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Top photo by Snap Jackson. Band photo from Natia Cinco.

I originally wrote this spotlight on AJ Lee back on June 15, 2017 when I was publishing my weekly Broadside columns over at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music website. Jumping forward seven years, and No Dep has made AJ Lee and Blue Summit their Spotlight band for July 2024. This band is on the verge of exploding and their new album City of Glass will be released  July 19th on Signature Sounds. And now…hop in the Wayback Machine with me. 

When I reached out to Betsy Riger-Lee and asked her to give me a rough idea of how many views her daughter AJ Lee has had on YouTube, she came back to me in three hours and wrote: “As of this moment, it’s 3,358,333.” That right there tells you she’s one proud mama. It’s a simple fact that there are many musicians who have been working on the road and putting out albums for decades who have yet to hit that particular milestone, so a few months ago when I came across this young woman from Northern California singing the Gram Parson classic “Hickory Wind” with The Tuttles, a family of stellar musicians, I took notice.

That clip, which accounts for about ten percent of that huge number mentioned above, was uploaded six years ago, when AJ was only 13. She gives credit to Jack Tuttle, who wisely invited her to join up with him and his kids in their band, for introducing her to that song and many others. And when they uploaded that song, AJ had already been performing in front of audiences for nine years. Not a misprint.

“The initial event to my introduction to bluegrass happened one night at an open mic at a pizzeria. I was 4 years old, my mom held me up to the mic, and I sang the song ‘Angel Band.’ There was a man named Frank Solivan in the audience who happened to be the director of a program called Kids On Bluegrass for the California Bluegrass Association (CBA). I stuck with the program every year for several years after that. That’s also how I got into other bluegrass events — through the CBA. Throughout this whole process, I was never forced to play music, but always encouraged and inspired. It helped immensely being around kids my own age, and to this day I am great friends with a lot of the kids who came out of the CBA kids programs. Having a sense of community and belonging through music is something greater than anything I could have asked for.”

Want to hear what this eight-year-old girl sounded like onstage in 2006?

I’m going to let mom tell this part of AJ’s story:

“AJ was invited to be part of the first Kids on Bluegrass Fanfest in Nashville, where International Bluegrass Music Association’s ‘World of Bluegrass’ was taking place annually at that time. It was a pilot program that originally began in California, that has now become the standard for talented bluegrass children to meet up each year. AJ shared that stage with Molly Cherryholmes, Sarah Jarosz, Sierra Hull, Molly Tuttle, Angelica Grim Doerfel, and a host of many other gifted young female artists. She did that for several more years, and during that run, she was asked to be part of the revision of the ‘Discover Bluegrass’ video that the IBMA created for educational purposes, their intent being to spread the word of this genre of music.”

Author’s prerogative and detour: When Angelica Grim married TJ Doerfel in June of 2008, AJ and Betsy sang a duet of this Richard Thompson song y’all probably know at the wedding. It’s just basically a home video, but one that’s been watched watched over 65,000 times. And while I’m not exactly sure why, I keep coming back to this one over and over. Here’s a secret … somewhere about two minutes into it I can’t keep from crying.

AJ grew up in Tracy, an agricultural town that is being suburbanized as the Bay Area population looks for affordable housing in an area with a “Mediterranean climate.” AJ describes herself as preferring the rural lifestyle: “I grew up with horses, chickens, dogs, cats, rats, opossums, lizards, birds, snakes, frogs, quails, sheep … and a turkey. I’ve taken many trips to cities, but the country is where my heart will always stay.”

The family enjoyed the camping lifestyle, especially around the regional bluegrass festivals. It seems that it was the Riger side of the family from whose tree the music fell: AJ’s siblings and other relatives are accomplished players of various degrees and styles. Betsy is an excellent singer, guitarist, and dancer, and taught AJ how to find pitch and use basic techniques for singing. Rodney Lee doesn’t share in this talent pool … or, as AJ puts it: ‘My dad is NOT musical… haha. I’ve been trying to teach him how to play one song on the mandolin for years. I’m sure when pigs fly, my dad will learn how to play ‘Angelina Baker.’”

In 2011, when she was 13, Mother Jones published an interview with AJ titled “Could This Kid Be The Next Alison Krauss?” In addition to the mandolin as her main instrument, AJ plays fiddle, guitar, ukulele, and banjo, and her incredible vocals have earned her the Female Vocalist award for six years from the Northern California Bluegrass Society (NCBS). As the years rolled by she attended a number of music camps through the CBA and NCBS — “great organizations that are very supportive regarding kids and music,’…” she says — and she was playing in a number of band configurations, including The Tuttles with AJ Lee.

In the world of California bluegrass, Jack Tuttle is a legend. For over 30 years he’s taught fiddle, mandolin, banjo, and guitar, developed a solid curriculum, written a dozen instruction books, and put a band together with his daughter Molly and sons Sully and Michael. AJ joined the group in 2008, when she was about 10, and they released their first album two years later. I should note that Molly is making a lot of noise down in Nashville now, where she settled after attending Berklee College of Music, having won the first Hazel Dickens Memorial Scholarship from the Foundation For Bluegrass Music.

By the time AJ was 16,  you can see how she had developed not only strong musical skillsets, but was poised and polished onstage. She also began writing her own music and released her first EP, titled A Song for Noah, and was invited into the studio for The Prava Sessions, a series where “there are no overdubs, there is no Auto-Tune, the sounds aren’t pitch or time corrected with a computer. It’s all real, it’s all live and it only happens once.” As you’ll see, she began to drift away from the traditional bluegrass format.

The past couple of years, AJ has been playing locally throughout the Bay Area, and since graduating high school she’s taken some college classes, and is “off and running, away from home, working in the real world of service and people, busking and gigging to help pay rent, as honest and real living goes,” according to Betsy. “If she can handle all that life throws at her, she will probably stay the course with music as a career.”

AJ speaks about following the route Molly Tuttle is taking down in Nashville, but with the logic and reasoning of someone much older than their years, she’s quick to add that “those thoughts are still developing and I’m still trying to figure out what the best path for me to take is. At least in this time in my life.”

Postscript: July 2024

As many already know and many more will soon discover with the release of their new 2024 album City of Glass, AJ Lee and Blue Summit have been slowly bubbling under the radar, honing their craft, writing more and more and touring far beyond the West.  Over the past seven or so years and have had several changes in their lineup. AJ and Sullivan Tuttle have been the two constant members and along with Scott Gates on guitar and vocals, and fiddler Jan Purat they are at their best and growing more popular day after day.

There’s a reason I’ve become fascinated with AJ’s musical journey back in 2017. She grew up with the opportunity to learn and play music in the world of bluegrass, one that has always worked hard to pass the baton down from generation to generation. In the political climate we live in, one party in particular doesn’t  give a damn not only about music, but specifically public funding for any of the arts. In April 2017,  in an open letter to Donald Trump and Congress, the IBMA spoke directly to that point:

“The United States of America cannot afford to eliminate the National Endowment for the Arts (“NEA”) and the National Endowment for the Humanities (“NEH”). These two government agencies carry out three highly beneficial missions across our country: preserving and promoting the arts, educating and inspiring children, and expanding commerce through the grants provided by these public endowments.

An important principle of our nation has been to protect and promote our rich artistic and cultural heritage. Bluegrass music, as a core genre of American roots music, was created on American soil as an extension of our country’s working class communities. It is this cultural history, along with exceptional musicianship, that makes this music loved throughout our country today. This is not simply entertainment; it is a vital part of our nation’s identity.”

Amen.

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

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I read an article recently from a dude who advocated ignoring whatever is current and on the charts, and simply coming up with your own Top Ten songs du jour. It’s not all that far from what I do minus putting a number on it. Why limit yourself to just ten when there are millions to choose from? But it did make me think of my own consumption and collecting, albeit digitally, and I began to realize I am absolutely overloaded with too much music and not nearly enough time.

Yes, I’m part of the problem, since I enjoy writing about new releases, and artists who aren’t famous but nevertheless fabulous, and those lost or forgotten recordings. For me the biggest thorn in my side is the algorithms used by the streaming sites to make suggestions. And the more you use them, the more they are able to include what they think you’ll like and exclude what you might not.

Although it’s an imperfect system, it’s also very good at getting me stuck in a rabbit hole the size of the Grand Canyon. You find a song by one musician that you like, and add their album to your playlist. You also see they have five previous releases, so you add them too. One song of interest becomes fifty in a flash. And because you like them, there are now a dozen other things recommended. Endless.

I have a playlist where I place things – new or old – that I haven’t yet heard. It used to hover between 250-500 songs and not it’s over 3000. There in no way I can get into checking out each and every one, and no time to listen to the older music in my library that I’ve loved over the decades.

I’m drowning in a sea of music and it’s becoming work versus pleasure. There could be a sense of urgency here…advanced expiration date…and I’m fearful I won’t get to listen to all the things I’ve collected over the years along with the new things I’ve yet to discover.

Some might say it’s a first world problem, having too much access. And it’s true that after re-reading this section it’s pretty insensitive to even think about “my music problem” considering all the other gruesome things happening around the world.

So if you got this far – just disregard it please.

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Millie Small 45 RPM Cover /Island Records

The daughter of an overseer of a Jamaican sugar plantation, teenager Millie Small was discovered by Chris Blackwell in 1963 and taken to London, where she recorded a number of singles before breaking through a year later with “My Boy Lollipop,” considered by many to be the first international “blue beat/ska” hit.

Prior to going to England, she had recorded in Jamaica at Sir Coxsone Dodd’s Studio One label with Roy Panton (as Roy & Millie), scoring one local hit called “We’ll Meet.” She only charted once more in America, and performed through the ’70s until settling in the United Kingdom, where she passed away in 2020.

“My Boy Lollipop” was originally written by Robert Spencer from the doo-wop band The Cadillacs for a singer named Barbie Gaye who was promoted by disc jockey Alan Freed. Notorious gangster-record exec Morris Levy, who was sort of like a Jewish version of Suge Knight, also received credit. When Small’s version took off, Levy took full credit and stripped Spencer’s name off the song.

As ska music began to evolve during that time period, Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, and Bunny Livingstone came together and began recording in the studio initially with Leslie Kong in 1962, and then producer Coxsone Dodd. They were first called The Teenagers, followed by the Wailing Wailers.

The aforementioned Chris Blackwell began releasing the band’s albums worldwide in 1969 on his Island Records label that he founded back in 1958. Tosh and Livingstone left in 1974 for reasons having to do with their religion and the clubs they were playing in, but each went on to have their own successful careers.

Sometime in the mid-’70s I got a chance to meet Bob Marley at a hotel in Philadelphia. I was doing sales for Island’s local distributor and was invited to a dinner in his honor with local radio and record store folks. Several of us got there early, finding Marley sitting and talking to a couple of old friends. In 1966 he had lived with his mom for a short time in nearby Wilmington, Delaware, working briefly at both DuPont and on the Chrysler assembly line.

