Category Archives: My Back Pages

I Used To Be A Disc Junkie But I’m Alright Now

While the topic here is often about the music we listen to, it got me thinking about how we listen to it. Those who have read my Broadside columns at No Depression:The Roots Music Journal over these past nine years already know that I went all-digital just about the same time the magazine became a website. And I spend most of my listening time in motion … walking, riding a train or subway, driving a car, or pedaling an exercise bike. On the rare occasions that I want to listen to something in my home, my laptops and iPhone can plug into either an old-school big-ass rack system with JBL floor speakers the size of an elephant or a smaller cassette-CD-radio combo player with small but upgraded speakers. And when I say “rare occasion,” I should note that the last time either was turned on, Obama was still in his first term.

In the past year I have been having a conversation with myself about minimization, a fancy term for throwing out all the crap in my life that I no longer need. Anything printed on paper, stamped in vinyl, or shiny discs stuffed inside plastic cases are in my line of sight, along with furniture, jackets, coats, ties, pants too tight, shorts too loose, and some hideous shirts I once bought while suffering from a case of temporary blindness. When I was younger I made fun of old people who wore a mish-mash of clothes from white belts and plaid pants to frumpy floral housecoats and they seemed to ignore any and all fashion trends, but now I get that it’s a combination of not having the money to buy new stuff along with the realization that there’s nobody you need to impress anymore. My own closet is so full of stuff that all I want to do is get down to the basics. Fortunately, my wardrobe is timeless (I think): jeans, solid color tees, sweatshirts, five sweaters, one sports jacket, a “funeral and wedding” suit, and several pairs of boots.

On Thanksgiving we went to my nephew’s house and after dinner everyone sat around the cylindrical Amazon Echo while a girl named Alexa followed a verbal command to play “Alice’s Restaurant.” It was placed on a table beneath a television bigger than my car in a rather large room, and frankly the sound quality was quite good. Growing up with right and left channel speakers, and now listening with ear buds or headphones, I was rather enchanted about how this one black round thing produced such fine clarity with bass, midrange, and the top end all intact, while somehow creating a “stereo-surround” effect. And if that wasn’t enough, the darn thing told me the weather for the next week.

Now I happen to know a thing or two about products like voice-controlled smart speakers and all sorts of other wireless devices for either your home or head. And on Cyber Monday my email inbox was jammed with tantalizing offers of deals and discounts for everything under the sun: handmade beeswax candles, beaded bracelets, packages of 48-count toilet paper, clothes, food, gift cards, and even automobiles. But what caught my eye, and by most accounts the number one seasonal gift category, was the electronics. Holy moly … who could resist saving up to 66% off of last year’s Beats Studio 2 wireless over-the-ear cans, or at half-price the Ultimate Ears BOOM 2 Phantom Wireless Mobile Bluetooth Speaker that’s waterproof AND shockproof that can daisy-chain with 49 (!!!) other UE BOOM 2s? It can survive both an earthquake and tsunami at the same time and you know what?

I bought it. Amazon Prime with free two-day shipping sucked me in again. And I think it could be a game changer in my life. It’s not quite the sophisticated and sleek device with Alexa whispering today’s temperature in my ear when I wake up, but it’s going to let me toss out one of the two old-school hi-fi systems that clutter my space and I might start listening to music again in the sanctity of my home. And in the whirlwind and frenzy of the Cyber Monday sales extravaganza, I also ordered a couple of real books printed on paper, a box of a thousand packets of Splenda, one pair of shoes, three Brita water filters, and 12 tins of Altoids Peppermints. I may never leave home again.

Postscript: After two weeks I dumped the Ultimate Ears BOOM 2 Phantom Wireless Mobile Bluetooth Speaker that’s waterproof AND shockproof that can daisy-chain with 49 (!!!) other UE BOOM 2s UE Boom 2 and upgraded to a pair of Sonos Play:1. Wi-fi enabled music connected to my streaming provider beat out Bluetooth, and these babies were half price too. 

This article was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column over at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music.

My Favorite Un-Americana Music of 2017

Photo by Oliver Zühlke/Creative Commons

This is the season that I try to be the first kid on the block to beat out the barrage of those end-of-the-year lists from critics and pundits. At No Depression, and other like-minded music websites and magazines, the official music polls from readers, contributors, and reviewers will be coming in December. Had I been born a betting man, I’d lay down a few hundred bucks that there’ll be little variation or surprises between any of them. Ever since the term roots music has morphed into a more definable mainstream “Americana” tagline, diversity has seemed to have left the building. While you won’t get much disagreement from me on the quality and depth of music that has been released so far this year, it seems that I continue to find myself taking the road less traveled.

