Pipes and Woodwinds: Behind Blue Eyes

The Chieftains with Roger Daltrey: Behind Blue Eyes

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To finish out my posts for this week’s theme, I wanted a song that had both pipes and woodwinds. For that, I knew I would need The Chieftains. The Chieftains began life as an Irish traditional band, one of the best. But, in 1991, they were looking to make a live album, and leader Paddy Maloney wanted to do something to make it special. So he invited Roger Daltry of The Who and Nanci Griffith to participate. It was a decision that would turn out to be very important to The Chieftains. Since then, most of their albums have included collaborations with artists who wouldn’t normally be thought of as traditional artists of any sort. In the process, The Chieftains have made fascinating connections between their music and those of their guests. It doesn’t always work, but the results are never dull. With Daltrey and Griffith, it did work beautifully.

Behind Blue Eyes, as rendered here, shows that Roger Daltrey could have been an Irish ballad singer in another life. The woodwind here is Matt Molloy’s flute. The pipe is the Irish version of the bagpipe, the uilleann pipes. It is played by Paddy Moloney.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Roland Kirk Edition

Roland Kirk: Mingus-Griff Song

Roland Kirk: Mood Indigo

[purchase]

Rahsaan Roland Kirk was a one-man woodwind section. He could play three reeds simultaneously, and then go right into a flute solo (as he does on Ellington's "Mood Indigo"). He also modified his horns to produce unique instruments like the manzello and the stritch. and he was fond of throwing a siren into the mix whenever the mood struck.

He was often seen as a novelty act by the jazz purists of the day, but eventually came to be recognized as one of the truly unique voices in the genre. Jethro Tull's Ian Anderson nicked a fair bit of his flute style from Kirk, and they even recorded a cover of his "Serenade to a Cuckoo" on their first album.

The two songs I'm sharing in this post originally came from the live album Kirk in Copenhagen, recorded in October 1963 and released the following year (predating is adoption of the "Raahsan" moniker). Years later, the tracks were reissued as part of a mammoth 11-CD boxed set that included a much-expanded version of the Copenhagen album with the songs resequenced in proper order, putting these two tracks back-to-back. Not only do they make for a nice contrast in tempos, but at the end of the "Mingus-Griff Song" track, he explains how he will play "Mood Indigo" with the three reeds simultaneously playing different parts of the original arrangement. It's worth stating explicitly that Kirk is the only horn player on these tracks. Kids, don't try this at home!

Pipes and Woodwinds: Clarinet Connections

Brave Old World: Brave Old Sirbas

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One of the pleasures of this week‘s theme for me is the chance to present some klezmer music here. Some readers at this point may be going “aha!!” But probably more of you are wondering what I‘m talking about. Klezmer is Jewish celebration music that Jewish immigrants brought with them from eastern Europe to the United States in roughly the period from 1890-1920. This music often featured the clarinet, and it reached its peak in the 1920s, with clarinetist David Tarras leading the way. And then, klezmer disappeared.

Fifty years later, a group of Jewish-American musicians seeking their roots began to discover old klezmer recordings from the 20s, and klezmer was reborn. Brave Old World were a group that was in the thick of this revival. Brave Old Sirbas is a fine example of the sound of klezmer clarinet. I presented a fuller discussion of klezmer music last year on my blog, Oliver di Place. The songs are no longer up, but you can read that here.

Benny Goodman: Puttin‘ on the Ritz

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So klezmer may be new to you, but I’m sure that you have heard of Benny Goodman. In discussions of Goodman’s music, not much is usually made of his Jewish background. But Goodman apparently received his first musical training in 1919 at the Kehelah Jacob Synagogue, so I think that it is not too much of a stretch to say that he must have heard klezmer music as a boy. I can hear the influence in his playing, although he was also obviously influenced by the sounds of early jazz that were coming from New Orleans. Still, the connection is there. Goodman is, of course, best known for his big band recordings, but I have chosen a trio recording to better focus on his clarinet playing. It may well be fair to say that the klezmer revival musicians, many of whom started out playing jazz, were also influenced by Benny Goodman.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Winter in America

Gil Scott-Heron: Winter in America

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This bleak vision of dystopian America circa 1974 is courtesy of Gil Scott-Heron, a socially conscious vocalist who creates a unique fusion of jazz and soul. Winter in America features the flute, a hauntingly gorgeous choice that highlights his chilling words.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Around This Corner

Sarah Harmer: Around This Corner

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Sarah Harmer: Just A Closer Walk With Thee

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The classical reeded woodwinds of the standard orchestra - clarinets, oboes, bassoons - make an occasional appearance in the middle of more than a handful of acoustic pop songs, joining in for the third verse or the bridge, then sticking around for the remainder of the piece.