With a big fat spliff in his hand, he stood up in bare feet, walked over to greet us, and extended his hand. He was soft spoken and very gracious; we spoke for several minutes and I was disappointed he didn’t offer to share his spliff. Could have made for a better story, but this is all I’ve got. A memory.

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is therealeasyed@gmail.com

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Colorful Comments and Music From A Common Man

As you may have noticed, The Broadside was broadsided in April, so I’ve combined it with the month of May to give you two-thirds of a season. I won’t trouble you with my troubles, but there are some glitches on the website that are beyond my skill set, and since we’ve last connected I have moved from one place to another which took a lot of time and energy. It felt quite liberating making trip after trip to the local recycling center and the Goodwill drop-off, as I said goodbye to a mountain of possessions I no longer need, as if I needed them in the first place. The albums and CDs, not played in a dozen years, survived. Most books did not. Clothes and shoes older than my twenty-something kids were discarded, and I kept only a few gold records out of the two dozen or so that once adorned my walls. Only two have been hung up, and the rest are resting in the closet.

Here’s the thing about gold or platinum records: they’re handed out like candy to every Tom, Dick, Sally and Carol. They aren’t earned, they are a stroke of ego given mostly to those who had little to do with their success. The first round rightously goes to the musicians, composers, band members, producer and manager, and other people on the creative team.  And then the second batch go to us weasels: label people, distributors wholesalers, retailers, radio stations and a whole boatload of freeloaders. Anyway, most of mine hit the trash can because I wasn’t about to go through the trouble of posting them on eBay, like many of my former music biz friends have done.

Meanwhile, since I last posted there’s been a war, the Supreme Court is probably going to take away fifty-years of women’s rights, supermarkets are now considered soft targets for the radical right racists, and we’ve learned that the pandemic isn’t quite over as many musicians are having to interrupt their tours or go out solo while leaving the band behind. This week here in NY, we were told to start wearing the masks again while indoors, as cases are rising rapidly. Other states are following. And as music festival season is kicking off, some returning for the first time since 2019, we’ll likely need to be flexible in our expectations as performers on the bill will likely shift often.

Can We Please Get To The Music Now?

Anybody else notice that there’s been more new music coming out this year than the last two years combined? Likely an overstatement, but there does seem to be a growing list, week after week, and I’m struggling to keep up. I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to listen more while  discarding the things I’ve tried hard to like but just couldn’t. Yes, Spring cleaning.

Pharis and Jason Romero 

Here’s the first song from their forthcoming album, Tell ’Em You Were Gold, out on 17th June 2022 on Smithsonian Folkways Recordings. Their seventh album was written and recorded at the couple’s homestead in Horsefly British Columbia in an old barn that they restored  themselves, milling their own spruce, hoisting beams, and rebuilding a roof originally covered in tin printing plates, all done between building banjos, adventuring outdoors, and loving up their two kids. I love these folks.

The Hanging Stars

Wearing their cosmic country and late 60s West Coast folk-rock influences on their sleeve, embroidered with seams of Crosby Stills and Nash and The Byrds, recorded at Edwyn Collins’ Helmdale studios in Scotland, The Hanging Star’s fourth album Hollow Heart is their best yet. (folk radio.co.uk) The band is based in London and they cite a long list of reference points from Fairport to the Byrds, but they bring on their own unique sound that borders on psych-folk-cosmic-power pop, without the pop.

Erin Rae

Erin Rae makes gentle music that’s easy to listen to over and over again, and yet it is never boring. The Nashville songwriter’s 2018 album Putting on Airs established this strength with 12 impeccable, minimalist recordings that showcased her subtle vocal style and acoustic guitar playing: It also demonstrated a consistent gift for writing earworms. With her latest album, Lighten Up, Rae keeps the songwriting focused and tight while broadening her stylistic palette, landing on a sound that’s less acutely folksy and more classic, unpretentious pop music. (Pitchfork)

Eddie Berman

His fourth album Broken English (released in January) is a modern folk commentary on our tenuous American life–written before the pandemic. Though performed on guitar, the songs were written on the banjo. “With the fingerpicking, flat-picking style I play there’s sort of the bones of the melody baked into whatever I’m playing. When I come up with a progression I like, I turn on a recorder and just start singing to it off the top of my head — sometimes gibberish, sometimes fully formed thoughts, usually a combination of the two. And then at some indeterminate, later point, I’ll take all that subconscious/left brain shit and try to turn it into something more coherent.” (Spin)

Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway

For her recent album, Crooked Tree, Molly put together a list of supporting bluegrass and Americana musicians that would catch anyone’s eye: Gillian Welch, Billy Strings, Sierra Hull, Dan Tyminski, Margo Price, Jason Carter, Tina Adair, Old Crow’s Ketch Secor, and Jerry Douglas, who produced the album. With all the songs co-written by Tuttle, the album serves as a reflection of her past in many ways; her love of music as a child, her home town of San Francisco, her challenges and her maturation. (musicfestnews.com)

Billy Strings (and Post Malone)

Hard to connect Billy with Molly, as they represent a new tradition of kids raised on bluegrass festivals with parents who are exceptional players, and have morphed into something new and different. Not surprising that they were room mates when they moved to Nashville, and that their increased popularity seems in synch. Billy has turned out to be more of a live concert creature, constantly on the road and tapping into the work ethic as well as joining the extended family of the Grateful Dead. This video features the unlikely rapper/country-lovin’ Post Malone, and I’m telling you….I sing this song all day, every day since I first saw it.

Kieran Kane & Rayna Gellert

(Wait! Didn’t you post this in March? Yes. What’s your point?)

Kieran Kane’s a folk-music lifer, known for his work in the all-star trio Kane Welch Kaplin and his killer songs, which have been recorded by big names like John Prine and Emmylou Harris. Rayna Gellert’s a world-class fiddler who grew up playing old-time music before finding success in the 2000s with her string band Uncle Earl. Together, they’re not an odd couple, but a finely tuned folk duo whose parts fit together perfectly. The songs on their third album The Flowers That Bloom In The Spring are built from memorable melodies, homespun harmonies, hard times, heartbreak, and the clarion sound of strings plucked, strummed, and bowed. (Bandcamp)

Hannah Sanders & Ben Savage

Making the best of a bad situation, when the pandemic struck, Hannah Sanders and Ben Savage revised plans for their third album Ink of the Rosy Morning and recorded the album while holed up in an old seaside schoolhouse in Hastings. They stripped arrangements back to basics with just two guitars and emerged with a collection of mostly traditional numbers subtitled A Sampling of Folk Songs from Britain and North America. The album opens with their voices mingling on gorgeous harmony for the twin fingerpicking of A Winter’s Night, more strictly A-Roving On A Winter’s Night, an Appalachian folk tune learnt from the repertoire of Doc Watson, followed by some nimble fretwork with Hannah singing lead for the equally traditional Appalachian murder ballad Polly O Polly. (folk radio.co.uk)

Hannah and Ben have released three albums together since 2016, and they each are from the UK but seem to have travelled extensively. They’ve toured throughout North America, Europe and of course the UK, playing a hybrid of American roots and traditional folk music. Spiral Earth wrote ” This is folk music for everyone – a master-class in proficiency, an exercise in individuality and a declaration of love of the folk tradition from both sides of the Atlantic’. This last clip is the song that led me to them, appearing on a playlist built on an algorithm of my taste in music. It worked.

R. Crumb….just because.

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Neither the age progression photographs of myself nor the bold title above have anything to do with what’s on my mind this month. I did have a birthday, but that was last month. Old new. I mean, really old. Originally I was going to use a Frank Zappa shot holding an electric fan, but I had used it years ago for another column. So you’ve got me in triplicate, but there is still a Zappa thread to pull.

The topic is Verve Records, which came to mind during a walk I took this afternoon. It has a long history that in some ways almost parallels my life. It was founded in 1956 – I was four by then – by Norman Granz, and became home to the world’s largest jazz catalogue. A producer and concert promoter, Granz was acknowledged as “the most successful impresario in the history of jazz” and he was also a champion of racial equality, insisting, for example, on integrating audiences at concerts he promoted. And he spearheaded the fight to desegregate the hotels and casinos in Las Vegas, arguing that it was unfair that black artists could perform on the stages, but could not stay or gamble at the hotels, or even enter through the front doors.

In 1965 Frank Zappa joined a band called Soul Giants and they changed their name to The Mothers. In early 1966, they were spotted by leading record producer Tom Wilson when playing “Trouble Every Day”, a song about the Watts riots. Wilson had earned acclaim as the producer for Dylan and Simon and Garfunkel and was one of the few African-Americans working as a major label pop music producer at this time. Wilson signed the Mothers to Verve, a division of MGM, which had built up a strong reputation for its releases of modern jazz recordings in the 1940s and 1950s, but was attempting to diversify into pop and rock audiences.

Verve insisted that the band officially rename themselves the Mothers of Invention as Mother was short for motherfucker—a term that, apart from its profane meanings, can denote a skilled musician.They released their first five albums (if you count Lumpy Gravy, which really wasn’t the Mothers) on Verve, and Zappa, his wife, and all of the Mothers of Invention moved from LA to New York where they got an extended booking at the old Garrick Theater on Bleeker. They moved back to California in 1968, formed a deal with his own Bizarre label and that was the end of Frank and Verve.

Let’s backtrack to 1964, and Jerry Schoenbaum of Verve and Moe Asch of Folkways created Verve Folkways to take advantage of the popularity of folk music and get it on the shelves of the record stores, something Folkways by itself wasn’t able to do. They were distributed by MGM Records which also owned Big 3 Publishing. The president of that entity was Arnold Maxin, who was a huge believer in roots music.  In an article in Billboard Magazine from 1965 he said “The most important music developments of our generation have come from the “roots”. I welcome all the material I can get from these sources for it is from these sources that we will obtain the standards of tomorrow”. With that he announced the signing of John Lee Hooker’s publishing.  (Arnold is my cousin and and we share the same last name, which helped open doors for me throughout my own music career.)

To broaden the label’s appeal, in 1967 the name was changed from Verve Folkways to Verve Forecast. They first signed The Blues Project and then quickly added Tim Hardin, Jim and Jean, Janis Ian, Richie Havens, Odessa and Dave Van Ronk. There was also The Paupers from Toronto, and Velvet Underground, who had little sales but would end up casting a long shadow.

Over the years MGM had acquired both Verve’s jazz label and Verve Forecast catalogs, and in 1968 Arnold oversaw all three. They were riding high until they weren’t. The following year MGM shut down Verve Forecast and the entire company was soon swallowed up themselves in a purchase by PolyGram, the huge German music company. The product from all three labels was sliced, diced and shifted to various divisions and labels. The party was over.

In May 1998, PolyGram was sold to Seagram which owned Universal Music Group. They  too split the catalog up like an apple pie. In 2004 they decided to reactivate the name Verve Forecast, and began signing new artists, Blues Traveller and Teddy Thompson among them. In 2016 Universal created the Verve Label Group to place all of it’s jazz and classical labels, as well as the flotsam and jetsam collected from over the decades. A few years later they made more changes and today the Verve Label Group reports up to the hip-hop/rap division. 

