This was published at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website, on my first day of self-isolation or whatever y’all want to call it. As you’ll see below, my area had 98 cases on March 13 2020, and as of today, sixty-one days later, there are 32,673 cases with 1,313 deaths. Knowing that “One day in April it will just disappear…it’ll be a miracle” was just another lie, I suspected we would all be craving live music. Putting together this video music festival was an idea behind the times, as a week or two later musicians began to livestream on social media. Now, mammoth events are taking place and people are spending a lot of time watching and hearing some great content. In any event, I still like my choices, and thought you might enjoy them as well. What do you have to lose?
As I sit in my apartment a few miles north of New York City, and only a few minutes away from what we’re now calling The Containment Area, I wait for the pandemic to land at my doorstep. In our little corner of Westchester County there are now officially 98 cases of the coronavirus reported, schools are closed, the National Guard has been dispatched, I witnessed a fight over toilet paper at the local Costco this morning, and, God help us, they’ve sold out of frozen pizza at Trader Joe’s.
With millions of people living in the tri-state area you might think that a few hundred confirmed cases doesn’t sound all that threatening, but all the public health officials are warning it’s only the beginning. The World Health Organization‘s Director-General, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, announced that “We are deeply concerned both by the alarming levels of spread and severity and by the alarming levels of inaction.” (The Washington Post — or #fakenews as some call it.)
While Tedros could be right, he’s probably not heard that here in America we’ve already developed an antidote to the virus. It seems that a weekend of playing golf at Mar-a-Lago and shaking hands with possibly infected ass-kissing conservative politicians and donors will make you immune to all future illness. And if for some reason that fails, we’ll be arming every doctor and nurse with automatic weapons and orders to shoot the germs on sight while we begin building walls around hospitals.
If you think I’m making light of this human tragedy, it’s only because I’m anxious and nervous, and humor is a form of relief. You see, at my age with an underlying medical condition and being a Democratic Socialist who likely conspired with the Chinese to cause this to happen, my odds of beating this virus if it lands at my doorstep aren’t all that great. And so here I am, acting like a young Brian Wilson: in my room.
Sadly, you’ve likely heard that music festivals and tours are being canceled in rapid succession. Musicians, record labels, and fans have lost money that they probably barely scraped together to attend SXSW in Austin. Marketing and launch plans have turned to dust, and the organization will not be issuing any refunds. To add insult to injury, any national economic relief plan that the DC superstars put together will exclude participants in the arts.
For almost six years up until 2016, Couch By Couchwest was a great way for musicians to share their music. Running concurrently with SXSW, the online video festival let anybody upload a clip to their site and you could tune in whenever you wanted and catch both pros and amateurs. I heard a lot of great music, made lifelong friends, and it beat the inconvenience, heat, and cost of any outdoor festival. If you guys are still out there, this would be a great time for a revival.
Lacking that effort, I’ve put together my own mini-fest of some recent (mostly) live videos for your enjoyment. Please wash your hands for 20 seconds before watching and try not to breathe. And please, stay safe.
For more information on finding sources for online concert streaming, check out this article from the San Francisco Chronicle. And for news on the financial impact the virus is having on the music industry, here’s an overview from Fortune.
Milk Carton Kids and Rose Cousins – “Wild World”
Nathaniel Rateliff – “And It’s Still Alright”
The Reckless Drifters – “Drivin’ Nails in My Coffin”
Dori Freeman – “Walls of Me and You”
The Mastersons – “Eyes Wide Open”
Honey Harper – “Tomorrow Never Comes”
Nora Jane Struthers – “Nice to Be Back Home”
Bonny Light Horseman – “Jane Jane”
John Moreland – “East October”
Tré Burt – “Caught It from the Rye”
Terry Allen & The Panhandle Mystery Band – “Abandonitis”
Charles Wesley Godwin – “Coal Country”
Courtney Barnett – “So Long, Marianne”
This was originally published at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website, as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column.