And though it pops its head in for emphasis subtly throughout the first verse, so it seems to be with the clarinet in Around This Corner, a catchy, bouncy piece of folkpop that led off Sarah Harmer's first major solo disk after years heading Canadian cult alt-band Weeping Tile. It makes a difference to the sound, to be sure, but it keeps surprising you. And the way it fades back into the music is so subtle, you forget it was there all along, until it comes back to bridge the gap between chorus and verse so sweetly, like a Woody Allen solo.

Harmer took the same tactic in Songs For Clem, her self-produced, never-intended-to-be-released gift to her father recorded the year beforehand, but only truly distributed after the runaway success of You Were There. It's rough cut, with rain on the roof coming in as a hiss on the track towards the end, but the clarinet lends a second line feel to the gospel harmonies, floating the old hymn somewhere heavenly.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Tsumagoi

Sadao Watanabe: Tsumagoi

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Before you get all up in my grill, let me just point out that this is not J-Rock. It's pretty straight-up jazz by a world-renowned woodwind player who just happens to be Japanese. I used to listen to it when it came out in 1980, which far predates my J-Rock obsession. In fact, I used to play along to this tune on my really crappy saxophone, even though here, Watanabe-san features the flute (he usually plays alto sax too).

So, Columbia Records ended up with this guy on their label, and they wisely (or maybe just luckily), threw a bunch of other terrific jazz fusion artists into the mix and recorded their live Budokan sets. We've got Dave Grusin on keyboards, Eric Gale on guitar, and Richard Tee, Steve Gadd, Anthony Jackson, Ralph MacDonald, Jeff Mironov and the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra. Whew!

Pipes and Woodwinds: Disappearing One

Chris Cornell: Disappearing One

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When grunge/metal heroes Soundgarden parted ways in 1997 (they have since reunited) I coudn't wait to hear what frontman and main songwriter Chris Cornell would do next.

Over the years his debut as a solo artist, the song Seasons on the soundtrack for Cameron Crowe's Singles in 1992, had grown to be a big fan favorite and it was obvious that whatever he was cooking up would be worth waiting for. The first sign of things to come was the sublime Sunshower on the Great Expectations soundtrack in 1998. The full-length Euphoria Morning hit the shelves the following year and the moment I heard it I had a new favorite album.

Perhaps surprising to fans of Soundgarden, the album couldn't have sounded less like Soundgarden. No grinding, distorted heavy metal guitars to be found anywhere. This was more similar to his Temple Of The Dog side-project from 1991.

Dark and melancholy, but always melodic and enticing the album is absolutely brilliant from start to finish. Great stuff on here, like the gloomy Steel Rain, the Jeff Buckley tribute Wave Goodbye, the bluesy When I'm Down and of course Disappearing One, in my opinion one of the best songs he has ever written.

I'm glad he put some clarinets in the intro or I'd have no reason to post it this week.

Pipes and Woodwinds: The Dreaming

Kate Bush: The Dreaming

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If you don’t know what to listen for, you might say that there are no pipes or woodwinds in The Dreaming. There is, however, a strange bass drone that starts the song, and if you listen carefully, you will find that that drone modulates and continues throughout the song. That is the sound of the didgeridoo. The didgeridoo may be the only musical instrument that is made by insects. The Aborigines of Australia find logs that have been hollowed out by termites, and they then put the finishing touches in to get the didgeridoo to sound perfect. The resulting instrument was traditionally played in rituals to induce the trance known as the dreamtime. That is the basis of Kate Bush’s song, although I do not think that her take on it is very authentic.

For The Birds / Pipes and Woodwinds: The Blackbird

Silly Wizard: The Blackbird

[sadly, out of print]

I've always liked the slow, almost stately medieval pace and harmonies of this live tune from my favorite Scottish tradfolk band with the dumbest name ever, leading me to believe either that the words "silly" and "wizard" have slightly different connotations across the pond, or the seventies were even weirder than I had originally thought.

The soaring whistle that joins the vocal narrative just before the midpoint is intended to be the titular bird itself, I suppose, but it doesn't come off as trite as all that - after all, this sort of music is known for being emphatically literal without sacrificing a whit of beauty.

For the Birds: Hummingbird and Skylark and Owl, oh my!

