tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-210353532024-03-17T20:04:25.248-07:00Take Em As They ComeDanny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.comBlogger289125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-78120014614461150542024-02-26T12:33:00.000-08:002024-02-28T06:06:44.507-08:00What Really Matters: Folk Alliance 2024, Day 4<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gzPMnVi8YuGi_PQUJVp6WnHhhDmBMXwN6ECrjgZS0afw7PFnvtE8HBDMJNaKGjzzh_M-VEKlFLENg91Nc9AF8kUIyo_rLN5OgaJc-OCU0OeopeRw-3LAdZ52BmyEWXa_TmVrxRPu_wBbsg0un0Ywcz1VlbgKPdLGvpyv82hPazM7BbTaRtTI/s2908/Crys%20Matthews%20Sings%20Leadbelly.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2658" data-original-width="2908" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gzPMnVi8YuGi_PQUJVp6WnHhhDmBMXwN6ECrjgZS0afw7PFnvtE8HBDMJNaKGjzzh_M-VEKlFLENg91Nc9AF8kUIyo_rLN5OgaJc-OCU0OeopeRw-3LAdZ52BmyEWXa_TmVrxRPu_wBbsg0un0Ywcz1VlbgKPdLGvpyv82hPazM7BbTaRtTI/s320/Crys%20Matthews%20Sings%20Leadbelly.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crys Matthews Sings Lead Belly</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I first attended Folk Alliance International in Albuquerque,
New Mexico in 1998. Back then, I worked with the monthly newsletter, <i>Rock
& Rap Confidential</i>, and we published stories dealing with some aspect
of each Folk Alliance (at least two of these made it into the recent Dave Marsh
anthology, <i>Kick Out the Jams</i>, Simon & Shuster 2023). Since
2014, I’ve decided to blog about each Folk Alliance in my current home, Kansas
City.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This was that first post: <a href="https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2014_02_23_archive.html">https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2014_02_23_archive.html</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is a link to the Marsh book: <a href="https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Kick-Out-the-Jams/Dave-Marsh/9781982197162">https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Kick-Out-the-Jams/Dave-Marsh/9781982197162</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As this year’s conference moved toward its wondrous
Saturday night finish, I found myself thinking about why Folk Alliance International motivates my music writing. Though I sometimes
write about the artists through other media, the desire and freedom to do this reporting
the way I want to do it has kept my blog alive much longer than it would have
lasted otherwise.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">To risk the pretense of a poetic term, it’s such a wonderful exercise in synecdoche, what I try to do with this conference. I’m not at all trying to “cover”
it. I’m parsing the often blinding light of an iceberg’s tip to suggest the much
greater complexities under the surface. For me, that’s one piece of what
writing about music is all about. It's not so much "dancing about architecture" as exploring how to respond to one of the most powerful ways human beings express themselves while building new communities. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And that mission is both deeply personal and political. I
don’t necessarily mean that "political" the way people in America are likely to
hear it. Central to the power of Folk Alliance itself is the notion that the spiritual
energy of the people—the soul power if that makes sense—is an inherently
political force. It erupts out of oppression (and its close kin, repression)
and finds ways to give voice to the multitudes of experiences that complicate
our understanding of reality. For all of its no doubt hard fought history, one of the signs of the Folk Alliance’s success
is the way it has nurtured what a group of friends of mine once tried to define
as the “pop impulse,” ways to open the doors wider on a culture and, in the
process, create possibilities for changing the world. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You can take any piece of a day like this past Saturday and
illustrate the point. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUetqWPJKid_YI_8T_3sW1rGYO1ftz1fTp2iJij69yuos9oo1upOgBTHXPBjv_DG8-mkG5Qj1gJKBwG5VlVzuWCSkFuXhSfxiRREVYilc8trmD-YjKdwjx3upULLjNM3cKOAijYOxyFdwv0prnHXB4QUGoc23OBvFiH-X5cHVw4rZG1pc-9lVP/s2937/Discussion%20at%20Leadbelly.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2744" data-original-width="2937" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUetqWPJKid_YI_8T_3sW1rGYO1ftz1fTp2iJij69yuos9oo1upOgBTHXPBjv_DG8-mkG5Qj1gJKBwG5VlVzuWCSkFuXhSfxiRREVYilc8trmD-YjKdwjx3upULLjNM3cKOAijYOxyFdwv0prnHXB4QUGoc23OBvFiH-X5cHVw4rZG1pc-9lVP/s320/Discussion%20at%20Leadbelly.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alvin Singh and Anna Canoni Invite Discussion</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Saturday afternoon, the movie made by director Curt Hahn and
co-producer Alvin Singh, <i>Lead Belly: The Man Who Invented Rock & Roll</i>,
showed the complexities of Huddie “Lead Belly” Ledbetter’s story and career.
