LOVE: HOLY LOVE

 

Holy Love

You possibly or, more likely, probably don't know the song. It would be great if you do, and there may be some, but I fear the band of aficionados is more select and smaller than I would prefer. And, who knows, this may alert new ears to both the singer and the song, and I hope it can. The singer you may have heard of. Or at least, heard his voice. So who he? 

Strange Kind Of Love

James Grant, or the James Grant you will be more familiar with was the guiding force behind and in Glasgow white soul and white socks band, Love and Money, something I confess to finding a bit of a surprise. I mean, they were OK, but a bit sort of generic. Or so I thought then, pleasantly surprised by my currently designated dip in their repertoire, finding, instead, a smooth and rich sound redolent of, of all people, Jackie Leven. The song above, from their second and "breakthrough" album, "breakthrough" in that it produced their first chart appearances, in the lower reaches of the UK singles top 80, has an interesting pedigree, in that their drummer had left the band, necessitating some substitution. With big name producer Gary Katz having been signed to buff up their sound, he drafted in Jeff Porcaro from Steely Dan, the band he was better known as the producer for. Sloopy/Edgar Winter man, Rick Derringer, the 70s guitar ace, also appeared, as did an uncredited Donald Fagen. (And you thought he smooth sound seemed familiar....) Hindsight reveals this, Strange Kind of Love, to be a terrific album and I feel their memory, based more on their eponymous earlier single, Love and Money, has been wronged by my failure to give them a second go. Plus, if I am honest, the, um, mismatch between the dark brown honeyed voice and the somewhat gangly youth projecting it. (And he has, I can say, grown into his vocal timbre with appropriate grace and gravitas.)

Having failed to set the world alight, Love and Money lurched on to a further couple of albums, bedogged by issues with record companies: their 3rd album was initially rejected, ahead of coming out, substantively altered, on another label, the 4th then being, to all intents and purposes, self-released. Despite all this, that difficult 3rd album, when finally released, as Dogs in the Traffic, was seen fit to gather a number 30 in the Scotsman newspaper's all time top 100 Scottish rock and pop albums. they split up in 1994.

My Love Lives In A Dead House

Grant embarked on a solo career. Given he had now hooked up with the husband and wife, Donald Shaw and Karen Matheson, both of Capercaillie, this unsurprisingly is a rootsier effort, with strong country and folk flavours to the anthemic melodies. Sawdust in My Veins came out in 1998, and in the same year he was included as a guest in the prestigious Transatlantic Sessions. My Thrown Glory followed in 2000, with an album of other writer's poetry set to his music, I Shot the Albatross, bridging the gap ahead the album that produced the song that heads this piece. His high water mark, I would say, with the song also the name of the record, a splendid record of truly celtic soul, and well worth searching out. The song itself, despite the title, is neither religious nor sanctimonious, being more a spiritual ode to love, using the analogy of love being a higher force. I think. It uses holy in the same way as is, say, Steve Winwood's evocative Holy Ground, his hymn to the planet.

If You Love Me, Leave Me Alone

Blue Train

During these same years he also returned the favour, working on Karen Mathesons's solo albums, writing four songs for her first record, six for her second and two for her third, as well as providing instrumental ballast to the backing throughout. Indeed this has continued to the present, with her most recent album, 2021's Still Time, containing another four. 

The Dreaming Sea

His  own solo career continued with Strange Flowers, in 2009, ahead of a reunion concert of Love and Money, for the yearly Celtic Connections festival, in 2011, led to new work and an album, Devil's Debt, a year later.

Strange Kind Of Love

If his profile has seemed subsequently low, let's just hope it a hiatus. As the new songs with Karen Matheson have shown, his muse is still within him. He remains a loved figure on the Scottish live scene: a live solo disc of his 2016 Celtic Connections (again) gig showed updated and invigorated songs from throughout both his band and solo career. whilst it did not, sadly, include Holy Love, there is at least this glorious retread of Strange Kind of Love, the second song I featured earlier up the thread. Indeed, whilst I was researching this piece I learnt he has a couple of shows arranged for later in the year, in London and Edinburgh, details through his website. (This also reveals the possible enticing option of having him write a bespoke song with and for you........ )

Holy Love

MUSCLE SHOALS: SWAMPERS/TRAFFIC

How to even begin to cover the enormity and importance of this influential studio, musically, culturally and even politically, apropos race relations, seems impossible, and I am not even going to go very much into much of that. That the music that has come out of it, and the individuals that have shaped and formed that music, have enriched and enhanced my life is inescapable, and the older I get, so the more I am intrigued in the looking back to the origins of the pioneering styles emanating therefrom. Again, this is not the place. Today I am going to illustrate how I, then a teenage boy in England, came to first discover the music, and musicians, of Muscle Shoals.

