Rick Jamison: Time for Goodbye
[purchase]
When California-based bluegrass musician Rick Jamison released his 2005 killer solo debut album “The Magic Hour,” it was nice to hear that his original bluegrass wasn’t constrained by traditional stylings of that genre. Rather, Jamison incorporates melodies, tempos and chord progressions that work well with his folksy and amiable voice. He tells tales, expresses emotions, and perhaps most importantly paints pictures with his lyrics and melodies. It’s an approach that characterizes quite a bit of West Coast bluegrass music. Is it because musicians out here simply don’t feel compelled or obliged to limit offerings to the styles of Kentucky’s Bill Monroe or Virginia’s Stanley Brothers? Regardless of the reason for its lack of inhibition, it’s nice to hear II, VII and various minor chords along with the I, IV, and V that more typically characterize traditional bluegrass.
Jamison is a senior writer and editor with a Silicon Valley software company. Who says a technical writer doesn’t also know how to work the lyrics in a song to convey emotional messages and feelings? With his band Copper Canyon, Jamison released an album per year during 2003-2004 (“Open Spaces” and “Tales from the Canyon”), and the reason that he's so prolific may be best captured in his sentiments of "Time Marches On." Seizing the moment to plug his material, Rick expresses, "Once this day is done it's gone forever, to join a thousand years of yesterdays, memories are the keepsakes and the treasures." Thus, an hour's worth of originals on "The Magic Hour" is a musical gift to us
In a more serious and emotive vein, Jamison's love songs ("The Best In Me" and "Time For Goodbye") may actually convey the best of his songcrafting artistry from a man who also is a renown painter. Sung by Erik Thomas as a duet with Megan Lynch, “Time For Goodbye” asks the inevitable questions "Is it time to start all over? Is it time to say goodbye?" Mandolinist Erik Thomas, a founding member of the group Due West, has played with an eclectic bunch including Mickey Gilley, Elvin Bishop, David Grisman, Rob Ickes and Tony Trischka. Raised in Redding, Ca., fiddler Megan Lynch has won many national and state fiddle contests. Now based in Nashville, her personalized fiddling can be heard with 3 Fox Drive, Blue Moon Rising, Chris Jones, Chris Stuart, Copper Canyon and others. Rick Jamison plays guitar and sings most lead vocals on his solo album from 2005. Besides Thomas and Lynch, he also assembled other crackerjack collaborators with California connections -- Dave Richardson (banjo), Rob Ickes (Dobro), and Cindy Browne (bass).
Don’t assume that all of Jamison’s material is serious love-gone-wrong fare. The musical tone painter also has a witty side as his "Bugged & Bothered" speaks to various insect infestations (ants in my pantry, bedbugs in the bed, a moth that ate my sweater, and gnats around my head) that lead to infatuation for another. A more traditional bluegrass band might want to consider covering his songs like "A Bank Too Far" and "Not Tonight" that keep the lyrics straightforward, honest and conversational.
While some of Jamison’s songs have more appeal than others, a true bluegrass fan can't bemoan his album’s title cut that exclaims "The music makes us smile and clap our hands, In the company of other bluegrass fans, The music carries all of us away, In the magic hour that ends a perfect day." Rick Jamison’s songs are every bit as vivid and impressionistic as his oil on canvas (Where the Mountains Meet the Sky) that graces the inside of his CD’s jacket.
Guest post by Joe Ross
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Goodbye: Time For Goodbye
Goodbye: Adios A La Pasada (Goodbye to the Past)
Bruford: Adios a la Pasada (Goodbye to the Past)
[purchase]
I started playing drums in fourth grade, and the next year, because our sixth grade bass drummer broke his leg, and I was big enough to carry it in a parade, our music teacher asked me to play bass drum. Which I did, almost exclusively through high school, to the detriment of my snare drumming. Bottom line, through lack of practice, and probably talent, I was a mediocre drummer. In college, I joined the marching band, because it looked like fun, and wasn’t really a serious musical organization. As a result of the general lack of quality of my fellow percussionists, I ended up playing more snare drum than ever, and actually improved by the time I graduated. Despite my lack of talent, I have always appreciated good drumming, and as I mentioned in my King Crimson post, Bill Bruford is my favorite. His precision and inventiveness amaze me.
Although I was aware that he was in Yes, I’d have to say that my first “ah ha” moment about Bruford was his playing on the live version of “Cinema Show” by Genesis on Seconds Out, where he was hired to allow Phil Collins to take over the singing duties from Peter Gabriel. Although I consider Collins to be an extraordinary rock drummer, Bruford’s playing on that one track took my breath away.
When I heard his first solo album, Feels Good to Me, I was enthralled. It was clearly a “fusion” album, somewhere between rock and jazz, not like the prog-rock of the old King Crimson, or Yes, or Genesis. Fusion gets a bad name, with some arguing that it consists of the worst of both jazz and rock, and others complaining that it was simply instrumental noodling and musical masturbation, with a focus on technique to the exclusion of all else. Like most generalities there is some truth in that. But there are some brilliant and exciting examples of fusion—including albums by Miles Davis, Soft Machine, Return to Forever, Mahavishnu Orchestra, Weather Report, Pat Metheny Group, Frank Zappa, Brand X and Jean-Luc Ponty, to name a few—and Bill Bruford.
The four primary musicians on Feels Good to Me are among the best and most interesting players on their instruments, even if they aren’t the most famous—Bruford on drums and percussion (and, apparently clarinet), Alan Holdsworth on guitar, Dave Stewart (from National Health, not The Eurythmics) on keyboards, and the criminally underappreciated Jeff Berlin on bass. Their playing on this album is extraordinary, the songwriting is exciting and the arrangements are exhilarating. Bruford was clearly willing to take chances on this album.
So, let’s talk about this track. Yes, there are vocals, which is unusual for fusion music. The singer is Annette Peacock, whose Allmusic entry says that her “work as a vocalist, pianist, and composer is austere, cryptic, laconic, minimalistic, and relentlessly individual.” Her unusual vocals are the most controversial part of the song—some reviewers love them, others hate them, but few are indifferent. Frankly, I always found them a bit annoying, especially when you add the spaciness of the lyrics to the mix—for example:
What it is, is this
Is what it is
You and I exist
Therefore we are becoming
Here we are in this precisely now
Whatever that means. As a result, when I chose a song to play on the radio from this album, I rarely (never?) chose this one. But listening again to the song today in preparation for writing this, I have to say, it works. And it is evidence that Bruford was not just taking the easy way out on his first solo album.
