To be honest, I had my doubts about Day Two of Folk Festival 50. First of all, I was still tired from the day one. Next, it appeared that the lineup wasn’t quite as strong as it was on Saturday, and yet it was hard to deny that there were some compelling artists scheduled. The weather was also a bit iffy, with rain and thunderstorms predicted for the afternoon.
Josh Ritter was the first performer on the Fort Stage on Sunday, and he was one of the prime reasons that I was at the festival. I’m a big fan of the Idaho songwriter, and his set did not disappoint. He appeared with his full band, and they sounded great on songs like “Right Moves,” and “Real Long Distance” from Josh’s most recent album, The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter, and on the title track from his 2003 album Hello Starling. The real standout however, was one that Josh played solo, the beautiful and powerful anti-war song “Girl In the War.” He dedicated “Another New World” to Pete Seeger and Joan Baez. Not only is Josh a wonderful songwriter and performer, he comes across as a completely genuine guy, and the early audience at Fort Adams was very appreciative. (more…)
The word “legend” is sorely abused and overused by music journalists, just as the word “genius” is. I am as guilty as anyone else, but I have an excuse ready to go. The older you get, the more legends your life seems to take on. People who were just great musicians when you were younger take on a sepia-tinged status with the fog of time. Now that I’ve said that, I have to ask a more or less rhetorical question: how does a writer avoid using the word “legend” when he attends an event at which there are performances by Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Guy Clark, Arlo Guthrie, and Ramblin’ Jack Elliott? Legends all, no matter what era you came up in.
They called it Folk Festival 50 this year, but the event was a celebration of the of the birth of the Newport Folk Festival. It’s a long, twisted story, but a few months ago there was a real possibility that the great event would not live to see its 50th birthday. Then the man who started the whole thing in the first place, George Wein (who also established the Newport Jazz Festival in 1954), stepped in to make sure that his baby had life. Wein had sold the rights a few years back, and the subsequent owners had failed to meet some of their obligations. As a result, Wein returned, but he still hasn’t won the right to use the name that he honored for so many years. Hopefully that will change soon, and next year it will become the Newport Folk Festival again.
You may have heard of Newport, R.I., or even paid a visit. It is one of America’s playgrounds, famous for its great mansions, and as the home for sailing’s America’s Cup for many years. The city sits on a peninsula, surrounded by Narragansett Bay, and Rhode Island Sound. There are beautiful water views in every direction, and the city takes full advantage of its location. On the northern end of the peninsula sits Fort Adams. The Fort was established on July 4, 1799, and has been home to the festival since it was revived after a 15 year absence in 1985. (more…)
About a month ago, while I was working on my Soundtrack Saturday post about Shag: The Movie, I tweeted that I never got sick of hearing Lloyd Price’s version of the blues folk song “Stagger Lee,” which is what Annabeth Gish and Scott Coffey’s characters dance to during the shag dancing contest at the end of the movie. In fact, I think I listened to it about 20 times just in the few hours it took me to write that post. The first time I’d ever heard any version of “Stagger Lee” was while watching Shag, and every time I hear Price sing it, I think of that scene and just want to put on my shaggin’ shoes and go to town. (Okay, so I don’t really know how to shag, but whatever.)
Seeing my tweet about my love for Mr. Price’s “Stagger Lee,” the lovely Jeff Giles asked if I’d ever heard the version by Chris Whitley & Jeff Lang. I replied that I hadn’t, and within the hour an MP3 was waiting in my in-box. After listening to it and telling Jeff how much I liked it, a discussion about some of the other versions of the song began, ultimately leading to the idea of this feature, which I hope continues with the thoughts of members of the talented Popdose staff on other oft-covered songs.
Now, much has been written about the Stagger Lee story and even about the many versions of the song; I’m certainly not going to try and rehash everything for you here. Instead I’d encourage you to read this and this, and if that’s not enough Stagger Lee history for you, there’s always Wikipedia. Rather, what I wanted to talk about here is what I love about the song and its many renditions.
Justin Townes Earle is a 27-year-old singer/songwriter who grew up in Nashville, and the son of Americana legend Steve Earle. Justin records for Bloodshot Records. His most recent album, his third, is the critically praised Midnight at the Movies.
After developing some bad habits when he was playing in bands (including his father’s) as a younger man, Justin cleaned up his act and began to focus on his career. “You don’t have to be fucked up or torture yourself to write songs,” explains Justin, “I used to write a lot, a whole lot, and half those songs I don’t even remember. Now, I sit there and I write it and I finish it and I keep it.”
I’ve had the opportunity to see Justin perform live twice. Once on a cold, rainy autumn day in Brooklyn, and more recently at SXSW. He is one of the most charismatic performers that I’ve seen in recent years. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, this guy is going to be a very big star. He is also one of the smartest, most interesting, and outspoken people that I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing. Read on, you’ll see what I mean.(more…)
“Everyone is guilty,” Akron/Family sang at their second gig at Union Pool, but if their performance was any indication, that fact isn’t getting to them.
The bi-city band, based in New York as well as Williamsport, Pennsylvania, was full of whimsical energy Sunday night as they surged through an 11-song set without so much as a pause. Song bled into song, the transitions carried by any combination of the nine people on stage. Of those nine, three drive the madness that is Akron/Family – Seth Olinksy (guitar), Miles Seaton (bass) and Dana Janssen (drums). They have their primary roles, but much like a freak-folk version of Broken Social Scene, they’re all multi-instrumentalists, and vocal duties shift, with Olinksy usually taking the lead.