Traffic are/were about as english a group as you could ever find. From their early psychedelic whimsy to the whole getting together in the country folk/jazz vibe, Steve Winwood seemed an ambassador for tweed and corduroy. The combination of his soulful vocals and swirling hammond, with an equal adeptness for melodic guitar solos, and Chris Wood's mournful sax and flutes was visionary, the backbeat of Jim Capaldi's drumming a constant and reassuring presence. I confess I preferred them as a three-piece to the earlier Dave Mason iteration, his songs always seeming to come from a different place than the direction of flow offered by the other three. To say I was fond of the John Barleycorn album would be an understatement. I loved it and still do. 

Following that epochal LP, the band foundered a bit, with Mason back again, then out again, and the engagement of various other musicians from various sources, expanding the percussion opportunities with Reebop, a Ghanaian percussionist, and Jim Gordon, fresh from Derek and the Dominos. They also added a bassist, Ric Grech, who had been, with Winwood, in Blind Faith, that brief dalliance of a "supergroup" that had put Traffic on pause for a moment in the years before. Prior to Grech, and something Winwood has returned to of late, bass parts were played on the hammond organ, by foot pedal. 'Welcome to the Canteen', a live album, was a bit of a transition, even being credited to the individual musicians, rather than to Traffic per se. But it opened their minds to the ideas and opportunities of additional influences, reprising and revising earlier material.

I remember the first time high heard 'The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys', the song, and being completely blown away by it. I suspect it was on TV, the Old Grey Whistle Test, a programme I have often referred to. Astonishingly, the album didn't chart in the UK, even if sold well across the pond. But where was the three piece? Suddenly this was a massive, mighty and meaty sound, with chunky bass and a backwall of additional musical accompaniment that gelled as a whole unit, rather than seeming an optional extra. This, should you wonder if I were ever getting there, was courtesy the majesty of the Muscle Shoals rhythm section, aka Roger Hawkins and David Hood, drums and bass respectively

The next album, 'Shoot Out at the Fantasy Factory', went a step further, now enrolling fellow Swampers, as the Muscle Shoals alumni were called, Jimmy Johnson on additional guitar and Barry Beckett on keyboards. The sound was getting bigger and bigger. For the ensuing world tour, Hawkins, Hood and Beckett stayed on board, the ensuing double live recording, 'On the Road', still seen as a classic live record. With taxman Chris Woods faltering health and substance abuse issues, internal relations soured, and the Swampers, along with Reebop, jumped ship. Traffic were never quite the same, with one somewhat uneven release, ahead of Wood's death and then a twenty year hiatus before their final release in the collective name, in 1994.

Although essentially duplicating instrumentation, apart from the horns, already within the core of Traffic, the Swampers gave so much more than just that wider wall of sound to the band. Opportunity was given for Capaldi to step away from the drum kit and to be creative in other ways. Similarly, with musical jack of all trades Winwood, unable to play keyboards and guitar at the same time, for the first time all these instruments could play alongside each other, rather than purely by studio chicanery. It is a regret I was too young to ever see them live.

So what happened to the fabled four after Traffic? Their day job back at Muscle Shoals had never gone, and they continued to add their trademark sound to innumerable recordings. To give an idea of their work ethic, I am going myself to be lazy, and direct you to their wiki pages, as space cannot allow the sheer size of their collective and respective cv.s. Roger Hawkins died in May, earlier this year. David Hood still lives and plays. Most recently he has been a member of the Waterboys, his senior statesman gravitas adding considerably to the band, who have a semblance of the vibe of Traffic, if with a more celtic hue. He is also the father of Patterson Hood, of the Drive-By Truckers. Barry Beckett died in 2009 and Jimmy Johnson in 2019. Just count all those credits.

So, raise a glass and raise a glass high to these giants, back room boys without whom so much of modern popular music could not exist.

