Remembering John Fahey: A Work In Progress

Hoo-wee. So many albums, so little time! As someone said once, you either have one John Fahey album or you have at least ten. I fell headlong into Category 2, so I need to do more homework before reporting back on my suggested Fahey purchases. To repeat an earlier review, "Return of the Repressed" captures tracks across the spectrum, but it falls off near the end when it includes John's post-illness tracks. BUT it's the best collection to date. Buy it. I'll pay you back if I'm wrong (all three of you followers!)

Still, it may try to include too much, but jeez, this collection (The Best of John Fahey 1959-1977) ... No problem with the tracks selected, excellent in that regard...but the track list on the disc is wrong. The songs listed are all on the CD, but NOT in the order presented. Think I'm being a bit anal? This is on Takoma Records, which John Fahey founded, and they can't get the track listing right on his first "Best Of"??!? 

Talk about a prophet in his own country getting 

NO RESPECT!! 

More to come --- mostly recommendations, not rants! 

Latin Jazz, My Latest Homework Assignment

This starts in the middle of things, or rather, it gained momentum in the middle. I borrowed this from the library in Anacortes and loved it, so of course I had to get a copy. I knew nothing really about latin jazz (and still don't really), but I've explored Brazilian music and this was kinda in the ballpark.

Then a week or so ago, I borrowed "Psychedelic Blues" by Poncho Sanchez from the library after hearing the title track on NPR.

Well, there's really nothing 'psychedelic' about it as far as I can hear, but I did get to hear the fantastic "Willie Bobo Medley" which featured "I Don't Know", "Fried Neckbones and Some Homefries" and "Spanish Grease". "Fried Neckbones" was a bonus track on one of the remastered/reissued early Santana albums (it may have even been part of their Woodstock performance. Speaking of Woodstock, did I mention that the version of Santana's "Soul Sacrifice" -- the highlight of the film for me --- was actually an edited version. Eventually the full version was added to the reissue of the first Santana album -- if memory serves -- and it's like 2 minutes longer! But here's the catch -- the edited version is better! Just that much trimming of the boring parts of the drum solo elevated that track to genius! But back to our story...) Okay, so Santana is aware of Willie Bobo, and "Spanish Grease" really sounds like Santana's "No One to Depend On" with different words -- what's going on here?

So I dusted off this great Latin comp I'd forgotten about:

and it's full of some latin jazz stars that I'd heard mentioned in interviews with Carlos Santana. Hmmm, this is getting interesting... So I did what every library-type person would do:

I checked out a book. This one's by John Storm Roberts, who I'd heard about from his record label Original Music, which specializes in traditional music of the Caribbean and, you guessed it, Latin America.

Music geek that I am, this is my idea of heaven. I get to explore this fascinating genre of music with a book at my side giving me guidance and pointing out the connections between all these great artists. This will certainly keep me busy for a while, but I'll report back on my findings soon.

American Primitive Guitar and John Fahey

I try not to be a completist, but lately I've noticed CD prices dropping to ridiculous levels, and I've mentioned before that the window of how long a CD stays in print seems smaller all the time, so if I can fill in some gaps in my collection, now's the time.

I also now have a working CD player in my car, so I'm freed from the tyranny of radio for now, but as much as I've complained about it, I have heard some great things, some of which lead to even better things. Case in point: KSER played a track from one of the "Imaginational Anthem" guitar anthology CD series, and I was curious about others in the series. They're mostly compilations of semi-known and fairly unknown acoustic guitarists that could be generally placed in the John Fahey school of what he sometimes referred to as "American Primitive Guitar", a rural pre-war blues/ragtime/folk/gospel amalgam of styles, of which Fahey stands Colossus-like above the crowd.

I listened to snippets of the series, but Volume 6 really grabbed me; it's the Rosetta Stone of the Fahey style. I knew that Fahey's interest in old 78s informed his musical direction, but his was more than just a copy -- he added classical touches, Dixieland and subtle dissonance to forge his own very individual style.  But Volume 6 collects, as the liner notes say, the "primordial universe that spawned and nurtured Fahey". Drawn from 78s by Riley Puckett, Sam McGee, Sylvester Weaver and more (with some politically-incorrect titles like "Darkey's Wail" and "Tramp's Waltz"), this is the stuff that set Fahey on his journey. They sound like rough drafts of later Fahey works, and of course, in a sense they are, and some ("Knoxville Blues") Fahey even covered.