Hello=> Goodbye: Say Hello Wave Goodbye
David Gray: Say Hello Wave Goodbye
[purchase studio version]
It’s not hard to figure out from the title what this one is about. Say Hello Wave Goodbye is a breakup song, with David Gray’s narrator trying to reach a state of resignation, but succumbing to heartbreak instead. The song runs over eight minutes in this live version, as it did in the studio version as well. Gray sets down a pattern on guitar at the beginning, and he is joined by drums and bass, but the musical pattern does not change much in the whole song. Mostly, the musical drama comes from dynamic shifts, getting louder and softer. That wouldn’t be enough to hold the listener’s interest for a song this long, but Gray’s vocal is the song’s secret weapon. His cracking voice threatens to break and fall apart, but it never quite happens. Gray is fully emotionally committed in this song, but he never oversings either, making the whole thing emotionally powerful and completely believable.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Hello: Say Hello 2 Heaven
Temple of the Dog: Say Hello 2 Heaven
[purchase]
Chris Cornell of Soundgarden wrote this song months before "grunge" alternative rock exploded onto the national music scene. He wrote it in memory of his close friend and roommate, Andrew Wood, lead singer of the Seattle band Mother Love Bone. Wood, a long time drug addict, overdosed on heroin in early-1990 while Cornell and Soundgarden were on tour. After writing two songs, Cornell approached the surviving members of Mother Love Bone about recording them. The recording sessions went so well that they started writing and reworking other songs, while adding a few members to the band (mostly from Soundgarden and the future Pearl Jam). This group was eventually named Temple of the Dog, from the lyrics of the Mother Love Bone song, "Man of Golden Words."
When Temple of the Dog's self-titled album was release in early 1991, music critics gave it generally favorable reviews, but the album didn't sell well. It was reissued a year later after both Pearl Jam and Soundgarden had received national mainstream success, and was marketed by A&M Records as a Soundgarden/Pearl Jam collaboration, despite the fact that Pearl Jam didn't yet exist when Temple of the Dog was recorded. "Say Hello 2 Heaven" reached number 5 on the US Billboard mainstream rock charts.
As an aside I think that "Say Hello 2 Heaven" is one of the outstanding early examples of why Chris Cornell is the best rock vocalist of the last two decades. Here are two more recent examples: Imagine from the Howard Stern show, and I Will Always Love You from a recent show in San Francisco.
Hello: Hello There
Cheap Trick: Hello There
[purchase]
Cheap Trick is a band that has been around since the 1970's and is still active today with all four long-time members. The song "Hello There" begins their second album In Color as an introduction and as a statement of purpose. The song also is a staple opener for their concerts.
In interviews, songwriter and guitarist Rick Nielsen stated that the song originated in the band's early days. As an opening act at concerts, they were not always given a proper sound check before going on, so a song where each instrument comes in in turn followed by vocals was a way for them to get a feel for how they would sound.
Short and sweet and a great introduction to a power pop classic.
Guest post by Paul T.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Hello: Hello City
Barenaked Ladies: Hello City
[purchase]
Can you believe it's been over a year since we posted a song from the biggest nerd-rockers to come out of Canada since Leonard Cohen went electric? This cut opens Barenaked Ladies' debut album Gordon, making it the very first song of theirs to tickle the ears of a huge number of early adopters; whimsical, bouncy, and well-supported by the harmonies and fluid bass that epitomizes the very best products of their early line-up, it's long been a favorite, and I'm thrilled as treacle to be able to offer it up here.
As a personal aside, I am shocked to note that Gordon is now twenty years old - meaning that after my Sunday post on Guster's early evolution, my own personal sub-theme this week has accidentally become "college rock I listened to when I was in college", a.k.a. "bands that are really old but I remember as young". The jaded lyrics on this tune, especially, are a bit dated and immature, but nostalgia never hurt anyone, I suppose. Also, check out Ed's haircut on the original cover above. Hello, indeed.
Hello: Hello San Francisco
Buddy Guy: Hello San Francisco
[purchase]
To aspiring blues musicians, it’s really not fair that there are people like Buddy Guy. Guy is known for the crying tone he gets from his guitar. But then again, his more recent work has been acoustic blues. And, on Hello San Francisco, we find him playing the staccatto lines of classic Chicago blues. The unfair part of it is that Guy sounds great on all of it. He’s a blues chameleon, and I have yet to hear him try anything that didn’t work. Here, the interplay between his chattering guitar and the more fluid piano part is classic, and the occasional accents from the sax are just a wonderful bonus. Guy saves the crying tone on this one for his vocal. I think this is the vocal sound John Mayall used to try for, but could never pull off.
Let me just close with a special thank you to fellow Star Maker Bert for sharing this song with me.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Hello: Hello Walls
[purchase]
[purchase]
In 1960, Willie Nelson was struggling as a songwriter in Nashville. His name didn't even appear on best-known composition to date, "Family Bible." Nelson sold the songwriting credit for $50.
Some of that "Family Bible" money was spent at Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge, a Nashville watering hole around the corner from the Grand Ole Opry. Soon, Nelson made the acquaintance of another Tootsie's habitue, Faron Young. A country music superstar and bona fide wildman, Young had enjoyed a decade of uninterrupted chart success with fast-paced twangers like “Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young,” “If You Ain’t Loving, You Ain’t Living” and “That’s the Way I Feel.”
At Tootsie's, Nelson pitched Young two freshly written songs. Young liked both compositions and committed to recording them. In the studio, everyone figured the more mainstream number, “Congratulations,” would be Young’s next hit single. But, the singer favored the more offbeat song Nelson had offered, “Hello Walls,” in which the narrator anthropomorphizes his broken home. Apparently, Young was alone in seeing the commercial potential of the song; his producer and the session musicians ridiculed it. In an interview quoted in a biography of Young, Live Fast, Love Hard, he describes the scene:
-
They said "Hello guitar, hello there microphone, hello chair." Everyone was just dying laughing because they thought this song was so stupid...I said, "That’s the reason that song’s gonna be a hit. It sticks in your mind.”