On the Road.

ALONE: ALONE TOGETHER

purchase [Alone Together]

Up until about 30 years ago, I had a 6-foot-long collection of 33 1/3 RPM LPs purchased between 1967 and 1978. I wasn't listening to them and my better half pushed to have them disappear: they were given away to a local radio station. All except for about 1 foot's worth.
If you know your history, 30 years ago is when the SONY Walkman appeared on the market, and the LP collection was duly re-populated with hundreds of cassettes. Slightly less space consumed, but no less unruly.

The 50 or so that I kept included original copies (well used) of classics like Sgt. Peppers, Are You Experienced, Axis: Bold As Love, Blind Faith and Clapton's first solo ...

And Dave Mason's first solo album <Alone Together>. Even if I don't actually spin them any longer these days, I would never get rid of Dave Mason's Alone Together. For the music, and for the archaeological value of the copy I have: it's the marbled vinyl version with the hang-on-the-wall cover. Not the "anniversary edition", it appears to be worth a "bit" more than I paid for it at Tower Records in downtown Philly in 1970.

Mason had gone off on his own following his on-agin/off-again stint with Traffic, and all songs on the album were written by him. Apparently part of his frictions with Traffic stem from writing material that he wanted the band to perform/conform. Out on his own, he became free to do his thing his way.

There are critics that weren't altogether impressed ("more potential than realization" and "trivial lyrics"). Over his later career, I wouldn't argue with the trivial lyrics argument, but I have always felt that the album's sequence - from start to end - worked well as a "whole". Even today, there aren't any songs that I would skip over/fast forward to the next in line. That makes it a bit tough to pick the one that best suits our "Alone" theme. Let's try these 3 (selected lyrics that seem to me to highlight <alone>):

Cant Stop Worrying:
Who am I talking to it's just myself

Waitin on You:
Well there's no one that I can believe no, no
It's all because I couldn't see
That the best friend that I have is me

Look At You, Look At Me:
But I'm happy just to be a part of all I see

Remedies: Medicated Goo

purchase [Medicated Goo]

As Darius noted, music itself is a remedy for what ails you. And Steve Winwood has long been one of my favorites to make me feel better. Not that Traffic's Last Exit album was that good, but it includes Medicated Goo, and that is a fine example of Traffic at its best.

I kind of like the imagery of the touring medicine show that the song evokes, and there have been a number of bands that styled or named themselves accordingly: Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show and Old Crow Medicine Show, as well as songs with lyrics that do the same: "Say, Say, Say" and "Your Song".

The song was co-written by Jimmy Miller, who also made music history with Blind Faith and the Rolling Stones.

It's not a very difficult song to play, so it's no surprise that there are a number of cover versions listed at YouTube:

There's a Dave Mason version but since he was part of Traffic, that may not count as a cover?

Scott Sharrard and the Brickyard Band

The Black Crowes

Dreams

Band of Heathens

Jackie Greene

Leftovers: Two Words: Empty Pages

purchase [John Barleycorn]

I was on the road when SMM did the Two Words theme back in late July, so I couldn't contribute. There aren't too many people these days who are able to take a few weeks off with no internet connection, but that's what I religiously do once or twice a year, often in July and August. Yes, I've got a smart phone that <can> connect, but when you're roaming in another country, you end up wanting to severely limit your connectivity due to the cost.

Take it from me, there's something cathartic about truly logging off. Forget connecting to the Internet, I don't even answer the phone. Overseas call? ... It just costs too much.

Cost it is, then. Penny-pinching, frugal, thrifty, parsimonious, miserly. Whatever.

This 2-word song <Empty Pages> didn't come to mind back in July - it is a leftover from Thanksgiving: John Barleycorn being one of my first thoughts about the Thanksgiving harvest. The album falls in the prime of Winwood's years. Yeah, Steve Winwood still does a very credible vocal and decent tickle of the 88 keys, but there hasn't been much composition since ... way back then.

Empty Pages, on the other hand, is a classic example of Winwood's sensibilities: the keyboard solo has a light touch and the melody is unforgettable. I think they call it ... classic. The right notes in the right place. Light notes. The song kinda trips along (if not the light fantastic, it's the rock alternative).

Following the  John Barleycorn album, the band headed off their own ways - each to his own. Winwood headed first to the short-lived Blind Faith and for some reason, like a moth, circles back around again and again to Clapton.

