For The Late Rosalie Sorrels-Our Mother, The Mountain- The Traditional Mountain Music Of Jean Ritchie

For The Late Rosalie Sorrels-Our Mother, The Mountain- The Traditional Mountain Music Of Jean Ritchie

If I Could Be The Rain I Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go Round At 83

By Music Critic Bart Webber

Back the day, back in the emerging folk minute of the 1960s that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon, Josh Breslin, the late Peter Paul Markin and others were deeply immersed in all roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square with the big names, some small too which one time I made the subject of a series, or rather two series entitled respectively Not Bob Dylan and Not Joan Baez about those who for whatever reason did not make the show over the long haul, passing through the Club 47 Mecca and later the Café Nana and Club Blue, the Village down in NYC, North Beach out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago. Those are the places where names like Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a whole crew of younger folksingers, some who made it like Tom Rush and Joni Mitchell and others like Eric Saint Jean and Minnie Murphy who didn’t, like  who all sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger got their first taste of the fresh breeze of the folk minute, that expression courtesy of the late Markin, who was among the first around to sample the breeze.

(I should tell you here in parentheses so you will keep it to yourselves that the former three mentioned above never got over that folk minute since they will still tell a tale or two about the times, about how Dave Van Ronk came in all drunk one night at the Café Nana and still blew everybody away, about catching Paxton changing out of his Army uniform when he was stationed down at Fort Dix  right before a performance at the Gaslight, about walking down the street Cambridge with Tom Rush just after he put out No Regrets/Rockport Sunday, and about affairs with certain up and coming female folkies like the previously mentioned Minnie Murphy at the Club Nana when that was the spot of spots. Strictly aficionado stuff if you dare go anywhere within ten miles of the subject with any of them -I will take my chances here because this notice, this passing of legendary Rosalie Sorrels a decade after her dear friend Utah Phillips is important.)

Those urban locales were certainly the high white note spots but there was another important strand that hovered around Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and some of the other upstate colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s, run by the late Lena Spenser, a true folk legend and a folkie character in her own right, where some of those names played previously mentioned but also where some upstarts from the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered at that famed (and still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like the late Bruce “Utah” Phillips (although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he would sing about and rounded out his personality). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels who just joined her long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of 83.

Yeah, came barreling like seven demons out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is a different proposition. The West I am talking about is where what the novelist Thomas Wolfe called the place where the states were square and you had better be as well if you didn’t want to starve or be found in some empty arroyo un-mourned and unloved. A tough life when the original pioneers drifted westward from Eastern nowhere looking for that pot of gold or at least some fresh air and a new start away from crowded cities and sweet breathe vices. A tough life worthy of song and homage. Tough going too for guys like Joe Hill who tried to organize the working people against the sweated robber barons of his day (they are still with us as we are all now very painfully and maybe more vicious than their in your face forbear). Struggles, fierce down at the bone struggles also worthy of song and homage. Tough too when your people landed in rugged beautiful two-hearted river Idaho, tried to make a go of it in Boise, maybe stopped short in Helena but you get the drift. A different place and a different type of subject matter for your themes than lost loves and longings.  

Rosalie Sorrels could write those songs as well, as well as anybody but she was as interested in the social struggles of her time (one of the links that united her with Utah) and gave no quarter when she turned the screw on a lyric. The last time I saw Rosalie perform in person was back in 2002 when she performed at the majestic Saunders Theater at Harvard University out in Cambridge America at what was billed as her last go-round, her hanging up her shoes from the dusty travel road. (That theater complex contained within the Memorial Hall dedicated to the memory of the gallants from the college who laid down their heads in that great civil war that sundered the country. The Harvards did themselves proud at collectively laying down their heads at seemingly every key battle that I am aware of when I look up at the names and places. A deep pride runs through me at those moments)

Rosalie Sorrels as one would expect on such an occasion was on fire that night except the then recent death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be on the bill (and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job banging out the blues unto the heavens) cast a pall over the proceedings. I will always remember the crystal clarity and irony of her cover of her classic Old Devil Time that night -yeah, give me one more chance, one more breathe. But I will always think of If I Could Be The Rain and thoughst of washing herself down to the sea whenever I hear her name. RIP Rosalie Sorrels 

CD REVIEW

Mountain Hearth And Home, Jean Ritchie, Rhino Handmade, 2004

The last time that the name of traditional mountain folk singer Jean Ritchie was mentioned in this space was as part of the lineup in Rosalie Sorrel’s last concert at Harvard University that spawned a CD, “The Last Go-Round”. At that concert she, as usual, she performed, accompanied by her sweet dulcimer, the mountain music particularly the music that she learned in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky and that she has been associated with going back at least to the early 1960’s. Here, in the CD under review, “Mountain Hearth and Home”, we get a wide range of those traditional mountain songs from those parts that provide something for every palate.

The songs, simple songs of the mountains that befit a simple folk with simple lyrics, chords and instrumentation representing what was at hand, many of which have their genesis back in the hills of Scotland and Ireland, never fail to evoke a primordial response in this listener. The songs speak of the longings created by those isolated spaces; and, occasionally of those almost eternal thoughts of love, love thwarted, love gone wrong or love disappearing without a trace. Or songs of the hard life of the mountains whether it is the hard scrabble to make a life from the rocky farmland that will not give forth without great struggle or of the mines, the coal mines that in an earlier time (and that are making a comeback now) represented a key energy source for a growing industrial society. Many a tale here centers on the trails and tribulations of the weary, worked out mines and miners. Add in some country lullabies, some religiously- oriented songs representing the fundamental Protestant ethic that drove these people and some Saturday dancing and drinking songs and you have a pretty good feel for the range of experience out there in the hills, hollows and ravines of Eastern Kentucky.

Several time over the past year or so I have mentioned, as part of my remembrances of my youth and of my political and familial background, that my father was a coal miner and the son of a coal miner in the hills of Hazard, Kentucky (a town mentioned in a couple of the songs here) in the heart of Appalachia. I have also mentioned that he was a child of the Great Depression and of World War II. He often joked that in a choice between digging the coal and taking his chances in war he much preferred the latter. Thus, it was no accident that when war came he volunteered for the Marines and, as fate would have it despite a hard, hard life after the war, he never looked back to the mines or the hills. Still this music flowed in his veins, and, I guess, flows in mine.

My Boy Willie

Traditional

Notes: This song has the exact same tunes as the song "The Butcher Boy" and is of a similar theme.

It was early, early in the spring
my boy Willie went to serve the king
And all that vexed him and grieved his mind
was the leaving of his dear girl behind.

Oh father dear build me a boat
that on the ocean I might float
And hail the ships as they pass by
for to inquire of my sailor boy.

She had not sailed long in the deep
when a fine ship's crew she chanced to meet
And of the captain she inquired to
"Does my boy Willie sail on board with you?"

"What sort of a lad is your Willie fair?
What sort of clothes does your Willie wear?"
"He wears a coat of royal blue,
and you'll surely know him for his heart is true".

