredibly well-done, nothing that sounds out of place: the songs are refreshingly
short, with more hooks & strong melodies than on your average pop LP,
but they still leave plenty of space for the grungy guitar
"If I Never Was To See Her Again" is perhaps the track most obviously
engraved in the back of my head, due to it being the soundtrack of a particularly
pathetic 1998 spring fling, but it would've been a standout even without this
questionable enforcement; here Kingdom slows down quite a bit, picks up an
acoustic guitar to play along with the electric assault (great bluesy solo
from John Toyne) & out comes a total classic. It was also released as
the A-side on the band's only 45.
Another one I'd like to single out is "Have You Seen The Lady",
where band leader Jim Potkey charges the way on organ, giving the instrumental
parts a definite resemblance to Pugsley Munion, another heavy outfit scoring
high on the sound/song/mood-meter.
Kingdom's epic show-closer (wish I'd been there!) was no doubt the one long
track on here, "Morning Swallow", which at 8:05 lets Potkey stretch
out quite a bit, on guitar this time, and he does this just as well as he
starts off the LP with the highly concentrated solo on the 2:20 "Waiting,
Hesitating". Not a moment inbetween is wasted either - to my mind, Kingdom
are prime contenders for the lowkey, workingclass championship of the harder,
guitardriven rock of its time & beyond. And yes, please send me that mint
cover you have tucked away for better days - a five pound bag of autumn wool
can serve as trade bait.
CHRIS RAWLINGS - Pearl River Turnaround (Cooking Fat MS-9824) Canada 1970
One or two of you out there may have noticed how I in my record lists repeatedly
have been referring to a seemingly specific Canadian 70s folk sound; as hard
to define as anything else you only take in via your various senses, the vibe
I've vainly tried to describe as 'warm', 'organic', 'friendly' is definitely
there but putting it down on paper (or screen, mind you)
With time and luck on my hands, I will eventually deal with all of these,
but for now we'll stick to "Pearl River Turnaround" - the first
of the lot, and while I don't know how much of an actual influence it had
on the others (they all did know one another though, and in some cases even
collaborated), I don't hesitate to refer to it as the mother of Canadian hippie
folk private pressings. The motherhood isn't restricted solely to this still-unnamed
genre, either, but it's also quite likely the first independently released
folk LP of any kind in Canada & would've deserved at least semi-legendary
status for this alone (in more mainstream music circles, the fact that Anna
McGarrigle makes her record debut here may be of bigger importance. But what
do those people know anyway?).
If you ask me though, the
"Sittin' on a fence with a straw between my teeth
And the green and the blue of the forest and the sky
And a thought came to my feet and my feet began to move
Down a country road, it's
Only six miles to the Pearl River
Turnaround
Never very far in the sun or the rain
If you don't turn back at the Pearl River Turnaround
Never get back again
/.../
I smoked and I laughed and then I took a pill
And when nothing happened, well I went up to a hill
I sat and I talked with a woman for an hour
'Till she left on her high heels taller than the trees
I slept and I begged and I borrowed
And it's so far back to the Pearl River Turnaround
Down a country road..."
...and eventually it comes to "The blue bottled spider man chased her
by the statues of the rain soaked streets sellin' headbands as a front to
the leaders of the students on the steps of the building", and if you're
not hooked by then, I reckon you're a very different creature than this writer.
(Interestingly enough Chris Rawlings' 2nd LP, the equally awesome "Soupe
Du Jour" from 1978, had a titletrack with a similarly stoney-smilin'
groove & funny lyrics - the sound of a rural pothead pixie! Nothing even
slightly Gong-esque about Chris though.)
The excellent "Brook Song" follows, sounding more serious at first,
with a great tack piano from Gilles Losier, but soon enough there's a chorus
of kazoos & odd voices, making the overall effect more of a halfway stop
between the titletrack and the altogether non-humorous "Bridge Of The
Night", a brooding, abstruse tale about the battle between the mind,
time & struggle for power.
"Pshaw" heads back to the safe havens of Holy Modal pixie cabin
hoedown-sounds - this seemingly effortlessly back-and-forth moving could well
be said to be something of a Chris Rawlings trademark. His style is not really
reminiscent of anyone else I can think of (bar the Rounders then, but this
is admittedly a rather lame comparison), yet it's very much of its time with
all that comes with the era. Like many other major artists (focus on artist
rather than major!) though, this is also what makes his LPs timeless
- don't really know how I shall explain this phenomenon & I won't try
here, but that's the way I hear 'em anyway.
