FATHER: NEVER ANY GOOD/Martin Simpson

I guess many of us tired old bloggers are at the time of life where we are beginning to evaluate/re-evaluate our fathers, as so touchingly displayed in J. David's piece below. I lost my own pa nearly 30 years ago, his memory now more benign presence than black hole, but this is neither about me nor him, being more an opportunity to, possibly, introduce, a name less well known than I would like, one Martin Simpson.
For me, as a UK based folkie, his name has always been bubbling under my surface tensions, a perennial on the listings pages over decades, cropping up in good company yet never quite as celebrated as the company kept: he has appeared with June Tabor and been a member of the Albion (Country/Dance) Band on occasion. His style is an interesting hybrid of an english tradition, albeit with odd tunings, spun with a delta blues bottleneck bravadaccio, honed from years resident in the U.S., styles that are seldom played alongside each other. And devoutly acoustic, no mean hand also on banjo. However, in recent years, into his 4th decade of recordings, he has hit a purple patch of masterful solo records and a slew of collaborations within which he has seemed the patrician guiding focus. Awards and accolades have tumbled around him in swathes, his admirers including one Richard Thompson, who has said:  “I am a big fan of Martin's playing. Perhaps the highest praise I could give is to say that he never stops getting better!” Here they are playing together.

But what has this to do with fatherhood? Time for the song:

I just love the apparent disparagement of the lyric, the way the narrative catalogues the shortcomings, perhaps being the voices of criticism the boy Martin heard of his father in childhood, the sums thereof unwittingly combining to produce an adorable image of a wonderful father, hang the husband, breadwinner stuff, just a lovely and loved man who adored his son. OK, perhaps a rose tinted memoir, but one that effortlessly has me welling up even just thinking about the song. Live in concert it has a particular poignancy, as Simpson describes how he, as the son of an older father, his father being over 50 when he was born, himself became a first time father in his 50s. The hope he can be the same to his son exudes from every pore of his being. And maybe the song is right. Why is it that the workplace statistics of a man are so more highly celebrated than the more ethereal family persona? The list of giants of politics, business and, yes, even the arts are littered with distant figures from their  neglected progeny and worse, cruel and insensitive parenting almost de rigeur for the self-made man.

There are other songs by others that touch on similar territory. Some perhaps even written with the insight of having not been themselves the father they reminisce so fondly of. To all intents and purposes, Ian Dury seems not to have been an easy man but his song to his father hits a similar vein:

Isn't it the truth, as we get older, abetted by those annoying and increasing similarities in the mirror, far from hoping we won't become our fathers, as teenagers, in time, inevitably, we do.

Buy the studio version of 'Never Any Good' and hope your own sons will think so kindly.

Dylan Covers: Masters of War

In planning my posts for this week, I remembered that the blogosphere was all abuzz a while ago with Pearl Jam’s cover of Dylan’s “Masters of War." Here we had the meeting of two religions, the cults of Dylan and Vedder getting together for interfaith services. While I admire both, I don’t share the devotion of either group of fans, and I wound up not even playing the song when everybody was posting it. I had never even heard Dylan’s original until this week.

Now that I have, I must say that it is not Bob Dylan’s best work. The lyrics express a view that I absolutely agree with, but I find them angry and strident. The arrangement is simple, just a driving acoustic guitar and voice, but there is not much variety, and a song which is on the long side is made to feel even longer.

So why am I posting this? Given the simplicity of Dylan’s original, something remarkable happens when the song is covered. Some artists treat the song almost as an unfinished work, and feel free to fill out the arrangement and make it their own. And some of the results are amazing. And the words inspire some great impassioned vocal performances.

Martin Simpson: Masters of War

[purchase]

Martin Simpson is originally from England, where he started his career in folk music. Wanting to add some traditional American folk stylings to his guitar playing, Simpson came to the United States, and wound up staying. Simpson replaced Dylan’s guitar part with his own, to great affect. Simpson’s vocal style is very much in the English folk tradition, the song works very well delivered this way.

Bill Frisell: Masters of War

[purchase, available in mp3 format only]

Bill Frisell is one of the finest jazz guitar players working today, no wait! Bill Frisell is an Americana artist who specializes in instrumental numbers with a jazzy flavor... Perhaps it’s best just to say that Frisell’s music fits in the cracks between musical genres. I’ve often wondered what his music would sound like if he worked with a singer. It would have to be someone who could also straddle the line between jazz, blues, and country. Cassandra Wilson would be an obvious choice, and I would love to hear that, but I was actually thinking of...

Maria Muldaur: Masters of War

[purchase]

... Maria Muldaur. Now, if you’re thinking of “Midnight at the Oasis”, you must think I’m crazy. But as Maria Muldaur has aged, her voice has become richer and deeper, and she has learned to use it as a great jazz and blues instrument. Her take on “Masters of War” came out on her newest album this past July. This is her first album of all political material, which says a lot about the times we are living in.

Footwear: Boots of Spanish Leather

Bob Dylan: Boots of Spanish Leather

[purchase]

Nanci Griffith: Boots of Spanish Leather

[purchase]

Martin Simpson: Boots of Spanish Leather

[purchase]


There's been a Bob Dylan song in almost every single theme we've attempted here on Star Maker Machine, but those of us who appreciate his iconic songwriting know there's no such thing as too much Bob Dylan. Hence, Dylan's neo-traditional ballad of separation, loss, and fine Spanish footwear, with the boots in question the final request from a left-behind lover who, after thrice refusing material possessions, finally asks for the memento as a signifier of his acceptance that he will never again have what he truly desires.

Call it cavalier or callous, the power of those final three verses, spoken by the remaining narrator after the dialogic "other" has faded from the song, are undeniable. In fact, I believe the song is one of Dylan's most powerful and enduring -- and for a man with such a canon, that's saying a lot, indeed. But then, I'm not alone in this assessment, which I share with no less an authority than the Norton Anthology of Poetry, 5th edition, which included the lyrics to this song in a section titled "Popular Ballads of the 20th Century."

That said, it may be sacrilege, but as someone who has gone on record as preferring Dylan the songwriter to Dylan the performer, I genuinely prefer both of today's covers to the original 1964 performance from Dylan's seminal work The Times They Are a-Changin'. Nanci Griffith's genderbent countryfolk take is more plaintive and delicate, as her songs are wont to be; master guitarist Martin Simpson's version is more mystical and poignant, revealing the song as less neo- and more a true traditional folk ballad from across the sea. Each, in its own way, hits the gold standard of coversong, subjectively speaking: though there are a dozen or more covers of this one out there, it is these two which, for me, transformed the original song from something decent into something truly great, more than worthy of its inclusion in my own high school English Lit textbook.