"If that's your Willie he is not here.
Your Willie's drowned as you did fear.
'Twas at yonder green island as we passed by,
it was there we lost a fine sailor boy".

Go dig my grave long wide and deep,
put a marble stone at my head and feet.
And in the middle, a turtle dove.
So the whole world knows that I died of love.

"The L & N Don't Stop Here Anymore"

When I was a curly headed baby
My daddy sat me down on his knee
He said, "son, go to school and get your letters,
Don't you be a dusty coal miner, boy, like me."

[Chorus:]
I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow
The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door
But now they stand in a rusty row all empty
Because the l & n don't stop here anymore

I used to think my daddy was a black man
With script enough to buy the company store
But now he goes to town with empty pockets
And his face is white as a February snow

[Chorus]

I never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust
I never thought I'd pray to hear that whistle roar
Oh, god, I wish the grass would turn to money
And those green backs would fill my pockets once more

[Chorus]

Last night I dreamed I went down to the office
To get my pay like a had done before
But them ol' kudzu vines were coverin' the door
And there were leaves and grass growin' right up through the floor

[Chorus]


Come All Ye Fair And Tender Ladies

Come all ye fair and tender ladies
Take warning how you court your men
They're like a star on a summer morning
They first appear and then they're gone

They'll tell to you some loving story
And they'll make you think that they love you well
And away they'll go and court some other
And leave you there in grief to dwell

I wish I was on some tall mountain
Where the ivy rocks were black as ink
I'd write a letter to my false true lover
Whose cheeks are like the morning pink

I wish I was a little sparrow
And I had wings to fly so high
I'd fly to the arms of my false true lover
And when he'd ask, I would deny

Oh love is handsome, love is charming
And love is pretty while it's new
But love grows cold as love grows older
And fades away like morning dew

"BLACK IS THE COLOUR"

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands

I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
But some times I whish the day will come
That she and I will be as one

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands

I walk to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands

Blue Diamond Mines

I remember the ways in the bygone days
when we was all in our prime
When us and John L. we give the old man hell
down in the Blue Diamond Mine

Well the whistle would blow 'for the rooster crow
full two hours before daylight
When a man done his best and earned his good rest
at seven dollars a night

In the mines in the mines
in the Blue Diamond Mines
I worked my life away
In the mines in the mines
In the Blue Diamond Mines
I fall on my knees and pray.

You old black gold you've taken my lung
your dust has darkened my home
And now I am old and you've turned your back
where else can an old miner go


Well it's Algomer Block and Big Leather Woods
now its Blue Diamond too
The bits are all closed get another job
what else can an old miner do?


Now the union is dead and they shake their heads
well mining has had it's day
But they're stripping off my mountain top
and they pay me eight dollars a day


Now you might get a little poke of welfare meal
get a little poke of welfare flour
But I tell you right now your won't qualify
'till you work for a quarter an hour.

Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Our Lady Of The Mountains-The Music Of Hazel Dickens"

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Hazel Dickens performing the evocative, haunting Hills Of Home.

CD Review

It’s Hard To Tell The Singer From The Song, Hazel Dickens and other artists, Rounder Records, 1987

A few years ago I spent some time "running the table" on the mountain music genre. From the pioneer work of the venerable Carter Family, who leader A. P. Carter scoured the hills and patches of Appalachia, black tenet farmer, and hard-bitten coal miner, searching for material once RCA gave his trio their big break in 1927, or so through to Ralph Stanley, Doc Watson and other legendary figures and on to the “revival” brought forth in the early part of this decade by such movies as Brother, Where Art Thou? and Songcatcher I have paid more than passing tribute to this quintessential American musical form, complete with fiddle, mandolin and lonely Saturday nights gathering in the folk in some hardly built, or half- abandoned barn out in the hills and hollows of Appalachia and other rural environs. And, moreover, in the process ‘discovered’ that yankee boy I that I am, my roots are firmly steeped through my father down in the wind-swept hills and hollows. That said I have, thus, pretty much exhausted the milieu, right? Wrong. No homage to the modern mountain music scene can be complete without paying tribute to the work of singer/songwriter Hazel Dickens (and, at times, musical companion Alice Gerrard, among others).

There was time when, if one was given a choice, the name Hazel Dickens would be the first to come up when naming the most well known voice of the modern mountain music tradition. Her voice spoke of the hardships of the rural life and of ticky-tack, no window, hell, no door tar-paper cabins; the trials and tribulations of trying to eke out an existence on some hard- scrabble rocky farmland probably played out generations ago in the first treks west; or, more likely, sweated, underpaid labor in the coals mines or textiles factories that dominated that landscape for much of the second half of the 20th century. Hers was the pure, almost primordial voice that spoke of the sorrows of hill life, but also the joys of coming to terms with a very personal (and, apparently) angry god by way of singing away those working women blues, and you can add in a few tunes for those hard-bitten farmers and coals miners as well.

So, needless to say, this little Rounder CD from 1987 is filled with original work and covers on just those subjects mentioned above. From a cover of Bob Dylan's Only A Hobo to the classic haunting Hills Of Home that evokes, passionately, the roots in those hard life hills and on to the necessary religious- themed Will Jesus Wash The Bloodstains From Your Hands that has formed the underpinning for the mountain ethos for eons this is what mountain music is like when it is done right. Listen and see if you agree.
******
Hazel Dickens - A Few Old Memories lyrics

Lyrics to A Few Old Memories :
Just a few old memories
Slipped in through my door
Though I thought I had closed it
So tightly before
I can't understand it
Why it should bother my mind
For it all belongs to another place and time

Just a few old keep-sakes
Way back on the shelf
No, they don't mean nothin'
Well I'm surprised they're still left
Just a few old love letters
With the edges all brown
And an old faded picture
I keep turned upside-down

Just a few old memories
Going way back in time
Well I can hardly remember
I don't know why I'm cryin'
I can't understand it
Well I'm surprised myself
First thing tomorrow morning
I'll clean off that shelf

Just a few old keep-sakes
Way back on the shelf
No, they don't mean nothin'
Well I'm surprised that they're left
Just a few old love letters
With their edges all brown
And an old faded picture
I keep turned upside-down

Hazel Dickens, West Virginia My Home Tabs/Chords
Hazel Dickens is one of my favorite singers, and one of my favorite people. I
have had the pleasure of meeting and singing with her several times at
Augusta, and she is as genuine a person as you're likely to encounter. Her
testimonial to her home state is my all-time favorite song, one that I sing
every day. I learned it from her album entitled "Hard-Hitting Songs for Hard-
Hit People," and I am constantly amazed that a lifelong Illinoisan like myself
can identify so strongly with the bittersweet reverence with which she packs
this powerful ballad. Just as the Everly Brothers, Louvin Brothers, and Blue
Sky Boys did with "Kentucky," Hazel evokes a universal sentiment with this
geographically specific song.