While celebrating Ledbetter’s music, the documentary also detailed the artist’s
exploitation by folk preservationist promoters and even the fans who developed
the English skiffle music that would lead to The Beatles and a broader audience
for Lead Belly’s songs and sensibility. The film showing brought together the
peers and descendants of Lead Belly and Woody Guthrie with young
artists and activists pondering how to reckon with this history as we move
forward. Everything that happened over the 16 years it took to make that film,
and everything that comes out of that packed banquet room Saturday is key to the
meaning of Folk Alliance. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Crys Matthews, pictured above from the tribute, can be found here: <a href="https://www.crysmatthews.com/">https://www.crysmatthews.com/</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And you’ll want to see this movie, available here: <span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://houseofleadbelly.com/">http://houseofleadbelly.com</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Saturday evening, “Kansas City’s own,” Kelly Hunt played
her public showcase at the Washington Park Place room near the Westin Crown
Center entrance. This was one of half a dozen showcases Hunt played. Thursday
night, she was introduced in the Women of Note room by Aoife Scott, who told
her a friend from Lawrence called Hunt “our own.” That’s part of what Hunt has accomplished
over the last several years, first playing open mics in Kansas City and
building a circuit that takes her across the country (she is currently on her “Snowbird
Tour”) and back to her new home in New Orleans. She played half a dozen songs (only
one yet recorded) in the Women of Note Room, introducing herself to the
organizers of Dublin’s TradFest and others from all over the world who come to
share songs and stories in that space. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtAtePqpRbR9crCGDuu6ErVgFol832MUDFbEr03yEuG5yAed5JoF96SaOjBSij1Z-dmTUyX1xklQjaGTwbLCIDp15cKr-7rxyh2QXAUnX4tx2sOE8YbJZmQS1XT2bJL-MvcOY-DfSGnjg6ZLFwPnnFCz4jcitGmjtLFmJFtronRI3q7h_D_kG/s3964/Probably%20the%20Kelly%20Hunt%20to%20Use.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="3964" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtAtePqpRbR9crCGDuu6ErVgFol832MUDFbEr03yEuG5yAed5JoF96SaOjBSij1Z-dmTUyX1xklQjaGTwbLCIDp15cKr-7rxyh2QXAUnX4tx2sOE8YbJZmQS1XT2bJL-MvcOY-DfSGnjg6ZLFwPnnFCz4jcitGmjtLFmJFtronRI3q7h_D_kG/s320/Probably%20the%20Kelly%20Hunt%20to%20Use.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day, Heaney, Hunt, and Morris</td></tr></tbody></table><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />Hunt’s Saturday night showcase featured four hit-single-size
cuts from her new album <i>Ozark Symphony</i> as well as yet more unrecorded
material, including a Cajun reel I will call “Brown-Eyed Betty” and a duet with
her musical co-conspirator Stas` Heaney on the Celtic-flavored stunner I’ll
call “Homecoming.” Hunt and Heaney were joined by Kansas City’s Andrew Morris
on mandolin and Brandon Day on bass. It was a terrific ensemble, allowing Hunt
to go quiet with a lonesome “out here on my own” one moment then erupt with
assured grandeur on songs like “Ozark Symphony” and a rocking tribute to her
true hometown, “Take Me Back to Memphis.” <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">All the artists on that stage who helped Hunt hone her
craft, all those songs she writes, and that great swath of America Hunt's calling home--from this prairie
setting to her Delta roots to the Gulf, all that we can learn from
such work, lies at the surface and extends to the depths of what Folk Alliance
is about.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">I wrote more about this new album here: <a href="https://bridge909.org/news/kelly-hunt-ozark-symphony">https://bridge909.org/news/kelly-hunt-ozark-symphony</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Hunt’s website: <a href="https://www.kellyhuntmusic.com/">https://www.kellyhuntmusic.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1JVx6RwPhYrKTdPliouabrjkaxI8Y9r5Tleg7jwij2GlzvUlKWZ0hnbBE3H-WA12mnVzTOUD8RPlB8hsNuoRYeEcUmUOiRp2S2aqYlBex04Ua_4Z0OLnxHUILPJKgNDp7q83dhKN2JMD1SUzg7ba2mhQamf5PSyM3hTYLDgi8Kd484m7CPL7/s3547/Amilia%20Spicer.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2882" data-original-width="3547" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1JVx6RwPhYrKTdPliouabrjkaxI8Y9r5Tleg7jwij2GlzvUlKWZ0hnbBE3H-WA12mnVzTOUD8RPlB8hsNuoRYeEcUmUOiRp2S2aqYlBex04Ua_4Z0OLnxHUILPJKgNDp7q83dhKN2JMD1SUzg7ba2mhQamf5PSyM3hTYLDgi8Kd484m7CPL7/s320/Amilia%20Spicer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Spicer, Don Teschner, Tom Felicetta, Mike Younger<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Though I only caught two songs of an Amilia K Spicer
