Click On To Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Norman And Nancy Blake performing "Jordan Am A Hard Road To Travel".
DVD Review
My Dear Old Southern Home, Norman and Nancy Blake, Shanachie Records, 2003
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake, joined here by Nancy Blake, can call their own.
Norman’s virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. Blake's Appalachia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on some North Carolina down home music and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. A nice addition here is that he is joined by his very talented bluegrass guitarist (and mandolin player) wife Nancy. Although their “stage presence” is weak, to say the least, it is more than made up by the music. This is pure mountain at its best.
Note: If you have to choose between getting this DVD and any one of the Balke CDs. Grab the CDs.
"Greenlight On The Southern"
Standing on the sidetrack at the south end of town
on a hot dry dusty august day the steam pipe pouring down
the fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gears
waiting for the semaphore the fast mail train to clear
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
looking at the waterglass and letting down the sand
rolling out on the old main line taking up the slack
gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be back
oh if I could return
to those boyhood days of mine
and the greenlight on the southern southern railroad line
creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
the section houses gray and white by the yard limit sign
the hoggers call the old high ball no more time to wait
rolling down to birmingham with a 10 car load for freight
the whistle scream with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
the drivers roll on the green and go getting mighty near
handing up the orders to the engine crew on time
it's the Alabama great southern AGS railroad line
Showing posts with label Appalachia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Appalachia. Show all posts
Monday, September 28, 2009
*Appalachia On My Mind- The Mountain Music Of Norman Blake
Click On To Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Norman And Nancy Blake Doing "Jordan Am A Hard Road To Travel".
CD Review
Be Ready Boys, Norman Blake and Rich O'Brien, Shanachie Records, 1999
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake can call his own.
His virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. Blake's Appalachia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on Georgia and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. A nice addition here is that he is joined by famed bluegrass guitarist (and mandolin player) Rich O'Brien. Tops here are an incredible instrumental duo "Mexico", "Going Home" and the sweetly sentimental " A Maiden's Prayer". This is pure mountain at its best.
"Greenlight On The Southern"
Standing on the sidetrack at the south end of town
on a hot dry dusty august day the steam pipe pouring down
the fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gears
waiting for the semaphore the fast mail train to clear
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
looking at the waterglass and letting down the sand
rolling out on the old main line taking up the slack
gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be back
oh if I could return
to those boyhood days of mine
and the greenlight on the southern southern railroad line
creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
the section houses gray and white by the yard limit sign
the hoggers call the old high ball no more time to wait
rolling down to birmingham with a 10 car load for freight
the whistle scream with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
the drivers roll on the green and go getting mighty near
handing up the orders to the engine crew on time
it's the Alabama great southern AGS railroad line
CD Review
Be Ready Boys, Norman Blake and Rich O'Brien, Shanachie Records, 1999
In recent reviews of “Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “Songcatcher" in this space I mentioned some of the high points of the mountain music revival of the early part of the 2000’s (weird to write that, right?) I noted the name Norman Blake as a premier example of the modern continuation of that tradition. If Hazel Dickens (and Alice Gerrard) represented a strong female voice for the revival of this music then Norman Blake represents the male counterpart.
I also noted in a documentary, “Down The Tracks: The Music That Influenced Bob Dylan”, tracing the roots that influenced his development that one commentator noted that when various ballads (mainly listed in the “Child Ballad” inventory) came over from the old country (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland) and landed in the Appalachian Mountains they never got out and remained (with many local variations) essentially unchanged for generations. And the musical instruments didn’t change much either-fiddle, guitar and, occasionally a mandolin. But, come Saturday night the competition was fierce to be “king (or, less often, queen) of the hill”. Those points remain true today and it is this tradition that Norman Blake can call his own.
His virtuoso guitar playing has always attracted me since I first heard him long along a local radio program called “Hillbilly At Harvard” (Weird, right? But it had great stuff on it.). He continues that here with some nice instrumentals and a few vocals. Blake's Appalachia (and hence the title of my headline) centers on Georgia and the need to either get out or to find his way back to it. An eternal dilemma. A nice addition here is that he is joined by famed bluegrass guitarist (and mandolin player) Rich O'Brien. Tops here are an incredible instrumental duo "Mexico", "Going Home" and the sweetly sentimental " A Maiden's Prayer". This is pure mountain at its best.