Throughout its seven years in existence, the association founded by musician Dale Watson flies so far beneath the radar of the Americana and roots music community that you’d barely know it exists. With its primary focus on honky-tonk, Western swing, and rockabilly, the Ameripolitan Music Awards is admittedly pretty small and loose, and one might assume that it lacks the organization, funding, or desire to be something other than what it is.
For the first four years, the annual event was held in Austin, which was Watson’s hometown, but when he moved to Memphis he found an enthusiastic music and arts community that opened its arms to the Ameripolitan folks and offered its support. This year the event was held over several days at the end of February, with a weekend of showcases and concerts throughout the city that concluded with the awards ceremony hosted by Western swing bandleader Big Sandy and Doris Mayday. Here’s a list of the winners, courtesy of The Boot:
Honky-Tonk Male: Charley Crockett Honky-Tonk Female: Sarah Vista Honky-Tonk Group: The Country Side of Harmonica Sam Rockabilly Male: Bloodshot Bill Rockabilly Female: Laura Palmer Rockabilly Group: Mark Gamsjager and the Lustre Kings Western Swing Male: Dave Stuckey Western Swing Female: Georgia Parker Western Swing Group: The Farmer and Adele Venue: Luckenbach, Texas Musician: Sean Mencher Festival: Bristol Rhythm & Roots Reunion DJ: Eddie White
For those of you who have followed the Ameripolitan awards, you probably noticed that the outlaw category has been eliminated — actually, it has been rolled into honky-tonk. In addition to the winners listed above, special awards were given out this year to Duane Eddy, who received the 2020 Master Award, and J.M. Van Eaton for the 2020 Founder of the Sound Award.
I’d bet that many of the nominees and winners aren’t all that well known to No Depression readers who live outside of Texas, or maybe Sweden. The latter is home to The Country Side of Harmonica Sam, one of my current favorite bands who took home the award for best honky-tonk group.
Here are a few more clips from some of the winners. And check out these links to the Ameripolitan Music Awards site and its Facebook page. You might also enjoy reading my article on Dale Watson that was originally published as a Broadside column back in 2018.
This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.
On April 14, 1891, a Chicago businessman named Mortimer Birdsul Mills was granted a patent for a major improvement in what was then called a coin-actuated vending apparatus. It gave consumers of cigars the opportunity to select which one of several brands housed inside of a machine that they wanted to purchase. Mills established the Mills Novelty Company, and over the next several decades manufactured slot machines for gambling and separate devices that dispensed chewing gum, hot coffee, and cooled Coca-Cola bottles. With Mills’ son and grandchildren running the business, in 1928 it added coin-operated radios, phonographs, and eventually jukeboxes to its offerings.
One of the coin-operated machines of particular interest delivered to the public a new music configuration called Soundies. These three-minute black-and-white musical films were produced between 1940 through 1947, shot on 35mm film stock, and then transferred to a more affordable 16mm loop that featured eight different performances. For 10 cents you would get to watch one at a time with no ability for selection, but hopefully you’d enjoy whatever clip was next up and keep feeding the dimes.
At least seven production facilities in New York, Hollywood, and Chicago produced Soundies, for which the performers recorded the songs in advance and then lip-synced for the film. The machines that played them were sold and marketed under various brand names — Hi-Boy, Troubadour, Dancemaster, Do-Re-Me, Swing King, Zephyr, Studio, Throne of Music, Empress, Constellation, and The Panoram.
The Mills Panaram
The Panoram, built with high quality wood and designed in an art deco motif, was placed in public areas such as soda shops, cafés, taverns, roadhouses, and bus and train stations. While the first year was a runaway success, bringing the Mills family millions of dollars, World War II quickly interrupted its distribution with a shortage of raw materials to build more cabinets. By 1947, with television in the beginning stage of home entertainment dominance, Mills discontinued the Panoram, leaving an archive of approximately 1,800 Soundies.