This year it feels as if I’ve been walking down the dark side of the street, whether we’re talking about  art, culture, politics, or simply life in general. There were health issues to deal with and the loss of a parent. I’ve found myself constantly concerned for my children that a madman lives in Washington who is one button away from annihilating the planet when he’s not chipping away at the fabric of our society by normalizing the abnormal. From the racist cries of “blood and soil” to an unjust justice system that tips to white skin and wealth to revelations of what we already know … that bad men do bad things to women and children … and to all the other natural and human disasters we’ve lived through so far, I’m only finding shelter by cocooning with music, books, and video.

So with that bright and shiny preamble, here’s some of my favorite aural oddities and mainstays for the year. As always, I use a different yardstick to measure and compile my list. This is what I have either discovered or gravitated to, undefined by such things as release dates. Whether it was brand new this year or merely recycled from the past, who cares?

The Entire Ry Cooder Catalog

I wish he would have titled one of his albums Pastrami on Ry, and I’m sorry that for most of his career I’ve largely ignored his solo work. Aside from a seemingly infinite number of songs he’s done session work on for others, the only albums I’ve really known inside out have been two from the ’70s: The Gabby Pahinui Band Volume 1 and his solo Bop Til You Drop. So now, thanks to the magic of touch and click streaming, I’m making my way through everything else. While skipping around and sampling from this era and that, I’m spending most of my time with Paradise and Lunch, Into The Purple Valley and Chicken Skin Music.

A Prairie Home Companion

While I know he’s trying his hardest and still growing into his role, Chris Thile’s voice reminds me of Opie Taylor and he’s yet to hone his comedic skills with timing and inflection. But on the other hand, he’s doing an amazing job at making great music with that killer band he’s assembled and presenting exceptional guests week after week. He’s going down the right path but one suggestion would be to please stop referring to Sarah Jarosz as “inimitable.” Why continually state the obvious? Finally, a note about Garrison Keillor. Over the years he’s entertained millions of us and his wit, humor and his support of musicians won’t be forgotten. And while it was sad to witness his termination played out in counterpoint to rapists and serial harassers , he had to go.

David Rawlings

I got a chance to see David and Gillian right before the release of Poor David’s Almanack, and it was the first time I’d ever seen them live in concert. Tickets have always seemed to get swallowed up the minute they go on sale and my budget doesn’t include StubHub. After 21 years of being a devout fan of their partnership, each and every note, song, and harmonic moment gave me a night of multi-orgasmic goosebumps.The album is simply perfect.

Freakwater and The Mekons

In September these two bands reunited as The Freakons and performed two nights in Chicago. Monica Kendrick for The Reader broke the news about a new album they’re now recording. She wrote that it’ll consist of “traditional songs about an industry that links the English Midlands, the Welsh valleys, and the ‘dark and bloody ground’ of Appalachia: coal mining. Haunting tunes in that vein came from both sides of the pond, and the Freakons take them on in the high-lonesome, rabble-rousing tradition of late West Virginian labor singer Hazel Dickens. Proceeds from the album, when it’s finished, will benefit Kentuckians for the Commonwealth, a grassroots organization that promotes voting rights and opposes mountaintop-removal mining.”

Rodrigo Amarante

Gotcha … right? A Brazilian singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, Amarante is a member of Los Hermanos, a band that still plays live but hasn’t recorded since 2005. He partnered with The Strokes drummmer Fabrizio Moretti and American musician Binki Shapiro, who in 2008 released an album on Rough Trade as Little Joy. In 2015 he wrote and recorded “Tuyo,” which has been used as the theme song for the Netflix series Narcos. It’s an earworm.

Tom Brosseau

The ten songs on Treasures Untold were recorded live at a private event in Cologne, Germany. The album features six American folksongs and four originals. Brosseau was born and raised in Grand Forks, North Dakota, where in 2007 the mayor awarded him the key to the city. I think about that often. Since 2003 he’s lived in Los Angeles, has recorded a bunch of albums, and toured Iceland. Well … other places too.