set, the eerie power of one song’s night driving rock followed by another raucous
enough to answer its own question— “What’s the skinny in this shimmy”—told me I
need to check out her new album <i>Wow and Flutter</i>. <a href="https://www.amiliakspicer.com/music">https://www.amiliakspicer.com/music</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The camaraderie in that room kept us around for Arielle
Silver’s stately set, culminating in some questions and some conclusions about “What
Really Matters.” This song and this moment inspired my whole approach to
thinking about this last night of the conference. Silver’s music is here: <a href="https://www.ariellesilver.com/">https://www.ariellesilver.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEfSTjT7kCvH3aQ3icfTGiOLWuW47EX_q6bCHI9ums2uPI7hpextqp2SQCUq42XPFv8BzFijAvJEpLCBPdmgx9Wu57oV3P7fLCgDfJUDQRDoW7kM9_Eyilowh_glFlm51YrZA9tgLFbPvWwwOLO786lp1ZKU2TLwBhdZ_PUi4FQ9ZQ0l8wst7/s2325/Arielle.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2176" data-original-width="2325" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEfSTjT7kCvH3aQ3icfTGiOLWuW47EX_q6bCHI9ums2uPI7hpextqp2SQCUq42XPFv8BzFijAvJEpLCBPdmgx9Wu57oV3P7fLCgDfJUDQRDoW7kM9_Eyilowh_glFlm51YrZA9tgLFbPvWwwOLO786lp1ZKU2TLwBhdZ_PUi4FQ9ZQ0l8wst7/s320/Arielle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arielle Silver</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">What really matters about Folk Alliance takes place in
some room every minute of every moment the conference takes place, The dialogue
between Aoife Scott, Lady Nade, Laytha, and Alana Wilkinson in the Women of
Note Room constantly suggested different aspects of what really matters—the search
for justice in Scott’s “The Growing Years,” the importance of belonging in Nade’s
“Willingly,” the common ground between generations in Laytha’s “Daughter,” and
the importance of “Being Me” in Australian Alana Wilkinson’s song of that title.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://aoifescott.com/home--2">https://aoifescott.com/home--2</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://ladynade.co.uk/">https://ladynade.co.uk/</a><u><span style="color: #0563c1; mso-themecolor: hyperlink;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.laytha.com/">https://www.laytha.com/</a><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://alanawilkinson.com/">https://alanawilkinson.com/</a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><o:p></o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyf7eP4vKRhT8_zeOG_Np6D8-_ZgtqncjMTsmbgQ6U5-vIdgFnJPA5OJx8qnXbILbrl7LHdsue56M7MqiN3HBDbLrI2bivpCj90PGNgah7RTlnKL_ISqk9NvV3pn4o-Mp5qo4j8PYAe2ZWhZTeGYP0Kinxmt7JMXqKM0eh-Ept-0Y3oElyRSh_/s3719/Andy%20Aoife%20Nade%20Laytha%20Alana.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2515" data-original-width="3719" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyf7eP4vKRhT8_zeOG_Np6D8-_ZgtqncjMTsmbgQ6U5-vIdgFnJPA5OJx8qnXbILbrl7LHdsue56M7MqiN3HBDbLrI2bivpCj90PGNgah7RTlnKL_ISqk9NvV3pn4o-Mp5qo4j8PYAe2ZWhZTeGYP0Kinxmt7JMXqKM0eh-Ept-0Y3oElyRSh_/s320/Andy%20Aoife%20Nade%20Laytha%20Alana.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott, Nade, Laytha, Wilkinson</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">Next up, songs about the vagaries of relationships,
heartbreaks, celebrations, and causes for protest mattered deeply in Barbra
Lica’s hilarious and heartfelt set. Just as important was the cinematic scope
of Lica’s small band—Lica's sharp vocals and keys, Will Fisher's understated but effective drums, and Tom Fleming's funk licks and blues guitar solos all coming from his unassuming little, brown acoustic.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More from Lica here: <a href="https://barbralicamusic.com/">https://barbralicamusic.com/</a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><o:p></o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-6lKABsepigC_-kwQji3Q3mSCqDNs6rZM9qrVbVs3UaFrRg-hYNJ9VVyUbUAZqT2OiMiCpCn-W0sdp66NpeJjnz6Otca1tWZyAK40hPjuQ9lI-PQSAx-CjzbuIUJs1E2Tc1ILPloQ8CvrLUP5mO7cndhxnF1W-2Kz_fHg-2wqX-hUa-gKeFO/s2966/Barbra%20Lica.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2711" data-original-width="2966" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-6lKABsepigC_-kwQji3Q3mSCqDNs6rZM9qrVbVs3UaFrRg-hYNJ9VVyUbUAZqT2OiMiCpCn-W0sdp66NpeJjnz6Otca1tWZyAK40hPjuQ9lI-PQSAx-CjzbuIUJs1E2Tc1ILPloQ8CvrLUP5mO7cndhxnF1W-2Kz_fHg-2wqX-hUa-gKeFO/s320/Barbra%20Lica.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barbra Lica</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">And what mattered as we moved into the wee hours of the