Merle Travis – “Old Chisolm Trail”
Covering all genres of music, such as classical, big-band swing, hillbilly novelties, and patriotic songs, Soundies also added comedy sketches in 1941. In American roots music you had Merle Travis, The Hoosier Hot Shots, many jazz bands, and what has become their legacy: a huge catalog of African American artists who would otherwise not have had the opportunity to be filmed. Eventually the Soundies were sold off to several home video companies and distributed in a variety of formats, with many currently available to view on YouTube.
Sister Rosetta Tharpe and The Lucky Millinder Orchestra – “The Lonesome Road”
In the mid-1960s, the Scopitone jukebox made its debut based on a similar technology as The Panoram but now offering color format. They were initially available in Western Europe but soon spread to the United States. Some of the performers included The Exciters, Procol Harum, Neil Sedaka, Jody Miller, Bobby Vee, and Nancy Sinatra’s popular “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’.” Bypassed by The Beatles and others from the British Invasion, the Scopitone jukebox faded by the late ’60s, although its technology continued for several years.
Lani McIntyre – “Imua Ailuni”
The Panoram and Scopitone systems each preceded and predicted the popularity of music videos popularized by MTV. Two recommended sources for more information about Soundies, the Panoram and Scopitone:
I’ll close this out with a cornucopia of clips, and encourage you to go forth and explore these three-minute slices of old-time historical Americana and American roots music.
This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.
When I first began working in the mailroom of a record distributor back in the early ’70s, one of the perks of the job was going backstage either before or after a concert. Documented in films such as Spinal Tap and One Trick Pony, the infamous music business “meet and greet” is a staple at virtually every concert. Usually, it’s simply a casual opportunity to say hi to the musicians, tell them how much you like their latest album and then finish it off by posing for a photo. I did hundreds of these over the decades and while often it was a blast, eventually I grew weary of this ritualistic and orchestrated event..
I can recall my baptismal “behind the curtain” invitation in September 1973 to a Grateful Dead show at Philadelphia’s Spectrum, a large hockey arena and a major concert venue of the day. My wife and I had spent all week hanging out with their advance man, legendary promoter Augie Bloom. We helped him contact local members of their fan club which predated and morphed into Deadhead culture, drovehim to radio stations, and smoked the best weed we’d ever tasted. On the night of the show he led us through the hallways deep inside the venue and then left us in a room overflowing with food and drink, not without warning us not to sip anything liquid unless it came from a bottle we’d opened ourselves.
That particular evening we never got a chance to chat with the band as they were busy with a crowd that could have easily come out of Hollywood central casting. Groupies, bikers, DJs, wives, girlfriends, a few kids, smarmy record label execs, retailers, wholesalers, hipsters, artists, local scene makers, and bored beefy security men who ignored the smells and snorting going on all around them. I suppose it sounds as if it was a great party, but on this particular night I witnessed an incident that has always stuck with me.
One member of the band was absolutely strung out, with his eyes rolling back into his head. He was being held up on his feet by his wife, who gingerly attempted to get him to walk back and forth in preparation for soon going out onstage. When he became loud and rude, roughly shoving her away from him, some of the roadies stepped in to drag him away and we left to find our own way out. Whatever thoughts of rock and roll idolatry I’d had quickly dissipated. Loved the music, hated the scene.
The lights came down just as we got to our seats. With the smoke around us rising up to form one giant mushroom cloud, the band took the stage. The dude who was barely able to stand up just a few minutes earlier played his ass off for the next several hours. Looking back, I suppose it was my first introduction to the principle of “the show must go on” and so it did, likely with pharmaceutical assistance.
I have a box in my closet stuffed with pictures of me taken backstage while standing next to lots of different musicians, almost all of them having no clue who I was or why I was there. A fast intro, a shake of the hand, maybe a quick chat, and then turn, pose, smile, snap, and move on. One of my favorites is of me and a few people from my office posing with The Rolling Stones. They preferred to do group shots rather than with individuals, and I recall that our brief intro came right after a group of Pepsi executives and was followed by employees of the local Budweiser brewery. As they say, it’s only rock and roll.