 

Valerie June

I don’t pretend to understand her and I don’t listen to her albums. But I’ve seen her perform twice and she is the modern-day Nina Simone. Undefinable and undeniable.

Tom Russell

He celebrated his 68th birthday last March and has released 29 albums, two of which came just this year. The first was his tribute to his old friends Ian and Sylvia, and now he is out on tour supporting Folk Hotel, a collection of originals. Two shots here: Tom playing with Max De Bernardi “The Last Time I Saw Hank” at Knuckleheads Saloon in Kansas City, Missouri in  September 2017. And while I’ve been enjoying both new albums, I also want to share the song that was my first introduction to Russell and remains my favorite.

 

And to those who passed…

Down that dark side of the street we’ve lost too many folks this past year. I’m not going to list them all here, but we’ll close it out with this … a tribute to them all.

 

This article was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column over at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music.

The Everly Brothers Watch Good Love Go Bad

 

In 1960 I was an eight year old boy with a teenage sister who watched American Bandstand every day after school and had a Tele-Tone 45 rpm portable record player in her bedroom. With a big fat plastic spindle, she would stack up to about a dozen records and it would automatically drop and play them one at a time. I was entranced by the whole concept – the music, the machine, the grooves on the disc, and especially the labels, which I would spend hours reading and memorizing. Composers, arrangers, song titles, publishers, ASCAP or BMI, selection numbers, running times, and especially the stylized fonts for the label’s logos.

One reason I took an interest in music at such an early age was because my cousin Arnold was a hot-shot producer and the whole family followed his many successes. His first big hit was in 1956 with Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ “I Put A Spell On You” for Okeh Records, and four years later he moved on to MGM, where he scored big with Connie Francis’ “Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool” and eventually was promoted to president of the label.

On Billboard magazine’s chart for the Top Hits of 1960, Francis had three songs versus Elvis Presley’s two. And while Chubby Checker’s “The Twist” begat a national dance phenomenon and a Percy Faith instrumental was the number one single, only Bobby Rydell, Brenda Lee, and The Everly Brothers rivaled Miss Francis. Don and Phil’s biggest records that year were “Cathy’s Clown” and “Let It Be Me,” but this is the one I dropped the needle on most often and to this day it remains stuck inside my head.

Written by Don Everly and the first track on their Warner Bros. debut album It’s Everly Time, “So Sad (To Watch Good Love Go Bad)” stayed on the American charts for 12 weeks and has been covered at least a dozen times. The biggest sellers of those all were country versions, starting with a duet by Hank Williams Jr. and Lois Johnson in 1970, followed by Connie Smith in 1976 and Emmylou Harris in 1983. When John Prine decided to include it on his classic In Spite of Ourselves duets album, he tapped Connie Smith as his partner on the song.

While I don’t know why I am so attached to this song, it turns out that there’s likely a scientific reason for it. Dr. Vicky Williamson is a music psychologist and memory expert at Goldsmith’s College in London, and several years ago she began studying earworms, otherwise known as stuck-song syndrome, sticky music, and cognitive itch. In a 2012 article I found on the BBC website, she suggests that “earworms may be part of a larger phenomenon called ‘involuntary memory,’ a category which also includes the desire to eat something after the idea of it has popped into your head. ‘A sudden desire to have sardines for dinner, for example,’” as she put it.

Jeff Lynne of the Electric Light Orchestra and Traveling Wilburys covered “So Sad” on his 2012 solo release, along with other songs of that era, and described it this way: “These songs take me back to that feeling of freedom in those days and summon up the feeling of first hearing those powerful waves of music coming in on my old crystal set. My dad also had the radio on all the time, so some of these songs have been stuck in my head for 50 years. You can only imagine how great it felt to finally get them out of my head after all these years.”

In 2013, Will Oldham (as Bonnie “Prince” Billy) and Faun Fables’ Dawn McCarthy released what has become one of my all-time favorite albums, titled What The Brothers Sang. An Everlys’ tribute album, it jumps over their entire Cadence Records catalog of hits from the ’50s, and dives deeper into the more obscure catalog tunes. In Pitchfork’s review, Stephen Deusner wrote: “ ‘Devoted to You’ and ‘So Sad’ are all the more powerful for being so spare in their arrangements, as though illustrating the power of a small country bar band.” One of the highlights of the year was having the chance to see them perform the album from end to end at Town Hall in NYC.