Heh! If they showed up again in my neighborhood, I wouldn't miss it - saw them together in Blind Faith in Seattle 1970 and then again in Istanbul in 2013?.  Me? Like a moth to the fame, it's worth every hassle each time. Whether they're alone or together.

Way back in 2010 SMM blogger bwrice (!?)  posted about this song under the Discoveries theme. The music for that link no linger resolves, so - although I repeat a previous SMM post, I am also bringing it up to date so that you can once again actually listen to the song.

 

And  a promo from the new album:

Harvest/Fall: John Barleycorn

purchase [Traffic: John Barleycorn]

If you go way back into the SMM archives, you can see several posts about John Barleycorn - the song must be the first one that comes to mind about harvest and such.

Sad to say, back in those days, the Internet was a different beast: most SMM bloggers had side accounts at hosting sites and placed their music files there to share wi. But that all ended a while back. As a result, if you do locate those posts, the music is not available, and so, for that reason, an update. http://sixsongs.blogspot.com.tr/2009/09/autumn-and-harvest-john-barleycorn-must.html

My post is a version by the author himself, in the raw so to speak. the essence of the song. And it's good.

However: http://sixsongs.blogspot.com.tr/2014/07/john-barleycorn-reprise.html appears to still be a good link.

RE/AGAIN : Back in the High Life Again

Hey ho, at least I have the theme right this time, but what's an 'n' between friends? Martial/martian, I mean aren't they the same? (Editor now declares martian law on my future posts.) I confess this one too took me on the hop for a second, and I nearly filed a post of the chimp loving one time governor of California/President of the USA, sending me scuttling for the Woodstock soundtrack, but I digress.

Stev(i)e Winwood has always been one of my heroes. Old enough to remember the Spencer Davis Group on Top of the Pops, he was the impossibly young singer and, usually, hammond player who has notched up an incredible 54 years of musicianship since he joined that group. Still at school initially, aged 14, it took 3 years for his distinctive vocals to be number 1 on the UK singles chart with 'Keep on Running'. Playing guitar on that song, the success allowed him to buy his first Hammond B3 organ. Staying with the band a further 2 years, he co-wrote a number of their further hits, 'I'm a Man' and 'Gimme Some Lovin.' During this time, in 1966, he made his first collaborative contact with another musician to feature frequently in his musical life. This was a one-off project called the Powerhouse, who had 3 tracks on an Elektra compilation album about the emergent white boy electric blues scene. With 3 tracks featured, here is one of them, the collaborator being Eric Clapton.

Traffic were the band perhaps most widely associated with Winwood, coming together in 1967 following a chance jam in a Birmingham (UK) pub. Setting the archetype for 'getting together in the country', the original line-up shared a cottage in the sticks, coming up with the psychedelic whimsy of 'Hole in my Shoe', written, like most of their earlier hits, by Dave Mason. Personally, at least on these shores, this seemed somewhat of a shibboleth, detracting from their serious credibility, and Winwood's desire to pursue a more folk-blues direction, possibly contributing to the first fracture of the group. This had been accelerated by the return of Eric Clapton, who, following the break up of his own band, Cream, teamed up with Winwood in short-lived supergroup Blind Faith. Cream had not been to my then taste, so I didn't then take much to this, only later appreciating the simple beauty of the sole record released.

Blind Faith's (mis)fortune was ultimately the making of Traffic, who promptly re-formed, minus Mason, as the core line up of Chris Wood, Jim Capaldi and Winwood. The time was right for their folk-blues amalgam, their version of traditional folk song 'John Barleycorn Must Die' making this teenage folkie delight. Over several albums they expanded their line up and widened their repertoire, always innovative and always interesting, Winwood's expertise on guitar now getting as much acclaim as his keyboards. Sadly, with physical health issues playing havoc with his stamina, Winwood walked off-stage in 1974, the band then calling it a day.

A solo career was always going to beckon, but it was a few years before he produced his 1st solo album, 'Arc of a Diver', with this and its follow-up each featuring Winwood on all vocals and all-instrumentation. My favourite period of his career, the songs 'While You See a Chance' and  'Valerie', remaining firm favourites. It is thus strange that the song that this piece name-checks is only now one I enjoy, with Winwood having been roped into producing a top-notch session-men New York record. I recall being distinctly upset by this polished and commercial product, the follow-up single, 'Higher Love', with Winwood gamefully mugging his way through an awkward video, seeming bereft without the prop of an instrument other than his voice. It was certainly the High Life of his career though, the videos still a staple on oldies music channels.