And that’s what I was thinking about today. Verve….it was a helluva label.

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Photo by Easy Ed

A local and respected concert series has been going strong for years, and while they’ve maintained their home base at the local Unitarian congregation which was sadly unused for most of the pandemic, the building was severely damaged this past year in a storm.Now there’s a new home to hear music at a nearby church, albeit with a pandemic-era slimmed down roster of events. I’ve been both a patron and volunteer over the past ten years, and I admit that I much prefer being a paying audience member as opposed to selling at the merch table, seating guests or working the door.

The photo above was obviously taken from the stage a few minutes before a show was about to begin, probably sometime in 2015. Can’t recall who was playing, nor why I hopped onstage to take a snap of the waiting audience, because a photographer I am not. I actually enjoy taking pictures, but I just forget to do it most of the time. But this one has been sitting around in my library for too long not to share, so here it is for better or worse

A few years ago I submitted this image to No Depression to use for my then-weekly Broadside column and my editor rejected it. I think the main issue was that there was a child at the center, but there was a larger question of did I have permission of the other people in the frame to use it. Of course I didn’t, and it was not a huge issue for me to just pick something else. But II’ve always wanted to share it beyond the fleeting Instagram post, so here it is. I’m sorry that almost everyone in that one moment looks sad, but life isn’t all about smiling selfies.

For this concert, a one-off  venue was utilized. It was a once grand old building at the edge of the Hudson River, mostly abandoned and not in very good shape, The electricity and plumbing worked, and I’m sure there was an elevator, but the facilities were rather rough. We were using a room on the second or third floor, with maybe a hundred seats. With raw cement walls and an open ceiling exposing pipes, it seemed better suited for a hardcore show from the 70s or 80s instead of whatever folk or blues musician was headlining that night.

If not mistaken, it was a very successful evening. While I can’t recall who or what was presented, I have a vivid memory of the intermission where coffee and tea were sold, along with these really delicious brownies. There was quite a bit of conversation taking place, as this was a community event, and many people knew each other. It strikes me of something that we once had but has disappeared over the past two years. Small concerts, traveling musicians, a time for people to get out of their homes and into a crowd to interact in whatever way they choose, and an escape for a couple hours of the pressures of life that we endure.

I know that all around the world there are small to mid-size community venues that have brought so much joy to people in showcasing art, films and music, and it’s gotten away from us. The impact shows up in the latest conversations about the inability of earning an income in a digital world which pays a pittance for artistic creation. And for most musicians, they aren’t complaining much because they only got a check for $1.79 from Spotify last month, but that they aren’t able to safely put together a tour from town to town where they can earn money by selling tickets and merchandise. They can’t see the audience’s faces from the stage, or feel the energy. That’s the real loss.

So, that brings me back to the picture. I think it is a pretty good representation of life in early 2022. It feels to me that we are simply waiting, which as the man once sang, “is the hardest part”.

All The News You Already Know, Might Have Missed or Even Forgotten If You’re As Old As Me

American Songwriter reported that Taj Mahal and Ry Cooder have announced their new collaborative album, Get On Board: The Songs of Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee. The new LP, which is set for release on April 22, is the duo’s first collaboration in more than a half-century.

The two musicians have released a new live video for the song, “Hooray Hooray,” which y’all can watch below. “They were so solid. They meant what they said, they did what they did … here’s two guys, a guitar player, and a harmonica player, and they could make it sound like a whole orchestra,” Mahal said in a statement about his connection with Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee. Added Cooder, “It was perfect. What else can you say?”

Don Wilson, the last remaining original member of The Ventures, passed away in January of 88. Along with guitarist/bassist Bob Bogle, they formed the Ventures in 1958 when they were both Seattle-area construction workers moonlighting as musicians; just two years later, their electric guitar-led rendition of Johnny Smith’s “Walk, Don’t Run” rose to Number Two on the Hot 100. A quartet for most of its existence, they helped to popularize the electric guitar in the United States and across the world during the 1960s.

They were among the first to employ and popularize fuzz and flanging guitar effects, concept albums and twelve-string guitars in rock music. Their instrumental virtuosity, innovation, and unique sound influenced many musicians and bands, earning the group the moniker “The Band that Launched a Thousand Bands”. And one could argue that surf music was not a product of Southern California as much as it originated in the Pacific Northwest.

While their popularity in the United States waned in the 1970s, the group remains especially revered in Japan, where a reconstitued band tour regularly to this day. The classic lineup of the band consisted of Wilson on rhythm guitar,  Bogle (initially lead guitar but he switched to bass), Nokie Edwards (initially bass, switched to lead guitar), and drummer Mel Taylor.

From Getty Images/The Ventures, 1960. Don is second from the left.

Singer-guitarist Molly Tuttle has moved to Nonesuch Records, and will be releasing her new album “Crooked Tree” on April 1. No fooling. Rolling Stone reports that “The new album explores Tuttle’s bluegrass roots, which stretch back to her banjo-playing grandfather and music-teacher father.

Helping Tuttle craft those sounds are her new band Golden Highway (Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, Dominick Leslie, Shelby Means, and Kyle Tuttle) and an all-star group of guests. In addition to Price, Strings, and Hull, contributors to Crooked Tree include Old Crow Medicine Show, Dan Tyminski, and Gillian Welch, along with co-producer Jerry Douglas.”

Here’s a video of the title track. This woman can shred.

That’s it for this month. Remember, I post multiple times every day at Facebook on The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily page.

And for even more stories, I am constantly updating my e-magazine on Flipboard, Americana and Roots Music Daily

The post The Return of Easy Ed’s Broadside – February 2022 appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Sort of. Maybe. Possible. Wishful thinking. We’ll see.

The fact is, to those of you who followed my dozen or so years of writing a weekly column for No Depression’s website, I just burned out about six months deep into the pandemic in 2020 and quit. Recently I saw a quote that summed it up well: there was no more toothpaste left in the tube. I tried to switch over to here, the website, whenever I got the urge to write but as you probably can tell, that hasn’t worked out too well.

Where my efforts have been largely focused are on the The Real Easy Ed American and Roots Music Daily page over on Facebook, now exceeding 3,400 followers in what I had anticipated to be only a few hundred when I began it. I aggregate music news, videos, reviews, history and humor, with occasionally breaking off for a whirlwind of words on topics excluding those mentioned. Call it political or cultural, social or whatever is on my mind, simply for laziness I title these A Daily Broadside. A more apt description might be therapy, or a release of the thoughts and ideas from a troubled mind.

I’d ask how y’all have been, but there’s no place to reply because the comment section here was deactivated long ago when I first started the site. Instead, you can share over on the FB page until your heart’s content, often receiving an acknowledgement or dialog from me or fellow followers. It’s become a nice little community of music fans which needs little water and feeding. The garden is mostly self-tended, although I tend to sometimes toss out any cult members who might offend me with their 45-isms. And emails are welcome as well, but stop asking me to write reviews for your music at No Depression….that’ll get you nowhere.

Here’s A Daily Broadside you may have missed from January 1, 2020:

So here’s a bit of family history I’ll share with y’all.

This album on the left was released in 1972, and included actual test sheets that you’d fill out after listening, to see what your score was. It was co-written by my cousin Arnold Maxin, who served as president of MGM Records throughout much of the 60s, and previously did A&R for Okeh in the 50s. His production credits include Screaming Jay Hawkins’ ‘I Put A Spell On You’, about half of everything Connie Francis ever recorded, and a whole bunch of other stuff.

He got the parent company MGM Studios in California to let him prove to them there was a market for soundtracks, and he also turned several films into Broadway shows. He was there signing deals for groups like the Animals, Cowsills and Ultimate Spinach, and was featured in a piece for Billboard that stated Dylan had created a new genre for singer-songwriters that would be the future, and one of his final acts as prez was picking up distribution for a label called Poppy Records in 1966. Soon after he left MGM, Poppy released the first Townes Van Zandt album.

Between then and the release of this first and only album on his own label, I guess he may have been busy doing the research. After that he was involved in a number of projects, both in and out of music. And that’s pretty much the end of the story, as he passed on a few decades ago. On the right he’s with Hank Williams Jr. In defense of Arnold on how MGM milked Hank Sr.’s catalog after his death with endless schlock releases of albums with added strings and duets with Jr., that all came out of the Nashville office which wielded their own power and decisions. Our family legacy remains intact.

Spencer Williams, Jr.was an actor and director who entered the film business at a time when “race movies” were being made alongside the Hollywood versions. Race movies were low-budgeted and mostly aimed at black audiences in segregated movie-houses of the South and where large city black populations lived in the North.

What might make this interesting to American roots music fans is his continual juxtaposition between the gospel of Sunday mornings versus the blues and jazz of Saturday nights in many of his storylines. I got a chance to watch a montage of film scenes last night, and discovered today that many of his films are available on YouTube.

Most film historians consider The Blood of Jesus to be Williams’ crowning achievement as a filmmaker. Dave Kehr of The New York Times called the film “magnificent” and Time magazine counted it among its “25 Most Important Films on Race.” In 1991, The Blood of Jesus became the first race film to be added to the U.S. National Film Registry.

I should also mention that many of his films have also been the subject of criticism. Richard Corliss for Time wrote:

“Aesthetically, much of Williams’ work vacillates between inert and abysmal. The rural comedy of Juke Joint is logy, as if the heat had gotten to the movie; even the musical scenes, featuring North Texas jazzman Red Calhoun, move at the turtle tempo of Hollywood’s favorite black of the period, Stepin Fetchit.” 

He had a long career as an actor, writer, director, and producer in motion pictures before becoming known to general audiences for his role as Andy in the television version of The Amos ‘n Andy Show (1951).

Let’s take a moment or two and talk about albums that were released in 2021. As those who’ve followed me know, I absolutely abhor those ridiculous end of the year lists whether from reader polls, reviewers or hacks like me. There are no arbiters of what one’s treasure versus trash is, and at best all we can do is perhaps share some things we’ve enjoyed and maybe you might want to explore it yourself. Rankings, and words like best and greatest, are an affront to the hard work that all artists put into their work. Same reason I hate negative reviews: if you have nothing good to say, why say it? The only benefit to any list is that there really is too much music being released, and it’s impossible to sort out on one’s own.

So this year on the FB page I gave everybody a chance to list one and only one favorite album, with the rule being no duplicates. So you needed to read ’em before adding your own. Turned out pretty interesting, with about 75 responses.

But then, knowing that there are those who have suffer from OCD and have a desperate need to share their own lists, I created the above. Here’s some – but not all, sorry – responses. Represents a really wide spectrum of taste, and not quite looking like all the other cookie cutter Americana lists out there in the internet ether.

From Matthew Bashioum, who gave me the idea:

The post The Return of Easy Ed’s Broadside – January 2022 appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

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The Return of Easy Ed’s Broadside? 

Indeed. Get ready for a more consistent monthly dose of new releases, music that’s been lost and found, philosophical rambling, cultural insights, news, views, videos, humor and more.