He was right. “Hello Walls” became Nelson’s first number one song as a writer. It stayed atop the country charts for nine weeks and broke into the pop top 20. Again in need of spending money, Nelson offered to sell Young the rights to the hit song. Young convinced Nelson that wasn’t a good idea. “I gave him five $100 bills, and I made him swear on a stack of bibles he wouldn’t sell that song,” Young said. Once the money started rolling in, Nelson offered to repay the advance, but Young refused. Nelson was grateful. “I was sitting at Tootsies," Young recalled, "and all of a sudden this big hairy arm came around my neck, and Willie French-kissed me. Probably the best kiss I ever had.”
In 1987, long after Young’s star had faded, Nelson again demonstrated his appreciation by insisting his record label put out a Willie 'n' Faron duet album. It was Young’s last major-label release. Faced with health problems and financial woes, Faron Young committed suicide in 1996.
Hello: Hello Goodbye
I have a penchant for most things Creative Commons [Little Feat | Grateful Dead]. Roger Greenawalt's Beatles Complete on Ukulele is among my favorites. It is a project wherein he and his team aim to offer the entire Beatles collection online - provided each recording includes a ukulele. If you are a Beatles aficionado (and who isn't), it is an amazing, extensive, free, legal collection that grows by the week.
This week, and considering that the Beatles Ukulele project is up to about 150 songs now - almost any week/any topic, we are in luck, because the collection includes a recording of "Hello Goodbye".
I am going to crib from the notes that are included both online and embedded as text inside the mp3 files themselves because they are an excellent source of Beatles trivia: you really can't find better - for factual details and personal opinion. The website "liner" notes for this song are a little thinner on Beatles ephemera than many of the others, but there is so much to learn from the extensive research the project coordinators have done for each of the songs. Much of the notes are personal opinion interspersed with informed asides: "John hated Hello Goodbye ..." and "Hello Goodbye is Paul's Imagine".
As for the music, Sharlotte Gibson does an incredible job: she makes the song her own but manages to keep it true to the Beatles' original. I didn't know it myself until I checked it out, but the notes ID her as one of the [past?] backup singers from American Idol.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Hello: Hello X3
Amuro Namie: Hello
[purchase]
Hyde: Hello
[purchase]
SHINee : Hello
[purchase]
Lucky me! Three songs that hit the Japanese airwaves all have the English title "Hello". Lucky you, too, 'cuz I'm gonna share them.
The first is by R&B/pop singer Amuro Namie from her 2007 album, Play. Her career reads a lot like Britney Spears': a teen pop idol from the age of 14, she faded a bit after motherhood and divorce, only to rebound strongly by moving to a more mature sound that she calls hip-pop. Like Spears, she isn't afraid to flaunt her naughty sexuality either: the album covers for Play (there are several) all feature Namie brandishing a whip. Yeah, that kind of play, I'm guessing.
The second is straight-up J-rock by L'Arc~en~Ciel vocalist Hyde, from his second solo album, 666. Its lyrics emphasize the urgency he feels at rushing to return to a loved one. To be honest, I always have to check whether any of Hyde's songs are with Laruku or solo since his style doesn't vary much between the two.
The third version highlights one of my latest addictions (I just read yesterday that there are "no guilty pleasures, just pleasures"). SHINee is a Korean pop group that is scratching my itch for well-crafted boy-band pop. I've got this album on repeat in my SUV, which is probably odd, but there you go. I find it's just really addictive. They've just released this song in Japanese for their primary market, but I think I like the Korean sound better.
Hello: Just Tell Her Jim Said Hello
Elvis Presley : Just Tell Her Jim Said Hello
[Purchase]
Elvis starred in thirty one musicals, usually playing men with names as generic as the films themselves. He played "Mike" in Spinout, Fun in Acapulco and It Happened at The World's Fair (seen above with co-star Vicky Tiu, the future first lady of Hawaii). He played "John " or "Johnny" in Harum Scarum, Frankie and Johnny and Change of Habit ( with Mary Tyler Moore). He also played "Greg" "Steve" and "Rick" but never "Jim" ( unless you count "Jimmy" the stage name Deke Rivers is given by a publicist in Loving You and I don't).
"Just Tell Her Jim Said Hello" is Elvis's 1962 follow up to his Gold selling "She's Not You". The Leiber Stoller composition only climbed to 55 in the US charts but it's a worthwhile tune. You can hear The King's trademark vibrato in every single line. Plus, as an exciting bonus, you get a lot of triangle. You can almost imagine the producer in the booth yelling over the intercom "I need MORE triangle!"
Hello: Hello Skinny
Monday, February 27, 2012
Hello: Hello I Love You
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Hello: Hello Central
Cindy Boehler: Hello Central
[purchase]
Born in Colorado and raised in Nebraska, Cindy Boehler acknowledges that growing up in a small Midwestern town made her a self-proclaimed ruralist. Growing up around music, she was singing by an early age. Attributing her mother, as well as role models like Karen Carpenter and Patsy Cline, for inspiration, Cindy’s first public appearance as a vocalist was in 1976 at her sister’s wedding.
Boehler’s motto in life could easily be “Never give up your dreams.” Her advice to other musicians with original material is to patient. As evidenced by her professional debut album in 2006, “Set It Free,” the personal satisfaction is worth the wait and sacrifice. The six original songs, co-written by Boehler and producer Steve Ivey, are the crowning moments on her debut bluegrass gospel project. Top Nashville session men included Rob Ickes (Dobro), Richard Bailey (banjo), Shad Cobb (fiddle), Andy Leftwich (mandolin), Charlie Chadwick (bass) and Steve Ivey (guitar, background vocals). Of special note was inclusion of The Jordanaires (Gordon Stoker, Ray Walker, Louis Nunley, Michael Black) on six of the 12 tracks. Boehler has also released “A Heartland Christmas” and in 2010 was included on a bluegrass compilation with Dolly Parton, Vince Gill, Steve Ivey, Ralph Stanley and Bill Anderson. Under the name “Cindy Bealer,” she’s also released “Twang to Torch” with a variety of classic country, current country, pop, blues and jazz.
On her 2006 debut, Cindy’s cover of C.K. Harris’ “Hello Central” is given engaging bluegrass treatment. One doesn’t typically hear bass harmonica much, and Pat Berguson’s instrument imparts the song with some rhythmic and breezy propulsion. “Hello Central” is a call to Heaven to tell her mother that she’s sad without her here. “You will find her with the angels over on the golden stairs.” Wouldn’t it be nice if we could ring up a deceased loved one to continue receiving their sage advice and wisdom?