Easy Ed (far right) with The Rolling Stones at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, Oct. 15, 1994.
This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.
I’ve written endlessly over the years about the opportunities and challenges of discovering new music in the current paradigm. With digital streaming platforms now accounting for 80% of music revenue (RIAA Mid-2019 Report), and downloads and physical formats each running less than 10%, our reliance on websites, social media, algorithmic suggestions, and curated playlists is at an all-time high. Yet for all of our technological advances, it is harder than ever for a new musician or even an exceptional album or song to find an entry ramp to your aural highway.
As a music hobbyist, writer, and social media aggregator, my days are filled with digitally zipping from here to there on an endless search for something new and different. After giving up most of my destructive addictions over a quarter century ago, the feeling I get when mainlining lyrics, notes, and rhythms is as strong as drinking, inhaling, ingesting, or whatever else once tickled my brain’s pleasure zone.
Recently I experienced an analog recommendation: My friend, co-worker, and fellow musical traveler Neil asked if I liked William Prince. An unknown name to me, I pulled out the phone, opened my streaming app, did a search, and added his 2015 debut, Earthly Days, along with his brand-new release, Reliever, into a playlist I have thoughtfully titled “New Shit.” There’s currently about 75 albums residing there and cued up for listening. Since I tend to live in shuffle-ville, I knew it would likely take a few weeks until Prince popped up. No rush; I’m not a reviewer or on some sort of deadline. Heck, I’m still writing about music from a hundred years ago, let alone 2020.
A few days later, “Breathless” was the first song of Prince’s that I heard, and I later learned it was also one of the first songs that he ever wrote. A breakout single from the first album, which was recorded in just 10 days and produced with collaborator Scott Nolan, it won Aboriginal Artist of the Year at the 2016 Western Canadian Music Awards and Contemporary Roots Album of the Year at the 2017 JUNO Awards. In a 2018 interview with CMT, Prince explained the experience:
“I’ve shared stages with some of the finest songwriters in the world, played some of the most beautiful festivals, inducted Bruce Cockburn into the Songwriting Hall of Fame, hugged Neil Young, worked with Dave Cobb, spent days in Nashville, New York and so many cities I used to just sit and wonder about.”
Based in Winnipeg, the 34-year-old’s baritone voice is second only to his songs and lyrics. He writes these great heartfelt stories and then delivers them like a bowl of hot, thick oatmeal on a cold day in the north country. An Anishinabe, Prince was 5 when his family moved to Peguis First Nation, a reserve named after the chief who led a band of Saultaux people from present-day Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, area to a Cree settlement at Netley Creek, Manitoba. Prince is a direct descendent of Chief Peguis.
Prince began playing guitar and piano when he was 9 years old, and has said he was inspired by Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Charley Pride, Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, and, most significantly, his preacher and musician father, who passed away just as he began writing the songs for Reliever. Sometimes I hear the voice and phrasing of Leonard Cohen in his music, but that might just be a similarity of their vocal range. Other times he reminds me of a storyteller like Springsteen or Guthrie, with grit and depth in his lyrics.
The new album was recorded both in Winnipeg with Scott Nolan and down in Nashville with Dave Cobb. As the latter seems to produce a top 10 Americana album just about every week, working with folks like Chris Stapleton, Sturgill Simpson, Jason Isbell, Brandi Carlile, and John Prine, here’s hoping some of his magic will rub off on Prince and allow him the opportunity to be heard. I suspect this album will likely be the first that’ll wind up being on your list of end-of-the-year favorites for 2020.
This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.