"Greenlight On The Southern"
Standing on the sidetrack at the south end of town
on a hot dry dusty august day the steam pipe pouring down
the fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gears
waiting for the semaphore the fast mail train to clear
The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
looking at the waterglass and letting down the sand
rolling out on the old main line taking up the slack
gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be back
oh if I could return
to those boyhood days of mine
and the greenlight on the southern southern railroad line
creeping down the rusty rails of the weed grown branch line
the section houses gray and white by the yard limit sign
the hoggers call the old high ball no more time to wait
rolling down to birmingham with a 10 car load for freight
the whistle scream with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
the drivers roll on the green and go getting mighty near
handing up the orders to the engine crew on time
it's the Alabama great southern AGS railroad line
Friday, September 04, 2009
*Labor's Untold Story-The Class War In The Kentucky Coal Fields- Bloody Harlan
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip on "Bloody Harlan". There will be much more on this subject. The Kentucky coal country and its history are personal in these quarters.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
*Labor's Untold Story-The Class War In The Kentucky Coal Fields- Bloody Harlan's Heroic Aunt Molly Jackson
Click on title to link to Aunt Molly Jackson's site. There will be much more on this subject. The Kentucky coal country and its history are personal in these quarters.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
*Labor's Untold Story-The Class War In The Kentucky Coal Fields- Bloody Harlan In Song
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of the song "You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive". There will be much more on this subject. The Kentucky coal country and its history are personal in these quarters.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Every Month Is Labor History Month
This Commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!
As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
* Once More, My Arkie Angel-The Music Of Iris Dement-"The Way I Should"
Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Iris DeMent performing "Sweet Is The Melody".
CD Review
The Way I Should, Iris Dement, Warner Brothers Records, 1996
I first heard Iris DeMent doing a cover of a Greg Brown tribute to Jimmy Rodgers, the old time Texas yodeller, on Brown's tribute album, "Driftless". I then looked for this album and for the most part was blown away by the power of DeMent's voice, her piano accompaniment and her lyrics (which are contained in the liner notes, read them, please). It is hard to type her style. Is it folk? Is it Country Pop? Is it semi-torch songstress? Well, whatever it may be you are in for a listening treat, especially if you are in a sentimental mood.
Stand outs here include- "There is a Wall in Washington" about the Vietnam Memorial probably one of the best anti-war songs you will ever hear. It is fairly easy to write a "Give Peace a Chance" or "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" type of anti-war song. It is another to capture the pathos of what happened to too many families when we were unable to stop that war. "When My Morning Comes" hits home with all the baggage working class kids have about their inferiority when they screw up in this world. Lastly- "Walking Home Alone" evokes all the humor, bathos, pathos and sheer exhilaration of saying one was able to survive, and not badly, after growing up poor amid the riches of America. Listen on. Yo will be glad you did.
“Walkin' Home”
I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I'm walkin' home
Once again I hear my mother's voice
and all us kids making a bunch of noise
If I'm not careful I might start to cry
Just walkin' home tonight
I turn my head and hear the screen door slam
and there he is, that tall and dark-haired man
He looks my way but all alone he stands
and I am walkin' home
He's my Dad, you know I was his girl
He taught me all he knew about this world
and then he traveled right on out of sight
and I'm just walkin' home tonight
I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I am walkin' home
Old worn-out couches and a bunch of kids
Four to a bedroom and all Mom's plates were chipped
but I never knew about the things I missed
and I'm walkin' home
You see, it's just the place where I come from
and, good or bad, it's where the deal was done
Mom and Dad, their daughters and their sons
and I'm just walkin' home tonight
I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I'm walkin' home
Once again I hear my mother's voice
and all us kids making a bunch of noise
If I'm not careful I might start to cry
Just walkin' home tonight
No Time To Cry lyrics Y
My father died a year ago today.
The rooster started crowing when they carried Dad away.
There beside my mother, in the living room, I stood,
With my brothers and my sisters, knowing Dad was gone for good.
Well, I stayed at home just long enough,
To lay him in the ground and then I,
Caught a plane to do a show up north in Detroit town.
Because I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
I can still remember when I was a girl.
But so many things have changed so much here in my world.
I remember sitting on the front yard when an ambulance went by,
And just listening to those sirens I would breakdown and cry.
But now I'm walking and I'm talking,
Doing just what I'm supposed to do.
