Heritage: Eliza Carthy

Eliza Carthy: Fisher Boy

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Billy Bragg and Eliza Carthy: My Father's Mansions

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Old friend and once-upon-a-time Star Maker Machine contributor Divinyl may be up to her eyebrows in grad school, but she still had time to check in via FaceBook to express excitement about this week's theme, offering alongside her kudos and hellos a short wish-list of folks she hoped we might get to. Her first suggestion, Rufus Wainwright, has already been covered with aplomb by Anne, and despite impeccable if relatively localized famous parentage, her second and third choices - the Unthanks and Martha Tilston - are a bit recent for our usual standards, having started their recording careers post-millennium.

Eliza Carthy, on the other hand, fits both our high standards and our practice. And so today's secondhand recommendation, though last on Divinyl's list, comes first on mine, with my full endorsement.

I've written about Eliza Carthy and her family within the year, in fact, over at Cover Lay Down, and Darius posted a song of hers way back in February of last year, so I won't go too deeply into her work here, except to note that, like Rufus and Anita, Eliza comes from a long and broad musical lineage - she's the daughter of Martin Carthy and Norma Waterson, niece of Mike and Lal Waterson - and started out as a wee lass performing alongside family, with mother, aunt, and cousin. Since then, she has put out several solo albums, and records and tours with both the larger family and as Waterson:Carthy with her parents. But regardless of who she is paired with, or not, one listen, and you, too, will have little doubt that the tendency towards traditional Brit-folk of the Yorkshire revivalist sort runs rich in her veins.

As this week's theme asks us to focus on progeny specifically, I've selected two favorite "sans family" pieces as introduction: the former a simple mid-nineties take on a traditional tune featuring Eliza's bold vocals, the latter featuring her potent fiddling, alongside Billy Bragg's voice, on a Pete Seeger song which resonates exceptionally well in the lyrical tones of those from across the pond.

Heritage: Joshua Redman

Joshua Redman: I Had A King

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Here's another example of the fruit not falling far at all from the tree. Joshua Redman, the brilliant free-form saxophonist, learned his craft at his father Dewey Redman's knee. Dewey was known for his solo free-form/bebop recordings as well as collaborations with Ornette Coleman and Keith Jarrett, especially, as well as with Pat Metheny, Paul Motian, and Charlie Haden.

I treated you to a song by Joshua Redman (St. Thomas) during Saints week. This time I'm sharing a Joni Mitchell cover that he borrows and makes his own.

Heritage: Aoife Clancy

Aoife Clancy: Are You Sleepin‘ Maggie?

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Happy St Patrick’s Day! For the occasion, I wanted to present some Irish music. Shouldn’t be to difficult, right? After all, look at the on-line bio of almost any well known Irish musician, and it will say that they came from a musical family. The trouble is, most of those mothers and fathers were strictly amateur musicians. However, look at my artist’s last name. Yes, those Clancys. Specifically, Aoife’s father is Bobby Clancy of the Clancy Brothers. Love them or hate them, they have to be the best known Irish musical family. But Aoife is another matter. Her music is more rooted in the traditional sounds of Ireland, and she also uses a more modern folk sound. Aoife Clancy began her recording career as a member of Cherish the Ladies, and her solo work is just as beautiful.

Heritage: Anita Carter

Anita, Maybelle, June and Helen Carter

Anita Carter: Anita Carter – (Love’s) Ring Of Fire


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Last week I featured an original of a song known better by its cover (“Bossa Nova Baby”), and this week’s theme invites another lesser-known original (those who know my little corner of the blogosphere will be aware of my love for those).

Anita Carter was part of the Carter Sisters, successor to the original Carter Family, the pioneers of country music. The Carter Family comprised A.P. Carter, his wife Sara and Sara’s cousin Maybelle, who by dint of her marriage to A.P.’s brother Ezra was also the sister-in-law to her fellow band members. They recorded for only nine years, from 1927-36, but left behind an immensely influential body of work, one that would help define country and folk. Maybelle was a groundbreaking guitarist: in her hands, the instrument made the transition from a rhythm to lead instrument.