I took a jazz appreciation class years ago, and I couldn't understand why we had to spend so much time listening to Fats Waller and Louis Armstrong when I wanted to get to Charlie Parker, Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Duh. It helps to know the foundation first. This "Origins of American Primitive Guitar" helps me get some insights into John Fahey's music, and I'll listen with more informed ears.

The label that issues the "Imaginational Anthem" series is Tompkins Square, and they do a great job. The tracks are mastered from 78s, so there is some surface noise and you'd never call it 'high fidelity', but after a few minutes of listening, you get used to it. Sure, I would have liked more than 14 tracks, but really, this is more about quality than quantity.

More on John Fahey soon!

John Martyn, Postscript

As Island Records releases remastered versions of John Martyn's classic albums, I've slowly replaced some of my favorites. As more and more people abandon CDs for downloads, the window of opportunity to buy CDs at reasonable prices gets smaller and smaller, and once they've gone out of print (again), prices start climbing. I missed the boat replacing some old reggae albums, and now used copies are big bucks. Same with NRBQ (I assumed that being on Rounder Records would give NRBQ unlimited shelf life -- not so much!)

So I sprung for the 2009 remaster of probably John Martyn's best, most consistent album, "Solid Air". Sounds great, of course, but there's a second disc of alternate takes, live tracks and unreleased-until-now bonus tracks. (Island has taken this to extremes lately -- there's like a 17-disc Martyn box with somewhere close to 3 hours of bonus material. Even if I did win the lottery, I'd have to devote the rest of my life to listening to it all.) That being said, there are 2 bonus tracks on the "Solid Air" set that I really enjoy: "In the Evening" and especially "When It's Dark", 8:36 of pure perfection. I have no idea why it wasn't included on earlier versions of "Solid Air", maybe because you can hear the germ of another song that ended up on John's next album. Whatever the reason, I certainly glad it finally made its appearance.

"The Tumbler" was John's second album, and there's no remaster yet. For me, it illustrates "you can't go home again". It's a nice album, but having followed John's career since, it's a bit light and unfinished compared to where he went later. I think if I'd heard it when it initially came out, I'd hear it with more nostalgic affection, and the blemishes would be endearing rather than slightly uncomfortable. Still, it was nice to hear on some of our beautiful summer days lately.

Junior Kimbrough:Most Things Haven't Worked Out

Is that the best title for a blues album or what?? Way back during this blog's early days, I mentioned the film "Deep Blues" about Robert Palmer (no, not that one) and his trip to the backwaters of the South to find undiscovered authentic bluesmen still performing. Fat Possum Records has released albums by, among others,  R L Burnside and my favorite, Junior Kimbrough. Forget Stevie Ray Vaughan, B B King or (yeesh!) Eric Clapton. These Deep Blues guys are not the least bit polished or technically accomplished; they might as well be drumming on shoe boxes and plucking a mop for all the proficiency displayed. But, but...man, do they tap into something primal and earthy and rock-frickin'-SOLID.  Primal like Ali Farka Toure or Hamza El Din -- this is stuff straight from the motherland. And when Junior gets into the groove, it's mesmerizing.

Here's another example: when I first discovered reggae, I liked the slick, polished Third World version. Bob Marley (then only just beginning to become the LEGEND) was still 'yard', scratchy, thinly produced --  and forget ska and early reggae. Jeez, they sounded like field recordings, and I hated them. Eventually, I worked backwards, and now those dusty tracks are my favorites. Third World really wanted to be the O-Jays, and I still appreciate their music, but give me something with a little grit in the grooves, please.

So back to Junior: I fell in love with his performance on the "Deep Blues" DVD, filmed in his wooden shack/juke joint called Junior's Place, his face lined and battered like some blues Cyclops, one eye seemingly working on its own as dancers shuffle and strut like it's the last Saturday night on earth in Mississippi. "All Night Long" is the live one from 1995 with the long send-you-into-a-trance songs, and "Most Things..." is from 1997, with a different producer, venue and band but still a keeper.