John (a.k.a. "West Virginia Slim")
Chicago

WEST VIRGINIA MY HOME by Hazel Dickens

Chorus:
D G
West Virginia, oh my home.
D A
West Virginia, where I belong.
D
G
In the dead of the night, in the still and the quiet I slip away like a bird
in flight
D A D
Back to those hills, the place that I call home.

It's been years now since I left there
And this city life's about got the best of me.
I can't remember why I left so free what I wanted to do, what I wanted to see,
But I can sure remember where I come from.

Chorus-----

Well I paid the price for the leavin'
And this life I have is not one I thought I'd find.
Just let me live, love, let my cry, but when I go just let me die
Among the friends who'll remember when I'm gone.

Chorus-----

Bridge:
G A D A
Home, home, home. I can see it so clear in my mind.
G A D
A
Home, home, home. I can almost smell the honeysuckle vines.

[Repeat last two lines of chorus.]

***Our Ladies Of The Mountain- The Music Of Hazel Dickens And Alice Gerrard

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Hazel Dickens And Alice Gerrard.

CD Review

Hazel And Alice, Hazel Dickens And Alice Gerrard, Rounder , 1991

Recently I have been "running the table" on the mountain music genre. From the pioneer work of the venerable Carter Family through to Ralph Stanley and on to the `revival' brought forth in the early part of this decade by such movies as "Brother, Where Art Thou?" and "Songcatcher" I have paid more than passing tribute to this quintessential American musical form, complete with fiddle, mandolin and lonely Saturday nights out in the hills and hollows of Appalachia and other rural environs. I have, thus, pretty much exhausted the milieu, right? Wrong. No homage to the modern mountain music scene can be complete with out paying tribute to the work of singer/songwriter Hazel Dickens (and at times musical companion Alice Gerrard, among others).

There was time when, if one was given a choice, the name Hazel Dickens would be the first to come up when naming the most well known voice of the modern mountain music tradition. Her voice spoke of the hardships of the rural life, the trials and tribulations of trying to eke out an existence on some hard scrabble rocky farmland or, more likely, in the coals mines or textiles factories that dominated that landscape for much of the second half of the 20th century. That was the pure, almost primordial voice that spoke of the sorrows of hill life, but also the joys of coming to terms with a very personal (and, apparently) angry god by way of singing away those working women blues, and you can add in a few tunes for those hard-bitten farmers and coals miners as well.

So, needless to say, this little CD is filled with original work and covers on just those subjects mentioned above. From a cover of Utah Phillip's "Rolling Hills Of West Virginia" to the Carter Family's "Hello Stranger' and Sweetest Gift" this is what mountain music is like at the top. Listen and see if you agree.

*In The Time Of The Mountain Music Revival- The Film "Songcatcher"

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Iris Dement Doing "Pretty Saro" in the film "Songcatcher".

CD/DVD Reviews

This review is being used to comment on both the soundtrack CD and movie DVD.

CD- Songcatcher, various artists, Vanguard Records, 2001

DVD-Songcatcher,2001

In a recent CD review of the music from the now mountain music movie classic, George Clooney’s “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?”, (See archives, July 7, 2009) I mentioned in passing that the movie from which the CD under review is taken was also a contributing factor to the revival of interest in the mountain music genre. I also noted there that the CD and film were worthy of a separate review of their own. I make amends here and I think that this settles all debts.

That said, the following excerpt from that above-mentioned review can be used here to set the tone for a look at this “Songcatcher” (and a couple of words on the movie, as postscript) here:

“Sometimes a revival of a musical form, like the "talking blues", that highlighted the urban folk revival of the early 1960's is driven by a social need. In that case it was to provide a format for the "glad tidings" that a new political and social movement was a-bornin'. In the case of the revival several years ago of what is called "mountain music" it was the films "The Song Catcher" and, more importantly, the very popular movie starring George Clooney, “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”. The CD under review is a compilation of music from that movie, a not unnatural tie-in in the modern entertainment business. The movie deserves a separate review, however, this CD can stand on its own as a very nice cross section of "mountain music", some familiar most not so.

Without straining credulity "mountain music" is the music of the simple folk of Appalachia, those who worked hard in the coal mines, on the hard scrabble farms and in the isolated mills of the region. This was their Saturday night entertainment and with the advent of radio was a unifying cultural experience. The songs "speak" of hard and lonely lives, the beauty of the then pristine countryside, the usual vagaries of love and lost and the mysterious ways of a very personal, if arbitrary, god. Throw in a few upbeat tunes reflecting the love of "corn" liquor, women and the sometimes funny side of coping with life's trials and tribulations and you have the mountain version of the folk experience. Sound familiar? Sure it does, except, it is done with simple guitar, a blazing fiddle and, hopefully, a full-bodied mandolin.”

With that in mind there only remains the need to highlight some of the better efforts here. For starters, apparently, I knew the work of Iris Dement long before I consciously knew her work. I have mentioned in reviews of her work that I had become enamored of her music through her rendition of “Jimmy Rodgers Going Home” on a Greg Brown (now her husband) tribute CD. From the copyright date here (and on Ralph Stanley’s “Clinch Mountain Sweethearts” where she also does a couple of tracks) that is now incorrect. What is not wrong is that her lyrics and vocal range have led me to dub her my “Internet Sweetheart” (Sorry, Greg). And she does not fail here on the traditional “Pretty Saro”. Needless to say no country music/folk music/ folk rock music presentation of any kind is complete these days without a contribution form Emmylou Harris. Here she does a split version of the traditional Child Ballad “Barbara Allen”. Of course, when one talks of mountain music in its 20th century incarnation then the name The Carter Family is front and center. Thus, naturally, one of the representatives from that extended clan, Roseanne Cash, is a welcome addition here doing the old traditional “Fair And Tender Ladies” (a version of which that I first heard way back in the early 1960’s done by Dave Van Ronk). Finally, of necessity again, no “hard” mountain music themed production can be complete without a piece from Hazel Dickens who, as a woman of those mountains, has probably done more to popularize this art form than anyone else. So listen up to a genuine piece of Americana.

Note: Although I am mainly interested in the ‘Songcatcher” film for its soundtrack the movie itself is worth seeing. The plot line revolves around an English woman’s search for authentic American music from the mountains (naturally enough as much of the music crossed over from the British Isles). Sound familiar? Along the way she learns, perhaps more than she wants to know, about this milieu as she collects her music. Naturally, in such a commercial effort there s a little love interest thrown in with a real live mountain man musician wary of “city ways” from his own earlier experiences. Other themes touched upon, although in some cases obliquely, are the isolation of rural life, that just- mentioned conflict between rural and city values, religious fundamentalism and the, seemingly obligatory, nod to same sex issues (here, in a dramatically compelling way, lesbianism and the local reaction to it) that feature in many modern movies. Put the music and those themes together and you have a passable couple of hours. If you have to choose though, get the CD.