The Carter Family broke up after A.P. and Sara divorced in 1936. Sara married A.P.’s cousin (really!) and moved to California. In 1938, Maybelle (still 29 years old) roped in her nine-year-old middle daughter June, and soon after her older daughter, Helen, who as an eight-year-old in 1935 already had appeared on stage with the Carter Family. Eventually youngest daughter Anita, born in 1933, joined the group which was alternately known as Mother Maybelle and the Carter Sisters, or just the Carter Sisters, or the Carter Family. They performed together until the 1970s, and after Maybelle’s death reunited briefly in 1987, roping in June’s daughter Carlene.

In the 1950s Anita (who in the Carter Family played the stand-up bass) began to score solo hit singles. She also supported Elvis Presley tour (there were rumours of some kind of romantic relationship). More hits would follow sporadically, but Anita never hit the big time as much as did her sister June, who ended up married to Johnny Cash.

At the time when June was falling for Cash, she was regularly writing songs with fellow country singer Merle Kilgore. Kilgore later recalled Ring Of Fire being born the day June spoke to him about her love for Cash. While searching for an idea for a new song, the story goes, June remembered a letter she had received from a friend going through a divorce which described love as “a burning ring of fire”. The song essentially described June’s feelings for Cash. But it was Anita who recorded it, in November 1962. The song was only half-finished when Anita was ready to record it; June and Kilgore banged the rest together in ten minutes, fortuitously retaining the word “mire” from a provisional lyric.

Cash liked the song when he heard Anita’s record (as he well should) and decided he would record it. Deferring to his future sister-in-law, he waited four months before recording his version, with the famous Tijuana trumpets. His version was a hit, saving him from being fired by Columbia Records. Cash’s career revived to such an extent that he was later given a TV show, on which both Anita and Maybelle would feature frequently.

Maybelle died in 1979 at the age of 69; Anita died in June and Johnny’s home on 29 July 1999 at the age of 66.

Heritage: Martha and Rufus Wainwright

Martha Wainwright: Laurel & Hardy

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Rufus Wainwright: April Fools

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Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle were great folk singers in their own right. Sadly, Kate died last year, but Loudon still is going strong. The marriage between Loudon and Kate didn't last but the union left a lasting legacy nonetheless. Their children, Rufus and Martha, have become talented musicians on their own. Songwriting is obviously in their blood.

Martha's song "Laurel & Hardy" from her 1999 EP is about her brother Rufus and makes it clear that they have a close relationship, something that was probably fostered by their bitterness over their father not being around for most of their childhoods. Rufus is the more well-known of the two (at least so far), though, and has found much critical success.

After Loudon and Kate's divorce, Loudon had another child with another folk singer, Suzzy Roche, of The Roches. The child, a girl named Lucy, also has become a musician...as a bonus, here is a track of hers.

Lucy Wainwright-Roche: Chicago

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Heritage: Wynton Marsalis

Wynton Marsalis: In the Court of King Oliver

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I have the perfect album for this week’s theme. Standard Time Vol. 3 The Resolution of Romance is Wynton Marsalis’ tribute to his musical heritage. The album’s 21 songs form a sort of travelogue through the generations of jazz that inspired Wynton Marsalis. Naturally, the journey begins in New Orleans, Marsalis’ home town. In the Court of King Oliver is a Wynton Marsalis original, but it pays tribute to the first great New Orleans trumpeter, King Oliver.

Now, you may have noticed that this week is not about musical heritage but about family. Wynton Marsalis is the best known of six brothers, but three others are also jazz musicians. Branford is the saxophonist in the family, and the youngest brother Jason plays drums and vibraphone, and is just now starting to make a name for himself. Another brother, Delfeayo, has become a well known jazz trombonist, but he served as producer of this album. They all get it from their father. Ellis Marsalis made his first recording before the first of his sons was even born, in 1956. From there, Ellis Marsalis forged a dual career as musician and jazz educator. Ellis Marsalis is the piano player heard here, and father and son are both pictured above on the album cover.