After this peak he has continued to produce intermittent albums, even reviving the Traffic name once more for the now duo of himself and Capaldi, but keeping a generally lower profile. I was lucky enough to see him play live, maybe a decade ago, in Birmingham, on home turf. Playing mainly hammond and occasional guitar, a tight band modelled on the Traffic template of himself on keyboard, percussion heavy backing plus reeds, he played songs from all stages of his career. He did not play 'Hole in my Shoe', perhaps a blessing, but all the others were there. And he still looked impossibly young.

Since then intermittent output, but, inevitably, yes, a further and possibly final collaboration with Eric Clapton, recorded for posterity with a sort of joint greatest hits. It has to be a Traffic song I include.

So, apart from the title, what's this got to do with 'again'? Probably only this, one of the several covers of the song out there, this being Warren Zevon, slowing the song and maximising any irony available, his 'High Life" being the terminal cancer he was facing. And duly succumbed to. I think that trumps any irony Steve Winwood may have felt about the song as he sang it.

Retail! Winwood or Zevon

JOHN : BARLEYCORN (reprise)

John, eh? Big bad? B Goode? (Or even be good, Johnny*.) 99? Or should it be the still warm Winter, J, R.I.P, hoping it will be for someone. Cash, Paycheck, Copeland, and the Hurricanes? Cale, Mayall, Elton or the Dr himself? Too much choice, too much choice. So what could I think of? Why, only the same bloody thing as Darius, esteemed senior fellow SMM scriber, came up with a mere 5 years ago. D'oh! Too bad, but since when did that ever stop me? If imitation is flattery, surely plagiarism is more so? You judge.

Luckily I love a cover version, indeed collect them, so I'm not going to play this one , however brilliant it is. And it is. I might play this one, though , given its altogether simple revisiting, Winwood's voice having mellowed and matured in the decades between.

So what's my take on the song? Simples. It is no more and less a love song to beer, or more specifically, to ale, that curiously warm brown liquid we prefer on this island. Or used to. Ironically, as the never ending spew of yellow fizz seems to be slowing down elsewhere, given the surge of craft  beers in the US and Australia, so the more brits are selling their palates to cheap froth, "brewed under licence". I can admire a good lager on it's home territory, but stealing/borrowing the name, and brewing a flaccid fauxsimile in a factory near Leeds is not quite the same thing. (Our american readers should not worry unduly here, Bud seems to be shit wherever it's made.) And anyway, a cold yellow beer needs something equivalently yellow, but hot, in the sky to cut it. I have been in Turkey for a week and the Efes brand hit the spot wonderfully there, but this is the United Kingdom. It has been thunderstorming since I returned. So as I type I have a trusty bottle of Old Hooky to my side from the world famous, well, in the Cotswolds anyway, Hook Norton brewery. And jolly wonderful it is too. Neither too strong or too weak. Just the thing for getting together in the country, and I am sure that Messrs Winwood, Wood and Capaldi were not unfamiliar with the fruits of this village, Hook Norton being also the name of its home.

But I ramble. Beer can do this. Lager makes you burble, but beer is a sturdier pilot. I am mentioning Traffic when I said I wouldn't, so with no further ado, I'll bet you didn't know Black Francis had turned his attention and interest to this song. Who'da thought it, with his sylph like, but nonetheless, it's true. To be honest, I was never a big fan of the Pixies in the day, but I remember when this LP came out in 2006, a little later than SMM usually prefers, and was intrigued 2 ways, firstly by the fact he was covering, OK, revamping near entirely, this song, but also that he was backed and produced by the legendary and exemplary Stax/Muscle Shoals team, producing one classy piece of work. Also includes a fab version of Ewan, father of Kirsty, MacColl's Dirty Old Town. And the, um, intriguingly entitled Kiss My Ring. It's called Fast Man, Raider Man, and is widely felt to be a follow up to the similarly eclectic Honeycomb of a year before.I highly endorse it. Clearly sold diddly, as he is back a-Pixillating as we speak.