Kris Delmhorst: Hummingbird

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Bette Midler: Skylark

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Carrie Newcomer: I Heard an Owl

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I must say I was quite pleased when I heard what this week's theme was to be... because I had made a Birds mix CD a few years back and thought I could cull some good songs from there - upon perusing the tracklist, it turns out that most of them have the generic word Bird in the title (rather than a certain type of feathered friend). Ah, well - plenty more where those came from, especially in my aviary of female artists...

I adore anything Kris Delmhorst sings and writes... and this is a breathy confessional of hiding her light, flower and voice until the object of her affection is out of sight/earshot, at which point she shines brightly, blooms profusely and sings beautifully - over the years, she's perfected The Art of Melancholy Sweetness...

I've been a Bette Midler fan for decades, having been turned on to her music by a college roommate - this classic reinterpretation is from her first album and, in retrospect, would have worked perfectly for our Torch Songs theme a few weeks back...

Carrie Newcomer's repertoire consists of lovely, inspirational songs that cut straight to the heart and spirit - this is her reaction to the events of September 11 ("the only peace this world will know can only come from love")...

For the Birds: The Owl and the Pussycat

Donovan: The Owl and the Pussycat

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From Donovan's curious children's album, H.M.S. Donovan, comes this 19th century Edward Lear nonsense poem set to music. I have a fondness for this whimsical aspect of Donovan's music, though I wonder how many children actually listened to it.

Today's photo is another favorite of mine--a captive Barred Owl winking at the camera.

For the Birds: The Crow on the Cradle

Show of Hands: The Crow on the Cradle

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The Crow on the Cradle was written by Englishman Sydney Carter. Carter was a Shaker and a pacifist, and his best known song was Lord of the Dance. In the mid 1960s, the world was gripped by the fear of nuclear war, and The Crow on the Cradle reflects that. The crow was a symbol of death from pre-Christian times in England, so finding one on the cradle of a newborn would not be a good sign. Judy Collins and Pete Seeger both recorded the song, but it sounds best to me when a British male sings it. I first heard The Crow on the Cradle performed by Nick Dow, and he instilled the song with the appropriate sense of dread. Unfortunately, Dow’s version is not available, but English duo Show of Hands come pretty close to the feeling I remember.

For The Birds: Rubber Duckie

Ernie: Rubber Duckie

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Kelly Hogan: Rubber Duckie

[purchase]

Larry Paulette: Rubber Duckie

[scavenge out-of-print '77 album]

Love Pigs: Rubber Duckie

[download out-of-print sesame street punk covers compilation]

The Buffalo Chips: Rubber Duckie

[purchase other in-print CDs from SUNY Buffalo's only all-male a capella group]

As a long-time cover collector, I tend to have a handful of different versions of pretty much any beloved song lurking in my collection. In the LP world, these coversongs were often hard to keep track of without some sort of overly obsessive catalog system, but the highly manageable universe of iTunes and digital music feeds my obsession, making it easier both to store and collect single tracks, and to find those tracks easily.

The fruits of such a media shift: I have not one but five versions of Rubber Duckie to offer up for this week's theme, and each one is decidedly different. Ernie's original is a classic, of course. But sweet-voiced alt-country crooner Kelly Hogan's piano-driven lounge take is delightful in its sultry innocence, all the more noticeable next to openly gay seventies artist Larry Paulette's funky, slippery, sexually charged take. And the contrast between the thrash punk of Love Pigs and the barbershop a capella arrangement from male group The Buffalo Chips should go without saying.

This isn't my whole collection, of course. There's also an oddly pedophilic-sounding Little Richard cover out there, plus a marching band cover from a prison band, and a disco take with Robin Gibb and the Muppets that sounds exactly like you'd think it does, among others. But I just couldn't bring myself to share those alongside the "good" ones today - perhaps we'll take on a "questionable cover songs" theme for April Fools Day this year, and I'll dig 'em up then instead.

Thanks to long-time cover blog Fong Songs for introducing me to two of these covers, by the way. Host Jamie Fong closed down the shop just this month, but he went out with a bang, and his final series - a top 101 covers countdown - remains up for the nonce.

For the Birds: The Gold Finch and the Red Oak Tree

Ted Leo/Pharmacists: The Gold Finch and the Red Oak Tree

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Ted Leo's third album with the Pharmacists, The Tyranny of Distance, is mostly an electric affair. But there is this one acoustic track, the short but lovely "The Gold Finch and the Red Oak Tree".