Dance Moves -> Heritage: Bebel Gilberto's One Note Samba

Bebel Gilberto w/ Venicius Cantuaria: One Note Samba/The Girl From Ipanema

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Daughter of Brazilian singer-songwriters and composers João Gilberto, who is generally credited with inventing the Bossa Nova beat, and his wife Miúcha, whose career began at age 38 when her husband brought her in as a performing partner for his work with Stan Getz, Bebel Gilberto made her Carnegie Hall debut at just nine years old, singing alongside her parents and the inimitable Stan Getz. Today, she brings a perfect balance of modern beats and neo-classical portuguese style to her work, releasing remixes designed to appeal to the world beat market and her younger countrymen, and it works: this delightful samba is but one of several she has recorded, and to be fair, it's but one half of a medley of two of her father's signature tunes, both originally written by Antonim Jobim, but it showcases her style better than the ubiquitous and oft-sampled club remixes I also had sitting around.

As the daughter of musical royalty, Bebel's work also kicks off a week's thematic exploration of second generation musicians. Note that, as with previous artist-centric explorations, this week's posts will use artist names, not song names, in their titles.

Dance Moves: Waltz

Kyosuke Himuro: Waltz

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After spending the evening watching the horrible news from Japan, I wanted to share something soothing, beautiful, and Japanese.

Kyosuke Himuro made his name in the 80s with fellow Boøwy bandmate Tomoyasu Hotei (of Battle Without Honor or Humanity fame). Since that band's demise, he's been a successful solo artist, leaning more towards the pop side of things. This English-titled song, Waltz, is a gorgeous ballad that really shows off his rich voice. Stylistically, he's a lot like George Michael, except he's not, you know, a creepy, entitled wanker.

Dance Moves: The Stroll, The Twist, The Limbo Rock, and The Cool Jerk

The Diamonds: The Stroll (1958)

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Chubby Checker: The Twist (1960)

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Chubby Checker: The Limbo Rock (1962)

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The Capitals: Cool Jerk (1966)

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I know a few weeks ago, I opined that SMM wasn't meant to be the definitive resource for the weekly theme. But somehow, I just think that one of us has to chat about the raft of dances and their respective songs that blossomed in the late 50's and early 60's. Not that this list is at all definitive – it's just a few of the songs I really remember from those days.

One of the precursors to the boom in dance songs is the first song, a 1958 gem. I can't say I remember it exactly, but notice that photo up there? Well, that's yours truly in the frilly slip, along with my older sister and mother, doing my best at learning the Stroll, dancing along to American Bandstand on the TV.

The next song is much more vivid in my mind. I'm not sure if this was a universality, but in our suburban mecca, people actually did the Twist at weekend parties. I remember all the parents in the neighborhood twisting in our basement. And they did the Limbo, too---well, that was only possible, as far as I could tell, after a few of those funny-smelling highballs. Although we limbo'd a lot in school. It was the Macarena of the early 60s – everyone knew how it was supposed to be done, although the actual execution was wobbly.

Finally comes my personal favorite, the Cool Jerk. My sister bought me the 45 for my birthday (mostly because she knew she could "borrow" it whenever she liked.) I still own this 45, too. The top-notch Motown backing group, the Funk Brothers, provide the backing.

Dance Moves: Evangeline Waltz

Beausoleil: Evangeline Waltz

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Every dance event I ever attended, after a high energy evening, always wound down with a slow dance. I imagine that this might also hold true for Mardi Gras, so here is a beautiful Cajun waltz to bring things to their natural conclusion. Evangeline Waltz is a traditional song. The liner notes say that this is a song of unrequited love, and I must believe it since I don’t speak French. If anyone who does can provide a translation, please do so in the comments. Merci. I must rely on the sound, and Beausoleil has never failed me yet.

Dance Moves: The Frug

Rilo Kiley: The Frug

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Some songs don't lend themselves to over-detailed analysis. This 1999 song by indie pop group Rilo Kiley is one of those. Lead singer Jenny Lewis lists some things she can and cannot do, most of which are of passing value (I can make some mac and cheese), which stand in stark contrast to the fundamental thing she claims she cannot do: I cannot fall in love.

For what it's worth, I cannot do the Smurf either. I can, however, still do a passable frug and a damned good Freddie.