How Was Your 2020?

So yeah….this was supposed to be a monthly column after I retired from doing my weekly gig at No Depression’s website last August. But life got in the way of that idea. Between the stress and anxiety of working from home, isolation save the weekly trip to Trader Joe’s, the rhetorical political theater – spewing angst and hatred to a divided nation – I simply lost interest. Not in music, for it’s been a period of intense exploration and discovery, but in doing anything that involved much thinking or an attempt at creativity. I’ve fallen into a long season of passivity, satisfied with endless hours of watching films from Scandinavia to Korea, Germany to Hollywood. And those television mysteries from the BBC that seem to use the same actors like secondhand retreaded tires, and fascinating but soon forgotten documentaries about this, that and whatever. No comedy specials though. I lost my will to laugh. But the penlight is getting brighter and yesterday I was actually accused of sounding chipper. A first time for everything.

Please God…I Never Want To See Another Livestream Concert Again!

As I sit here punching above my weight, certain states that look more red than blue are tossing the masks and reopening the bars, restaurants, gyms and theaters. Down in Austin and Nashville where there are more unemployed musicians than grains of sand on a wide Hawaiian beach, a majority of club owners are not yet rushing to begin booking concerts. Optimism easily obscures reality and we’re likely another few months away from live entertainment. So at least for a little while longer we’re left with these sometimes interesting yet hardly satisfying live sets from empty stages and living rooms. I know it’s gotten bad when a favorite artist with hundreds of thousands of followers on Facebook only managed forty-two viewers on their recent weekly broadcast.

Got Any New Music You Can Share?

Sure. I’ve been trolling along with the last of the great music bloggers, seeking out those albums and songs that I have never known of, and scouring the rolling waves of new releases that came out in the wind and left in a whisper throughout these past months. When you put everything you got into an album with the hope of touring and getting noticed, it’s been a friggin’ heartbreak after heartbreak. A hundred years from now some ethnomusicologist will no doubt write a successful book on the lost music of 2020.

I know…it’s not a live performance and what does it have to do with roots music? Whatever. I like the song and the whole album and I like this guy even though I am one of the last people on Earth who seems to know of him. His album Songs for The Drunk and Broken Hearted is his thirteenth. I got myself the bonus recording where he does a whole band thing followed by an acoustic version. Brilliant music. And he does a lot of livestreams. Passenger is the name he records under, but he’s Mark David Rosenberg.

Dirk Powell is – damn, it’s a lot easier if I just quote his allmusic.com biography:

Dirk is considered one of the world’s leading experts on traditional Appalachian fiddle and banjo styles, along with carrying on the traditions of his late and legendary father-in-law Dewey Balfa, as well as the accordion player in the Cajun group Balfa Toujours. 

As you can hear above, the new album When I Wait For You is much more in the singer-songwriter category than his band work and it’s truly a beautiful work.

This is The Kit’s fifth album Off Off On is in heavy rotation here at my abode. Fronted by English singer and songwriter Kate Stables, who is based in Paris, her exceptional musical exploration includes whomever joins her in the moment. She’s often playing a banjo, and reviewers just can’t seem to put a tag or genre on her.

Cordova’s Destiny Hotel was a great find from this Tennessee-based band that features vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Joe Firstman, keyboardist Sevans Henderson, guitarist/vocalist Lucca Soria and vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Toby Weaver. They sound and look like a throwback to the Sixties that seems to be brought up in every article and review written, which probably pisses them off to no end. I feel for these folks since they are road hogs who have established themselves a large fanbase with nonstop touring. Morton

Morton Valance is simply indescribable and irresistible. A London-based duo who’ve released eight albums in fifteen years, I have never heard them until Bob & Veronica’s Great Escape was released. Th3e video is sort of an outlier on the album, but it truly shows their creativity and ability to step out, as the majority of the songs are slow tempo with tight and intricate harmonies. The duo features Ann Gilpin and songwriter, producer and multi-instrumentalist Robert ‘Hacker’ Jessett. Along with this album, in 2020 they wrote and directed an autobiographical film documentary entitled ‘This Is A Film About A Band’ that was premiered at the Doc’N Roll Film Festival in London. Can’t wait to find it.

Australian singer-songwriter Emma Swift released an amazing – one more time – amazing album of Dylan cover songs titled Blonde On The Tracks. Based in Nashville and recorded with her partner Robyn Hitchcock and featuring Wilco’s Patrick Sansone, it’s pretty hard to believe this is her first full length album. Before becoming a musician, she was a radio broadcaster in Australia, hosting an Americana music show In the Pines. 

Almost At The End…..Shameless Self-Promotion

Well that was fun. So here’s the deal: As most of you may know, I run a Facebook page and a Flipboard e-magazine that are linked here on my website. Every single day I scour the internet for music news and articles of interest, so you don’t have to. Every night on FB I also post a video to close it out. (This moth I’ve dedicated myself to finding 31 John Prine performances.) If you haven’t visited, please do. I should mention the Flipboard has over 3,000 articles including many that don’t get posted on Facebook, and is a great way to pass the time. Download the app or visit on your computer or tablet.

 One More Thing…March is Women’s History Month!

The Library of Congress, National Archives and Records Administration, National Endowment for the Humanities, National Gallery of Art, National Park Service, Smithsonian Institution and United States Holocaust Memorial Museum join in commemorating and encouraging the study, observance and celebration of the vital role of women in American history.

The post Easy Ed’s American Roots Music Broadside: March 2021 appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Used Via Pixabay License.

Greetings…I’m back after a few weeks of getting my head cleared and I’m ready to share some of my latest favorite Americana and roots music songs and videos, news, events and whatever other stuff pops into my head. As many of you know, I have left No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music to get off the treadmill of having a weekly column deadline, and to allow myself to focus on other areas of interest. Without going into some rant you don’t need to hear, we’ll leave it that I am very fearful of the future not only in America, but throughout the world. From climate to pandemic, politics to racism, divisiveness to income inequality…we are not living in the best of times. And so we escape into a world of comfort and familiarity, riding it out as best one can. Music, sweet sweet music.

Nashville’s Sunday Someday

The gracious and excellent guitarist/singer Annie McCue reached out to me late last night to share something she helped put together. Sunday Someday is a jam band that was formed by a very busy group of side-musicians and singer-songwriters who under normal times have played Sunday brunch gigs at Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge in Nashville. They played monthly and often asked special guests to play and sit in with them, covering artists such as Elvis Costello, Lucinda Williams, Gillian Welch, Fleetwood Mac, Mississippi John Hurt, also dipping into the original songs they had all been writing over the years. It was a Sunday kind of thing.

A couple months into the quarantine with Dee’s still closed, McCue suggested they start working on a song. She sent out a basic track with guitar and vocals and everyone passed it around a few times, adding parts and harmonies until they decided one day it was finished. McCue then compiled video footage and pulled it all together and here they give you their version of George Harrison’s Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth). The other musicians are Megan Palmer, Jason Quicksall, Bob Lewis, Erin Nelson and Johnathan Beam.

‘This beautiful song is of this time,’ says Annie. ‘It’s exactly what we all need right now.’ I agree.

People We’ve Lost: Justin Townes Earle and Toots Hibbert

You’ve likely read the news, and know they’re gone. Justin’s loss hit me hard, for not only that we share the disease of addiction, but because the music he could have, should have, and would have given to us will never be heard. Cole Louison published a remembrance of Justin circa 2010, titled It’s As Hard As You Make It: The Legacy of Justin Townes Earle. An interesting read; it made me shudder to think that by twenty-eight he had made thirteen trips to rehab and overdosed five times. Otis Gibbs has put up a video eulogy that I’d like to share with y’all, and a song if you don’t mind.

And from NYC/2010:

Frederick “Toots” Hibbert, the lead singer and songwriter of Toots and the Maytals and one of reggae’s foundational figures, was seventy-seven when he passed. A few weeks earlier he had just released his first new album in over a decade. His NPR obituary offers a brief but notable survey of his life and career, and he left a huge body of work for us to have. Two days after the release of Got To Be Tough, Hibbert was admitted to Kingston’s University Hospital of the West Indies. If you have the time, the BBC did a documentary on Toots and the band and you can watch it here.

Live at the Winterland, San Francisco, CA on November 15, 1975.

Toots performing “Pressure Drop” on Jools Holland’s Annual Hootenanny-2010/2011, backed by the Rhythm & Blues Orchestra

New Music….Or At Least New To Me

This first one comes  with a giant thank you from one of my Broadside followers. Rob Oakie is the executive director of Music Prince Edward Island, and he sent me a note sharing that I may have missed an album from the past year titled Coyote, the seventh studio recording by the award winning folk musician Catherine MacClellan. He was right, and although I knew her name I honestly didn’t know her music. So I’ve been exploring all of her work and fallen in love.

There’s a bit of Canadian musical legacy in her family, as her father was legendary Canadian songwriter Gene MacClellan, who wrote the megahit “Snowbird” that was covered by everyone from Anne Murray to Elvis Presley. Catherine has followed in her father’s musical footsteps, winning the 2015 Juno Award for Roots & Traditional Album.

Not on the album, I found this song which appears to have been recorded less than a month ago. I would imagine even on Prince Edward Island they are feeling the impact of the pandemic, and musicians are sadly shuttered down from the road.

The Avett Brothers‘ album The Third Gleam is in rotation on my main playlist. Speaking to Rolling Stone, Seth shared this about the songs:

“We touch on historical prejudice, faith, economic disparity, gun violence, incarceration, redemption, and as is increasingly standard with our records, stark mortality. This is by no means a record defined by any specific social or cultural goal, nor is it informed by a singular challenge posed to humanity. It is merely the sound of my brother and I in a room, singing about what is on our minds and in our hearts at the time…sharing it now is about what sharing art is always about: another chance that we may partake in connecting with our brothers and sisters of this world, and hopefully joining you in noticing a speck of light gleaming in what appears to be a relatively long and dark night.”

Transmigration Blues is singer-songwriter Ryan Gustafson’s fourth album as The Dead Tongues, and it was recorded back in 2019 but only came out earlier this past summer. Living in Western North Carolina, he’s been making music for almost twenty years under different names or with various collaborators, spending time on the road with Hiss Golden Messenger and Phil Cook. This is a video from the album, followed by one of Louden Wainwright III’s best, “The Swimming Song” along with Mandarin Orange.

The Most Important Thing You Will Do In Your Lifetime

Over on The Real Easy Ed Facebook page, I often sprinkle in politics and satire with the music. Here, I’m not going to preach or holler. But I will share that I believe we not only must exercise our right to vote, but that we need to preserve the health and welfare of our children. A deranged autocrat running a racist and facist state with a cult-like band of gunslinging disciples does not make for an open and safe society. So I know many of you might have second thoughts about Biden/Harris and will either sit it out or look for Kanye or someone else to register a vote of protest. No. It will will not help your cause. You’re either part of the problem or part of the solution, so suck it up and vote this piece of garbage out of office. Here’s how to register or check to see if you already are: CLICK HERE!