"Pretty Saro"

When I first come to this country in Eighteen and Forty-nine
I saw many fair lovers but I never saw mine
I viewed it all around me, saw I was quite alone
and me a poor stranger and a long way from home

Well, my true love she won't have me and it's this I understand
For she wants some free holder and I have no land
I couldn't maintain her on silver and gold
but all of the other fine things that my love's house could hold

Fair the well to ol' mother, fair the well to my father too
I'm going for to ramble this wide world all through
And when I get weary, I'll sit down and cry
and think of my Saro, pretty Saro, my bride

Well, I wished I was a turtle dove
Had wings and could fly
Far away to my lover's lodgings
Tonight I'd drawn the line
And there in her lilywhite arms I'd lay there all night
and watch through them little wind'ers
for the dawning of day

The Ballad of Barbara Allen

Was in the merry month of May
When green buds all were swelling,
Sweet William on his death bed lay
For love of Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May
When green buds all were swelling,
Sweet William on his death bed lay
For love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his servant to the town
To the place where she was dwelling,
Said you must come, to my master dear
If your name be Barbara Allen.

He sent his servant to the town
A place where she did dwell in,
Said master dear, has sent me here
If your name be Barbara Allen.
So slowly, slowly she got up
And slowly she drew nigh him,
And the only words to him did say
Young man I think you're dying.

Then slowly, slowly she got up
And slowly she went to him,
And all she said, when there she came
Young man I think you're dying.
He turned his face unto the wall
When we were in the tavern,
Good-bye, good-bye, to my friends all
Be good to Barbara Allen.

Don't you remember the other night
And death was in him welling,
You drank a toast to the ladies there
And slighted Barbara Allen.
When he was dead and laid in grave
She heard the death bells melling
And every stroke to her did say
Hard hearted Barbara Allen.

He turned his face unto the wall
He turned his back upon her,
Adieu, adieu, to all my friends
And be kind, be kind, to Barbara Allen.
Oh mother, oh mother go dig my grave
Make it both long and narrow,
Sweet William died of love for me
And I will die of sorrow.

As she was wandering by the fields
She heard the death bells melling
And every note did seem to say
Hard hearted Barbara Allen.
And father, oh father, go dig my grave
Make it both long and narrow,
Sweet William died on yesterday
And I will die tomorrow.

The more it tolled the more she grieved
She bursted out a crying,
Oh pick me up and carry me home
I feel that I am dying.
Barbara Allen was buried in the old churchyard
Sweet William was buried beside her,
Out of sweet William's heart, there grew a rose
From Barbara's a green briar.

They buried Willy in the old churchyard
And Barbara in the new one,
And from Willy's grave, there grew a rose
Out of Barbara Allen's a briar.
They grew and grew in the old churchyard
Till they could grow no higher
At the end they formed, a true lover's knot
And the rose grew round the briar.

Fair and Tender Ladies

Come all ye fair and tender ladies
Take warning how you court young men
They're like a star on a summer morning
They first appear and then they're gone

They'll tell to you some lovin' story
And make you think they love you well
Then away they'll go and court some other
And leave you there in grief to dwell

If I had known before I courted
That love had been so hard to win
I'd locked my heart with the keys of golden
And pinned it down with a silver pin

I wish I was a little sparrow
And I had wings to fly so high
I'd fly away to my false true lover
And when he'd ask I would deny

But I am not a little sparrow, I have no wings, neither can I fly
So I'll sit down to weep in sorrow, And try to pass my troubles on by

Love is handsome, love is charming
And love is pretty while it's new
But love grows cold as love grows older
And fades away like morning dew

*Our Lady Of The Mountain-The Music Of Hazel Dickens

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Hazel Dickens Doing "A Few Old Memories".

CD Review

It’s Hard To Tell The Singer From The Song, Hazel Dickens and other artists, Rounder Records, 1987

Recently I have been "running the table" on the mountain music genre. From the pioneer work of the venerable Carter Family through to Ralph Stanley and on to the `revival' brought forth in the early part of this decade by such movies as "Brother, Where Art Thou?" and "Songcatcher" I have paid more than passing tribute to this quintessential American musical form, complete with fiddle, mandolin and lonely Saturday nights out in the hills and hollows of Appalachia and other rural environs. I have, thus, pretty much exhausted the milieu, right? Wrong. No homage to the modern mountain music scene can be complete with out paying tribute to the work of singer/songwriter Hazel Dickens (and at times musical companion Alice Gerrard, among others).

There was time when, if one was given a choice, the name Hazel Dickens would be the first to come up when naming the most well known voice of the modern mountain music tradition. Her voice spoke of the hardships of the rural life, the trials and tribulations of trying to eke out an existence on some hard scrabble rocky farmland or, more likely, in the coals mines or textiles factories that dominated that landscape for much of the second half of the 20th century. That was the pure, almost primordial voice that spoke of the sorrows of hill life, but also the joys of coming to terms with a very personal (and, apparently) angry god by way of singing away those working women blues, and you can add in a few tunes for those hard-bitten farmers and coals miners as well.

So, needless to say, this little Rounder CD from 1987 is filled with original work and covers on just those subjects mentioned above. From a cover of Bob Dylan's "Only A Hobo" to the classic "Hills Of Home" and on to the necessary religious- themed "Will Jesus Wash The Bloodstains From Your Hands" this is what mountain music is like when it is done right. Listen and see if you agree.


Hazel Dickens - A Few Old Memories lyrics

Lyrics to A Few Old Memories :

Just a few old memories
Slipped in through my door
Though I thought I had closed it
So tightly before
I can't understand it
Why it should bother my mind
For it all belongs to another place and time

Just a few old keep-sakes
Way back on the shelf
No, they don't mean nothin'
Well I'm surprised they're still left
Just a few old love letters
With the edges all brown
And an old faded picture
I keep turned upside-down

Just a few old memories
Going way back in time
Well I can hardly remember
I don't know why I'm cryin'
I can't understand it
Well I'm surprised myself
First thing tomorrow morning
I'll clean off that shelf

Just a few old keep-sakes
Way back on the shelf
No, they don't mean nothin'
Well I'm surprised that they're left
Just a few old love letters
With their edges all brown
And an old faded picture
I keep turned upside-down



Hazel Dickens, West Virginia My Home Tabs/Chords

Hazel Dickens is one of my favorite singers, and one of my favorite people. I
have had the pleasure of meeting and singing with her several times at
Augusta, and she is as genuine a person as you're likely to encounter. Her
testimonial to her home state is my all-time favorite song, one that I sing
every day. I learned it from her album entitled "Hard-Hitting Songs for Hard-
Hit People," and I am constantly amazed that a lifelong Illinoisan like myself
can identify so strongly with the bittersweet reverence with which she packs
this powerful ballad. Just as the Everly Brothers, Louvin Brothers, and Blue
Sky Boys did with "Kentucky," Hazel evokes a universal sentiment with this
geographically specific song.