Dance Moves: Mardi Gras Mambo

The Hawketts: Mardi Gras Mambo

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Darius recently wrote about the Meters, a precursor to the Neville Brothers formed in the late '60s. But their pre-history goes back even further, and this song is as good a starting point as any. The Hawketts' "Mardi Gras Mambo", featuring Art Neville on vocals, was released way back in 1954, but it remains a popular Mardi Gras anthem today. Indeed, I woke up this morning with this song in my head, and it seems like the most appropriate song to post on Fat Tuesday.

Dance Moves: Tango Atlantico

Joe Jackson: Tango Atlantico

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“You may think that this song comes too late.” So sings Joe Jackson on his 1986 album Big World. The song seems to be about the Falklands War, which was fought in 1982. Most of the songs about it came out in 1983, so you can see Jackson’s point. But in wars, soldiers are always left behind, as peacekeepers or advisors. These are who Tango Atlantico is about. Here in 2011, the United States is still fighting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Both have gone on so long that the public has turned their attention to other things. To me, Tango Atlantico is also about our troops in those two countries. You don’t have to agree with the reasons these wars are fought to appreciate the sacrifices of our soldiers, who volunteered for this with the best of intentions. It seems that there is always a forgotten war being fought somewhere. So, Mr Jackson, your song does not come too late at all.

Dance Moves: Bossa Nova Baby

Tippie and the Clovers: Bossa Nova Baby

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Bossa Nova Baby has been unjustly regarded by some as a bit of a displeasing novelty number from an Elvis movie (1963’s Fun In Acapulco). Even Elvis is said to have been embarrassed by it. If so, he had no cause: it may not be a bossa nova — it’s too fast for that — but it has a infectious tune and a genius keyboard riff which begs to be sampled widely. Perhaps it was the lyrics which had Elvis allegedly shamefaced, but the lines, “she said, ‘Drink, drink, drink/Oh, fiddle-de-dink/I can dance with a drink in my hand’”, are not much worse than some of the doggerel our man was forced to croon in his movie career as singing racing driver/pineapple heir/bus conductor. Or perhaps Elvis was embarrassed by the idea of including a notional bossa nova number in a movie set in Mexico. So here we won’t revisit Elvis’ version of the song, but the original.

Tippie and the Clovers, who were signed to Leiber and Stoller’s Tiger label, recorded the song first in 1962 to cash in on the bossa nova craze. Apparently the composers preferred the Clovers’ version of Elvis’. These were the same Clovers, incidentally, who had scored a #23 hit with Love Potion No. 9 (also written by Leiber & Stoller and later covered to greater chart effect by the Searchers) on Atlantic in 1959.

(photo from farbror-sid.se)

Dance Moves: Little Black Samba

Grover Washington, Jr.: Little Black Samba

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I have a handful of songs on my hard drive that I'm just waiting for the right theme to match, and this is one of them. I could have chosen among 66 other songs I've got with the word "Samba" in the title, but one look and I knew this would be the one. Its rhythm is so infectious and compelling that I'm having a hard time sitting still long enough to write this entry.

In 1980 when Come Morning was released, the saxophonist Grover Washington, Jr., was at the peak of his popularity and was a key artist in the explosion of smooth jazz, a genre of jazz blended with funk, R&B, and pop. This song in particular celebrates the heavy African influence in Brazilian music in both lyrics (sung by the drummer Grady Tate) and rhythm (ably assisted by Eric Gale, guitar; Ralph MacDonald, percussion, and Steve Gadd, drums).

I like its cleverly punned title, too.

Doublespeak -> Dance Moves: Everybody Loves To Cha Cha Cha

Sam Cooke: Everybody Loves To Cha Cha Cha

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James Taylor: Everybody Loves To Cha Cha Cha

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Things heat up a bit as we move from one title theme to another this week, leaving behind songs that use the same word twice to start a set of songs which mention dance styles or dance moves in their title. Yes, folks, it's a Star Maker Machine Dance Marathon, and if it works, I'm hoping it'll become an annual pre-spring event, marking the warming of the world with a bit of energy as we shake off winter with some dance floor moves.