Screenshot from ‘Marianne & Leonard: Words of Love’ / Roadside Attractions
When Nick Broomfield’s documentary about the relationship between Leonard Cohen and Marianne Ihlen was released in the summer of 2019, it quickly jumped to the top of my “must see” list … but fell to the bottom within a week. Part of the reason was that the reviews for Marianne & Leonard: Words of Love were mixed, and the retelling of a love story that I’d already known of, although not in great detail, simply held little interest for me at that moment.
This week I noticed that it was added to Kanopy, a movie streaming service that is available to universities and patrons of sponsoring public libraries. With a runtime of only 97 minutes, I pressed that play button. Before I begin what I imagine will turn out to be a review of sorts, I think it might be best to start with a short clip from another film project: Leonard Cohen on Hydra – Songs and Tales of Bohemia.
It’s always troubled me a bit through the years that whenever Ihlen’s name comes up in regards to Cohen, whether in an interview, profile, or biography, she is always described as his muse. While I understand the concept of someone who artistically inspires someone else and I know that it goes back to Greek and Roman mythology and the nine goddesses, my impression has been that it also has the elements of male dominance and female subservience.
Cohen was an established poet and author from Montreal when he went to Hydra, a Greek island, and eventually bought a home. When he arrived in 1960 it was a community of locals, artists, and expatriates that offered a hedonistic lifestyle of open relationships and experimentation in sex and drugs. Norwegian author Axel Jensen and his wife, Marianne, had moved there in 1957, and she and Cohen grew close romantically. Eventually she moved in and they lived together with her young son, Little Axel.
Throughout the ’60s, Cohen wrote and published several novels and books of poetry, often returning alone to Montreal to promote them and visit family and friends, but financial success eluded him. In 1966 he decided to focus on songwriting, and he moved to New York to connect with the folk music scene, leaving Ihlen. Before leaving Greece, he wrote “Bird on a Wire” and “So Long, Marianne.” He also had written a song titled “Suzanne” that his friend Judy Collins recorded, and it became a hit single. Collins’ introduction and promotion of Cohen as a performer somewhat parallels the assistance that Joan Baez gave to Bob Dylan’s early career.
As Cohen’s popularity surges and he begins to tour at the end of the ’60s, the film’s focus shifts from the love story to showcasing a period of what can only be described as his unabated sexual addiction and extreme drug abuse. The interviews of fellow musicians and friends about that time period are not flattering. Over the next several years, Cohen and Ihlen continued to connect romantically, even when he was involved in other relationships, yet their time together slowly wound down from months to weeks to days, until it finally came to an end. Ihlen eventually left Hydra, moved back to Norway, and began a new family and life.
The final third of Marianne & Leonard offers a condensed story of what transpires separately in their lives over the next four and a half decades, and Broomfield manages to thread the needle for one of the most touching endings to a film I’ve ever seen. It’s a 97-minute ride that captures much cultural and musical history and offers a close view of the intricacies of secret and sacred relationships and the emotional moments we hold onto forever.
Cohen’s story of moving to a monastery for a life of servitude and solitude, and having his life savings stolen while living on Mt. Baldy in California, is often told. His latter years are feted for his comeback to the stage, the albums he released, and extensive touring at an advanced age with youthful joy, humor, and vigor. And like us all, he was a complex and imperfect person who vacillated from lovable rascal to inglorious bastard. My suggestion is to catch this one if you can.
This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.
Between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day there is a seemingly endless flow of articles from music writers, along with reader polls from publications, that attempt to come up with a definitive list of albums, songs and musicians which are the best, greatest or favorite. With about a hundred thousand new albums released each year, it would be impossible for any one person to listen to every single oneWith about a hundred thousand new albums released each year, it would be impossible for any one person to listen to every single one in order to somehow quantify or offer an objective opinion, but it makes good copy and click-bait.