Around these parts, the Eastern Goldfinch is ubiquitous. So ubiquitous in fact, that I've rarely bothered to photograph them. Which is a shame, because the males of the species are quite colorful in their summer plumage. At any rate, several years ago I did take a few shots while a half-dozen Goldfinches were feasting on one of my back porch feeders, and that's where today's photo comes from. Not my best work, but I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to share this beautiful song.

For the Birds: A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square

The Manhattan Transfer: A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square

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This week, we have been treated to some beautiful, realistic nature photography, as well as some more humorous images. But this post needed a romantic picture. For a few moments, we leave the real world behind, as The Manhattan Transfer transports us to the world of idealized romantic love.

I am a long time hater of love songs. They are often presented in huge productions, drowning in schmaltzy strings. Or the singer belts out the song with no nuance whatsoever. Or someone decides to jazz it up, and it sounds hokey and false. All of this and more has been done to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. The song is a standard, which means that it has been ruined in more ways than anyone can count. The song dates from 1939, just before Britain’s entry into World War II. Berkeley Square is in London, and no one has ever seen a nightingale there. To do so would be as miraculous as the love described in the song. The Manhattan Transfer would revisit the song on an album they did with a full orchestra. But this was how they first recorded it in 1981, with just four perfectly blended voices, and no instruments at all. And this simple arrangement is as lush and romantic as anything I have ever heard. So, I don’t actually hate love songs at all. I just hate how they are often performed.

For The Birds: The Wild Goose

Kate Rusby: The Wild Goose

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I was introduced to Kate Rusby by one of our early contributors here at Star Maker Machine, the first female to join our little band; since then, I've become an avid, almost rabid fan of the singer-songwriter's well-crafted interpretations and originals, despite continued frustration that she will not tour in the states due to her fear of flying.

Though Divinyl has long since ceased blogging with us, in her honor, I post this favorite take on a traditional piece from the UK-based folk songbird whose gorgeous voice and ability to channel the sorrow that defines so much of the British folk tradition are, in my heart and ears, essentially unparalleled.

For the Birds: Ride A White Swan

T. Rex: Ride a White Swan

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If I were a newspaper writer, I might posit this as today's headline: London, 1970 - Marc Bolan and T. Rex Go Electric, Launch Glam Rock. 'Cuz it was this song, their first British top-ten hit, that started a whole 'nuther genre in what was then swingin' England.

I was more aware of some of their other hits that made it across the pond just a bit later: Get It On, Metal Guru, Jeepster. It wasn't until I first discovered the 2000 British movie Billy Elliot, with its terrific soundtrack that includes four T. Rex songs, that I fell in love with this tune. It's about as pop-cheery a song as you can imagine. Billy Elliot is one of my top 5 movies – I mean, the kid (a cutie-pie to be sure) turns into Adam Cooper, FFS!

Keeping up with the Joneses is getting hard this week – here's a photo of some swans that Mr. Geoviki snapped last October in Bath, England (kind of fitting for the featured group, right?)

For the Birds: Sparrow

Simon & Garfunkel: Sparrow

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Pity the titular bird in this early Paul Simon song. Unloved by all, she dies, tired and hungry. Released on the first Simon and Garfunkel album, Wednesday Morning 3 a.m., the heavy-handed allegory shows a songwriter still refining his craft. Fortunately for us, greater things were to come from Mr. Simon.

And fortunately for me, the Swamp Sparrow in today's photo did find a comforting place to land and eat in an area not far from my home known as the Six Mile Run Reservoir Site (despite the lack of any actual reservoir). It's one of my favorite photos, not least because it was the first, and so far only, time I've encountered a Swamp Sparrow.

For the Birds: Canary

Liz Phair: Canary

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When most songwriters use bird imagery they use it to express freedom and contentedness, but Liz Phair found another side of the story. In this song, from her fantastic major debut "Exile In Guyville" she sings of a bird that is beautiful and meant to be free, but now is just the obedient little songbird. Metaphor, much?

This is a muted number for Phair, but has the charm and the sexuality in it that we'd expect from her.

For the Birds: Blue Jay Way

The Beatles: Blue Jay Way

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The song has nothing to due with birds. "Blue Jay Way" was simply the name of street in the Hollywood hills. As the story goes, George Harrison was staying at a house on said street. One day, George was waiting for Beatles press officer Derek Taylor to stop by, but he was running very late. To pass the time until Derek arrived, George sat down at an organ in the house and wrote this song about waiting for Derek to arrive.

Today's photo was taken on my back porch in November of last year.