In a contemporary new acoustic style, Cindy also sings about finding meaning, place, and direction to make her dreams come true. She hopes that the messages will similarly provide some guidance and direction for others during life’s journeys. Considering that it took many years for Cindy Boehler to find her own musical bearing and course to Nashville, the underlying tenet of a song like “Hello Central” reinforces how strong her own maternal instinct is. After all, Boehler has seven kids ranging in age from 11 to 31, as well as two grand-daughters.
Guest Post by Joe Ross
Hello: Hello Little Girl
The Fourmost: Hello Little Girl
[purchase]
John Lennon: Hello Little Girl (Decca Audition)
[purchase]
"Hello Little Girl" is said to be the first song John Lennon wrote (in 1957), and was recorded by the Beatles twice: in a home demo tape with Stu Sutcliife on bass, and in the failed Decca audition on New Year's Day 1962. The Decca version is pleasant enough - there's some nice interplay between John's lead vocal and Paul and George' backup voices, but on the whole it's not a lot different from the standard Mersey sound that quite a few other bands were firing off at the time. In short, nothing particularly overwhelming.
When the Beatles were recording Please Please Me later in 1962, they had already moved beyond their audition material (they only re-recorded one of the audition tracks for release -- their unbelievable version of "Money"), and "Hello, Little Girl" got pitched into their trunk of songs. From which it was extracted in summer 1963 by manager Brian Epstein, for another Merseybeat band that he had just signed, the Fourmost (pictured). And the Fourmost's version, a bit more up-tempo but otherwise none too different, sailed to #9 in the UK in the wake of the first Beatles hits. Timing is everything.
Guest post by Q-Man
Hello: Come Downstairs and Say Hello
Guster: Come Downstairs and Say Hello
[purchase]
Guster were a hometown folk rock college band when I first found them in the clubs of Boston in the early nineties, but by the time they released 2003 album Keep It Together, they were already well-known on the international college radio scene, opening for the Dave Matthew Band, filling medium-sized halls and mid-afternoon frat rock festival crowds from Northampton to Toronto. The dual acoustic guitars, nasal vocal harmonies, and frenetic hand-drumming which were their early hallmark had turned a bit to something a bit more alt-rock, thanks to the introduction of multi-instrumentalist Joe Pisapia, and a change in their primary instrumentation to electric/acoustic hybrid and a more traditional drum kit.
In many ways, though other, earlier hits such as 1999 Adult Top 40 charter Fa Fa would prove to be more popular, this personal favorite from Guster's catalog represents a magnum opus of sorts for the trio-turned full-sized band - a hazy, dreamy proto-shoegaze ballad that slows to a false, frozen denouement at its midpoint, only to build into a pulsing new-wave sunrise without skipping a lyrical beat at the three minute mark. Lyrically and sonically, the song calls to the passive-depressive ennui and self-imposed isolation of many members of their post-collegiate alternative fan-base, with the shift in music serving as the crucial promise of life and energy upon release from exile; listen for the early reference to the infamous Wizard Of Oz/Dark Side Of The Moon parallel as a sort of metaphor, laying a pop-culture-positive foundation for this emergence even as the change in tone matches that of both Pink Floyd's own opus and the shift into color which Dorothy experiences.
Hello: Hello in There
[purchase]
"Hello in There" features some of the most poignant lyrics John Prine ever wrote -- and that's saying something, considering he's got a catalog of lump-in-the-throat songs -- "Sam Stone," "Six O'Clock News" and "Souvenirs" among them.
Prine earned an early reputation for being able to write "old." "He was unlike anyone I'd ever seen," Kris Kristofferson said. "Such a young kid and yet he's writing songs like 'Hello in There.'" Most of the song's narrative is told from the perspective of an aging factory worker. He's retired, the kids have scattered to the winds, he doesn't have much left to say to his wife or his friends. The tune shuffles along, as if in time to the gait of the aging protagonist.
"Hello in There" seems to be building toward a rebuke of its narrator for (to borrow a phrase from a Townes van Zandt song from around the same time) waiting around to die. That wouldn't be surprising, given that Prine wasn't even 24 when he composed "Hello in There," at the height of the 1960s youth culture. But, that's not the direction he takes the song. "Old trees just grow stronger, and old rivers grow wilder every day," he observes with sadness. Yet, "old people just grow lonesome." For the song's coda, Prine steps out of character and admonishes his peers not to pity or ignore the elderly. "Don't just pass them by and stare, as if you didn't care. Say 'hello in there.'"
The song, which was later covered by Bette Midler, Joan Baez and others, appeared on Prine's incredible 1970 debut album. But, the version posted here is a re-recording from Souvenirs, released 30 years later. Prine's singing on the original recording lacks some of the vocal finesse he developed over his career. In middle age, Prine brings fresh perspective to the song. He still offers up the lesson to those who too quickly dismiss their parents. But, in his performance, you can also sense Prine's realization that he's closer in age to the main character in "Hello in There" than he is to the songwriter who composed it.
Hello: Hello, I Must Be Going
Groucho Marx and Margaret Dumont: Hello, I Must Be Going
[purchase the film]
Animal Crackers was released more than 80 years ago, in 1930, and it is still funny. The second Marx Brothers movie released, it was a film version of a popular stage play that they starred in. The Marx Brothers were incredibly popular in their day, but faded from popularity until interest in their brilliance was revived starting in the late 1960’s through the 1970’s. Then, it seems, they faded again from popularity. It is interesting how fashions change in art criticism. You see it in the music world, too, when say, all of a sudden, ‘80’s dance music that was critically scorned becomes cool again. I wonder if their classic movies and routines, which are based on absurdity, double entendres, zany word play and physical humor will become exposed widely again, or if their black and white movies, dated plots and references and generally primitive production values will ever catch the fancy of people raised on The Hangover and Avatar.
This song, sung by Groucho, was written by Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby. It is a short introduction to the longer and somewhat more famous “Hooray for Captain Spaulding,” which became Groucho’s signature song, but it epitomizes the Marx Brothers’ humor. The absurdity of Groucho, playing Captain Spaulding, the honored guest at a high society party, singing that he “must be going,” as soon as he arrives, is just a start. But you can understand why he is not comfortable there, and wanted to leave. His hostess, Mrs. Rittenhouse, played by Margaret Dumont, implores him to stay, singing:
For my sake you must stay.
If you should go away, you'll spoil this party I am throwing.
Groucho responds:
I'll stay a week or two.
I'll stay the summer through.
But I am telling you that I must be going.
