TREES/GRASS: TREES

As in they coulda/woulda/shoulda, Trees were the band Fairport Convention could have been if Dave Swarbrick hadn't been knocking about, a heady infusion of psychedelia and trad.arr. Contrary to current accepted dogma, Fairport weren't the sole progenitors of ye olde folke-rocke, merely the ones who took it first and foremost into their entire modus operandi, for 'Liege and Lief', having really only dipped their toes in and out before, gradually mingling elements of a folk tradition into their initially more american singer-songwriter palette. Trees were arguably ahead of them at that moment, with a potent stew of their own songs, a mix of meandering guitar based whimsies and folk club standards, applied with the same patchouli scented rhythmic brush. Plus, without a fiddle, they could resist the temptation of a jig and reel based sensibility, which would later give the genre a bad name. There was a slew of similar bands, vying for attention alongside, most, too, cast to the ranks of also-rans. I'm thinking Comus, Dando Shaft, Mellow Candle and Tea and Symphony. (Deliberate non-mention of Dr Strangely Strange and the Incredible String Band, each worthy of pieces of their own.)

The Garden of Jane Delawney

                                                            She Moves Through the Fair
                                          Both from 'The Garden of Jane Delawney', 1970

Coming together in 1969, a collection of friends and acquaintances, loosely related to the UK University of East Anglia. A 5 piece of 2 guitars, one each of acoustic and searing electric, bass and drums, vocals were provided by Celia Humphris, the friend of a friend, who was auditioned predominantly as none were otherwise strong enough in that department. Here's a pretty good interview with Humphris. (Don't panic, the translated article follows directly the italian!). Record companies were eagerly recruiting in these days, and multi-record deals were plentiful to any possible contenders, so, within months, the relatively inexperienced ensemble were signed to CBS. Whilst they perhaps failed to deliver the promise on the front of success, the critics loved 'em and the plaudits were plentiful. As so often the way, radio DJ John Peel played no small part in bringing their name into the open, citing that he wished he could devote a whole show to their music. But fame wasn't beckoning, good reviews failing to translate into sales, and so, after two records, they folded, a lifespan of barely 3 years. A 2nd version launched briefly, this time adding the by now de rigeur fiddle, although Humphris was the sole remaining original member.

Fool

Polly on the Shore

Both from 'On the Shore', 1971

Remarkably for a band of it's time, there have been, as yet, no re-unions, no reformations, possibly adding to the mystique. Performances have occasionally been mooted, without ever quite taking off. But the recordings have remained in print, slowly and steadily selling, buoyed by re-issues and helped by the odd stroke of luck: of all bands, Gnarls Barkley, maverick soul/electronica duo, sampled their song, 'Geordie', on the song 'St Elsewhere', the opening and title track of their 2006 debut.

                                               Tom of Bedlam: 'Trees Live', 1973 (later line-up)

I would say the time period 1968 - 1972 was as fertile a period in music as any before or since. The fact that it coincided with my formative years was a wonderful stroke of luck, if perhaps explaining my opinion. And whilst I have loved music since that time and discovered music from before, if not necessarily to the actual recordings, it is often to the musicians who then first paid their dues that I most frequently return.

Take a walk through the Trees.

Musical Homonyms: Crazy

Patsy Cline: Crazy
[purchase]

The wedding was memorable, and not only because it was one of the last “friend” weddings that we attended. One of my wife’s college friends got married way out on the north shore of Long Island and it was refreshingly laid back. The bride and groom arrived at the reception from the church in a small plane while the rest of us gathered on the shore and greeted them. I have a memory of shooting baskets with my kids during the reception.

But this is about the night before, when there was a very relaxed party at a house on Shelter Island. It was a dark night, and the liquor was flowing. There was a karaoke machine, and people were using it. As I may have previously mentioned, as much as I love music, I cannot create music (unless you count some bad drumming). My singing is, let us say, problematic (or “off-key” as some have said). On the other hand, my wife and kids can sing quite well and even play instruments. The musical talent gene clearly flows from my wife’s side of the family. In fact, until very recently, and only after more than a few glasses of liquid courage, I would not sing karaoke in public. At this party, though, both my wife and young daughter took up the microphone eagerly. My daughter tossed off a great version of “That’ll Be The Day,” by Buddy Holly, and my wife sang “Crazy.”

Her performance blew everyone away. She has an incredible voice, pure, sweet and with a range that is astonishing. But once she finished college, she pretty much stopped performing, which is a shame. She recently started to perform with a local choir, singing classical music, and I’m pushing her to do more with folk and rock, and we will see how that goes.

Frankly, every time we have been invited to a karaoke party, she waits until the appropriate moment, steps to the stage and demolishes everyone else with a smoldering version of Patsy Cline’s classic. It also happens to be a great song, written by Willie Nelson, who was finding it difficult early in his career to make it—his songs were considered too complex and too jazzy for the country music world of the time. But once Patsy Cline released her version of “Crazy,” it opened doors for Nelson, and led to his ultimate success and recognition as both a singer and songwriter, not to mention political and marijuana legalization activist.

As long as there are singers, I suspect that people will be singing that song, and probably ripping off Patsy Cline. More recently, another song with the same title became ubiquitous. The Gnarls Barkley song simply swept aside everything in its path, becoming a huge hit. Based on music from spaghetti westerns, it is catchy and irresistible, even to those of us who aren’t generally fans of the style. It couldn’t be less like the Patsy Cline tune, but it is equally great. Which is crazy.