John (a.k.a. "West Virginia Slim")
Chicago

WEST VIRGINIA MY HOME by Hazel Dickens

Chorus:
D G
West Virginia, oh my home.
D A
West Virginia, where I belong.
D
G
In the dead of the night, in the still and the quiet I slip away like a bird
in flight
D A D
Back to those hills, the place that I call home.

It's been years now since I left there
And this city life's about got the best of me.
I can't remember why I left so free what I wanted to do, what I wanted to see,
But I can sure remember where I come from.

Chorus-----

Well I paid the price for the leavin'
And this life I have is not one I thought I'd find.
Just let me live, love, let my cry, but when I go just let me die
Among the friends who'll remember when I'm gone.

Chorus-----

Bridge:
G A D A
Home, home, home. I can see it so clear in my mind.
G A D
A
Home, home, home. I can almost smell the honeysuckle vines.

[Repeat last two lines of chorus.]

*In Honor Of The Late Ralph Stanley-The Root Of The Matter-Putting Bluegrass and Gospel Together For Real- “We Are Family”

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of The Easter Family performing "Roses Will Bloom Again".

DVD Review

We Are Family, various artists from the Easter and Lewis families, Daywind Records, 2008



Sometimes when reviewing roots music CDs and DVDs you come across material that you are both somewhat unfamiliar with and that does not fit easily in the various known categories of roots music. That is the case here with the combination of bluegrass and white gospel presented by the Easter Brothers and their family, very extended family as its turns out. A regular reader of this space might be somewhat puzzled by this remark. Of course, particularly over the last few months, I have reviewed reams of bluegrass music from the old days with the likes of Roscoe Holcombe, Ralph Stanley and the like.



Certainly the bluegrass folk revivalists of the 1960s, like the New Lost City Ramblers and The Greenbriar Boys, have gotten plenty of space. Moreover, one cannot really review Harry Smith’s “Anthology Of American Folk Music”, as I have in this space without running into plenty of bluegrass and gospel music. What is rather startling in this presentation these days is that combination, present here, of true believers in the gospel who bring their message through their bluegrass concerts for the folks. Frankly, I am much more comfortable with a secular group like The Bluegrass Gospel Project, who belt out the old tunes with fervor but not fever. .



Nevertheless, despite my befuddlement and a natural inclination to write this stuff off, this group, or rather real life extended family (I never did really get all the relationships down), knows how to sing this white gospel bluegrass music. Not enough to make me jump up and run out and get their albums but enough to appreciate that this Georgia -based group had something to say. That certainly is the case with a couple of songs, “Roses Will Bloom Again” and “I Need You”.



Roses Will Boom Again

Written by Marsha Henry
performed by Jeff and Sheri Easter
From the album, “By Request”

Verse 1


I planted a little rose bush
I tended it with care
It’s buds began to blossom
Their fragrance filled the air
But when winter came it withered,
The petals drooped and fell to the ground
My heart sank as it faded
But I’d forgotten who had made it


Chorus
Roses will bloom again
Just wait and see
Don’t mourn what might have been
Only God knows how and when that
Roses will bloom again


Verse 2
Rose was his only sweetheart
A loving wife for forty years
Cherished every day they had
And held memories oh so dear
He never dreamed he’s bury love
And go to live alone
But he lay his Rose to rest
Looked up to heaven and tried his best
To believe that


Chorus
Roses will bloom again
Just wait and see
Don’t mourn what might have been
Only God knows how and when that
Roses will bloom again


Verse 3
The precious Rose of Sharon
Broken and bruised in cruel shame
Stained on the cross of Calvary
So that men might be saved
Oh, satan cheered as He died
While Mary and the others cried
Then God raised Him up from that sleep
And kept a promise only He could keep


Chorus
Roses will bloom again
Just wait and see
Don’t mourn what might have been

*I Feel Those Appalachian Mountain Breezes Once Again- I Hear Those Lonesome Banjos And Fiddles Calling- A CD Review

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of one of the fiddlers on the CD under review, J.P. Fraley.

CD Review

The Art Of Old-Time Mountain Music, Various Artists, Rounder Records, 2002

Over the past couple of years my interest in mountain music, the music that formed part of my parental heritage, has increased as a quick search of such entries in this space attest to. Those reviews have run the gamut from the famous, and important, work of the various Carter Family combinations (and generations) to the "discovery" by the folk revivalists of the 1960s of the likes of banjo player Roscoe Holcomb to the interest by urban folk artists of that period like the Greenbriar Boys and The New Lost City Ramblers. One of the driving forces of that simple, plain music is the banjo. Another is the fiddle. On this CD we get various combinations of both. To our benefit.

Previously, in reviewing another Rounder traditional music series CD (featuring fiddles) , in this space, I noted that I was also reviewing a tribute album celebrating the 10th Anniversary of Appleseed Records (2007), now a fixture in preserving folk and protest music. I mentioned there that certain record labels have gained a niche for themselves in music history by establishing, driving, or preserving certain traditions. That is the case here with Rounder Records who for over forty years has put together off-beat, but extremely valuable, compilations of traditional music from the shores of Cape Breton to Appalachia to Western America. This CD holds to that fine and honorably tradition.

For this CD there is also a very informative booklet (as is usual with Rounder products), also including plenty of discology-type information about each track. That leaves the final question of what is good here. This compilation, like the tradition fiddle CD is driven more by mood than anything else. The mood here, as described in the headline- mountain breezes, lonesome fiddles and slam jam banjos (and other back-up instruments, of course). And you should think of this compilation that way as well, especially as some of the pieces are very short. Here are few to feast on: Roscoe Holcombe’s Rocky Mountain, Protecting the Innocent, The House Carpenter,, Kicked up a Devil of a Row, and Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie.

******************

This version of the lyrics date back to the early 1800s.

O bury me not on the lone prairie-culled from Wikipedia

"O bury me not on the lone prairie."
These words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
On his dying bed at the close of day.

He had wasted and pined 'til o'er his brow
Death's shades were slowly gathering now
He thought of home and loved ones nigh,
As the cowboys gathered to see him die.

"O bury me not on the lone prairie
Where coyotes howl and the wind blows free
In a narrow grave just six by three—
O bury me not on the lone prairie"

"It matters not, I've been told,
Where the body lies when the heart grows cold
Yet grant, o grant, this wish to me
O bury me not on the lone prairie."

"I've always wished to be laid when I died
In a little churchyard on the green hillside
By my father's grave, there let me be,
O bury me not on the lone prairie."

"I wish to lie where a mother's prayer
And a sister's tear will mingle there.
Where friends can come and weep o'er me.
O bury me not on the lone prairie."

"For there's another whose tears will shed.
For the one who lies in a prairie bed.
It breaks me heart to think of her now,
She has curled these locks, she has kissed this brow."

"O bury me not..." And his voice failed there.
But they took no heed to his dying prayer.
In a narrow grave, just six by three
They buried him there on the lone prairie.