We used to have good times together
But now I feel them slip away
It makes me cry to see love die
So sad to watch good love go bad

Remember how you used to feel dear?
You said nothing could change your mind
It breaks my heart to see us part
So sad to watch good love go bad

Is it any wonder
That I feel so blue
When I know for certain
That I’m losing you

Remember how you used to feel dear?
You said nothing could change your mind
It breaks my heart to see us part
So sad to watch good love go bad
So sad to watch good love go bad

How an 8-year-old boy can latch onto a song such as this and hold it close for 47 years is almost unexplainable. The above-mentioned Dr. Williamson has been working on a “cure” for earworms, suggesting tips such as finding another song to replace it with, going for a run, or doing a crossword puzzle. But for myself, I think I’ll pop open a tin of sardines for dinner and give y’all a vertical stacking of some cover versions I’ve found. Bon appetit.

 

 

 

 

 

In 1973 Don Everly showed up drunk to a show. He kept screwing up the lyrics until Phil smashed a guitar over his head and stormed out. The only time the brothers spoke during the next decade was at their father’s funeral. The brothers patched things up in 1983 enough to embark on a lucrative nostalgia tour that yielded a double album and was captured and released on video.

 

This article was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column over at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music.

Ten Murder Ballads That’ll Slay You

‘Tis the season of ghosts and goblins, trips to the pumpkin patch and apple orchard, lots of candy and a reminder to visit your dentist. While some live in a climate without benefit of experiencing the change of seasons, this year in New York the leaves of the trees have been offering us a kaleidoscope of colors. With thoughts of skeletons, ghosts, and goblins in my head, it wouldn’t seem right to miss an opportunity to share some of my favorite songs about monsters and murder. Such a happy time of the year.

Back in the day before there were television networks that pumped in homogenized programming 24/7, local stations had to fill up morning and late-night slots with their own productions. My town had characters like Bertie the Bunyip, Chief Halftown, Sally Starr, and John Zacherle. The latter had a long career in hosting horror films in both Philadelphia and New York. He went by two names, either Roland or Zacherle. Maybe some might recall his 1958 recording of “Dinner With Drac.”

 

I suppose most people associate Halloween with “The Monster Mash” and Bobby “Boris” Pickett, but personally I prefer another song by Round Robin. An American songwriter and musician whose real name was Thomas Baker Knight Jr., he had quite a career writing hit singles in the ’50s such as “Lonesome Town” for Ricky Nelson, which was followed by decades of creating an impressive catalog that has been recorded by a long list of singers: Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Paul McCartney, Elvis Presley, and Jerry Lee Lewis, to name just a few. He spanned multiple genres, from early rock to psychedelic to country, but my favorite is this 1965 novelty number he performed himself. It’s darn scary.

 

Transitioning back to roots music, if you have any interest in learning about the history of American traditional ballads, the Library of Congress offers an excellent article. But murder ballads are a different beast, a subgenre, and Wikipedia offers this simple definition:

A broadsheet murder ballad typically recounts the details of a mythic or true crime — who the victim is, why the murderer decides to kill him or her, how the victim is lured to the murder site and the act itself — followed by the escape and/or capture of the murderer. Often the ballad ends with the murderer in jail or on their way to their execution, occasionally with a plea for the listeners not to copy the evils committed by them as recounted by the singer.

One of the things that make murder ballads so interesting to me are that they show up in so many styles, including folk, bluegrass, country, pop, rock, blues, and hip-hop. Some are old, some are new, and I enjoy them all, especially on a cold, dark night. Running the gamut from the traditional to some fresh blood, I put together some songs and performances that are guaranteed to take you down the road less traveled. Seriously: Lindsay Lohan and Nirvana on the same list? Boo.

Johnson Mountain Boys – “Duncan and Brady”

 

The Wilburn Brothers – “Knoxville Girl”

 

Kate and Anna McGarrigle – “Ommie Wise”

 

Wilson Pickett – “Stagger Lee”

 

Joni Mitchell and Johnny Cash – “Long Black Veil”

 

Vandaveer – “Pretty Polly”

 

Lindsay Lohan – “Frankie and Johnny”

 

Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds with PJ Harvey – “Henry Lee”

 

Sufjan Stevens – “John Wayne Gacy Jr.”

 

Nirvana – “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?”

 

This article was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column over at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music.