*Why the asterisk? Just a memo to whomsoever covers Johnny B Goode to remember this antipodean oddity

Acoustic Versions: You Can All Join In

Traffic: You Can All Join In

[purchase original version, acoustic version unavailable]

Guest poster Duncan joins us again after a long absence, with not one but two posts. Please make him feel welcomed.

This was a total revelation to me, a live version of my favorite song on the second self-titled Traffic LP. This LP (as I first knew it) was my first Stevie Winwood album after scoring all the important four Spencer Davis singles (think you know them?). The LP was also my introduction to Dave Mason, who wrote this song.

This particular version has even more of an acoustic feel than the released version; it swings a little harder also. I know, I've listened to it about 50 times in the last two months because my band has been learning to play it. We were drums guitar, keys and me on bass and vocals (I never play bass, but worked hard on getting it right in sync with the drummer) and though it worked, something was missing until I heard this version two weeks ago, culled from BBC sessions. I realized, it was just drums, acoustic guitar & lead guitar with vocals. Once we got that rhythm, it all clicked on the acoustic guitar. It's also cool that you can just feel the joy of the band, deep into their second record and what a record it is, too. Not a duff song on there, though if you're gonna listen to it, make sure you listen to the original sequence of ten songs a couple of times.

Though Stevie had done more than okay with the Spencer Davis Group, Traffic was where he started to fly and I place this LP as the main exhibit as to why Eric Clapton pursued him so hard to be in Blind Faith and why they've reunited over the past few years. It's also the start of my fondness for Dave Mason.. He outright wrote four of the songs on the LP including this one and the now standard 'Feelin' Alright'. He was barely visible on the first Traffic LP (sometimes known as “Dear Mr.
Fantasy'), TOTALLY a part of this one, gone for most of the remains on Last Exit and back for a second on 'Welcome to The Canteen'. His real moment in the sun was (I believe) predictable after this set and this tune in particular. I would have had no problem seeing this included on his masterpiece, 'Alone Together'.

Guest post by Duncan

Discoveries: Empty Pages

Traffic: Empty Pages

Purchase:

I hope FiL doesn't mind me copying his flow chart - a good idea is a good idea, so here's mine:

Bee Gees / Elton John > The Clash / The Specials > Dylan & the 1970's > Everything Else

Each of these periods has discovery moments that I could write about and talk about for hours. For this post I'm going to focus on the third phase of my musical development. I was introduced to the music of the late 1960's and early 1970's when I was a freshman in college. I had been steeped in all things punk, post-punk, and new wave for the previous several years, and it was time for a change. The music scene was getting stale as the edge wore off of bands like The Cure and R.E.M. and other bands like The Smiths simply broke up.

At this time a couple of us took a road trip to Salt Lake City to visit a friend who had previously lived in my hometown of Fresno, California. While we stayed at this friend's house we got to know his incredibly cool father. I couldn't believe a dad could be like this! He watched the best movies, he listened to great music, and he had an excellent and decidedly irreverent sense of humor. He may not have been the best dad in the traditional sense, but he sure was fun to hang out with.

At one point during our visit my friend's father gave us a cassette tape of Traffic's album, John Barleycorn Must Die. As we drove north on I-15, at almost exactly the point pictured above, we slid the cassette into the car stereo.

Most everyone reading this is familiar with the feeling that you occasionally (rarely, actually) get when you hear new music: Oh man, this is good. I'm going to want to pursue this!

That's the feeling I got when I heard track one of John Barleycorn. I purchased the album the moment I returned home. This album led me to Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel, Neil Young, The Who, and eventually to our blog-mother Joni Mitchell. I spent the next several years listening to music produced from about 1968 to about 1974. John Barleycorn was a deep vein that paid dividends for years to come.

Autumn and Harvest: John Barleycorn Must Die

Traffic: John Barleycorn Must Die

[purchase]

Before I begin, I would like to thank my fellow Star Makers for their help gathering the songs for this post. I could never have done it without you.

I am old enough to have heard Traffic’s classic John Barleycorn Must Die when it first came out, and young enough to have been a child at the time. My oldest brother brought it home, and made sure I heard it. I made two incorrect assumptions at the time. I thought Traffic wrote the song. And I heard a fair amount of psychedelic music at the time; I assumed that the lyrics told the strange tale of a man who kept being treated in cruel and unusual ways, but I never guessed that there was any deeper meaning. I knew that I loved the sound of the song, and that was enough.