A Daily Broadside From 9/11/20

Sunrise Between Twin Towers, World Trade Center, New York City, NY,designed by Minoru Yamasaki, International Style

Here in NYC today the local TV stations have, as they do every year on this date, suspended programming and are broadcasting the reading of the names of all who perished on 9/11. It’s usually done live, but this year the audio track was prerecorded. There’s another tragedy playing out this year in the form of a virus that has changed up the day’s usual memorial ceremonies. Nevertheless, it is a solemn day here as the memories of that horror come flooding back. And the loss of human life beyond that day have continued, as thousands of first responders have developed ravaging diseases that have left a long train of continuous pain, suffering and death.

You might think the country would take care of the men and women who put their lives on the line not only on that day but in the months that followed to search for survivors and clean the pile of rubble left in the wake. Yet the Victims Compensation Fund has always been a thorn in the side of Republicans and three times they’ve tried to eliminate it. Imagine. They have expressed concern over their fiscal responsibility and the cost. Famously, just last year Senators Rand Paul and Mike Lee blocked the latest funding extension.

Luis Alvarez, a first responder, came to Congress to plead for help. “I will not stand by and watch as my friends with cancer from 9/11 like me are valued less than anyone else because of when they get sick. You made me come here the day before my 69th round of chemo. I’m going to make sure that you never forget to take care of the 9/11 responders.” Three weeks later he died, at age 53. The Senate ultimately passed the bill, that now guarantees funding through 2092.

On this date it is often pointed out as a point in time in our nation’s history when we all united together in our anger, rage and mourning. And It did seem like that for a month or two, but eventually the fractures in that myth rose back to the surface. And nineteen years later the country should collectively look at itself in the mirror today and recall that moment of unity, when for a brief time we each came together in our loss. It will likely never repeat itself. Some believe that the wars that began soon after 9/11 and still continue today were payback, yet I think most of us now know that it was built on a lie, as most wars are.

What 9/11 has left us with is a nation in pieces, torn apart by political divisiveness, racial injustice, corruption of power, an inequality of wealth and a pandemic that has traded the lives of almost 200,000 people for the benefit of an autocrat and his disciples. I’m sure you’ve seen pictures or cartoons of a man with a sandwich sign board over his shoulders that reads “the end is near”. Most of us take that as being humorous, but here on 9/11/2020 it is closer to the truth than ever before. I’ll leave it at that

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post Easy Ed’s American Roots Music Broadside: September 2020 appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Photo by Arifur Rahman Tushar via Pixabay

All good things must end, and after a dozen years as a contributor to No Depression, the Journal of Roots Music’s website, I decided to step back from the grind of the weekly deadline. Rather than just fade off into the sunset, I wanted to thank those who have followed me through the years, reminisce a bit, tell you what my plans are and how to keep up with my ramblin’ thoughts and writing. Easy Ed’s Broadside is now right here, at therealeasyed.com.

In the winter of 1993 I traveled from Los Angeles to Tahiti and for the trip I jammed a couple dozen CDs into my backpack along with my Sony Discman. It’s hard to recall everything I was listening to back then, but there are two albums that remain stuck in my memories because I played them over and over: The Breeders’ Last Splash and Uncle Tupelo’s Anodyne. While some might think they were worlds apart in tone and texture, I felt the connection. It was no different from the days when I was making mixtapes; dropping in Al Jolson or Dean Martin tunes along with the Fabulous Baggys, Lefty Frizzell, and Gong. Or listening to the Burritos while lighting up that first joint, and moving on to early Gil Scott-Heron on Flying Dutchman for the second one. Music was always just music. Genres were how you promoted it to radio stations and marketed it with little plastic signs at retail. Rock, jazz, country, folk, blues, soul, oldies, vocals, easy listening, classical, whatever.

A few years later I was at a record store somewhere in America waiting to take the manager out to lunch, and I wandered over to the long magazine rack against the back wall. Moving from left to right I scanned the covers as if they were candy bar wrappers at a movie theater concession stand, and when I got to the section where the music rags were displayed, I picked up No Depression. The tagline under the title wasn’t what longtime readers may recall, because it changed from issue to issue. This one said: “We Could Always Call It The Alternative Country Bimonthly.” The paper they used felt different than other magazines, the graphics reminded me of Crawdaddy, and it kicked off with a column by Grant Alden called “Hello, Stranger” and ended with “Screen Door” by Peter Blackstock. One guy lived in Nashville, the other in Seattle. Kyla Fairchild handled advertising and distribution, and their email address was “nodepress” at America Online.

I was a maniacal reader, going from front to back, back to front, reading every word, studying every ad. And there were lots of those. I’d been working in indie distribution for over 25 years at that point and somehow Kyla discovered labels that nobody ever heard of. Outside of the occasional full- or half-page major record label ad, and Miles of Music, a pre-Amazon mail order record company, there were dozens of quarter-page ads from new acts I’d never heard of, and they were DIY to the max. Since No Depression came out only every other month, each issue was on the table next to my bed for two months and I never got tired of reading the same stories over and over again. It helped to open me up to greater exploration and home in on discovering my passion for American roots music.

Skipping over a dozen years, give or take, technology eventually steamrolled the paradigm and record companies no longer needed, nor could afford, print advertising. If you’re reading this column today, it’s because No Depression stopped the presses, shifted to the internet, made adjustments, changed out people, changed out ownership, and eventually became part of a larger nonprofit organization that has a multiple tentacles, like a baby octopus. And although it’s not even close to being what it started out as, it nevertheless will be celebrating 25 years of survival and growth.

My career in the music industry peaked as vice president of sales at a small indie label and it coincided with the end of No Depression as we had known it. Living in California at the time, I began to actively comment and post stories to the new website. Most were not that good and were completely unedited. Peter had left for Austin, Kyla was paying the bills and scrambling for ads in Seattle, and Grant hung around and tried his hand at writing in a different medium, where people give you instant feedback and draw you into conversations. He wrote some amazing articles back then, before going off and doing full-time chicken farming or something like that, and becoming a bookstore owner in Kentucky.

Easy Ed is a pen name I have been using for 50 years. In high school I started my own alternative monthly printed on a mimeograph machine, and in college I was the senior editor and columnist for the school newspaper as well as a musician in a band that played psychedelic country rock at events including the Communist Workers’ May Day celebration. Throw in the stories I wrote about Nixon, Vietnam, and hints on where to get high on campus, and it all earned me a wiretap on my parents’ phone, surveillance by guys in black suits, and somewhere in Washington today there is probably a microfiche file stored inside a dusty box about a Jewish kid from the white suburbs of Philadelphia who was dangerous only to himself.

Kim Ruehl worked with Kyla to re-form No Depression into a community website that anyone could post stories to. And there were comment sections, from which many online communities were organically created, with threads that were often dozens of pages longer than the stories that started them out. For several years, it was a helluva lot of fun if you were a music freak who was seeking out like-minded people. Almost everybody had been original magazine subscribers in the beginning, and it was an early experiment in social media that was not financially sustainable. Kyla sold it, Kim did the day-to-day, some new folks joined management, people left, people came, the site was redesigned once, and redesigned twice.

I’d like to think that over time my writing got a little better or at least more interesting to read, and eventually I became a featured contributor, an occasional social media moderator, and for the past five or six years a weekly columnist who actually gets paid for what I do. I came up with “Easy Ed’s Broadside,” using the name of a small defunct magazine that printed lyrics from writers and folkies such as Dylan, Ochs, Rush, Paxton, Seeger, Guthrie, Reynolds, and so many others. It was named out of respect to the founders, Sis Cunningham and her husband, Gordon Friessen, and their daughters, who helped them put it together. A joint autobiography, Red Dust and Broadsides, is out of print but you can track it down. If you’re interested in the history of American folk music, protest, and change, it is essential reading.

Several years ago, soon after the website dropped the comments feature, I started up a Facebook page for lost and lonely No Depression folks who still wanted to continue connecting and conversing. I played around with the format, and realized I enjoyed aggregating music stories and features from all over the web and curating music videos. I also created my own website as a companion, along with a Flipboard e-magazine, and it’s all just a non-commercial home for musical beings. It’s simply a hobby, yet a rewarding one I will continue.

And so that brings us up to today.

If you’ve been following me over the years, you know I stand to the left of center. Having to live these past three years under a mentally ill autocrat, racist, womanizer, and pathological liar who is set on destroying American democracy and the rule of law is a bitter pill to swallow every day. Now in the midst of social awakening and a deadly pandemic running through our country with no leadership or resources, no empathy or care, I’ve had enough. And so I’m stepping down from my weekly column to put more of my efforts toward a better tomorrow. I’ve got a vote and a voice, and I need to use them.

It’s become hard to watch musicians and their support systems lose their livelihoods, with no way back at this point. I still plan to stay in that game and help where and when I can, but the weekly grind of creating a palatable word salad that offers nourishment is wearing thin and needs to be put aside. Y’all know where to find me — all of my columns here feature my various points of contact — so please feel free to reach out.

I have loved working for No Depression over the years and congratulate the current team on keeping it alive for a quarter century. Stacy Chandler has been a most outstanding keeper of the website, who has challenged me to reach higher, and kindly has proofed and edited my columns each week. And I thank her for her friendship as well. And also Kim Ruehl, who I credit with encouraging me to do what I do, whatever that is. Finally, I am most grateful to Grant Alden, Peter Blackstock, and Kyla Fairchild for their vision and working long and hard days to publish an amazing magazine, which I keep next to my desk. Thank you all for making my life brighter. No Depression has inspired and supported an incredible musical ecosystem that one day will come roaring back. I can’t wait for live music again!

Peace be with you, over and out.

This was originally posted as an Easy Ed’s Broadside at No Depression: Journal of Roots Music’s website. 

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post No Depression at 25: A Time to Come, A Time to Go appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

CHUM Radio Hit Parade

It’s August 2020 and when I first pulled together this massive list it was about forty days ago. A lot has happened since then. The pandemic has simply gone away, nobody is wearing masks anymore, kids are going back to school safely, live music is back again and nobody is dying. Oops…sorry. That was a cut and paste from the Trump campaign’s Twitter account. The reality is that things still are very scary, people are dying every day, it’s too soon to know about school resuming and live music has not only completely stopped, but we’ve come to experience that live streaming is not as warm and cuddly as we thought it could be. 

Other life changing events that have impacted this list include Taylor Swift’s musical adulthood and the beautifully written and produced “folklore”, Gillian and Dave have begun to release all sorts of recordings that were almost lost in the tornado, Lori Mckenna’s album is an absolute contender for top ten, Joan Shelley and Bruce Springsteen both released live albums that are stripped down and delicious. And there’s a bunch of other new things recently released, but I’ll save those for the next time. 

I rarely rank titles, but in a moment of weakness the first ten here are (or were) my favorites of 2020, back in June. It might not have changed all that much, but in the end, who cares? I’m sharing this to help with your own musical exploration, not tout my own. I’m just a guy who has time on his hands to dig through the virtual wooden crates of albums and this is all stuff I’ve found and like. Maybe you will too.