And the cowboys now as they roam the plain,
For they marked the spot where his bones were lain,
Fling a handful o' roses o'er his grave
With a prayer to God his soul to save.[10]

*The Roots of Bluesgrass Back In The Day- The Bluegrass Music Of Charlie Poole, The North Carolina Ramblers, and The Highlanders

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Charlie Poole and his band performing "White House Blues"

CD Review

Charlie Poole: The North Carolina Ramblers and The Highlanders, 4 CD set, JSP Records, 2004

The roots of American folk music are not depleted by Child ballads, the blues, city or country, mountain music, cowboy songs or topical Tin Pan Alley tunes as the artist under review, Charlie Poole and his various bands, proved conclusively. Old Charlie took a little from each tradition and created some very nice sounds and arrangements that have been called the direct precursors to what we today call bluegrass music. I agree.

Some of the melodies are very familiar and repeated in various renditions on this four disc CD compilation of Charlie's "greatest hits". It is interesting to compare some different versions of the same song, like "Bill Mason", that are compiled here. While this CD is hardly strictly for the aficionado both that type of listener and novices to bluegrass music will be tapping their feet on many of the tracks on this one. Googling a list of Charlie Poole's lyrics indicated that almost all of them are contained in the songs here, in one form or another. Thus, this may be the definitive collection, although as noted by others more familiar than I with the intricacies of record production the technical quality of this compilation is uneven.


Here are the stick outs on each disc: Disc One -“Wild Horse”, “Budded Rose”, “Goodbye Booze”; Disc Two “Bill Mason”, “Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down”,“Blue Eyes”; Disc Three- "George Collins”, “ I Once Loved A Sailor”, “Baltimore Fire”, “Sweet Sunny South”; and, Disc Four- “Under The Double Eagle”, “San Antonio”, “If The River Was Whiskey”


Baltimore Fire

It was always through a falls by a narrow.
That I heard a cry I ever shall remember,
The fire sent and cast its burning embers
On another fated city of our land.

Fire, fire, I heard the cry
From every breeze that passes by,
All the world was one sad cry of pity
Strong men in angry praise,
Calling loud to Heaven for aid,
While the fire in ruin was laying
Fair Baltimore, the beautiful city

Amid an awful struggle of commotion,
The wind blew a gale from the ocean,
Brave firemen struggled with devotion,
But they after all proved in vain.


Bill Mason

Bill Mason was an engineer
He'd been on the road all of his life
I'll never forget the morning
He married himself a wife
Bill hadn't been married more than an hour
'Till up came a message from Kress
And ordered Bill to come down
And bring out the night express

While Maggie sat by the window
A waiting for the night express
And if she hadn't a done so
She'd have been a widow, I guess
There was some drunken rascals
That come down by the ridge
They come down by the railroad
And tore off the rail from the bridge

Well, Maggie heard them working
"I guess there's something wrong
In less than fifteen minutes
Bill's train would be along"
She couldn't come near to tell it
A mile it wouldn't've done
She just grabbed up the lantern
And made for the bridge alone

By Jove, Bill saw the signal
And stopped the night express
And found his Maggie crying
On the track in her wedding dress
Her crying and laughing for joy
Still holding on to the light
He came around the curve a-flying
Bill Mason's on time tonight


Budded Rose

Little sweetheart, we have parted
From each other we must go
Many miles may separate us
From this world and care and woe

But I treasure of the promise
That you made me in the lane
When you said we'd be together
When the roses bloom again

Now this parting gives us sorrow
Oh, it almost breaks my heart
But say, darling, will you love me
When we meet no more to part?

Down among the budded roses
I am nothing but a stem
I have parted from my darling
Never more to meet again

Will this parting be forever?
Will there be no coming day
When our hearts will be united
And all troubles pass away?

Darling, meet me up in heaven
That's my true and earnest prayer
If you loved me here on earth, dear
I am sure you'll love me there


If The River Was Whiskey

If the river was whiskey and I was a duck
I'd dive to the bottom and I'd never come up

Oh, tell me how long have I got to wait
Oh, can I get you now, must I hesitate?

If the river was whiskey and the branch was wine
You would see me in bathing just any old time

I was born in England, raised in France
I ordered a suit of clothes and they wouldn't
send the pants

I was born in Alabama, I was raised in Tennessee
If you don't like my peaches, don't shake on my tree

I looked down the road just as far as I could see
A man had my woman and the blues had me

I ain't no doctor but the doctor's son
I can do the doct'rin' till the doctor comes

Got the hesitation stockings, the hesitation shoes
Believe to my Lord I've got the hesitation blues

White House Blues

McKinley hollered, McKinley squalled
Doc said to McKinley, "I can't find that ball",
From Buffalo to Washington

Roosevelt in the White House, he's doing his best
McKinley in the graveyard, he's taking his rest
He's gone a long, long time

Hush up, little children, now don't you fret
You'll draw a pension at your papa's death
From Buffalo to Washington

Roosevelt in the White House drinking out of a silver cup
McKinley in the graveyard, he'll never wake up
He's gone a long, long time

Ain't but one thing that grieves my mind
That is to die and leave my poor wife behind
I'm gone a long, long time

Look here, little children, (don't) waste your breath
You'll draw a pension at your papa's death
From Buffalo to Washington

Standing at the station just looking at the time
See if I could run it by half past nine
From Buffalo to Washington

Came the train, she's just on time
She run a thousand miles from eight o'clock 'till nine,
From Buffalo to Washington

Yonder comes the train, she's coming down the line
Blowing in every station Mr. McKinley's a-dying
It's hard times, hard times

Look-it here you rascal, you see what you've done
You've shot my husband with that Iver-Johnson gun
Carry me back to Washington

Doc's on the horse, he tore down his rein
Said to that horse, "You've got to outrun this train"
From Buffalo to Washington

Doc come a-running, takes off his specs
Said "Mr McKinley, better pass in your checks
You're bound to die, bound to die"

*That Sweet Old North Carolina Pick- The Music Of Norman And Nancy Blake

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

*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

*Georgia On My Mind- The Mountain Music Of Norman Blake

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Norman Blake Doing "Salty".

CD Review

Far Away, Down On A Georgia Farm, Norman Blake, 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. The Georgia (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. Tops here are “Down On The Georgia Farm” and a very funny take on marriage “Give Me Back My Fifteen Cents”.

"Southern Railroad Line"

Standing at the sidetrack at the south end of the town
On a dry hot dusty August day the steam pipe blowing down
The fireman with his long oil can oiling the old valve gear
Waiting for the fast mail train the semaphore to clear.

The engineer in the old high cab his gold watch in his hand
Looking at the water glass and letting down the sand
Rolling out on the old main line and taking up the slack
Gone today so they say but tomorrow he'll be coming back.

Oh if I could return to those boyhood days of mine
And the green light 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 and limit sign
The hoggers call the old highball no more time to wait
Rolling down to Birmingham with a ten car load of freight.