My Apology to Bruce Springsteen

Originally I was going to title this "Bitch-slapping Bruce Springsteen", because that's what I felt like doing. But why, you ask ? (And why risk getting the holy crap beat out of me?) I was recently listening to the compilation "The Essential Bruce Springsteen" (Bruce gets 3 CDs in his 'Essential' set, but Dylan gets only 2? Really?) and I had to face my bete noir in the form of the title track from "The River", and all my anger rose to the surface again. But let's go back in time a bit, dear reader...

I wore out my 45 of "Born to Run". I lipsynced the screams, I did my best fake mike work, and you know I played my air guitar while falling to my knees. And yet...when I heard the "Born to Run" album, it didn't rock enough for me. Was it the piano? The organ? The tight-ass arrangements? I've read that Bruce obsessed with getting just the perfect sound, but it sounded tied down and airless, fake street punk as arranged by Yes. Sure, I still waded through the corny street opera in "Jungleland" to get to the magnificent Wolverine howls at the end (and my late dog Norm howled along) -- but like Ebenezer Scrooge facing the ghost of Jacob Marley ("You might be a bit of underdone potato -- there's more of gravy than grave to you!"), I heard way more Laura Nyro and "West Side Story" in "Born to Run" than I expected. (But then the live box version of "Rosalita" is just as  over-arranged, but it's in my Top Ten Live Faves, so go figure.)

Over the years I heard enough Bruce I enjoyed to warrant my own crappy self-selected cassette best-of compilation. Bruce himself suggests that "The Essential" isn't for the fan but the casual listener (though the 3rd CD collects enough rare tracks that the dedicated fan has to bite.) But skimming through "The "Essential", I once again run up against the song that always gets me angry: "The River". Plot: kid hangs out by the river/reservoir, checks out Mary, fine and tan, oops he gets Mary pregnant "and man, that was all she wrote/ And for my 19th birthday/I got a union card and a wedding coat". Now he's stuck in this dead-end town, married and working at the factory until he dies. This is his life from now on. Even the river has dried up! (Enter stage left, pathetic fallacy!)

This song pissed me off no end. Hey, remember the part where Mary's pregnant? -- you have a child, you SELFISH BABY! Yes, you'll have to WORK to support your FAMILY. OH MY GOD, nobody's ever done that and LIVED!! And get this -- you have a union job! You're not slapping burgers at Mickey D's -- you have a decent wage AND HEALTH BENEFITS!!

Deep breath. And there's more. Songs about dreams gone dry, women sitting smoking on the porch in the dark wondering where their life went... I get it, I really do. I understand disappointment, and despair, and feeling trapped. BUT there's more than just YOU in this equation, boyo, and you need to be a man and strap 'em on.

I thought "Is this how Bruce sees the world? How old is he?? What a frikkin' baby!" Then finally it dawned on me that Bruce is writing about a character. Oh, and maybe he's pointing out (so subtly that this English major missed it) that maybe the character is immature. Umm, duh.

So...I apologize, Bruce. I didn't understand. I wouldn't dream of attempting to bitch-slap you. Thank you for giving me time to get the picture. I just needed time to let the characters grow up, and, heck, grow up a bit myself.

Incredibly Strange Music series

These two books are titled "Incredibly Strange Music", and that's just what it's about: interviews with record collectors and/or performers who acquire music of the bizarre, the kitschy, and the mostly indescribable. Featuring the Cramps, Eartha Kitt, Martin Denny, Rusty Warren (yikes!), Yma Sumac and many more, it's a quirky but affectionate look at the fringes of vinyl collecting, and yes, a sad appreciation of an era more and more difficult to maintain. As most all of the interviewees complain, the days of finding LP treasures in thrift stores or junk shops is pretty much over, since album price guides and online searching has sucked most of the gold from the marketplace.                                                                                                                  

 

                        It's been a few years since I read these, and in re-reading them, I was struck by how much affection was expressed for the weird. Whether it's the tiki exotica of Martin Denny and Arthur Lyman, or the electronic experimentation of Robert Moog and Gershon Kingsley, or the innumerable rockabilly, r&b, humor or country albums mentioned, every single collector expresses sheer joy in the treasures they've managed to amass over the years --- and the joy they feel in sharing the information with others.