But Dumont is not deterred:
Before you go will you oblige us
and tell us of your deeds so glowing?
Groucho then sets up the punch line:
I'll do anything you say.
In fact, I'll even stay!
The party goers respond, in unison:
Good!
And Groucho finishes the bit by singing:
But I must be going.
For years, Groucho perpetuated a myth that Dumont was so good as a straight woman in this and many other Marx Brothers’ films because she didn’t actually get the jokes, but apparently that wasn’t true, and she was just a gifted comic actress.
Hello: Say Hello To The Angels
Interpol: Say Hello To The Angels
[purchase]
Hello. Not the most interesting word in the world, of course. Over-used by necessity. And a real challenge for the humble music blogger whose assigned task is to locate a song that has managed to use the word without resorting to cliché or anodyne sentiment.
Interpol, of course, have never knowingly plumped for empty sentiment or Lionel Ritchie-esque cheese. Those angels they would like you to greet aren't just hanging around at the local coffee shop waiting to buy you a skinny latte. The song's meaning is open to interpretation, but the menace, the malice behind the words really is not.
Hello: Tell Him I Said Hello
Betty Carter and the Ray Bryant Trio: Tell Him I Said Hello
[purchase]
My introduction to jazz singing was Joni Mitchell’s version of Twisted. It was an exciting bit of vocal gymnastics with a wonderful sense of playfulness. For a long time, that’s what I thought jazz singing was all about. But there is also a more serious side. A great jazz singer like Betty Carter can instill a ballad with emotional richness and complexity. Listen to Tell Him I Said Hello, and you will hear a woman torn between desire and despair. She wants to be hopeful that her lover will return to her, but she fears that letting him see this will scare him away. She tries to keep all of this bottled up inside, but the feelings are simply too powerful. You might say that that is too much information for a song that is less than three minutes long to carry. But not only does Carter’s performance make it possible, she even manages to sum all of this up at the end with just one word: hello. With a singer this fine, there is no need to force the issue by piling on strings and other instruments. Ray Bryant and his group only need a piano, bass, and some wonderful brush work on drums. Carter does the rest, brilliantly.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Spoken Word: Danny’s All-Star Joint
Rickie Lee Jones: Danny‘s All-Star Joint
[purchase]
1979 was a fine year on the charts for what I like to call speak-singing. This is where the vocalist switches freely between speaking and singing in a line of a song, or even within a word of more than one syllable. Done well, it sounds completely natural, and gives a song a sense of realness that it might otherwise lack. It was done well in 1979 by Mark Knopfler in the Dire Straits hit Sultans of Swing. And when it was time for a follow-up single to Rickie Lee Jones’ smash Chuck E.’s in Love, another fine example emerged in Danny’s All-Star Joint. You hear the speak-singing in the verses, especially in the interplay between Cecil, the narrator, and the kid who winds up at the pinball machine. But then there is the bridge, and Rickie Lee Jones takes the speak-singing to another level entirely. There is little more in this section than Jones’ voice and percussion. This makes perfect sense, because this section is based on jump-rope rhymes Jones was hearing at the time on the streets of Los Angeles. On the street, these would have been accompanied only by handclaps.
Spoken Word: Keep Talking
Pink Floyd: Keep Talking
[purchase]
For millions of years mankind lived just like the animals.
Then something happened which unleashed the power of our imagination: We learned to talk.
Let's count the ways this song fits our theme by starting out with its (1) title, which exhorts us to Keep Talking, even though the lyrics declare the singer's inability to communicate (Why won't you talk to me?"). In fact, the theme of the entire album is (2) communication or the lack of it. The album title, The Division Bell, refers to the bell that's rung before a vote to summon members of the British Parliament, a place where (3) speechmaking is the major form of communication and where a vote solidifies into law by a verbal yes or no. Considering that Pink Floyd had undergone a very public fracture due to the (4) breakdown in communication between members David Gilmour and Roger Waters, who had left the band by 1994, there was much speculation that this song was heavily biographical.
One of the key features of this song is the (5) sampled electronic voice of physicist Stephen Hawking, who has relied on a speech synthesizer since the 80's. Gilmour, for his part, relies on a guitar talk box that merges vocal effects with his electric guitar notes, mimicking the sound of (6) human speech.
It doesn't have to be like this,
All we need to do is make sure we keep talking.
Spoken Word: Orange Coloured Daydreams
Blown: Orange Coloured Daydreams
[purchase
The past is an interesting place. While it’s undeniable that we are all the sum totals of our experiences, it’s sometimes hard to apprehend exactly how this can be so. Equally, we can’t escape nostalgia, especially when it comes to our childhoods. Even the worst of times can be tinted by a patina of magic, because looking back on innocence (for want of a less loaded word) with jaded adult eyes creates a sheen that is both inevitable and deeply desirable.
At the same time, the past can be almost impossible to understand. This song’s protagonist looks dreams of an idyllic childhood in pre-revolutionary Iran with the adult knowledge that there was far more going on than he could have realised and that ‘when you’re young you never know that good things come and good things go,’ but still retains the ability to return to a world that may never have existed simply by dreaming about it. The sun that lit his childhood is inside him – it may only ever have been – but at least that way the past need not remain out of reach.
An admission – this song represents my past. While my actual involvement in it was relatively small - a few lines added here, some structure imposed there - and the majority of the words are someone else’s, it featured on my band’s debut (and, as it turned out, only) album way back in 1994. All these years later, I realise that I feel the same way about that period of my life as Farhad (my bandmate, producer and friend to this day) felt when he sat down to write the poem that would become Orange Coloured Daydreams. For all the stress and heartache that I know intellectually was present back then, there is nonetheless something magical about that time that I like to revisit now and then. Even if those weren’t the best days of my life, it’s sometimes fun to imagine them that way.
Guest post by Houman
Spoken Word: Thela Hun Ginjeet
King Crimson: Thela Hun Ginjeet
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Just a quick second post before this theme is over. As a prog-rock fan in the late 70’s, I was familiar with King Crimson, in general, but not with an enormous amount of their music. The band was rarely, if ever, heard on the radio in New York, and if it was, they probably played “21st Century Schizoid Man.”