But now I am older, and I understand more. John Barleycorn Must Die is a traditional English song. There is a record of a version from the 1300s, and it is likely older than that. Over time, many variants have arisen, with changes to both the melody and the words. The song became widely known throughout the British Isles. Scottish poet Robert Burns even wrote a version.

And the story is deeper than I knew. John Barleycorn is the personification of the grain, and the song tells the story of the grain from planting to harvest and beyond. The song usually begins with Barleycorn’s first death; he is buried, and dirt is heaped upon him. This, of course, is the planting of the grain. In midsummer, he grows a “long long beard” and “becomes a man”. The song goes on to describe threshing and harvesting. Barleycorn is bailed and taken to the barn. And then the grain is parceled out. Some is taken to the miller to make flour for bread. And some is saved and brewed in a vat to make ale. And some is planted, so that the whole cycle can begin again.

It is likely that versions of John Barleycorn were sung in pre-Christian times, to accompany harvest rituals. Some of these rituals survive to this day in modified form, most famously the sacrifice of the wicker man. These rituals tell the story of the death and rebirth of the god of the grain.

The lyrics used by Traffic start with three men who came from the west. This reminds me of the three wise men who came from the East in the Nativity story. The first Christians who came to the British Isles often looked for parallels between native myths and the Story of Christ, in order to help the natives accept Christianity. So these three men from the west may be an example of this. John Barleycorn shares with the Christ Story the theme of death and rebirth.

Jethro Tull: John Barleycorn

[purchase]

Jethro Tull’s version of the song is just called John Barleycorn, but it is otherwise a straightforward cover of the Traffic version, sharing the same melody and lyrics. But Jethro Tull has created an arrangement that is wholly original, and shows off the classic Jethro Tull sound. Ian Anderson’s trademark flute sound arrives midway through the song.

Tim van Eyken: Barleycorn

[purchase]

Tim van Eyken has proved himself to pure traditionalists in the English folk scene. He even played with Waterson: Carthy, the ultimate traditional English folk group. But here, he gives Barleycorn, as he calls it, a folk rock treatment. He uses a different melody and slightly different lyrics than Traffic and Tull. His three men at the beginning come not from the west but from Kent.

Steeleye Span: John Barleycorn

[purchase]

Steeleye Span gives us yet another variant on the song. Again, we have a different melody, and some variations in the lyrics. And Steeleye Span adds a refrain of “Fa la la la, it’s a lovely day” etc. This sounds like it may have originally belonged to another song entirely. There are numerous examples of this in English folk music.

Long Songs: Longing for More Edition

The Poozies: Ma Plaid/ Freya Dances

[purchase]

Ma Plaid is a traditional Scottish tune which, as recorded by The Poozies, comes in at about six minutes. But the group placed it in a medley with an original instrumental, Freya Dances, which brings the whole thing in at 7:07. It is a tribute to Mary MacMaster, who wrote Freya Dances, that it serves as the perfect coda to Ma Plaid; I cannot imagine hearing the one without the other. MacMaster and Patsy Seddon were the harp duo Sileas before joining The Poozies, and this one sounds very much like a fuller arrangement of their work in that earlier group. Kate Rusby and Karen Tweed complete the lineup.

Ma Plaid, on its surface, appears to be nothing more than a love song to a man who has departed for distant shores, and who the narrator hopes will return to marry her. She keeps the plaid that he gave her to remember him by. But there may be more going on than that. She starts by singing, “this is not ma plaid”, and proceeds to describe her plaid for the rest of the song. But whose is the plaid at the beginning? It is possible that the object of her love may be Bonnie Prince Charlie. He led an unsuccessful uprising against the British rule of Scotland in 1745, and many apparent love songs from Scotland from that period are veiled references to a yearning for Scottish independence. The matter is not certain, but Ma Plaid may be one of these songs. In that case, the plaid at the beginning would represent British rule. Following the 1745 uprising, Bonnie Prince Charlie was exiled, which would account for the departure of the lover in the song to distant shores.