The whistle screamed with a hiss of steam the headlight gleams clear
The drivers roll on the green go getting mighty near
Handing out the orders to the engine crew on time
It's the Alabama Great Southern AGS Railroad Line.

(Chorus)

*A Carter Family Tribute- Ralph Stanley Is In The House

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Ralph Stanley Doing "Clinch Mountain Backstep".

CD Review

A Distant Land To Roam: Songs Of The Carter Family, Ralph Stanley, Sony, 2006

The body of this review has been used elsewhere in this space to comment on some The Carter Family CDs.

This information is from a review of a PBS documentary and serves my purpose here by bringing out the main points that are central to the place of The Carter Family in American musical history. The last paragraph will detail the outstanding tracks on this CD.

“I have reviewed the various CDs put out by the Carter Family, that is work of the original grouping of A.P., Sara and Maybelle from the 1920’s , elsewhere in this space. Many of the thoughts expressed there apply here, as well. The recent, now somewhat eclipsed, interest in the mountain music of the 1920’s and 30’s highlighted in such films as “The Song Catcher” and George Clooney’s “Brother, Where Art Thou”, of necessity, had to create a renewed interest in the Carter Family. Why? Not taking the influence of that family’s musical shaping of mountain music is like neglecting the influence of Bob Dylan on the folk music revival of the 1960’s. I suppose it can be done but a big hole is left in the landscape.

What this PBS production has done, and done well, is put the music of the Carters in perspective as it relates to their time, their religious sentiments and their roots in the seemingly simple mountain lifestyle. Is there any simpler harmony than the virtually universally known Cater song (or better, variation) “Will the Circle Be Unbroken”? Nevertheless, these gentle mountain folk were as driven to success, especially A.P, as any urbanite of the time. Moreover, they seem, and here again A.P. is the example, to have had as many interpersonal problems (in short, marital difficulties) as us city folk.

I have mentioned elsewhere, and it bears repeating here, that the fundamentalist religious sentiment expressed throughout their work does not have that same razor-edged feel that we find with today’s evangelicals. This is a very personal kind of religious expression that drives many of the songs. These evangelical people took their beating during the Scopes Trial era and turned inward. Fair enough. That they also produced some very simple and interesting music to while away their time is a product of that withdrawal. Listen.”.

Ralph Stanley has here fulfilled a promise to do a Carter Family tribute, music that he listened to early on and that has influenced his own career as an outstanding advocate and performer of mountain music for the past half century or so. He does very nice covers of “Poor Orphan Child”, “Waves On The Sea” and the title song “Distant Land To Roam”. You can hear the mountains echo with this music now.


Ralph Stanley
Rocky Island lyrics

Way up on the Mountain, throw a little cane
See my candy darlin' pretty little Liza Jane
Going to Rocky Island hoh honey hoh
Seein' my candy darlin', you know I love her so

Wish I had a big fat horse gonna feed him `mone
Pretty little girl to stay at home feen him when I'm gone
Going to Rocky Island hoh honey hoh
Seein' my candy darlin', you know I love her so

Dark clouds risin' sure sign of rain
Put your new grey bonnet on sweet little Liza Jane
Going to Rocky Island hoh honey hoh
Seein' my candy darlin', you know I love her so

*A Salute To Mountain Music- "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The Persall Sisters Doing "Angel Band". Ya, I know they were not on this CD reviewed below but I am doing a separate review of Ralph Stanley (and his brother) elsewhere and will put their version of "Angel Band" there. The sisters, in any case, do a great job on this.

CD REVIEW

O Brother, Where Art Thou?: Music from the movie “O Brother, Where Art Thou?, various artists, UMG Recordings, 2000.

Sometimes a revival of a musical form, like the "talking blues", that highlighted the urban folk revival of the early 1960's is driven by a social need. In that case it was to provide a format for the "glad tidings" that a new political and social movement was a-bornin'. In the case of the revival several years ago of what is called "mountain music" it was the films "The Song Catcher" and, more importantly, the very popular movie starring George Clooney, " O Brother, Where Art Thou?". The CD under review is a compilation of music from that movie, a not unnatural tie-in in the modern entertainment business. The movie deserves a separate review, however, this CD can stand on its own as a very nice cross section of "mountain music", some familiar most not so.

Without straining credulity "mountain music" is the music of the simple folk of Appalachia, those who worked hard in the coal mines, on the hard scrabble farms and in the isolated mills of the region. This was their Saturday night entertainment and with the advent of radio was a unifying cultural experience. The songs "speak" of hard and lonely lives, the beauty of the then pristine countryside, the usual vagaries of love and lost and the mysterious ways of a very personal, if arbitrary, god. Throw in a few upbeat tunes reflecting the love of "corn" liquor, women and the sometimes funny side of coping with life's trials and tribulations and you have the mountain version of the folk experience. Sound familiar? Sure it does, except, it is done with simple guitar, a blazing fiddle and, hopefully, a full-bodied mandolin.

Here you have all the above types of songs mentioned above in one spot. The cadence of the work in hard prison life gets a nod in "Po Lazarus". The hobo's national anthem (Great Depression era version) "Big Rock Candy Mountain" is also here. The vagaries of love get spelled out in "Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby". For uplift try the one everyone knows- "You Are My Sunshine". Norman Blake, worthy of a separate review of his own as a master of mountain music, provides a very rich instrumental "A Man Of Constant Sorrow". Finally, no recent compilation of mountain music is complete without Ralph Stanley's eerie "O Death" and "Angel Band". If you need a primer for learning about mountain music here you are.

Soggy Bottom Boys - I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow Lyrics

I am the man of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my days
I bid farewell to ol' Kentucky
The place where I was born and raised.

The place where he was born and raised

For six long years I've been in trouble,
no pleasure here on earth I've found
For in this world, I'm bound to ramble,
I have no friends to help me now.

He has no friends to help him now

It's fair thee well, my old true lover,
I never expect to see you again.
For I'm bound to ride that Northern Railroad,
perhaps I'll die upon this train

Perhaps he'll die upon this train

You can bury me in some deep valley,
For many years where I may lay.
And you may learn to love another
while I am sleeping in my grave.