Nathan Rateliff – And It’s Still Alright
Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit – Reunions
Logan Ledger – Logan Ledger
Bonnie Light Horsemen – Bonnie Light Horsemen
William Prince – Reliever
J.S Ondara – Folk n’ Roll Vol.1: Tales of Isolation
Tre Burt – Caught It By The Rye
Gil Landry – Skeleton At The Banquet
Eliza Gilkyson – 2020
Bonnie “Prince” Billy – I Need A Place

In absolutely no order whatsoever, neither alphabetically nor by release date because that was way too hard to do, here’s the rest of recent stuff I dig. And this is obviously not all that I listen to. I spend about half the day with these,  and the rest of the time I listen to a lot of older material. For example, lately I’m enchanted by Hawaiian slack key guitar, and jazz from 1940 to 1960. But those aren’t listed here. That’s another column or two. You are getting pure 100% Americana…whatever that is. I think.

Drive-By Truckers -The Unraveling
Jen Starsinic -Bad Actor EP
David Mayfield – Boy Howdy!
Nora Jane Struthers – Bright Lights, Long Drives, First Words
Sierra Hull -25 Trips
Love Me In The Dark -Love Me In The Dark
Buck Curran – No Love Is Sorrow
Honey Harper – Starmaker
The Mastersons – No Time For Love Songs
Brandy Clark – Your Life Is A Record
Steve Earle – Ghosts of West Virginia
The Mammals – Nonet
John Moreland – LP5

The Deep Dark Woods – Broadside Ballads Vol. 2 EP
Mark Mandeville & Raianne Richards – Road May Rise
Ray Remington – Texas Rose EP
Joe Edwards – Keep On Running
Teddy Thompson – Heartbreaker Please
Sarah Jarosz – World On The Ground
Mapache – From Liberty Street
The Secret Sisters – Saturn Return
Rose Cousins – Bravado

Jake Blount -Spider Tales
Tessy Lou Williams – Tessy Lou Williams
Jason Wilbur – Time Traveler
Phoebe Bridgers – Punisher
Neil Young – Homegrown
Bob Dylan – Rough and Rowdy Ways
Jonathon Wilson – Dixie Blur

The Hanging Stars – A New Kind Of Sky
Mark Erelli – Blindsided
Fairport Convention -Shuffle and Go
Dave Simonett – Red Tail
Jim Lauderdale – When Carolina Comes Home Again
Watkins Family Hour -Brother Sister
Clem Snide – Forever Just Beyond
Lilly Hiatt – Walking Proof
Swamp Dogg – Sorry You Couldn’t Make It

Waxahatchee – Saint Cloud
James Elkington – Ever-Roving Eye
100 Mile House – Love and Leave Me
Laura Marling – Song For Our Daughter
Laurie Lewis -And Laurie Lewis
Western Centuries – Call The Captain
Lucinda Williams – Good Souls Better Angels
Chatham County Line – Strange Fascination
The Lowest Pair – The Perfect Plan
Joe Ely – Love In The Midst of Mayham
Mr. Alec Bowman – I Used To Be Sad & Then I Forgot

Steve Forbert – Early Morning Rain
Damien Jurado – What’s New, Tomboy?
Gretchen Peters – The Night You Wrote That Song: The Songs Of Mickey Newberry
Krista Detor – Chocolate Paper Suites
Emily Duff – Born On The Ground
Pharis and Jason Romero – Bet On Love
Caleb Caudle – Better Hurry Up

Terry Allen & The Panhandle Mystery Band – Just Like Moby Disc
The Haden Triplets – The Family Songbook
Marcus King -Eldorado
Dayna Kurtz & Mamie Minch – For The Love of Hazel: Songs For Hazel Dickens EP
Charles Wesley Godwin – Seneca
V/A – Strut My Stuff: Obscure Country & Hillbilly Rockers
Vera van Heeringen – Won’t Be Broken
Norma MacDonald – Old Future
Zach Aaron – Fill Dirt Wanted

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post Beyond The Top 10: Americana and Roots Music appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Illustration/ Pixabay License

I’m not sure where it’s hiding at the moment, but there’s an elephant in the room where I do most of my writing, as well as the day job, snacking, sleeping, music making and listening. Please note that I purposely avoided using any gender pronouns, as we’ve not yet had that conversation.

There are three guitars each tuned differently resting on their stands, a dulcimer, banjo, five harps in various keys, lots of capos, and a couple of high-priced speakers that I stream my music through. I’m using a MacBook Pro 13-inch at the moment, which sits next to an iMac 27-inch desktop, and somewhere on the floor is an iPad on which I might one day record one of the greatest albums of music ever written. Or not. Got an iPhone sitting on a wireless charger, about a dozen books are scattered about, almost every issue of the original No Depression magazine (from when it was published by Peter, Grant and Kyla) which are neatly stacked in a wooden crate on the floor, and I’m staring at a large brown plastic bottle of Xanax.

When you write a music column each week it really helps to be passionate about your subject matter, or at the very least appear mildly curious to your readers. But since the Great New York Lockdown of 2020 began on March 12, I am struggling month after month with the elephant in the room to remain focused on music. And while I’m averaging 10 hours a day of listening, and exploring a wide range of new, old, lost, and found songs, my random crazy thoughts are beginning to take over. I don’t know if this will make it into the column on not, but maybe if I make a list of some of the stuff in my head it’ll be helpful, like therapy. As it’ll be totally random, don’t try to put too much thought into it.

For the past six weeks I’ve been working with my attorneys on my will, and writing letters to my kids about how much I love them and what they will need to do when I pass. I have converted the small amount of stock I own into cash just in case the banks fail, and I’m attempting to learn at least one Hawaiian slack-key song in taro patch tuning from beginning to end. I also watch quite a lot of Scandinavian crime dramas and wonder if there will be enough time left to view at least four or five Frederick Wiseman documentaries. Each one usually runs three to four hours. Doing stuff like that is good and keeps you busy, right?

If one day in the future somebody finds this article in some digital trashcan, please make note that this was written during the week when the total number of Americans who died from COVID-19 passed 150,000, and it was absolutely and totally avoidable. Our country went to hell in a handbasket when millions of y’all thought it made perfect sense to put a psychopath with a personality disorder and learning disability in charge of making decisions on your behalf. Reap what ye sow.

It seems to me that many professional musicians and other performers, including athletes, will need to find new jobs and learn new skillsets. Especially if you’re older, I doubt you’ll soon be able to safely go back to playing in front of an audience. How’s that Cayamo cruise sound to you right about now if you’re over 65, with a touch of emphysema from smoking too much weed and tobacco back in the day? I’m not making light of it, as it’s a tragic situation we find ourselves in, and I know so many people who earn a living playing, presenting, marketing, selling, and recording. Thinking of their pain and anguish is consuming. And hell, it ain’t just the arts, it’s our entire civilization.

Maybe this isn’t quite a top five problem, but a lot of people I talk to complain about not getting enough sleep and exercise. And if they have kids, they’re worrying that sending them back to school may not be a smart idea. Then there’s this mask vs. no mask tug-of-war between the sane folks and the crazy-as-a-loon Republicans and Libertarians who see absolutely no harm to society by strapping on a hand gun and slinging a semi-automatic rifle on their backs when they need to run down to Walmart and pick up some of that hydroxychloroquine. You people actually believe a guy whose top medical expert is a woman who has often claimed that gynecological problems like cysts and endometriosis are in fact caused by people having sex in their dreams with demons and witches? She also has said that the government is run in part not by humans, but by “reptilians” and other aliens, according to The Daily Beast. She might be right about that last part. This should clear up any questions about why I keep on hand the previously mentioned large brown bottle of Xanax.

On March 8 of this year, I took my last train and subway ride into Manhattan to see Coal Country. A play by Jessica Blank and Erik Jensen, with original music written and performed by Steve Earle, it’s the story of the 2010 Upper Big Branch mine explosion in West Virginia that killed 29 men and tore a hole in the lives of countless others. It’s probably one of the finest and moving theater performances I’ve seen, and within a few days it closed up and Earle and his youngest son left town for his house in Nashville. I didn’t know until this week that this project took four years to write, produce, and get onstage. And unless something happens, fewer than 1,500 people in the whole world will have had the chance to hear and see And that is a tragedy about a play about a tragedy.

I think this is a good place to stop. You probably have got the gist of it, that my mind is running around in circles and I need to take a vacation. I’m too late for heading to Florida’s beaches, I suppose, and I hear they are cracking down on boat parties on the Lake of the Ozarks. I really can’t fly anywhere, and buses, taxis, Uber, subways, and trains are all out of the question. Checked on some nice local bed and breakfasts up in the Catskills, but I can’t find any that will let me bring my elephant.

So I’ve decided that I’m just going to chill a bit for the rest of this long hot summer, until I get this pachyderm out of here. In closing, I’d like to leave you with a couple of musical thoughts, tips, and tricks. Ready?

I love Taylor Swift’s new album, recommend you check out what Larry Campbell and Teresa Williams are doing on their Facebook page, I want you to listen to the latest album by Tessy Lou Williams (no relation to Teresa) and agree with me that it’s the best country album of the year, make sure you are registered to vote and request an absentee ballot, skip getting tear gassed by the leader’s secret army, and please consider a donation to the Equal Justice Initiative. Stay safe!

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

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here and at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post Help! There’s An Elephant In My Music Room! appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Used With Pixabay License

Y’all remember the Black Death? It was also known as the Plague and the Pestilence, and that particular pandemic peaked between 1347 and 1352, killing anywhere between 75 million and 200 million people. Not having the scientific tools that we have today, there were no means for coming up with an accurate number of those who caught it and passed away, but the US Census Bureau maintains an historical estimate of the world population over the centuries based on various sources, and in that time period, which also includes the Great Famine, it appears that the population dipped from 475 million to 350 million people in just one hundred years.

As pandemics go — and please don’t take this the wrong way or consider me insensitive — our COVID-19 is a cakewalk compared to what those poor souls went through. Italian poet Giovanni Boccaccio wrote, “At the beginning of the malady, certain swellings, either on the groin or under the armpits … waxed to the bigness of a common apple, others to the size of an egg, some more and some less, and these the vulgar named plague-boils.” According to The History Channel, “Blood and pus seeped out of these strange swellings, which were followed by a host of other unpleasant symptoms — fever, chills, vomiting, diarrhea, terrible aches and pains — and then, in short order, death.” As neither Clorox injections nor tanning beds had yet to be invented then, physicians used bloodletting, boil-lancing, superstitious practices such as burning aromatic herbs, and bathing in rosewater or vinegar to treat their patients.

That lovely piece was written by the French poet and composer Guillaume de Machaut, who went into isolation during the plague and began experimenting with new sounds and rhythms.