The One About Doug Sahm and the Jukebox

That photo is a beauty, isn’t it? Wish that old jukebox was mine, but it’s just a stock photo I found somewhere in space and snatched for this week’s column. The plan was to write an update on the Doug Sahm documentary that debuted in 2015 at SXSW, but I got sidetracked when I found this 1959 single he recorded of “Why, Why, Why” and it reminded me of Gilbert’s El Indio on Pico Boulevard in Santa Monica.

It’s been over 25 years since I’ve been there, and it was a Friday night destination for years. In addition to serving up the finest margaritas and Mexican food west of Boyle Heights, they had an old school “three for a quarter” jukebox, loaded with mostly 45s from the ’50s and ’60s. My go-to song back in the day was Patsy Cline’s “Crazy,” and usually by the time we were on our second pitcher of adult beverage I’d stack it up to play a dozen times in a row. But had this one been on there, it might have been a contender.

 

That’s not Doug’s first record, and I don’t really have too much to tell you about the film other than the title: Sir Doug and The Genuine Texas Cosmic Groove. I did find a pretty good article about it published at Texas Monthly and a review here on No Depression, which has several video clips including the trailer. It’s been showing at film festivals for the past year or so, and despite exceeding a Kickstarter campaign goal to get it into distribution, seems like it’s not quite a done deal yet. I can’t wait to see it because I’ve been a fan since I was a kid, and his story spans several decades, genres, and memories.

Back to the jukebox … I miss it. When I was a kid my family would often have Sunday night dinners at a place in Philly called the Italian Riviera, and their box was filled with songs from Mario Lanza, Rocco Granata, Caterina Valente, Dean Martin, and Connie Francis – our favorite because cousin Arnold was her producer. But this was probably the most played song of that era: Domenico Modungo’s version of “Volare.”

 

While you can still find them at some bars, there are only two companies left that currently manufacture the coin-operated devices. There’s a bunch of touch screen, digital models being sold, but they just don’t connect with my teenage memories of sitting in a diner and dropping quarters into the slot.

These days I prefer the one that fits in my pocket, can hold 20,000 songs, lets me pay the bills, read the news, get a car, play games, rant on social media, take pictures, and occasionally make a call. I’ll close it out with sharing five songs currently on my “new music” playlist. Three are new or recently found versions of old songs, and two are new songs that just sound old, which sums up how I’m feeling right now.

Chris Hillman
The album Bidin’ My Time was produced by Tom Petty and executive produced by Herb Pedersen and features David Crosby, Roger McGuinn, Mike Campbell, Mark Fain, Steve Ferrone, John Jorgenson, Josh Jové, Jay Dee Maness, Benmont Tench, and Gabe Witcher. The album kicks off with a new recording of Pete Seeger’s and Welsh poet Idris Davies’ “The Bells of Rhymney,” which the Byrds recorded for their debut. I believe that’s Crosby and Pedersen doing harmony with Hillman.

 

Joan Shelley
In December 2016, she and guitarist Nathan Salsburg joined Jeff Tweedy in Wilco’s Loft studio for five days. Spencer Tweedy joined on drums, while James Elkington shifted between piano and resonator guitar. Jeff added electric accents and some bass, but mostly he helped the band stay out of its own way.

 

Tom Brosseau
“Treasures Untold is a 10-song collection recorded live at an intimate event in Cologne, Germany. Across six adaptations from the Great American Folksong Book, and four of Brosseau’s own original tunes, he manages to build a dreamy, atmospheric mood with just his voice and an acoustic guitar” – Maeri Ferguson, Glide Magazine

 

Neil Young
A 41-year-old “lost and found” album sounds like it was recorded last week. He says he did it one night strung out on weed, cocaine, and booze, but on most tracks you can hardly tell. Love the animation on this video, which was created by Black Balloon.

 

Richard Thompson
Acoustic Rarities is the third album in a series that began in 2014. These tracks are some of his more obscure material along with some never before released and cover versions. “Sloth” first appeared on Fairport Convention’s 1970 Full House album, and Thompson left the band the following year.

 

This article was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column over at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music.

Americana Music: A Study in Black and White

It’s hardly a new story, but for whatever reason this year’s annual AmericanaFest down in Nashville came away a bit battered and bruised from articles published in both Billboard magazine and the Rolling Stone Country website questioning the lack of diversity in a commercialized genre that defines itself as being inclusive of multiple formats. Both articles made a point to mention that of the 300 performers that were showcased during the six-day conference and awards show, only 10 percent featured acts that weren’t comprised of exclusively white members.