While he is sleeping in his grave

Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger
My face you never will see no more
But there is one promise that is given,
I'll meet you on Gods golden shore

He'll meet you on God's golden shore

Big Rock Candy Mountain

One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fire was burning
Down the track came a hobo hiking and he said boys I'm not turning
I'm headin for a land that's far away beside the crystal fountains
So come with me we'll go and see the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains there's a land that's fair and bright
Where the handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night
Where the boxcars are all empty and the sun shines every day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees
Where the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains all the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft boiled eggs
The farmer's trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh, I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains you never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too
You can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin
And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in
There ain't no short handled shovels, no axes saws or picks
I'm a goin to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

I'll see you all this coming fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains


Ralph Stanley - O Death Lyrics

O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
Well what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me
Well I am death, none can excel
I'll open the door to heaven or hell
Whoa, death someone would pray
Could you wait to call me another day
The children prayed, the preacher preached
Time and mercy is out of your reach
I'll fix your feet til you cant walk
I'll lock your jaw til you cant talk
I'll close your eyes so you can't see
This very air, come and go with me
I'm death I come to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw up the flesh off of the frame
Dirt and worm both have a claim

O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
My mother came to my bed
Placed a cold towel upon my head
My head is warm my feet are cold
Death is a-movin upon my soul
Oh, death how you're treatin' me
You've close my eyes so I can't see
Well you're hurtin' my body
You make me cold
You run my life right outta my soul
Oh death please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand
Oh the young, the rich or poor
Hunger like me you know
No wealth, no ruin, no silver no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul

O, death
O, death
Wont you spare me over til another year
Wont you spare me over til another year
Wont you spare me over til another year

The Stanley Brothers - Angel Band Lyrics

The latest sun is sinking fast, my race is nearly run
My strongest trials now are past, my triumph is begun
O come Angel Band, come & around me stand
O bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home
O bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home
I know I'm near the holy ranks of friends & kindred dear
I've brushed the dew on Jordan's banks, the crossing must be near
I've almost gained my Heavenly home, my spirit loudly sings
The Holy ones, behold they come, I hear the noise of wings
O bear my longing heart to Him who bled & died for me
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin & gives me victory

*The Genesis of The Folk Revival - A New Lost City Ramblers Encore

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of The New Lost City Ramblers In Concert.

CD Review

The New Lost City Ramblers: The Early Years, 1958-1962, The New Lost City Ramblers, Smithstonian/Follways, 1991

Recently I was listening to a local talk show here in Boston in which the subject was which way at least part of the American music scene was headed. One of the premises of the show was that roots music, you know, the blues, jazz, and the mountain music presented here in this album was once again going to form the new “in " music. Fair enough. These genres have been mined before for their expressions of Americana and they can be mined in the future for that same purpose. But here is the question that I have that underlies that above-mentioned radio show premise. How is it that “roots” music, and here I want to concentrate on mountain music and other traditions genres, transmitted?

Well, one answer to that question, before the last “dust-up’ a few years ago with the movies “The Song Catcher” and George Clooney’s “Brother, Where Art Thou”, was the folk revival of the early 1960’s. And one of the key groups that consciously sought to find and play that music in its old form was the group under review, The New Lost City Ramblers. Needless to say, having Mike Seeger the legendary Pete’s Seeger's half-brother involved meant that there is going to be a very deep respect for those traditions. And it shows here in this compilation of their work from 1963-73. There is pure mountain music, some ragtime, some elemental jazzy things, some impromptu jug music, a little talking blues, some politics of the liberal FDR kind; in short everything one needs to investigate the music of the folk before the arrival of serious technology changed the regional nature of folk and traditional music forever. Listen here for thoughtful renditions of these types of music and respect for the instrumentation of the times.


HOW CAN A POOR MAN STAND SUCH TIMES AND LIVE ?

Blind Alfred Reed - 1929

There once was a time when everything was cheap,
But now prices nearly puts a man to sleep.
When we pay our grocery bill,
We just feel like making our will --
I remember when dry goods were cheap as dirt,
We could take two bits and buy a dandy shirt.
Now we pay three bucks or more,
Maybe get a shirt that another man wore --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
Well, I used to trade with a man by the name of Gray,
Flour was fifty cents for a twenty-four pound bag.
Now it's a dollar and a half beside,
Just like a-skinning off a flea for the hide --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?

Oh, the schools we have today ain't worth a cent,
But they see to it that every child is sent.
If we don't send everyday,
We have a heavy fine to pay --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?

Prohibition's good if 'tis conducted right,
There's no sense in shooting a man 'til he shows flight.
Officers kill without a cause,
They complain about funny laws --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?

Most all preachers preach for gold and not for souls,
That's what keeps a poor man always in a hole.
We can hardly get our breath,
Taxed and schooled and preached to death --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?

Oh, it's time for every man to be awake,
We pay fifty cents a pound when we ask for steak.
When we get our package home,
A little wad of paper with gristle and a bone --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?

Well, the doctor comes around with a face all bright,
And he says in a little while you'll be all right.
All he gives is a humbug pill,
A dose of dope and a great big bill --
Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?


We've Got Franklin Delano Roosevelt Back Again Lyrics

WE'VE GOT FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT BACK AGAIN

Just hand me my old Martin for soon I will be startin'
Back to dear old Charleston far away
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected, we'll not be neglected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again

Back again, back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got legal wine, whiskey, beer and gin

I'll take a drink of brandy and let myself be handy
Good old times are coming back again
You can laugh and tell a joke, you can dance and drink and smoke
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
We'll have money in our jeans
We can travel with the queen
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again

No more breadlines, we're happy to say the donkey won election
day
No more standing in the blowing, snowing rain
He's got things in full swing, we're all working and getting our
pay
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again

We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again
Since Roosevelt's been re-elected
Moon liquor's been corrected
We've got Franklin D. Roosevelt back again

No Depression In Heaven

For fear the hearts of men are failing,
For these are latter days we know
The Great Depression now is spreading,
God's word declared it would be so

I'm going where there's no depression,
To the lovely land that's free from care
I'll leave this world of toil and trouble,
My home's in Heaven, I'm going there

In that bright land, there'll be no hunger,
No orphan children crying for bread,
No weeping widows, toil or struggle,
No shrouds, no coffins, and no death

This dark hour of midnight nearing
And tribulation time will come
The storms will hurl in midnight fear
And sweep lost millions to their doom

My Sweet Farm Girl - Clarence Ashley
Lyrics:

My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
My sweet farm girl, she's jolly of my pride
She knows I know how to keep her satisfied

So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
So early in the morning I cut her grass you bet
Pull up the hose; I keep her lawn all wet

I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
I close her fire; I shake her ashes down
We eat our breakfast, then we ride on back to town

I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I keep her garden all free from bugs and weeds
I plow her land, and then I sow my seeds

I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
I trim her hedges; I clean out her back yard
She loves her daddy because I'm long and hard

Notes:
Recorded on December 1, 1931 in New York City. Ashley plays guitar and sings, with Gwen Foster on guitar and harmonica. The sexual connotations are rather obvious.


Battleship Of Maine - Lyrics & Chords

C

Mc Kinley called for volunteers,

Then I got my gun,


F
First Spaniard I saw coming
C
I dropped my gun and run,
G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.

Chorus:


C
At war with that great nation Spain,

When I get back to Spain I want to honor my name,


G7 C
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.

Why are you running,
Are you afraid to die,
The reason that I'm running
Is because I cannot fly,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.


The blood was a-running
And I was running too,
I give my feet good exercise,
I had nothing else to do,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.


When they were a-chasing me,
I fell down on my knees,
First thing I cast my eyes upon
Was a great big pot of peas,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.


The peas they were greasy,
The meat it was fat,
The boys was fighting Spaniards
While I was fighting that,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.