"Song Of Creation", co-written with Paul Lauzon (who recorded his
own version on "Start Again") & based on an old Hopi song, is
a lovely folkpsych marvel, with shimmering acoustic guitars, great percussion,
flute & sparse soundeffects. More psychedelic vibes follow on the outstanding
"Iris Of Flowers", with sax, fuzz, and again some highly effective
percussion; slightly mystical ("she is the mystery of circles"),
this is perhaps the selling point of the LP to the more narrow-minded psych
collectors out there, but eclectic ears shall only hear it as one of ten highlights
on here. Yes, every single track of "Pearl River Turnaround" is
indeed a highlight - grab it the next time you see it, give it some time &
I'm pretty sure many of you will agree with me.
The back cover has a neat drawing of a cat amidst some flowers, or leaves
perhaps, and I imagine this is none other than Sally Cooking Fat, the main
character of the song of the same name, which rounds off the LP in typical
Rawlings style - that of the absurd story presented in a very musical manner;
many other songwriters dress up stories like these in chords & melodies
that are either imbecile or just plain crap, but this particular Canadian
gives them proper care & shows that this is the way to do it.
Speaking of cats, two reflections on the subject that tie in with this album:
1) our cats always react strongly to the roar in "Lion & The Jackal"
(label states the full name of "The Parable Of The Lion & The Jackal"),
and 2) this is very much a backwoods type of music, but not of the logger-with-giant-wolf/german-shepherd-mongrel-tied-to-the-pick-up-truck-behind-a-decrepit-shack
variety, but rather that of a gingerbread house in the middle of the woods,
bathing in fading sunlight, with a neat woodpile on the porch, a cat sleeping
on the window-sill & yes, a pothead pixie cooking up some herbal tea on
the wood stove.
(major label reissue on UNI 73116 USA 1971; shown to the right)
It's the first week of July, 2000, and the
German Twins' legendary West Coast record trek is coming to an end. The proprietor
of SF record store Grooves, Ray Andersen of Holy See fame, has kindly brought
with him a few scarce Bay Area records for the Twins to take a closer look
at. One of the platters is the original privately released edition of Saddhu
Brand, and as neither of the Twinnies have previously heard the record, it
requires a brief spin on the shop's turntable before they fork out the ungodly
sum of $30*. South, being the oldest of the two, gets to pitch his ears to
the sound first - headphones on, needle dropped & after only a few seconds,
a goofy grin spreads across his face. Now, looking goofy is pretty much what
South is all about, so to be sure there's something more going on, North asks
'good?' & the reply is a, well, goofy 'uh-huh', smile now reaching the
headphones, and North knows that it's a done deal: two copies of "Whole
Earth Rhythm" are about to move to Sweden.
...And here I am, almost eleven
years later, still smiling happily when I think about that time, when the
'beautiful group just returned from two long years in the dreamy and vaporous
land of India' first entered my heart & soul. To me, and probably South
too, this is the finest sitar-laden headtrip of them all; as much as I love
Oriental Sunshine or Magic Carpet, there's no question that this goes way
beyond these & any other contestants. Handgjort? Sorry, terribly overrated.
For some reason though, you won't find many others joining in on this chorus
- not even the legions of hardcore Bay Area collectors seem to find it much
more than an odd curiosity. Has the whole world gone mad?
The baba trip starts off with the mighty titletrack, which after only a few
revolutions introduces the girls' chorus, picked up from the next door Catholic
school; the Saddhu Brand's version of bong-fuelled eastern dreams is less
mystical, droning minor key than many others from the time, rather they usually
go for a subtly stoned early afternoon in Golden Gate Park-type of sound,
and the girls' voices add a layer of otherworldly innocence on top of it all.
You might wanna try to close even your third eye as you drift away to this
- I don't know whether you'll find yourself high up in the mental trees by
such a bold move, or if the deep song of the tabla has too much of a grip
on you to be anything but grounded, but it'll be interesting for sure. And
make that grounded - the unconscious having carved a tiny hole in
the ground through which you can see beyond it all, coming to understand the
very essence of the Whole Earth Rhythm.