morning was celebration of the kaleidoscope of interlocking talent that had
joined forces over the course of the past four days. The power of Canadian Innu
artist Shauit and his hard rocking band that leapt naturally from reggae to hip
hop had room 534 jumping at 2:00 in the morning. An eight-piece crew called Moneka
Arabic Jazz followed, and a party that didn’t seem like it could be further cranked sprung to yet another plane of giddy joy. Such magic and celebration, too, is
what really matters at Folk Alliance. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://shauit.com/">https://shauit.com/</a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><a href="https://ahmedmoneka.com/music/">https://ahmedmoneka.com/music/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSdU2xb3npX5_Wwdfze-f6IBaOGcxfmRp1gcTZ4m5aXWepbaUKe7IIMSzm7ftnl3MLmiYs5xSWS1Qpz5OOw_5jbFK34IZ5C-ytVkZXnfkvoyLqQ1Kr2gYmszeZCr-TczJrzv1i4RnGtphiIWh-kuuTIPTDB4-6SbZwV0eY4kFAfHNdoWCAVpJt/s1811/Shauit.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1811" data-original-width="1811" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSdU2xb3npX5_Wwdfze-f6IBaOGcxfmRp1gcTZ4m5aXWepbaUKe7IIMSzm7ftnl3MLmiYs5xSWS1Qpz5OOw_5jbFK34IZ5C-ytVkZXnfkvoyLqQ1Kr2gYmszeZCr-TczJrzv1i4RnGtphiIWh-kuuTIPTDB4-6SbZwV0eY4kFAfHNdoWCAVpJt/s320/Shauit.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shauit<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVs1RHEKRcHRHDxcZRv6D6jOt2aZGQNZv8FF5Sl8RTa2Ww05SO-RLTiEPtWeiNf07GUxM9MeSU0cOK4fVmjqoBMmcbAPIppwWNF-NbdUg_JiImW7VAtpEWF39_PxOF2oVTjNW2KA2FmX2jSYQeUUwKx-cahkePhRrTItlFSS7VpIP9RZdYLj0/s2137/Afro%20Jazz.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1962" data-original-width="2137" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVs1RHEKRcHRHDxcZRv6D6jOt2aZGQNZv8FF5Sl8RTa2Ww05SO-RLTiEPtWeiNf07GUxM9MeSU0cOK4fVmjqoBMmcbAPIppwWNF-NbdUg_JiImW7VAtpEWF39_PxOF2oVTjNW2KA2FmX2jSYQeUUwKx-cahkePhRrTItlFSS7VpIP9RZdYLj0/s320/Afro%20Jazz.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moneka Afro Jazz</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
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Nick Spacek hit many different shows and told many different stories, all
important to get a sense of the whole. These can be found here: <a href="https://www.thepitchkc.com/author/nick-spacek/">https://www.thepitchkc.com/author/nick-spacek/</a></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-11734085992994948802024-02-24T19:23:00.000-08:002024-02-24T20:01:05.385-08:00I’d Love to Tell Somebody About This Dream: Folk Alliance Day 3<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHH9B5LqfSXTNTfDmnZxKIMgPMTC3EYuhZObhXxewWh7V7p7Ex8JtwpwgOKkLru7RLCW7AEItXaeFb1mT9L9Yo1dIDmrAbTokqcZQZCqIP9F14MFjwN0iKrmmzyiHDnOu5898J-EOKqmbDp0Lftticz0BhWeVx1LNUe1uX4O-EG3Wb-Xjtjohn/s2739/Nimki%20and%20the%20Niniis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2579" data-original-width="2739" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHH9B5LqfSXTNTfDmnZxKIMgPMTC3EYuhZObhXxewWh7V7p7Ex8JtwpwgOKkLru7RLCW7AEItXaeFb1mT9L9Yo1dIDmrAbTokqcZQZCqIP9F14MFjwN0iKrmmzyiHDnOu5898J-EOKqmbDp0Lftticz0BhWeVx1LNUe1uX4O-EG3Wb-Xjtjohn/s320/Nimki%20and%20the%20Niniis.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nimki and the Niniis</td></tr></tbody></table>My favorite little piece of technology—a wristwatch that
monitors my vital signs and tells me how I slept last night—has either betrayed
me or unlocked a secret of the universe. It tells me that I fell asleep about
the time I sat down in the Bimiwizh (Ojibwe for “listen or carry”)
International Indigenous Music Summit in the Pershing Place ballroom.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That makes some sense because there are never late night
showcases in the ballrooms, and it also makes sense because, before I left that
room, my friend Mike Warren and I were dancing in a great circle with magnificent
Turtle Island traditional dancers and virtually everyone else in the ballroom.