With such a public thirst for lists, wouldn’t it be of disservice if I at least didn’t attempt to offer my own? Although I don’t like ranking systems when it comes to artistic endeavors and I adhere to a “there’s no such thing as bad music” personal standard, the reality is that the collective we all like some lists. In our hyperactive and volatile modern lives it’s the fastest way to catch up on what we may have missed. Since nobody wants to be left out of the loop, Wikipedia publishes an article that links lists of lists of lists, which are indexed by subject matter and linked to other lists. So whether you’re looking for the greatest unsolved scientific questions, all the characters in The Walking Dead or Brazilian Films of the 1930’s…there’s a list for it.
Below, in no particular order or rank, are twelve albums that I have enjoyed over the past twelve months. There are no rules I abide by, it’s neither definitive nor complete of what I’ve listened to, and the music doesn’t even need to have been recorded or released this year. Hope there’s something here you’ll discover for yourself.
Emily Scott Robinson – Traveling Mercies
Robinson travels across the country in an RV with her husband, and she recorded her third album, Traveling Mercies, in East Nashville with producer Neilson Hubbard. This one has been on my playlist longer than any other, and I’ve also added her other work.
If you’ve heard of her for the first time this year it’s likely because of the song “The Dress,” which deals with her experience of rape. She was 22, drugged in a bar, and assaulted. Like many others, she didn’t report it, and dealt with the aftermath by falling into depression. She went through therapy and eventually became a social worker and crisis counselor before dedicating herself to music full-time. I’m unable to explain exactly how or why this song has affected me in such a powerful way, but it tears me up every time I listen.
J.S. Ondara – Tales of America
A large part of American folk and roots music has come to us from Africa through the forced migration by abduction into slavery. This year a young man of 26 from Nairobi, Kenya, who came to America by choice has released what I believe to be one of the finest debut albums ever. He chose to settle in Minnesota in 2013 because it was once the home of Bob Dylan, whom he discovered in his teens and memorized many of his lyrics. After taking online guitar lessons and doing the open-mic circuit, he developed a unique songwriting style and added in a sense of fashion that’s not often in a genre seen beyond cowboy couture.
The Milk Carton Kids – The Only Ones
Clocking in at less than 30 minutes, it’s fitting that when The Milk Carton Kids released this in the UK, it was on a 10-inch vinyl pressing. With their glorious, luxurious harmonies, Kenneth Pattengale’s 1954 Martin 0-15, and Joey Ryan’s 1951 Gibson J45, this is a completely stripped down seven-song set that was recorded last summer. Not only do they still hold the Paul and Artie vibe, but are getting mighty close to exceeding it.
Various Artists – Come On Up to the House: Women Sing Waits
Here’s something that is totally uncool to admit in public when among music people: I’ve never liked Tom Waits all that much. He’s written some great songs, but I’ve felt that his voice and instrumentation have gotten in the way. There was a six-month period around 1983 when I listened to Swordfishtrombones every day while under the influence of some heavy duty weed, but that’s about it. So it’s been a joy to listen to this tribute to his music sung by women who make it more melodic and bring out the best in them. I’m a cover song freak anyway, so this one works for me.
Justin Townes Earle – The Saint of Lost Causes
A confession that I never thought I’d share: with each year that passes, I find myself looking forward to the next album from the son rather than the father. Ten years ago, when I started listening to Justin’s music and following him on social media, it felt as though he might not make it past his 30th birthday. In 2010, after a nasty public fight at a club, he entered rehab — not for the first time — and it seems to have kicked his butt down a better path. He was married in 2013, they had a baby four years later, and now comes his ninth album, The Saint of Lost Causes. In a recent interview he shared that he and his dad are working on some sort of collaboration for 2020, which I sit on the edge of my seat awaiting.
The Delines – The Imperial
It took five years for this Portland-based band to release a follow-up to their 2014 debut, Colfax. In January 2016 vocalist Amy Boone was hit by a car in Austin, breaking both of her legs, which required several major surgeries and a long recovery that put the band on hiatus. Author and songwriter Willy Vlautin’s lyrics seem perfect for Boone’s approach and style, and the band is seasoned, soulful, and tight. The Delines are Amy Boone on vocals; Willy Vlautin on vocals and guitar; Sean Oldham on drums and vocals; Cory Gray on vocals, keyboards, and trumpet; and David Little on bass and vocals.