Working overtime to make sure that I don't come unglued.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
Now I sit down on the sofa and I watch the evening news:
There's a half a dozen tragedies from which to pick and choose.
The baby that was missing was found in a ditch today.
And there's bombs a'flying and people dying not so far away.
And I'll take a beer from the 'fridgerator,
And go sit out in the yard and with a cold one in my hand,
I'm gonna bite down and swallow hard.
Because I'm older now: I've got no time to cry.
I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
I guess I'm older now: I just ain't got no time to cry.
No time to cry.
No time to cry.
No time to cry.
CD Review
The Way I Should, Iris Dement, Warner Brothers Records, 1996
I first heard Iris DeMent doing a cover of a Greg Brown tribute to Jimmy Rodgers, the old time Texas yodeller, on Brown's tribute album, "Driftless". I then looked for this album and for the most part was blown away by the power of DeMent's voice, her piano accompaniment and her lyrics (which are contained in the liner notes, read them, please). It is hard to type her style. Is it folk? Is it Country Pop? Is it semi-torch songstress? Well, whatever it may be you are in for a listening treat, especially if you are in a sentimental mood.
Stand outs here include- "There is a Wall in Washington" about the Vietnam Memorial probably one of the best anti-war songs you will ever hear. It is fairly easy to write a "Give Peace a Chance" or "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" type of anti-war song. It is another to capture the pathos of what happened to too many families when we were unable to stop that war. "When My Morning Comes" hits home with all the baggage working class kids have about their inferiority when they screw up in this world. Lastly- "Walking Home Alone" evokes all the humor, bathos, pathos and sheer exhilaration of saying one was able to survive, and not badly, after growing up poor amid the riches of America. Listen on. Yo will be glad you did.
“Walkin' Home”
I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I'm walkin' home
Once again I hear my mother's voice
and all us kids making a bunch of noise
If I'm not careful I might start to cry
Just walkin' home tonight
I turn my head and hear the screen door slam
and there he is, that tall and dark-haired man
He looks my way but all alone he stands
and I am walkin' home
He's my Dad, you know I was his girl
He taught me all he knew about this world
and then he traveled right on out of sight
and I'm just walkin' home tonight
I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I am walkin' home
Old worn-out couches and a bunch of kids
Four to a bedroom and all Mom's plates were chipped
but I never knew about the things I missed
and I'm walkin' home
You see, it's just the place where I come from
and, good or bad, it's where the deal was done
Mom and Dad, their daughters and their sons
and I'm just walkin' home tonight
I'm walkin' home tonight
The streets are glowing 'neath the pale moonlight
I look around, there's not a soul in sight
and I'm walkin' home
Once again I hear my mother's voice
and all us kids making a bunch of noise
If I'm not careful I might start to cry
Just walkin' home tonight
No Time To Cry lyrics Y
My father died a year ago today.
The rooster started crowing when they carried Dad away.
There beside my mother, in the living room, I stood,
With my brothers and my sisters, knowing Dad was gone for good.
Well, I stayed at home just long enough,
To lay him in the ground and then I,
Caught a plane to do a show up north in Detroit town.
Because I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
I can still remember when I was a girl.
But so many things have changed so much here in my world.
I remember sitting on the front yard when an ambulance went by,
And just listening to those sirens I would breakdown and cry.
But now I'm walking and I'm talking,
Doing just what I'm supposed to do.
Working overtime to make sure that I don't come unglued.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
Now I sit down on the sofa and I watch the evening news:
There's a half a dozen tragedies from which to pick and choose.
The baby that was missing was found in a ditch today.
And there's bombs a'flying and people dying not so far away.
And I'll take a beer from the 'fridgerator,
And go sit out in the yard and with a cold one in my hand,
I'm gonna bite down and swallow hard.
Because I'm older now: I've got no time to cry.
I've got no time to look back, I've got no time to see,
The pieces of my heart that have been ripped away from me.
And if the feeling starts to coming, I've learned to stop 'em fast.
`Cause I don't know, if I let 'em go, they might not wanna pass.
And there's just so many people trying to get me on the phone.
And there's bills to pay, and songs to play,
And a house to make a home.
I guess I'm older now and I've got no time to cry.
I guess I'm older now: I just ain't got no time to cry.
No time to cry.
No time to cry.
No time to cry.
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