Joni Mitchell: Song for Sharon

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Joni Mitchell began her exploration of jazz with the album Court and Spark, and continued with The Hissing of Summer Lawns. Hejira was the next step in the journey. On this album, Mitchell stripped down the arrangements. Most songs feature just guitar, bass, and drums. About half of the songs anticipate Mitchell’s future explorations, and these feature her first work with bassist Jaco Pastorius. The remaining songs either use no bass at all, or feature Max Bennett, who had been with Mitchell since Court and Spark. These songs represent a consolidation, as Mitchell sums up where she has been. Musically, Song For Sharon is one these “consolidation” songs. It breaks no new ground for her, but is a solid addition to her catalog.

The song comes in at just over 8 minutes, mostly because there are a lot of words. In this way, jazz freed up Mitchell; she could write the song without worrying about length, and say all that she had to say. I read the words this way: on a ride back to Manhattan on the Staten Island ferry, Mitchell’s character thinks of Sharon, a friend from childhood. Mitchell’s character imagines a letter to Sharon, and her thoughts ramble through her day, life in New York City, and how different their lives turned out. The whole thing is a verbal improvisation, more jazz than the music that accompanies it. I am not sure the letter ever gets sent, or even written.

Traffic: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

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The whole concept of jam bands tickles me. In the 1960s, every band I cared about jammed. It was a badge of honor, and essential to what performing live was all about. When I started hearing about bands who would try to recreate the sound of their albums in concert, I found the idea offensive. I still do. But The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys is something else. This is the purest attempt I know of by a band with roots in the sixties to recreate their live sound in a studio recording. Here are all the solos and mood changes one would expect in a live performance. The whole thing threatens to fall apart in several places, but never does. The result is a breathtaking listening experience.

So what is the song about? Well. Jim Capaldi of Traffic was in Morocco with actor Michael J Pollard, working on a movie that wound up never getting made. I’ll let Capaldi explain further:

“Pollard and I would sit around writing lyrics all day, talking about Bob Dylan and the Band, thinking up ridiculous plots for the movie. Before I left Morocco, Pollard wrote in my book 'The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys.' For me, it summed him up. He had this tremendous rebel attitude. He walked around in his cowboy boots, his leather jacket. At the time he was a heavy little dude. It seemed to sum up all the people of that generation who were just rebels. The 'Low Spark,' for me, was the spirit, high-spirited. You know, standing on a street corner. The low rider. The 'Low Spark' meaning that strong undercurrent at the street level.”

The Sun: Sun Clearance

Old 97's: She Loves The Sunset

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Groove Armada: Suntoucher

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Traffic: Paper Sun

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The Pernice Brothers: There Goes the Sun

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Heaven Week: Heaven Is In Your Mind

Traffic: Heaven Is In Your Mind

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Combine the spacey sixties, Brit R&B, three months in an isolated Berkshire cottage and you get Heaven Is In Your Mind. Traffic's one constant over the years is Stevie Winwood, who has been there throughout all permeations of the band.

Heaven Is In Your Mind is from Mr. Fantasy/Heaven Is In Your Mind, one of the finest albums of sixties-styled music you can find. If you have a chance, I highly recommend a listen.

Footwear: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

Traffic: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

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Rickie Lee Jones: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

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EMF: The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

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At almost twelve minutes long, Traffic's 1971 laid-back jazz jam anthem is heavy with solos from the various bandmembers, and a tight funk/rock chorus which plays on their supergroup sound -- fitting for a song which supposedly emerged from a brainstorm session about rock stardom.

The lyrics, written by songwriters Winwood and Capaldi, offer a bitter, cynical take on the industry's tendency to profit off the backs of artists everywhere, but the Miles Davis-inspired slowjazz setting, the length of the piece, and the band's tendency to perform the song as an even longer space-jam in concert, are anathema to traditional A&R radioplay; as such, the piece seems to offer ample evidence for salvation for the artist's dream, as if suggesting that, through attention to dreams and the music itself, rather than focusing on the trappings of stardom, cool will win out in the end. Appropriately, of course, FM DJs were happy to play this subversive track despite its length and diversity; it remains a late-night staple of classic rock stations.

Another doubly-covered set, this one vastly divergent: the slow, dreamy jazz-piano-and-organ take from Rickie Lee Jones is almost as recognizable as the original, while UK indie dance/electro-alternative band EMF weighs in with a typically nineties techno-rock rarity that falls somewhere between the original and the stuttered yet contagiously danceable synths of their greatest hit Unbelievable.