I have a very strong memory from 1980, when one of my tasks at WPRB was to go to the post office and pick up the mail, which included all of the records that the station was sent by the record labels. I remember walking toward the station and opening a package from WEA Music and seeing The Talking Heads’ Remain in Light album. I had read about the record and put it on the turntable in our office as soon as I could. I was blown away by how revolutionary it sounded to my ears; the polyrhythms and odd sounds that made it seem like something completely new. Yet it was also still a Talking Heads album. Among other things, though, it featured a new guitar sound, provided by Adrian Belew, who I had never heard of. “Remain in Light” is still probably one of my Desert Island Discs.
The next year, the word started to filter out about a new King Crimson album that would feature Robert Fripp, who was a legend, Bill Bruford, my favorite drummer, Tony Levin, who I hadn’t heard of, and Belew. When I first heard Discipline, I was again blown away. There were some similarities to Remain in Light—the rhythms, Belew’s guitar playing, and his very David Byrne influenced vocals. It was a record that was liked by the prog-rockers and the new wavers, and by those of us who liked both. We played the crap out of that record, and I got to see them on campus in March, 1982 (and maybe also at Rutgers a month earlier, but I don’t specifically recall.)
“Thela Hun Ginjeet” (an anagram for Heat in the Jungle), is a typically dense King Crimson song, with Fripp's and Belew’s complex guitar playing over Bruford’s busy drumming and Levin’s solid bass (or Chapman Stick?). During the song, while the music continues, there is an extended recording of Belew telling a story about being confronted by dangerous people with guns during a walk around London. He returned to the studio and told the story, which was surreptitiously recorded and then added to the track. There is something so real and immediate about Belew’s fear of being in a “dangerous place,” and his relief when they finally leave him alone, that elevates the song.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Spoken Word: Pictures from Life's Other Side
Luke the Drifter (Hank Williams): Pictures from Life's Other Side
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When Garth Brooks reinvented himself as rocker named Chris Gaines, many considered it more evidence that Brooks was cracking under the pressure of superstardom. But some theorized Brooks was reviving a long-abandoned practice by country music singers of assuming an alter ego to release off-beat material. For example, decades before Brooks/Gaines, Ferlin Husky cut novelty records as Simon Crum, Buck Owens rocked as Corky Jones and Hank Williams recorded recitations under the moniker Luke the Drifter.
Hank Williams began using the Luke pseudonym in 1950. Luke the Drifter records were often spoken-word homilies on the troubles of life and the rewards awaiting the pure of heart in heaven. In his definitive biography of Williams, Colin Escott describes Luke as “a wise and thoughtful soul, dispensing advice that the willful Hank Williams ignored.”
MGM, for whom Williams recorded, pushed him to release these morality plays under an assumed name, so as not to diminish his standing as a raucous honky-tonker. Though Hank’s secular records were hardly highfalutin, his releases as Luke are even more unvarnished, with scant instrumentation and Hank's thick rural accent on full display. Recorded in 1951, “Pictures from Life's Other Side” is the archetypal Luke record, with sorrow and southern drawl dripping from the record grooves.
The Luke the Drifter legacy continued long after Williams died on New Year’s Day, 1953. MGM and its successor labels released Luke the Drifter sets on 78, EP, LP, tape, CD and MP3. Hank Williams Jr. kept the Luke brand going, releasing three albums as “Luke the Drifter Jr.” in the late 1960s. Luke Jr. offered up the same mawkish recitations as his forerunner, starting with an awkwardly named hit single, “I Was With Red Foley the Night He Passed Away.”
Bonus track: Not every Luke the Drifter song was dark. Here Hank/Luke dabbles in some good-natured Commie bashing in a track spoken to Josef Stalin, "No, No Joe."
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Thursday, February 23, 2012
Spoken Word: Whitey On The Moon
Gil Scott-Heron: Whitey On The Moon
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Gil Scott-Heron: H20Gate Blues
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For many, the epic “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” represents something of an proto-rap, along with the works of the Watts Prophets and The Last Poets (and what was that point-missing woman at the Grammys babbling on about how to Gil Scott-Heron, the revolution will be televised?). Gil Scott-Heron issued a number of the spoken word proto-raps.
Of those, “Whitey On The Moon” is particularly apt now, some four decades after it was recorded, with Newt Gingrich half-wittedly undertaking to return people to the moon while simultaneously robbing the people who need it most of universal health coverage should the American voters stumble to the polls in so brown a haze of lunacy to actually elect that emissary from Acheron.
If “Whitey On The Moon” shows sharp wit, then “H2Ogate Blues” is a shark-toothed chainsaw massacre of barbed anger. The year is 1974, and America is still waiting for King Richard to finally depart. In a live performance set to a basic blues riff, Gil Scott-Heron raps about “that cesspool, Watergate”, as sidekicks (one sort of pictures a nightvision-goggled hanger-on of Ludacris being among them, though that doubtless is the imagination seeing things through an early 21st century lense) voice their agreement and encouragement. Gil’s scene-setting definition of the hues of the blues is worth the price of admission alone, but when he goes on to the politics, well, you can’t put a price on that. The cast of characters – Halderman, Ehrlichman, Mitchell and Dean, if you dig what I mean – might have changed, but the concerns of 1974 find an echo in almost 40 years later.
“How long, America, before the consequences of keeping the school systems segregated, allowing the press to be intimidated, watching the price of everything soar and hearing complaints ’cause the rich want more? It seems that Macbeth, and not his lady, went mad. We’ve let him eliminate the whole middle class; the dollar’s the only thing we can’t inflate while the poor go on without a new minimum wage.”
“H2Ogate Blues” appeared on 1974’s excellent Winter In America album. In the liner notes, Scott-Heron takes aim at Nixon: “In the interest of national security, please help us carry out our constitutional duty to overthrow the king.” He meant really the system. His message probably would be the same today – except Gil might prefer to retain this king in fear of the ghastly alternatives.
Spoken Word: Linin' Track
Taj Mahal: Linin' Track
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Taj Mahal has been doin' his thang for many a year. His early recordings, back in the 60s, focused on the blues, when he turned out his formative albums like the Natch'l Blues and Recycling the Blues. Over the years, in addition to the blues, he's covered jazz and folk, reggae and African.
Like my main man Ry Cooder, he has researched and aimed to keep alive music of various traditions. He's a veritable scholar and ethnographer of music. In fact, musically, he's all over the place. The man has worked with the Rolling Stones, Howlin' Wolf and Muddy Waters, Ry Cooder, Eric Clapton, Doc Watson and Toumani Diabate (and if you haven't heard this Malian musician, you are missing some great sounds. Check out a free listen to Queen Bee with the two of them on the radio channel at (http://www.tajblues.com/.)
