THE other day I spoke to Joe Boyd, the Britfolk impresario, because of his new tribute record, Way to Blue. The album is in honor of Nick Drake, who Boyd helped discover way back in the late '60s, and whose career was delicate, melancholy and all too short.
Today, Drake is revered not only be neo-folkies but by the leading jazz musician of my generation, pianist Brad Mehldau.
Boyd, of course, also had a role in Newport '65, the birth of Pink Floyd, Richard Thompson and Fairport Convention, AND produced what may be our favorite R.E.M. record, the enigmatic third album Fables of the Reconstruction.
Boyd got his start as a preppie New Jersey teenager who helped coax blues and jazz great Lonnie Johnson out of retirement.
Here is my conversation with Boyd, whose memoir of the musical '60s, White Bicycles, I cannot recommend highly enough.
Showing posts with label Britfolk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Britfolk. Show all posts
Monday, April 15, 2013
Discovering Nick Drake
Labels:
brit culture,
Britfolk,
indie,
richard thompson,
rock music
Monday, December 24, 2012
New West Coast Folk
SOMETHING about the cool weather, the melange of religious
songs and the reflective tone of the end of the end of the year leads me to
play a lot of acoustic folk music around the holidays. (And lest you jeer at
the frigid winters we have in Southern California, I’ll tell you that it was in
the 50s most of today and I could actually see my breath this morning. Okay, so
we’re not in Yorkshire.)
In any case, two newish records have pushed their way into
my end-of-year folk canon. Both have connections to the West Coast, which may
be the best folk (and folk-rock) terrain outside the British Isles.
The first is Deer Creek Canyon, by the youngish Seattle-based folk singer Sera
Cahoone. This is her third record, but she’s new to me and I don’t know her
story in much detail. (Turns out she played drums in Band of Horses for a while
– huh?)
I’ll just say: I don’t often hear an artist who’s able to
blend tradition with a solid personality this well. None of these songs make me
rethink the history of music, but all are intelligent, tastefully played and
effortlessly tuneful. A few – Rumpshaker, Shakin’ Hands – are better than that.
The other album comes from a whole other generation. Bert
Jasch was a Scotsman and one of the fathers of Britfolk. His show at Largo a
few years back – his last American tour, I think – was one of the most riveting
performances I’ve ever seen, with his peerless fingerpicking, his adaptation of
traditional English and Celtic songs, and his rough-hewn voice.
Janch made a number of classic records in the ‘60s, some
with John Renbourn; my favorite live record of his is the reasonably obscure
Live in Australia.
But Omnivore has just released a two-CD disc that captures
the late fingerpicking hero near his high point. The title disc, Heartbreak,
was recorded in 1982. But even better is the second disc here, Live at McCabe’s
Guitar Shop, which captures a 1981 solo date at the Santa Monica shrine.
Jansch opens with the old Irish song “Curragh of Kildare” and
works his way through “Blackwater Side,” “Come Back Baby,” “The First Time Ever
I Saw Your Face” (a Celt folk tune by Ewan MacColl before Elvis made it famous)
and a song he had special sympathy with – the darkly romantic “Blues Run the
Game.”
All of this music will be ringing and chiming around my
house this week. Happy West Coast folk holidays to all.
Labels:
bert jansch,
brit culture,
Britfolk,
folk music,
indie,
McCabe's,
west coast
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