Sam Cooke provides a solid transitional tune with his hot, humid, heavily rhythmic tribute to the Cha Cha Cha, a dance of Cuban origin often referred to doubly in American parlance; Sam's original is a worthy addition to the canon, and it'll certainly teach you how to do the moves, but it's James Taylor's 1991 version, off his sorely underrated Adult Contemporary album New Moon Shine, that brought me here: slow, sultry, languid, and aching with a kind of longing that Sam surely never envisioned, bless his heart.

Doublespeak: Nothing From Nothing

Billy Preston: Nothing From Nothing

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Man, I love me some Billy Preston, so it was an utter shock to discover that not a single one of us has posted his work here at the Star Maker Saloon before today. The keyboard player's "Fifth Beatle" credentials are as strong as any for a reason, and it's here in spades in the perfect Saturday night jam.

So let's get it on, already: check out and turn up the frenetic powerhouse punch of that barrelhouse piano, the miles of horns, the effortless sexuality of that eminently recognizable tenor voice. Sure, you've heard it before - the song was featured prominently in both Elf and Be Kind Rewind, among other fine films - but I'll bet you a buck and a half you just can't help but throw your hands up and rejoice at a world where such utter jubilation can be brought by wire into your very own home.

Doublespeak: Funkadelic Edition

One of the many things I love about P-Funk mastermind George Clinton is his way with a song title. Though he's no Sufjan Stevens, he can get pretty wordy, which increases the chances of hitting a doublespeak candidate.

Here are three then, one each from the first three Funkadelic albums (my favorite part of the entire P-Funk discography, where the psychedelic/Hendrix influence was still pretty strong):

Funkadelic: I Got a Thing, You Got a Thing, Everybody's Got a Thing

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"I Got a Thing" starts us off with a fairly typical hippie sentiment: We're all different, but let's all just get along.

Funkadelic: Free Your Mind and Your Ass Will Follow

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"Free Your Mind" seems like it should be a plea to just let loose and have fun, but the music takes on a sinister feel, which makes you think twice about surrendering to the groove.

Funkadelic: You and Your Folks, Me and My Folks

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"You and Your Folks" is basically a rewrite of "I Got a Thing", but it's a much better song. It also tempers the idealism with a bit of reality: "The rich got a big piece of this and that/The poor got a big piece of roaches and rats".

Of course, dissecting Funkadelic lyrics misses the point somewhat, so step away from your computer and shake that thang!

Doublespeak: When It’s Gone, It’s Gone

Bruce Cockburn: When It‘s Gone, It‘s Gone

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When I have posted songs by Bruce Cockburn before, I have tended to concentrate on his words. The man can be passionate and poetic, often in the same song. And Cockburn is an eloquent spokesman for the oppressed, as well as one of the best writers of songs of the spirit that I know of. Left out of those discussions has been the fact that Cockburn is also a very fine guitar player. Since When It’s Gone, It’s Gone is an instrumental, Cockburn’s prowess on the guitar is impossible to miss here. Actually, those same qualities of passion, poetry, and eloquence are found here as well. Cockburn is joined here by Edgar Meyer on bass, Mark O’Connor on violin, and Booker T Jones on organ. Each of these gentlemen is a master of his instrument, and all are much in demand as session players as a result. In such distinguished company, Cockburn more than holds his own. Liner note freaks will also appreciate knowing that this one was produced by T-Bone Burnett.

Doublespeak: Talk Talk

Talk Talk: Talk Talk

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Talk Talk: Time It's Time

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There's so much doublespeak in this post that I'll have you seeing double!

Here is a pair of songs by the dual-named 80s synthpop group, Talk Talk. The first song is also called Talk Talk, which slots this band with the likes of Bad Company and Big Country – groups synonymously named with their first big hit. Talk Talk started out mining the same pop vein as that other dual-named 80s synthpop group Duran Duran, but by their third album, from which Time It's Time is taken, they've developed a complex, moody, almost oblique style, as if they're trying to channel Carl Orff with that choral stuff at the end.

Plus they have some of the coolest album artwork ever. What's not to like?