Not posessing the most musically "soaring" voice, Taj still packs a great deal of emotion into what he's he's been gifted with. His is a rasping kind of voice, well suited to the blues, but it's also the kind of voice that works well for telling a story (a la Tom Waits), and that is what this week's focus is all about: telling or speaking a song.
There are many spots of Linin' Track where Taj's voice trends more to the musical than the spoken. However, in other places, his vocals are very much spoken - or certainly not musically tonal. This is a song credited to Huddie Ledbetter, better known as Leadbelly.
Speaking of the blues and apropros of the economic woes many of us are living through, the lyrics of Linin' Track include the words: "talkin' 'bout the money I aint made" may ring true for a number of us. Or maybe, considering the Arab Spring (Israel, Egypt and environs), maybe you can relate to the lyrics: "Moses stood on the Red Sea shore, smotin' that water with a 2 by 4" ... are more to the point. The line continues, "if I could I surely would ...". A positive outlook for our times, me thinks.
Guest post by KKafa
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Spoken Word : King Heroin
James Brown: King Heroin
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The Godfather of Soul sets aside the funk for a few minutes to rap brother to brother and brother and sister about the evils of one of the most deadly killers in our country: heroin.
I can make a man forsake his country and flag
Make a girl sell her body for a five-dollar bag
Some think my adventure's a joy and a thrill
But I'll put a gun in your hand and make you kill
This lyrics are credited to Manny Rosen, who --according to Wikipedia--worked at The Stage Delicatessan on Manhattan's Seventh Avenue, and had lost his daughter to a drug overdose. But according to Jet Magazine, "Manny Rosen" is a pseudonym for impressionist George Kirby who had seen the insides of a prison after dealing heroin to an undercover cop in Las Vegas. Whatever the circumstances, the lyrics deliver a haunting message that, as a single, managed to hit the Top 40 in 1972.
Spoken Word: The Ballad of the Kingsmen
Todd Snider: The Ballad of the Kingsmen
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There are a whole lot of spoken-word songs to choose from in Todd Snider's catalog. In fact, even when Snider sings, it kind of sounds like he's talking. Since Snider says it all -- literally -- in the lyrics of "The Ballad of the Kingsmen," there's no point going too deeply into its backstory. The song has appeared on two official albums by Snider, as well as on several bootlegs and scores of YouTube clips. Here's the original studio version, from 2005's East Nashville Skyline. And, here's what Snider had to say about the song in that album's liner notes:
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I wanted to make the point that teaching kids to get as much as they can all week at public school and then sending them to some church on Sunday where some old guy goes on about how wrong it is to need so much stuff -- and then somehow when the kids act confused it's 'cause of Alice Cooper or somebody -- is silly. That's what I hope this song shows. That, and that I can memorize a lot of words.
Spoken Word: Language Is a Virus
Laurie Anderson: Language Is a Virus
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What does this song mean? Laurie Anderson likes to string together words and phrases that we, the listeners, recognize as English. But she leaves what you might call “cognitive space”. It falls to the listener to connect the dots and find a meaning, and what you take away from this one might be very different from my impression. Likewise, Anderson’s music often suggests a musical genre with being quite of that genre. Language Is a Virus is the suggestion of funk, but it definitely cooks, whatever it is. This all sounds terribly abstract, and like a lot of work. Maybe it is, but Anderson’s sly sense of humor makes it go down easy.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Spoken Word: The Ballad of Jed Clampett
Bela Fleck and the Flecktones: The Ballad of Jed Clampett
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The Flecktones use rhythmic spoken word as if it were a jazz instrument: a core albeit sparsely played component of the arsenal digi-percussionist Roy Wooten (aka Future Man, aka the guy in the pirate hat in the image above) lends to banjo-master Bela Fleck and company's experimental jamjazz fusion. Here, two layers of yawping, mischievous rap from Future Man and partner-in-crime Bobby McFerrin serve as a madcap, untrustworthy narrative voice hovering over the instrumental cliffs of insanity in a tribute to The Beverly Hillbillies that sounds like it was arranged by Frank Zappa. Bonus points for the Sam Bush mandolin runs.
Spoken Word: The One That Got Away
Tom Waits: The One That Got Away
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Billed primarily as a piano player, Tom Waits is also a poet who - in my opinion - rivals the likes of Dylan. Now, I don't know that you can call some of his work "song lyrics", but the definition of the word lyric is "having the form and musical quality of a song, and especially the character of a songlike outpouring of the poet's own thoughts and feelings" (dictionary.com). That fits the man and his work, for, in addition to his musical skills, a poet he is for sure.
Raspy and gritty, Waits' voice conveys the atmosphere of the smoky bar whence his music comes and where it best belongs. In the best tradition of the barroom piano player, Waits provides us with a glimpse of the seamier side of life that is a deep down part of all of us, but which most of us shy away from out of fear of the dark side.
His 1976 album Small Change is one of my favorite albums of all time. There are a number of pieces on this album where Waits talks us through this story, as opposed to singing a song. A number of the songs from the album have been included here before on StarMaker, by Darius and Boyhowdy: among others I Can't Wait To Get Off Work (Aug 31, 2008), Tom Traubert's Blues (Sept 15, 2010), and Step Right Up (Mar 27, 2011)
The One That Got Away and Pasties and a G-String both fit the bill for this week's theme. Line after line of the words should give pause: just what on earth does he mean? (for me, there are so many lines that carry some connotation, worthy of an extra minute's pondering):
half past the unlucky, the hawk's a front row seat
I've lost my car key, my equilibrium and my pride
Herewithin, one of them. I strongly recommend that you go out and purchase the whole album so that you can get the full sense of this, his best work.
Guest post by KKafa
Spoken Word: Hot Rod Lincoln
Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen: Hot Rod Lincoln
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What's the first spoken-word song that pops into your head? Easy: Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen's "Hot Rod Lincoln," from their album, Lost in the Ozone and a surprising top 10 hit in 1972. It has a lot of spoken words.
What's the first thing that pops into your head about "Hot Rod Lincoln"? It is truly amazing how eclectic pop music was in 1972 -- and how narrow it is now. "Hot Rod Lincoln" made it all the way to number 7 on Billboard's Hot 100 chart. Other artists with records in the top 40 from the same week that "Hot Rod Lincoln" peaked: The Staples Singers (#1!), Sammy Davis Jr., the Rolling Stones, Al Green, Todd Rundgren, Jimmy Castor, the Jackson 5, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Elton John, Aretha Franklin, Jackson Browne, Andy Williams, Cat Stevens, and the Military Band of the Royal Scots Dragon Guards. (Yep, their version of "Amazing Grace" made it to the top 20).