Heavy stuff, and this vibe goes on for the entirety of side one. Flip it over
& it gets even better: "People Brittle" is my fave on the LP
and perhaps even my all-time fave sitar-psych track. Here the Brands head
for a considerably more intense groove than what's found elsewhere on the
album
By contrast, "I Give You Johnée The Truth" is utterly easygoing,
with even the girls having had their heads affected by the Acapulco Gold &
Silver. Or at least it sounds this way - the vaporous land, indeed.
Returning to my earlier world-gone-mad speculation, perhaps the highly enlightened
sounds of the album have let people looking for the easy-guru fix down to
the extent that they haven't bothered to listen to the entire LP? Because
tucked away at the end is "Dabi Das' Song", 12 minutes of exactly
the type of mystical midnight to dawn psychedelic raga most collectors want,
and this alone should sell the LP to crowds of, well, hundreds anyway. Needless
to say, Saddhu Brand do this type of thing better than the contenders too
- their playing skills are overall on another level than most smittened by
the East (and they aren't relying solely on the sitar for the 'exotic' touch
either, they're as good on the tablas, sarod, esraj, guriji & bamboo flute
too), and yet they bring out the earthy, dirty best in what they do, leaving
no smell of academic scholars to mix with the incense. Indeed, "Dabi
Das' Song" may even challenge "People Brittle" for the top
spot. What says you, South?
*Actually, South
paid $35, as his shrink was slightly more crisp.
SALOON
MUSIC - Saloon Music (no label, S-134) USA 197?
Here's an obscurity
which few heads seem to be familiar with, despite it being closely related
to some of the big guns in the field of rurally leaning private pressings.
Having awaited its rise from unknown to much appreciated for years to no avail,
I decided I had to be the first to go on paper praising Saloon Music. You
see, this is the lost chapter of the Drendall, Thrower & Friends - Thrower
Spillane McFarland - BlueJohn book n' scene, and while it may not be quite
up to the standards of these giants, at least not in terms of peaks, it's
a very worthwhile album & if you take in these four LPs as a whole, this
can perhaps be seen as the laidback post-midnight backporch comedown, rounding
things off in an intimate, friendly manner, before shattered minds & souls
walk away towards the rising sun.
Musically, Saloon Music is in the folk-folkblues-singersongwriter bag, with
its foundation being vocals, two acoustic guitars and bass. Occasionally they
flesh things out with dobro, steel, electric guitar, harp, percussion, drums,
harmony vocals, but it's always a quiet sound - in fact the chord-strumming
guitar and overall laziness is so deep
The four main guys on here, Jack Hamilton, Frank Schultz, B.A. Thrower, and
Nelson Wood, share instrumental duties fairly, but the songwriting is mainly
split between Schultz on side one, and Hamilton on side two. If you've heard
the latter's solo album from '77 or so, don't fear - this is way better than
anything on there, and while Jack and Frank definitely don't sound alike,
neither as songwriters nor singers, the LP hangs together very well; the mood
is reflective, slightly melancholic, with the lyrics being very much down
to earth... 'he'll tell you of the mountains / and of the last snow of spring
/ tell you what it's like to be alone'... small-town dreams plagued by the
'City Blues'. There's really only one track that doesn't follow this formula,
the closing "Georgia Line Fever", which uses a full band - including
B.A. Thrower on trademark wah-wah - and an uptempo groove, but it's nevertheless
bordering on the comatose, and you get the impression that this was the last
awake moment in the studio, with the band falling off their chairs in the
middle of the take - too little sleep or too much beer, or both of them -
hence the mystic fade-out.
While not being as expensive as "Papa Never Let Me Sing The Blues"
and the others, Saloon Music is probably as rare, and also a 500 copies pressing.
Due to its lack of psych, or more rocked-out elements, I doubt it will ever
reach the big bucks level either, nor be reissued. Somehow this is all very
fitting - here's an album that reeks of dust, cobwebs, good times n' bad times
that were had ages ago, gone missing in the days since its creation, but decades
later being picked up by a select few diggers hoping it will be their next
ticket to ride. If only one of those souls connect with the vibe here, I actually
believe that's all the Saloon Music guys need to keep a sad, slight smile
on their faces; this is a record with no greater aim than being a document
of songs, taped while friends were creekin' out at the goose & because
of that so much greater than any rock star dream could ever be.
Years ago I was in touch with some members of the band, and it seems the perfect
conclusion to this little tribute that Frank Schultz is now a horseman. If
you don't know what I mean by that, please move on - I bet your name's Jones.