Billboard broke it down even further:

That percentage held for the annual Americana Awards & Honors show as well, where only two of the 21 separate nominees stretched across six voter-influenced categories weren’t white. Rhiannon Giddens and Hurray for the Riff Raff, both nominated for Album of the Year, were the sole representations for people of color among nominees. Notably, not only has Album of the Year never gone to a person of color during the 18 years that the award has been given out, but only twice in the history of the Awards & Honors event has an act led by an artist of color won a voter-decided award: Alabama Shakes in 2012 for Emerging Artist of the Year and The Mavericks in 2015 for Best Duo/Group of the Year.

 

As a reminder, the Americana Music Association defines the genre as “contemporary music that incorporates elements of various American roots music styles, including country, roots-rock, folk, bluegrass, R&B, and blues, resulting in a distinctive roots-oriented sound that lives in a world apart from the pure forms of the genres upon which it may draw. While acoustic instruments are often present and vital, Americana also often uses a full electric band.”

Reverend Paul Foster and The Soul Stirrers’ above version of “I Am A Pilgrim” can be traced back to the 1930s, when it was first recorded by the Heavenly Gospel Singers. In the ’40s it was recorded and commercialized separately by both Merle Travis (who received the songwriting credit from BMI) and Bill Monroe, and it’s been covered multiple times by musicians black and white. As far as I can tell, it’s a perfect example of an American roots music song, albeit stolen by a recording industry ethos that has traditionally leaned white.

When interviewed by Rolling Stone Country, Rosanne Cash described her feelings when the term “Americana” actually became a genre:

It was like finding this really cool island that you tell all your friends about because the hotel is great and the weather is always sunny.

Yet it takes only a few minutes of conversation for Cash to bring up what she sees as the community’s greatest shortcoming.

The Americana community needs to embrace more black musicians. That’s the one area where I feel it should really strive to be even more inclusive. I, for one, wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing if there wasn’t some black musician who had suffered in the South. That needs to be honored and if amends need to be made, they need to be made.

If the Milk Carton Kids and Van Morrison and William Bell can co-exist under the same umbrella, then I think that some deeper blues artists could come under that umbrella as well.

 

The AMA’s voting members are broken down by two categories: Artist/Musician/Songwriter and Industry. Jed Hilly is the organization’s executive director and the man credited with successfully lobbying on behalf of the genre. While he acknowledges that past award showcases leaned heavily on musicians based in the Nashville area, he believes it’s an honor simply to be asked to participate. Speaking with Billboard, he says:

Membership is membership, and there’s not much I can do – or choose to do – to change how people vote. That would be an impropriety. All of the nominees are winners, to be frank. How membership votes, I think that’s a question that afflicts every [music industry awards ceremony]; I mean, good golly, take a look at the CMA Awards. I think it’s funny that people are asking me these questions, when I think we’re one of the most diverse industry awards shows in the business.

I can say from an organizational point of view, we have demonstrated our philosophy in the bigger picture through the honorees for Lifetime Achievement. I’m very proud of the gender, racial, and geographical diversity that we continue to highlight. I was very proud to honor the Hi Rhythm Section this year.

 

On the flip side of this question of inclusion, Rolling Stone Countryreached out to a number of people for their take on it. Charles L. Hughes, author of Country Soul, says “The most insidious part of American racial politics, music industry or otherwise, is the part that says race doesn’t matter. Americana is very directly tapping into that mythology.”

Alynda Segarra of Hurray for the Riff Raff makes her point on the festival: “No matter what, there should always be more people of color, and more women, and especially now more radically minded people onstage. That’s something that needs to change with all festivals, and I can help anybody if they want that.”

Kaia Kater, the African-Canadian roots musician who has performed at the last two AmericanaFests, graciously took the time to reach out to me and share her thoughs. ““I believe the AMA has a lot of work to do. First in recognizing that Americana as a genre would not exist without Black forms of music. And secondly, in searching out and inviting more artists and voices into the fold without putting any particular agenda on them. Letting these artists own both the stage and the discussion on their own terms. Only in this deliberate way can we move forward.”