While clearly affected by what was happening in the world around him, he refused to let the Black Death seep into his work. “Music is a science which asks that one laugh, and sing, and dance. It does not care for melancholy, nor for the man who is melancholy.” I read that quote in an article from The Guardian, which speaks of music surviving for 2,700 years through all sorts of catastrophic events. Dr. Chris Macklin, a former professor of musicology at Mercer University and an authority on plague music — yes there is such a term — has written “Music was not a luxury in times of epidemic uncertainty — it was a necessity.”

As we fast forward to 2020, an entire community of musicians and those who support them must feel as if they are in free fall. As social media is bursting at the seams with home-based concerts and larger platform streaming, and with new music continuing to be released with no option to tour, sell, and earn a return on investment, let alone a profit to pay for basic needs, it’s no wonder we see daily headlines of doom and gloom. But is there something on the other side, something that when we do come out of this is even better than what we had before?

English singer-songwriter Laura Marling’s latest album, Song for Our Daughter, had been scheduled for release next August. Changing course and with only a week’s notice, she decided to release it immediately. “In light of the change to all our circumstances, I saw no reason to hold back on something that, at the very least, might entertain, and at its best, provide some sense of union. … An album, stripped of everything that modernity and ownership does to it, is essentially a piece of me, and I’d like for you to have it.”

During her time in isolation, Marling has been very active on her social media account. Not only does she perform songs from home, but her guitar lessons are exceptional. As someone who has been playing for many decades, I am surprised that I never explored DADDAD tuning, and it’s allowed me to pass hours lost in my own creativity. Instead of sitting on the sidelines, Marling announced the first major geo-blocked concert of this year and sold it out within days. Ticket holders will watch the show via YouTube, using a private link they’re receive just before showtime. According to a Variety writeup, a small number of staff and crew will help produce the show. Out of despair, comes opportunity.

For more thoughts on that, look no further than right here at No Depression, with musician and The Long Haul columnist Rachel Baiman’s latest piece, titled “Stepping Back, Taking Stock.” I think it’s a must read for any touring musician who may be pondering a path forward. Her words really struck me, and I shall leave you by sharing her final paragraph.

“I heard once that an interruption of routine is the best path to innovation, and never have I felt that to be the case more than now. Touring being canceled for the foreseeable future may just be the tipping point we musicians need when it comes to realizing how much we’ve been cheating ourselves financially this past decade. I still love live performance above all, and I will be thrilled when I can hit the road again. But I’m going to make sure I do it on my terms this time — when and how I want to, and in a safe and sane way.”

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

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, herealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post Musical Possibilities and Innovations appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Photo from Larkin Poe Instagram

Sometime during my first week of our pandemic lockdown I was mindlessly surfing through Facebook, as one does, when I came across two women playing and singing in a casual setting with minimal production value but pretty good audio quality. Larkin Poe. Name sounded familiar, but I don’t think I’d ever heard them play before. They were doing this cover version of a ZZ Top song that I’ve never really liked, so I moved on. Thirty seconds later I went back to watch them finish it. And then I watched it again.

Since March 12, I have listened to what seems like several thousand hours of music; watched Scandinavian television shows; sampled films from South Korea; did the Tiger King boogie in one sitting; started, stopped, and started again to binge Ozark; read three different books simultaneously; and have tried hard to play guitar at least an hour a day. I’ve risked my life for a dozen bagels and a bag of Oreos. Stood in line for over an hour to buy a dozen bottles of sparkling water and a carton of almond milk that did not feature the faces of any missing children on the side. Once, I repeatedly refreshed the Costco app on my iPhone over a 36-hour period without any sleep until it finally allowed me order a case of Bounty paper towels, which I patiently waited four weeks to receive. I’ve bought two black handmade face masks from a woman in Latvia named Veronika who posted them on Etsy, and she has sworn to me that they were sent to me over a month ago. And I believe her.

Have you ever heard of a band called Severe Tire Damage? Me neither. On June 24, 1993, they were the first band to perform live on the internet, beating out The Rolling Stones by a year. In 1995, RealNetworks streamed the first baseball game: the New York Yankees versus the Seattle Mariners. And in 1998 Dale Ficken and Lorrie Scarangella stood in a Pennsylvania church as the Rev. Jerry Falwell sat in his office in Lynchburg, Virginia, and officiated their wedding over the web. It wasn’t until 10 years later that YouTube hosted its first livestream and opened up a new media format for live music, sporting events, original programming, gaming, pornography, and things we’ve never imagined and are still evolving.

Two months after watching that first Larkin Poe livestream, which has since been viewed over one million times on Facebook, I am still enchanted by this sister duo. I’ve watched Megan Lovell play a duet with her musician husband, and watched her DIY slide guitar lessons. I have seen Rebecca Lovell’s kitchen and grabbed my guitar while she taught us a blues riff from one of their new songs. I’ve heard them cover Black Sabbath and sing a Bill Withers song when he passed, and they’ve talked about their new album, Self Made Man, that comes out June 12 and the worldwide tour that was planned and is obviously in pause mode.

It was only when I followed the trail to Larkin Poe’s Wikipedia page that I realized I had once known them as The Lovell Sisters, an acoustic roots band from Georgia that included their older sister Jessica, who performed together from 2005 through late 2009. I’d heard them on Prairie Home Companion and there’s a hard drive in my apartment that I’m pretty sure contains their two albums. As teenagers they were road warriors, touring in a minivan and playing up to 200 dates a year. When Jessica left the band, the other two formed Larkin Poe in 2010 and their music has since evolved into a hard-charging Southern blues, rock, and roots orientation.

Rebecca and Megan released several projects on their own and played as backing musicians on a number of tours with Elvis Costello, Conor Oberst, Keith Urban, Kristian Bush of Sugarland, and others. They were tapped by T Bone Burnett as players in the band for Lost On The River: The New Basement Tapes in 2014 and made their debut at the Glastonbury Festival that summer. Their fourth album, Venom & Faith, reached number one on the Billboard Blues Chart in November 2018 and received a Grammy nomination for Best Contemporary Blues Album.

Each of the Larkin Poe videos above were originally streamed on Facebook and Instagram during the lockdown. Both sisters are social media savvy, and for years have built a loyal following around the world by letting their individual personalities shine through the screen and interacting in a very natural way. They have certainly brightened my two months at home, and it feels like I’ve made two new friends who have broken the fourth wall.

Now living in Nashville, the sisters say this is the longest period in 15 years that they have not been on the road. And it comes at a particularly important time in their career, with Self Made Man scheduled for release next month. If you head over to their website, you’ll find links to the weekly livestream concerts they’ll be doing in May and June, along with tour dates – fingers crossed – that follow.

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

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post Larkin Poe and Other Online Finds (But Mostly Larkin Poe) appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Photo from Pixabay

In my biography that I posted on my website many years ago, there is one white lie. While it is indeed true that I live in the Lower Hudson Valley of New York, I do not have an apple orchard that I tend to. In fact, I live in a 70-year-old apartment building and despite my living space lacking any flora or fauna, there are several large windows that overlook dozens of beautiful tall trees that run along the train tracks across the street.

On days when I’m not at work or out and about, I can see and hear the trains that normally carry thousands of people each day into Manhattan, a mere 29 minutes away if you catch the express. The station is a five-minute walk into our village, which has the distinction of being classified as the “richest town on the East Coast” according to Bloomberg’s 2020 list. Neither my fellow neighbors nor I were included or calculated into that statistic, as we live two blocks outside the official boundary.

The 80 apartment units in my building are occupied by the elderly, several young families, those who are divorced or widowed, and working stiffs trying to keep our heads above water. The wonderful labyrinth of New York rent control laws has allowed many of my neighbors a roof over their heads for 20 years or more, paying far below market value in comparison to others in this area. I moved here almost eight years ago from California, and while I know several of my neighbors by name and we say hello in the lobby, parking garage, or as we pass each other in the halls, there is also a certain detachment that exists. For example, I do not know nor would I recognize the people who live in the apartment above me.

They moved in a year ago, and judging only by sound and schedule, I would guess the occupants to be an adult male and female, with a child I would place in middle school. He or she is a musician, occasionally playing improvisational pieces on an electric keyboard in the living room. Sometime after last Thanksgiving, this person also began practicing the French horn in the bedroom above mine. The same song every night for at least one hour.

It was the Lee Mendelson and Vince Guaraldi tune from A Charlie Brown Christmas holiday special, a show and song I never grow weary of. For a month, as he or she played it over and over, it got better and better. I imagine it was for a school program or concert, as I have not heard it since. And there are times I miss it.

A month into the COVID-19 lockdown, the French horn was replaced by a tuba. As the schools have been closed since March, I’ve not been able to sort out in my mind how a new instrument has made its way into the hands of this young person, let alone the time or space for learning how to play it.

Could it be a once-played instrument that has been resurrected in these troubled times out of boredom or passion? Are there online lessons they may be taking? And although I imagine there is a particular song they practice, the tuba is like a bass guitar. No melody per se, but progressive notes working lockstep with percussion to create the tempo and rhythm. Unless you are Oren Marshall.

I have enjoyed the mystery of whomever is the source, and have zero interest in walking up a flight of stairs, knocking on a door, introducing myself, and inquiring. While I know some might find it annoying and would be banging on the ceiling for them to stop, I have come to look forward to hearing the tuba sessions each day. As someone who is surrounded at this moment by a mandolin, banjo, lap steel, mountain dulcimer, six guitars, and a box full of harps in various keys, and who tries to play for at least an hour each day, I hold in high esteem anyone who chooses to play, practice, or rehearse music.

This week will mark two months of lockdown for me, and like many of you I am missing the concerts and gatherings, the sidewalk buskers, and the chance encounters of incredible talent one finds underground at Manhattan subway stations. I can watch livestreams for hours, yet I find them flat and cold, despite emanating from the warmth of someone’s home. I’ve come to appreciate the dynamic that distance creates between audience and performer in the concert environment, and am fearful I may never experience it again.

For now, I will focus on my own playing and enjoy the once-in-a-lifetime tuba extravaganza each evening, live from the apartment upstairs. I shall leave you with two things: a quote by the late Sir Terry Pratchett, the English humorist, satirist, and author, and a song called “Cakewalk Into Town” by the great Taj Mahal. Stay safe, y’all.

“And the people next door oppress me all night long. I tell them, I work all day, a man’s got to have some time to learn to play the tuba. That’s oppression, that is. If I’m not under the heel of the oppressor, I don’t know who is.”

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

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post A Tuba Player Lives Upstairs appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Photo by Pixabay

An occasional series of Americana and roots music videos. Sharing new discoveries, and occasionally revisiting old friends.

I was planning on sleeping in late today since I had the day off. I’ve been telecommuting these past few weeks, which has been keeping me busy and in touch with people beyond my four walls. Between my workmates scattered throughout the country and Canada, as well as my social media friends and connections, I’ve been lucky to remain in almost constant contact via chat, phone, and online conferencing, which certainly helps tamp down feelings of loneliness during these strange times. It’s also given me time to reconnect with folks I haven’t been in touch with for decades, and I appreciate those moments of sharing memories and catching up.