Those dancers provided kaleidoscopic percussion with their moves, but the
driving sound came from the song and drum group, Nimki and the Niniis from
Wiikwemkoong, Ontario. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGKFCHX-F4WI1G1yeCmIV_oF1_8VT582Dt7KFxRvGK3t0yDUVmNGGQiWYyvyLubnIwW6xew91N8SfETfiAC3pAC_eb_rNmh2_Rjo2-wllshgzTL9v9prKhcJN3npBODalHoOEeG9b590wfGqdww7oLCDU85MLUNYNS2TQ-I4JubzuruMiWagQ/s3099/Mikhail%20Laxton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3099" data-original-width="2573" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGKFCHX-F4WI1G1yeCmIV_oF1_8VT582Dt7KFxRvGK3t0yDUVmNGGQiWYyvyLubnIwW6xew91N8SfETfiAC3pAC_eb_rNmh2_Rjo2-wllshgzTL9v9prKhcJN3npBODalHoOEeG9b590wfGqdww7oLCDU85MLUNYNS2TQ-I4JubzuruMiWagQ/s320/Mikhail%20Laxton.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mikhail Laxton</td></tr></tbody></table>I think the night’s dream actually started a bit earlier, with
a bit of a white rabbit experience. Mike and I learned that this summit was
happening because two singers, Ila Barker and Hera Nalam, handed us fliers in
the otherwise almost empty lobby, telling us this gathering was about to start.
They weren’t exactly checking a great pocket watch, but there was some sense of
urgency.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We got there just in time to see a poignant, acoustic set by
Mikhail Laxton. His country-soul songs cut close with thoughts on family
relationships, love lost, and love cherished, sometimes all at the same time. <a href="https://mikhaillaxton.com/">https://mikhaillaxton.com/</a> <br /><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Barker and backing vocalist Nalam went someplace even more
akin to straight soul music, Barker probing with her electric guitar and vocals,
extending the heartaches to fundamental questions of self-worth. Nalam backed
Barker’s vocals in her own unique way, occasionally offering trills that worked
like bubbling punctuation. Barker mentioned newer musicians coming to her about
their insecurities and uncertainty whether they should continue. She exclaimed,
“Congratulations, you’re an artist,” before launching into “Intuition,” a song
about trusting your gut. <a href="https://www.ilabarker.com/">https://www.ilabarker.com/</a><o:p></o:p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYHnr8pCB75JI-LSsBdBznz4QZF308AZqf4qtc0Sxjev12xW_cgYTUPlLZYJZdQ54hNDNX72F6_TINkO2LZid08toD4hhyphenhyphenqilgT7mtiAx0eCMLd7J-aylS_XoH_psxNqS3zbs5_bxEbZoPjZwwFjmwdhaonvvnbKMjgtYtjWIGr2NQMrp5JMhyphenhyphen/s2403/Hera%20Nalam%20and%20Ila%20Barker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2180" data-original-width="2403" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYHnr8pCB75JI-LSsBdBznz4QZF308AZqf4qtc0Sxjev12xW_cgYTUPlLZYJZdQ54hNDNX72F6_TINkO2LZid08toD4hhyphenhyphenqilgT7mtiAx0eCMLd7J-aylS_XoH_psxNqS3zbs5_bxEbZoPjZwwFjmwdhaonvvnbKMjgtYtjWIGr2NQMrp5JMhyphenhyphen/w320-h291/Hera%20Nalam%20and%20Ila%20Barker.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hera Nalam and Ila Barker</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">Nimki and the Niniis brought that part of the evening to an
out-of-body crescendo, sometimes standing and singing with their drums and other
times sitting in a drum circle to accompany the dancing. Nimki explained that
the center drum in the circle was called the heart drum, drawing parallels
between that sound and the heartbeat of our mothers—before we are born, our
first teacher. He also acknowledged the full moon, which couldn’t have been
more appropriate considering the energy in every room of the house last night. <a href="https://nimkiiandtheniniis.bandcamp.com/album/nimkii-the-niniis">https://nimkiiandtheniniis.bandcamp.com/album/nimkii-the-niniis</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We soon found ourselves upstairs in the British Underground