Tamara Saviano is a past president of the AMA and is writing a book on the history of Americana. She wonders if the genre is starting to take on the characteristics of the country music establishment it set out to defy 20 years ago. From Rolling Stone Country again:

It all goes back to who’s connected. Let’s just say you’re a young artist, and consider yourself an Americana artist, and you’re out touring and doing your own thing, and you’re not on the Americana radio chart. Well, that might be because you can’t afford to hire a radio promoter who works the Americana chart. In some ways, it’s like we created the very beast that was the reason we started Americana.

Blues musician Keb’ Mo’ sits on the AMA’s board of directors and has expressed that he’d like the organization to expand it’s definition of American roots music to include jazz and hip-hop. “My hope is that it becomes a place where you can go to the Americana Awards show and it’s just purely about music and no categories.”

As Americana gains in popularity and crosses over into mainstream country markets, one hopes that it doesn’t devolve into a parody of itself. UK singer Yola Carter sums it up best by warning “it could turn into one single genre in which I wear plaid and play guitar music, which is basically indie rock with pedal steel, and sing about dusty roads and trains. Chill out about trains!”

Since much of this column relied on the interviews and work of others, I’d like to acknowledge Isaac Weeks at Billboard and Jonathan Bernstein for Rolling Stone Country.

 

Lead Belly began singing “Goodnight, Irene” in 1908 and said he learned it from his uncles. It’s possible it was written by Gussie L. Davis in 1892; the sheet music is available at the Library of Congress. Lead Belly was recorded by John and Alan Lomax in the early ’30s while he was serving a sentence at the Louisiana State Penitentiary. In 1936 he recorded it again for the Library of Congress, and it later received a Grammy Hall of Fame award.

The Weavers recorded their version of the song in 1950, a year after Lead Belly had passed. In June it entered the Billboard Best Sellers chart, where it peaked at number one for 13 weeks and was named the top song of the year. Their version cleaned up the lyrics a bit – Timemagazine called it “dehydrated and prettied up.”

 

This article was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column over at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music.

Thoughts on Tom Petty: I Don’t Like Mondays

Sometime after seven in the morning I woke up, made a pot of coffee, poured cereal into a bowl, and perched onto the couch. Switching on the morning cable news and expecting to hear the latest despicable social media rants from #notmypresident, the normal abnormal was askew. Something happened while I slept and it was bad. Like millions of others I watched the story unfold via cell phone videos and breathless reporters trying to explain the unexplainable. For the next 16 hours, minus the 86 minutes that I left my apartment for a solitary walk, my eyes stayed glued to the screen.

In the midst of this media bombardment of a country music concert that went terribly wrong came a one-line blurb on Twitter that caught my eye: Tom Petty was dead. Within a few minutes the news exploded over the internet. As I tried to wrap my head around each event, my mind also kept wandering and wondering about those three and half million people without water, food, medicine, power, or communications in Puerto Rico. With a limited capacity of bad news that I could deal with at one time, the unspeakable carnage in Vegas won out.

After a few hours, in what must be the only recorded miraculous resurrection in modern history, Tom Petty rose from the ashes and once again was alive. Headlines were altered, stories were retracted, obituaries that had been written and published vanished in thin air. Did I just imagine that?

Sometime in the late evening hours, as it became clear that we weren’t going to learn anything new from Las Vegas that we didn’t already know, it was time for cable news to drag out the experts for their postulation, speculation, and politicalization. When the jackass from Fox News began to prattle the NRA mantra that guns don’t kill people and assault rifle silencers make sense, and the three liberal pundits on MSNBC pondered whether this was the right time to talk seriously about gun control, I disconnected. Sitting alone in the dark room a song slowly came to mind.

On Jan. 29, 1979, a 16-year-old girl who lived across the street from Cleveland Elementary School in San Diego took her rifle – a gift from daddy – and opened fire as kids arrived for classes. The principal was shot and killed while trying to rescue children in the line of fire, as was the school custodian. Eight students and a police officer were also shot; they survived. When a reporter asked the young girl why she did it, she replied “I don’t like Mondays. This livens up the day.”

 

When I woke up on Tuesday morning I made a pot of coffee, poured cereal into a bowl and perched onto the couch. Switching on the morning cable news and expecting to hear the latest despicable social media rants from #notmypresident, the normal abnormal was askew. Something happened while I slept and it was bad. Tom Petty had died. Again.

This article was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column over at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music.