The set list focused on material from the band’s upcoming album, Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free, due in May. But while music nerds often get stereotyped as creating highly conceptual and not always accessible music, Akron/Family found a place for it all. Shifting from lilting folk tunes like “The Alps & Their Orange Evergreen” and unexpected dance tune, “Ed Is A Portal,” Akron/Family interjected short, stylized jams in transitions, proving themselves adept at funk, prog, hardcore, whatever rock offshoot you can name. Olinksy would get an almost painful look on his face, as if he couldn’t stand it any longer, as though he had to play that next note or he might die.
But as unafraid to fly their freak flag as they are, Akron/Family do so without alienating – quite the opposite, in fact, as they envelop the audience as often as possible, encouraging participation in a variety of ways. Olinsky ran into the audience to hand someone a drum. Seaton would rile up the crowd with exclamations like, “Move your ass!” Hand claps and sing-alongs were encouraged at every opportune moment. (more…)
Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel gave the world something that has never been fully recognized, I think. Now, I enjoy folk music and several of its most recognizable proponents, but I cannot deny the inherent sanctimony of a lot of Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan’s most famous tunes. Sure, these were protest songs, and the subjective “us versus them” attitude was an obvious tack, but over time, some of these songs lost luster. Some lost it because of modern cynicism: “Yes, you’re outraged over this Tower of Babel. Where were you when it was being built? Is singing about it all you can do now?” Others lost it because of an overbearing quaintness, hymns to Ralph Waldo Emerson that smacked of being so out of touch, they might as well be alien transmissions.
So when Simon & Garfunkel burst on the scene, they freed up the voice and acoustic guitar from the tyranny of the right-minded (or the left, thinking politically). Their songs could be political, but they could also be nonsensical, traditional, and deep in their hearts they were always pop stars like their heroes the Everly Brothers; when they approached thorny material, Paul Simon did so as a writer, Art Garfunkel as a choir singer. When the duo was matched with a crack staff of Columbia’s studio musicians, the mass psychosis that plagued Dylan’s efforts in going electric didn’t affect the pair. Their saving grace was not simplicity but subtlety.
This all comes through on Live 1969, a collection of recordings from a tour concurrent with their finishing Bridge Over Troubled Water that year. They were on the verge of an acrimonious breakup that would result in years of sniping, famously documented in a “reunion” on the first season of Saturday Night Live in 1975. Fortunately, that subsurface nastiness is nowhere to be found here. Instead, the focus is hard set on the songs of two voices and often one guitar. You couldn’t get more traditional folk than that. And when they are backed up by other musicians, it’s never superfluous. The clearest example is when Garfunkel takes the stage, backed only by piano, to perform “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Just as poignant is “The Sound of Silence,” the song originally intended for the stark folk treatment, then later filled in with studio musicians to produce the rock tune we recognize today. In it’s rawest, live incarnation, nothing is lost because it was always there from the start. When Simon palm-mutes the strings and thumps out a beat while moving toward the end section, it becomes as epic as anything they’ve ever done. (more…)
Jonatha Brooke is one of those artists whose name always sounds familiar – if only because, really, how many people named “Jonatha” do you know? – but whose music you may not be familiar with…though, frankly, you really should be. She’s a talented singer-songwriter who first got her career rolling in the early ’90s as a member of a duo called The Story, with collaborator Jennifer Kimball, but Brooke soon stood on her own two feet and has trotted out album after album … some on major labels, some on indies … to critical acclaim and a decidedly diehard following. Popdose had the opportunity to speak with Brooke, and we took full advantage of it, asking her about as much of her back catalog as time allowed, quizzing her about how she recently came to collaborate with the late Woody Guthrie (and whether she could even concentrate with the awareness of what Billy Bragg and Wilco had already done with the man’s lyrics), and wondering where she stands on the state of the music industry today.
To be honest, I had my doubts about Day Two of Folk Festival 50. First of all, I was still tired from the day one. Next, it appeared that the lineup wasn’t quite as strong as it was on Saturday, and yet it was hard to deny that there were some compelling artists scheduled. The weather was also a bit iffy, with rain and thunderstorms predicted for the afternoon.
The word “legend” is sorely abused and overused by music journalists, just as the word “genius” is. I am as guilty as anyone else, but I have an excuse ready to go. The older you get, the more legends your life seems to take on. People who were just great musicians when you were younger take on a sepia-tinged status with the fog of time. Now that I’ve said that, I have to ask a more or less rhetorical question: how does a writer avoid using the word “legend” when he attends an event at which there are performances by Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Guy Clark, Arlo Guthrie, and Ramblin’ Jack Elliott? Legends all, no matter what era you came up in.
About a month ago, while I was working on my Soundtrack Saturday post about 
Justin Townes Earle is a 27-year-old singer/songwriter who grew up in Nashville, and the son of Americana legend Steve Earle. Justin records for Bloodshot Records. His most recent album, his third, is the critically praised 
Paul Simon and 
, a collection of recordings from a tour concurrent with their finishing 
that year. They were on the verge of an acrimonious breakup that would result in years of sniping, famously documented in a “reunion” on the first season of 