acoustic room, catching the end of a set by Lady Nade. Her silky soprano warmed
the room and demanded we catch a full set before this is all over. <a href="https://ladynade.co.uk/">https://ladynade.co.uk/</a> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8EzSPwwWUBK7b3LL1QICqS0TQ8fFLJtVMou8MnVnMVKuDwWUo6DtnMOleakmh48Otw5mVHk0phd1aIWHhaPNIzbAQtZfcMner4hs5fSrPHiujDKKTM78-r5xie9BfbbQ4U-0jWbbrOOeZEdDMBPrzx-0GY2L4-w3RkfgDnbIdU8wyRUJR7d-f/s3713/Lady%20Nade%20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="3713" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8EzSPwwWUBK7b3LL1QICqS0TQ8fFLJtVMou8MnVnMVKuDwWUo6DtnMOleakmh48Otw5mVHk0phd1aIWHhaPNIzbAQtZfcMner4hs5fSrPHiujDKKTM78-r5xie9BfbbQ4U-0jWbbrOOeZEdDMBPrzx-0GY2L4-w3RkfgDnbIdU8wyRUJR7d-f/w200-h166/Lady%20Nade%20.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady Nade</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The following set by instrumental duo, Hildaland (Scottish
fiddler Louise Bichan and Indiana mandolinist Ethan Setiawan) brought a
tapestry of wild, reeling rhythms and songs dedicated to silver wedding
anniversaries, the sound of sleet, and the pleasures of sleeping in (which will
be something to look forward to sometime near the end of these four days). <a href="https://www.hildaland.com/">https://www.hildaland.com/</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB3KFxarcMghcMH7JpGm8cJz54aY66TeJUxhtRd4qraoeZSuBaTtG3sdlnbJ5kMFwJ5uPxwtEbO3xLNv4Jv8rHtzlByzcHzDCMJNlid1ma-ejpRXawzOSAxlLSnov8buPvCFm4KMvE3-whpJ9IQifIjyJ1hy6OdcdVMqJXvnrNGQNKjNQbHuXA/s2457/Hildaland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2228" data-original-width="2457" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB3KFxarcMghcMH7JpGm8cJz54aY66TeJUxhtRd4qraoeZSuBaTtG3sdlnbJ5kMFwJ5uPxwtEbO3xLNv4Jv8rHtzlByzcHzDCMJNlid1ma-ejpRXawzOSAxlLSnov8buPvCFm4KMvE3-whpJ9IQifIjyJ1hy6OdcdVMqJXvnrNGQNKjNQbHuXA/w200-h181/Hildaland.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hildaland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Mike and I caught only three songs in what we decided would
be the final set for the evening, Shakura S’Aida accompanied by Brooke
Blackburn (of 2023 Juno award-winning The Blackburn Brothers). Blackburn generally
sat and played the guitar, although sometimes his enthusiasm brought him out of
his seat. He provided hard-driving rhythms to serve S’Aida’s commanding vocals.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And I mean commanding quite literally because, late to the
room, we learned what it meant to take the front row. S’Aida wasted no time
directing us to face off and illustrate that first song’s pledge to have each
other’s backs. It was the ultimate ice breaker. S’Aida handled that room like a
gracious host, greeting another late comer with all the information she needed
to get settled, find a beverage and feel at home. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkOYREODcwPCXdUWIXSGxxJQOIhfIz8wkNhZ0uN9-EngDUcG9aicPwWMwYFiYLxSG5HjsgJu6L3-pFzKMAexR2fYRczKFXx6Y7T_BGDQ3Iix_wOswfXkJM1ZaGCafud1BnwKW6-RwSq89ZXwsKqp5n376E8mLVy131Cc1zQfKdoUUUM3XXbAKc/s2810/Shakura%20S'Aida.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2772" data-original-width="2810" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkOYREODcwPCXdUWIXSGxxJQOIhfIz8wkNhZ0uN9-EngDUcG9aicPwWMwYFiYLxSG5HjsgJu6L3-pFzKMAexR2fYRczKFXx6Y7T_BGDQ3Iix_wOswfXkJM1ZaGCafud1BnwKW6-RwSq89ZXwsKqp5n376E8mLVy131Cc1zQfKdoUUUM3XXbAKc/s320/Shakura%20S'Aida.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shakura S'Aida</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The last song S’Aida did was “Clap Yo Hands and Moan.” She