OK, what's the second thing that pops into your head? How much I love this song and everything about it. The great mile-a-minute recitation by Commander Cody himself (a/k/a George Frayne). Bill Kirchen's incredible guitar runs. The song's pedigree -- "Hot Rod Lincoln" began life as a straight-ahead hillbilly boogie and an "answer" record, a sequel to a similar song called "Hot Rod Race." (An excellent history of both songs is available in a Star Maker post from 2008.) That despite now being nearly forgotten by both rock and country fans, Commander Cody and the Lost Planet Airmen deserve a lion's share of the credit for introducing hard-core country to the hipsters. And the fact that, even today, when you see Bill Kirchen perform, you know when he gets to "Hot Rod Lincoln" in his set, the next 10 to 15 minutes are going to be pure overdrive.
Spoken Word: Ransom Notes
Bruce Piephoff: Ransom Notes
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Bruce Piephoff is a North Carolina bard with an affinity for both music and poetry. With college degrees in English and creative writing, his calling is clear. The indefatigable and prolific singer, songwriter, guitarist and harmonica player has released over 20 albums.
Bruce Piephoff also recognizes the value of music for therapy, a cure for nearly every ill. With melody, the songwriter brings his introspective poems and haunting truths to life. But, on occasion, he simply uses the spoken word to tell a sly story (such as “Hucksters”) or to pay tribute to departed friends (in cuts such as “For Marvin” and “Ransom Notes”). These songs are heard on Bruce Piephoff's 2011 album called “Still Looking Up at the Stars,” produced by guitarist and arranger Scott Sawyer who performs on all 17 album tracks.
With matter-of-fact delivery, personal observations, and a dash of wry humor, Piephoff cleverly relates the story of his bud, Billy Ransom Hobbs. Accompanied by understated moody sax, guitar, and brushes, “Ransom Notes” is an avant-garde spoken eulogy about a lovable, gentle soul and fellow musician (Billy Ransom Hobbs, aka Hobo Billy) who tragically passed about 2008.
Piephoff promises that the two will meet again “backstage” when he gets there. Besides being a poet and musician, Piephoff is an author. “Ransom Notes” first appeared in his second book of poetry, “Fiddlers and Middlers” released in 2009. Thanks to You Tube video of the song, we even get to see these guys hanging out in North Carolina in the early 1970s. There’s Billy “the grassroots Buddah … in a black leather motorcycle jacket, jeans and long curly black hair.”
What a fitting way to remember a good friend!
Guest Post by Joe Ross
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Spoken Word: Jerusalem
Dan Bern: Jerusalem
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If I went to see Springsteen (and I haven’t since college) and he didn’t play “Born to Run,” I’d be unhappy. When I saw Led Zeppelin in 1977, I would have been horrified if they didn’t play “Stairway to Heaven.” And I expect to hear "1952 Vincent Black Lightning" when I see Richard Thompson. A Dan Bern show, to me, is not complete without “Jerusalem.”
Bern, a Jewish Midwestern singer songwriter with a nasal voice, has regularly been compared to Dylan, and he doesn’t seem to shy from the comparison, considering the number of talking blues he has written in Dylan’s style. Not to mention his hysterical “Talkin’ Bob And Woody, Bruce And Dan Blues” which updates Dylan’s “Song to Woody” (and which I thought about writing about, but decided to write about “Jerusalem” instead). Bern has long been a family favorite, with his songs that are funny, poignant and political. “Jerusalem” is one that has all of that.
As is common in Bern’s songs, “Jerusalem” takes a meandering route. It starts off with its somewhat cynical theme—the singer has expressed his love to someone, but warns that his love should be accepted and not tested, because it may be that he doesn’t really “love you all that much.” The song abruptly turns to an admonition to people who want to know what music he is going to play, and those who want to pigeonhole him—“And if you must put me in a box, Make sure it's a big box,” he sings. Then, out of nowhere, the song heads off into a strange place, with Bern talking about being asked to become an “ancient king”, and works in a reference to Einstein’s theory of time.
Bern then discusses how everyone seems to be waiting for the Messiah, and that he knows how hard it is to wait, illustrating the triviality of religion by equating waiting for salvation with waiting “for a bus or something; An important phone call,” before announcing that, in fact, he is the Messiah. He tells us that he was going to wait to make this announcement, and build the suspense, but his therapist, Dr. Nusbaum, suggested that he would feel better if he got it out in the open.
So, why exactly is this song called “Jerusalem?” Because, the singer then tells us, he spent 10 days in Jerusalem, eating nothing but olives, but that it was OK because, “I like olives.” He then segues into “I like you too” and a reprise of the initial warning about not testing his love. At shows, the audience sings along to this crazy song, which to me highlights a couple of Bern’s regular themes—ambivalence about love and ambivalence about religion. And it is very funny.
Spoken Word: Valley Girl
Frank Zappa : Valley Girl
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This 1982 song may be totally obvious to the max. I'm like, whatever! Frank Zappa—or more accurately, his 14-year-old daughter Moon Unit—started a Valspeak craze, where normally articulate Americans began to emulate the lingo of the San Fernando Valley of southern California. Fer shure! And you, too, can sound like a Valley Girl using this handy online translator. Seriously bitchin'!
Valley Girl was Zappa's only top 40 hit. Like, oh my God! I was all like, no way!
(The way cool photo up there is bitchin' J-rock superstar Yoshiki. Some fly dude or dudette came up with it when he bought a trippendicular home in Encino. Way!)
Spoken Word: Ridin’ on Down
Big Bill Broonzy: Ridin‘ on Down
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Talking blues is a style that is often associated with political songs, and with Woody Guthrie. Guthrie did indeed work with the form, and was one of the first to use it for political songs. But Guthrie was adapting an older style that was part of the blues tradition. Pre-Guthrie, these songs related humorous stories, or a series of humorous anecdotes. Ridin’ on Down is a fine example. Each verse has a different story, and these may have been adapted from longer folktales that performers like Big Bill Broonzy would have expected his audiences to recognize. Broonzy was a fine blues artist in the way we usually think of the blues, and he probably used a song like this to provide comic relief from his more serious material.