Better Oblivion Community Center – Better Oblivion Community Center
Phoebe Bridgers and Conor Oberst teamed up for a folk-rock-pop album that is far less duo and more about the band. They’d been writing songs together since spring 2017, and kept the project quiet until earlier this year. This is unlike each other’s solo work, and whether you’re a fan or have no clue who they are, it just works.
Audie Blaylock and Redline – Originalist
Back in 1982, at age 19, Blaylock joined Jimmy Martin and the Sunny Mountain Boys as a mandolin player for nine years. After stints with Red Allen, Rhonda Vincent, and others, he formed Redline back in 2004. This year they’ve released their seventh album, and the current lineup has Blaylock doing lead vocals and guitar, with Evan Ward (banjo), Mason Wright, (fiddle), and Reed Jones (upright bass) filling out the lineup. The Originalist is split with six new songs and six classics. I love the powerful sound and harmonies, and have been delving into the catalog. (Just a note about the video: This is a performance from Mike Huckabee’s show, and I want to be clear that this is not a person I support, with his right-wing political views and rhetoric. But Blaylock’s music is great.)
Ordinary Elephant – Honest
Crystal and Pete Damore met at an open mic in Texas in 2009, got bitten by the creative bug, bought an RV, and hit the road to play wherever they could. Performing and recording under the band name Ordinary Elephant, they were named Artist of the Year at the 2017 International Folk Music Awards. Crystal handles lead vocals and acoustic guitar, while Pete plays clawhammer banjo and sings harmony. I’d also recommend checking out their first album, Before I Go.
Hank Williams – The Complete Health and Happiness Recordings
This set was released back in June and includes eight shows that Hank recorded on two successive Sundays at WSM-AM in Nashville in October 1949. These transcriptions were sent out as radio shows that had spots left out so the local announcer could read ads or other copy. Including the theme song below, there are 49 tracks on this set, presented for the first time the way they should be heard. In previous years, beginning in the early ’60s, these performances have been sliced and diced umpteen ways. Even though these recordings are 70 years old, they’re of excellent quality and Hank and his fellow musicians are simply outstanding.
Luther Dickinson and Sisters of the Strawberry Moon – Solstice
This is a stellar one-off production that has Dickinson surrounded by a group including Amy Helm, Amy LaVere, Shardé Thomas, Birds of Chicago, and the Como Mamas. The concept took three years to put together and was recorded over a four-day session at the Dickinson family’s Zebra Ranch Studio in Independence, Mississippi.
Echo in The Canyon Original Soundtrack
Doing an album of cover songs from the ’60s for a film rather than using the originals is taking a big chance, but the recordings are so intertwined with the documentary that I think it works well. I’m a fan of Jakob Dylan’s work with The Wallflowers, as well as his vocal style, so perhaps that’s part of why I find this collection palatable. He did a fine job of bringing in a strong group of modern-day songsters and a solid backup band to support him. I know this collection has been panned by many reviewers, but I’ll stick my neck out and give it two thumbs up. This clip features Jade Castrinos.
HIDDEN TREASURE #13:
The Starbugs – Kids Sing Bob Dylan
I consider this one of my greatest discoveries of the year. Released back in October 2011 under the name The Starbugs, the group features Jessie Hillel, Rebecca Jenkins, Sarah Whitaker, Ben Anderson, and Roisin Anderson, who at the time were aged 7 to 15 and are from New Zealand. Produced by Radha Saha and David Antony Clark, it must have taken quite some time to go through 40 Dylan albums to find songs that would work with preteens. The entire album is a pure delight, and the man from Minnesota himself gave his personal blessing for using an alternative version of “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere.”
This was originally published in an altered format as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.