credited her old songwriting partner Keb Mo with part of the inspiration. She quoted
him saying, “The devil can’t hear you when you moan,” and launched into a song
with the powerful refrain, “If you need to call up heaven, and you’ve got the
devil on the phone, stomp your feet…, clap your hands…, and moan.” Starting
soft, the song built to one blues-shout and moan crescendo after another, the
crowd clapping on point. <a href="https://www.shakurasaida.com/">https://www.shakurasaida.com/</a><o:p></o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HBKjQromYmC7RyclBINrTaNzPrajRYlEfp3fndNB2QpmE1fjY2GFos8hm6dTgFqaZdNTRFw0FsE7K0uzFhW1LPJQJeE7QxXaB4VXw16XHG2pdT69VmFASrvOawNBXq47rFUUHo_Q7__X9Bt7MFdFWDw14m4o4YfWtHs123BPRfCmmebUVpz8/s2240/Use%20this%20Nimki%20Dance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1222" data-original-width="2240" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HBKjQromYmC7RyclBINrTaNzPrajRYlEfp3fndNB2QpmE1fjY2GFos8hm6dTgFqaZdNTRFw0FsE7K0uzFhW1LPJQJeE7QxXaB4VXw16XHG2pdT69VmFASrvOawNBXq47rFUUHo_Q7__X9Bt7MFdFWDw14m4o4YfWtHs123BPRfCmmebUVpz8/w640-h350/Use%20this%20Nimki%20Dance.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Bimiwizh: Listen, Carry, Dance with Nimki and the Niniis</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-90141210312568578212024-02-23T15:40:00.000-08:002024-02-25T12:47:01.504-08:00Love Comes Down: Finding Unity at Folk Alliance 2024, Day 2<p><br /> <span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdD0CYf_Je0Wj8HELmeHAPpywcbcgr-3M2lmiaHexhDRXY0L3cClqhCnhbUbh-WmKWnx9uW6gf76pdpgAXlLYVm9RSLCXoxn8hNROFd6ZCU4SEJdqIaSlvYx5swwEpbCPLmAnyoWn6YxkOvWlvlKF7GHGZiTJxxo2tpIp1EoAHqFcP5wiD-bKi/s3482/Mireya%20Ramos%201.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2545" data-original-width="3482" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdD0CYf_Je0Wj8HELmeHAPpywcbcgr-3M2lmiaHexhDRXY0L3cClqhCnhbUbh-WmKWnx9uW6gf76pdpgAXlLYVm9RSLCXoxn8hNROFd6ZCU4SEJdqIaSlvYx5swwEpbCPLmAnyoWn6YxkOvWlvlKF7GHGZiTJxxo2tpIp1EoAHqFcP5wiD-bKi/s320/Mireya%20Ramos%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mireya Ramos & the Poor Choices</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“I break
your soul!” Mireya Ramos shouted and smiled as she delivered the translation of
the Cuco Sanchez cover she sang with her current Kansas City-based band, The
Poor Choices—Beau Bledsoe (acoustic guitar), Trevor Turla (trombone) Jeff
Freling (electric guitar), Marco Pascolini (steel guitar), Ezgi Karakus (cello)
and John Currey (drums). Ramos and the band delivered a sterling, rousing set
rich with both the rancheras she loves and their cousins among rock and country
classics such as Roy Orbison’s (always ranchera influenced) “Blue Bayou” and Patsy
Cline’s “I Fall to Pieces.” The brilliant set ended with a cumbia as exciting
and joyous as Ramos’ soaring vocals. The night before, Puerto Rican Ramos sang
Chilean Victor Jara’s movement defining “Manifesto,” and on this night, Ramos
only further underscored the easy unity forged by musical forms that truly have
more roots in common than the markets and national divisions that strive to
keep them separate. <a href="https://mireyaramos.com/sin-fronteras/">https://mireyaramos.com/sin-fronteras/</a></span><div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://mireyaramos.com/sin-fronteras/"></a></span><div><p></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8VPs4gPKxw9naV0iivXDN4iPofm5o_-NFDav91vLQosL37I-NL6x0ep4lfk0ws9JnnVYQv1MRuFG7-KYoBrCtYaOLnUtsEoiTJKrUx-110Y5lR39hIQXCdSk4r-bOm8YXje_zMvtdOr3mtyYGsv7lWBQioFt-8XE7GSNPWyx3yke_S6YytZE/s2369/Connie%20Kaldor.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2362" data-original-width="2369" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8VPs4gPKxw9naV0iivXDN4iPofm5o_-NFDav91vLQosL37I-NL6x0ep4lfk0ws9JnnVYQv1MRuFG7-KYoBrCtYaOLnUtsEoiTJKrUx-110Y5lR39hIQXCdSk4r-bOm8YXje_zMvtdOr3mtyYGsv7lWBQioFt-8XE7GSNPWyx3yke_S6YytZE/s320/Connie%20Kaldor.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Connie Kaldor</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">One beauty