It’s been almost two weeks since I last went out to my local market, and with nothing else to do this early in the morning, and the fact that we older folks have an hour to shop before the rest of y’all can come in, I gloved up, put on my mask, and grabbed the illegible list left on the kitchen counter by my son. Do you know why most 20-somethings can’t spell or write on paper with a pen or pencil? They grew up with autocorrect and keyboards. I don’t really believe that, but doesn’t it sound like something a grumpy old man would say?

Ain’t gonna bore you with the details, but when I arrived at the store there was a line a quarter-mile long because the seniors think that six feet of social distancing really means 15. But things moved fast, and within an hour I was on my way home with $200 worth of stuff in the trunk of my car. I was even able to grab a half-dozen rolls of toilet paper, which I considered for a moment putting on eBay as soon as I got home and selling ’em for $100.

The biggest benefit to working at home, other than not having to get dressed or take a shower every day, is that I’ve been able to listen to my tunes through speakers rather than headphones or earbuds. It’s something I no longer do very often with the exception of when I’m driving, and as the days have passed I have substantially increased my consumption. I’ve also been monitoring a lot of the livestreams that people have been doing, and while that’s not as much fun as a concert, I like to look beyond the players and check out their furnishings and see how they live. Brings out those voyeuristic tendencies, I suppose.

So let me shut up now and share some music. Plenty of new albums have been released in preparation for a summer festival season that has now faded into unlikelihood, so marketing plans and the ability to get the word out is making tough times tougher. And of course I’ve found a few older videos you might enjoy seeing. I’m gonna link to each artist’s website and let the music play. Take care and stay safe.

Laurie Lewis – And Laurie Lewis

An album of duets from the queen of West Coast bluegrass. A champion fiddler who also sings, writes, and plays guitar and other string instruments, Lewis has been releasing albums since the mid-’80s. She has appeared on the Grand Ole Opry and Prairie Home Companion, and her discography is a gold mine. Here’s one with Leah Wollenberg from the new album that they performed last November.

Laura Marling – Song for Our Daughter

Originally planned for a late summer release, Marling actually pushed this forward to April. Her summer tours were suddenly canceled, and speaking on NPR she said, “I suddenly realized that not only was I going to miss performing, but I was also going to miss that opportunity to connect with people in that way, and I hadn’t anticipated feeling like that. I felt like the only thing I could offer was the album.” This is a complete Tiny Desk Home Concert from her living room.

Logan Ledger – Logan Ledger

With T Bone Burnett producing and playing guitar on half the tracks, as well as a stellar band that played on the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss Rising Sand collaboration backing him up, this is a steaming hot debut. I give Ledger all the credit for making this album sizzle, with an amazing vocal range and style.

Buck Curran – No Love Is Sorrow

Formerly of the duo Arborea, this is Curran’s third solo album, and this video was filmed and edited by his daughter Shylah. Currently living in Bergamo, Italy, Curran is a luthier, guitarist, singer, songwriter, and producer who has opened my ears up over the years to what one may call “cult-Americana.” This album takes me back to the later-’60s folk era, reminding me of Pearls Before Swine, Tom Rush, Tim Hardin, and the balladry of Marty Balin.

Eliza Gilkyson – 2020

This is a beautiful new recording featuring a great band of musicians from Austin, where Gilkyson resides. Her website describes the album much better than I could:

“A blend of new and old, reflecting the protests and activism that have defined her generation, including her interpretation of some folk favorites by Bob Dylan, ‘A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall,’ and Pete Seeger’s ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone.’ Eliza also adapted a new song, ‘Beach Haven,’ from a letter written by Woody Guthrie in 1952 to Fred Trump, who at the time was his landlord, regarding his segregationist renter policies. Ever the optimist, Woody pleaded to Trump to ‘open your doors’ and ‘rip out the strangling red tape’ that kept the apartment from embracing all races.”

Mark Erelli – Blindsided 

I can’t imagine a more appropriate title for an album released during these times. Over two years in the making, and with a full tour lined up and ready to go, veteran folksinger Erelli turned it up a notch on this project and then got kicked in the gut. I think I have over a dozen albums of his and various side projects, but this one is really special. From his blog:

“Though the reviews have been fantastic, it’s been a very confusing time for life in general, never mind for self-promotion. An album’s release pales in comparison to the real challenges ahead. And yet Blindsided is the culmination of over two years’ hard work, my own and others’, and I will continue to look for appropriate ways to honor this. If you’d like to contribute, the best thing you can do is to buy this record, listen, and encourage others to do the same.

In this challenging time, aside from following public health guidelines and keeping my family safe, it’s difficult to know what to do. Honestly, supporting my wife (who works in health care) and maintaining structure and a sense of normalcy for my boys keeps my plate pretty full. But as Rosanne Cash put it, ‘artists are the premiere service industry for the heart and soul,’ and I’d like to do my part.

So, what do you need? More goofy Instagram story songs? A YouTube Live fan Q&A? Online concerts? Is there a way I could be of service to you right now? How can I help?”

Imagine, he’s asking how he can help us. Here’s three songs from the new album and something he posted to help first responders in his home state, Massachusetts.

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

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post New Americana and Roots Music: RPM 9 appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Photo by Carol Highsmith/Library of Congress

The old Trace movie theater, refurbished (at least inside) into the Westside Theatre nightclub and meeting place in Port Gibson, Mississippi. The Trace burned twice, in 1948 and 1968 — the latter blaze putting it out of business for good. Abandoned theaters and concert halls, clubs left empty. The photo evoked thoughts of the future in the aftermath of the pandemic of 2020. 

It’s week number whatever here in New York and the social isolation experiment seems to be working. They say that thanks to our efforts, we’re flattening the curve. Unfortunately, the death count in this state sadly keeps hovering between seven or eight hundred poor souls each day, so I highly doubt that any friends or family of the departed are experiencing jubilation over this particular flattening episode. People are usually unable to say goodbye to their loved ones, but instead can see a daily video feed of the refrigeration trucks parked outside of hospitals holding the corpses or the mass burials on Hart’s Island.

I’m reminded of a recent Facebook post from a friend of mine that read:

January 1: It’s going to be a great year!!!
March 15: I wiped my butt this morning with a coffee filter.

Despite the spin from a certain somebody who is hawking an unproven COVID-19 miracle drug on his daily infomercial/campaign rally with the slogan of “What have you got to lose?” and receives his consultation from the guys who run wrestling and mixed martial arts extravaganzas, things aren’t looking too good. While some say we’re just days away from reopening the country for business, many government and public health officials are whistling a different tune. For example, this past week both the mayor of Los Angeles and the governor of California have indicated that mass gatherings, such as sporting events and music concerts, are likely not to start up again for at least a year. Let that sink in.

This past month has been a bonanza for livestream and online concerts, with most having no entry cost and a few that offer a virtual tip jar to leave a donation for the performers. I don’t know how that’s working out, but it’s likely not paying anyone’s bills. New albums, which are introduced along with plans for press, publicity, and tour dates, are still being released minus the exposure, support, and revenue. And we still haven’t figured out how the creative participants of the music industry can or will survive the streaming model, let alone with live performance opportunities now taken away.

I keep an eye on Chris Griffy’s biweekly ND column Crowdfunding Radar, and many of the recent projects he’s featured have been hitting their rather modest targets in a pre-COVID-19 world. But the question remains if it’s sustainable, and perhaps more important will be the public’s ability or appetite to commit to a monthly donation through a platform like Patreon. Given that we are on the edge of a full-blown depression, I must admit that I am not hopeful of this model.

Every few weeks I enjoy going to The Strand, one of the oldest and largest indie booksellers in the country. It’s three floors of incredible inventory and selection, and the last time I was there it was just a week before it closed down. It was oddly empty; the city’s fear was just beginning to take hold. The store, on the edge of Union Square and the NYU campus, is always bustling with people and now it stands shuttered. I wonder about its future in the same way that I think of record stores. These are tactile environments where we all touch, hold, and check out the product. I don’t think disinfectant wipes will work well on paper or cardboard.

Guess it might be a good time to offer my apology for wasting your time with all this doom and gloom. As is often the case when writing a weekly column, I try hard to seek out a topic of interest that may help expose new musical avenues for y’all to explore. That was my goal when I sat down and flipped open the Mac, but I’ve lost both my will and the way forward.

So here’s what I’m going to do. No Depression is a nonprofit entity and for my services, or lack thereof, I receive a small salary. (I’m reminded that ND’s co-founder Peter Blackstock once said that I was lucky to even be making a cent. Non-working music writers can be found for nearly a dime a dozen.) Anyway, when I get my check this month I’m going to drop it all into a few of those virtual tip jars, or perhaps support a project or two. It’s just a tiny drop in a big bucket, but I don’t know what else to do. I guess I’m helplessly hoping for better days ahead.

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

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here and at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post Music Without A Trace appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.

Uncredited photo from aftermusiic.blogspot.com

I had a recollection recently from when I was 12 or 13 years old. Some details, such as it being a cool night on a dark street in the Oxford Circle neighborhood of Philadelphia, are crisp, clear, and sharply in focus. Who accompanied me is unknown, although I believe it was either two or three other boys. I don’t know how or why we were miles from home, but I know who and what we were looking for.

Psychology Today describes memory as “the faculty by which the brain encodes, stores, and retrieves information. It is a record of experience for guiding future action.” They divide it into three types: sensory, short-term, and long-term, which is also known as episodic or semantic memory. They also note that “memory is notoriously untrustworthy,” and that “people can be easily persuaded to conjure false memories.”

On this particular night we were walking the streets looking for Lesley Gore’s house.

I don’t why we thought we were walking through Lesley’s neighborhood, because she lived in Tenafly, New Jersey, about 60 miles north. It was a rumor, I suspect, some sort of story in the pre-internet days that was likely manufactured and distorted before being passed around to young boys with nothing more to do than try to meet a pretty recording star. Although I don’t recall hearing it myself, I’ve read that disc jockeys often called her “the sweetie pie from Tenafly.” I wish I had known.

All week I’ve been thinking about Lesley Gore and figured that maybe there was a story there, and that I’d write about her. A young Jewish girl, born in Brooklyn, only 16 when she recorded “It’s My Party” with producer Quincy Jones and it reached number one on the charts. And then she followed it up with what’s known as an answer record.

When her boyfriend Johnny kissed Judy at her own party she was humiliated. But at the next party when she danced and kissed another boy, Johnny jumped up and hit him. Why? Because he was jealous and still loved her. Johnny came back to her, and now it was Judy’s turn to cry. This was serious subject matter in the early ’60s to young boys and girls. It had deep meaning of love, pain, and betrayal, and it stirred up strong emotions. People actually argued during lunch at school about whether or not she should have taken Johnny back.

The morning after John Prine died I woke up and laid in bed. I felt sad and scared. It could have easily been me. And still might be. And in a moment of absolute clarity I sat up and suddenly remembered something extremely important. It wasn’t Lesley Gore we were looking for that night. It was Diane Renay. Thanks, John.

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

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

The post My Search For Lesley Gore appeared first on The Real Easy Ed.