of Folk Alliance is the way it thrives on crossing such lines. Before Ramos’
set, Canadian songwriter Connie Kaldor explained that she’d always loved the
kinds of sea shanties artists like Stan Rogers specialized in, but her home in
Saskatchewan (“just about straight north [of Kansas City] and a little west”)
was about as landlocked as she could get. So, she wrote a rousing “she shanty,”
“Come All You Women,” directly inspired by an encounter with a friend at a
previous Folk Alliance. It’s not only tempting but useful to connect the prairie
origins of that song to the common ground between Kansas City’s Poor Choices
and Ramos’s rancheras. <a href="https://www.conniekaldor.com/">https://www.conniekaldor.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNDwAihaE8bLs18ZjszstvNTasegDtB1Lc5Vs_hOd3JZfHs_kLb6axZ7y0HTumjx-etpa2LcJUdPGvPSHRv6b1KS9JwlMbsvw52WOf7WgfQIn69g6siifspRJNHWu2uNxBbxvrLtskDOVr7Xhse82r5Rza7X8XX4P79rc5YM7ksbUxtjsAZmT/s2155/Joachim%20Cooder.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1904" data-original-width="2155" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNDwAihaE8bLs18ZjszstvNTasegDtB1Lc5Vs_hOd3JZfHs_kLb6axZ7y0HTumjx-etpa2LcJUdPGvPSHRv6b1KS9JwlMbsvw52WOf7WgfQIn69g6siifspRJNHWu2uNxBbxvrLtskDOVr7Xhse82r5Rza7X8XX4P79rc5YM7ksbUxtjsAZmT/s320/Joachim%20Cooder.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rayna Gellert and Joachim Cooder</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And it’s not
a big stretch to connect Tennessean Uncle Dave Macon’s influence on Ry Cooder’s
son Joachim who covered and transformed Macon’s songs in the next set playing
his electric mbira, a derivative of thumb pianos played in Zimbabwe. Joachim
Cooder has played with musicians from all over, famously including the Cuban Buena
Vista Social Club, but you couldn’t miss the excitement in his voice that he
was sitting next to the great fiddler Rayna Gellert, who may be known for her
work in Ashville and Nashville, but who notably also grew up in landlocked
northern Indiana. </span></div><div><span style="line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.joachimcooder.com/">https://www.joachimcooder.com/</a></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p style="font-size: 12pt;"></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And the
songwriter’s circle in Aoife Scott’s Women of Note room pulled even more of the
world together to collaborate. The circle featured Dusky Waters (Jennifer
Jeffers), a banjo player from Little Rock, Arkansas who has also migrated to
New Orleans; Thea Hopkins, a member of the Aquinnah Wampanoag tribe of Martha’s
Vineyard; and Grainne Hunt of Kilcock, Ireland. Waters opened the set singing “Pass
It On,” the title track of her new album, a powerful song of communal
responsibility that soon led to Hunt’s contemplation of intergenerational
trauma, “So I Can Leave.” Scott and partner Andy Meany led a sing along including
all the vocalists dedicated to a friend who lives half the world away from his
old home in Pimlico Dublin, but Hopkins sing along just before served as a sort
of spiritual crescendo to the evening. “Love Come Down.” The whole room sang
those three words like a prayer, and something holy gathered all around us. <o:p></o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEOB_MWIf5NH6XprptM_pbMi_QsXI-Ht_SFp5oYzdMeMWwoGTJM-ouS2rerrAMwaEE0XphVDLstNsJ4zI4ml4Y4uQP4mrxJVOX14PEs5GEnTwHfMXHQYD4dzKEcF8Nm7VhHpELbi4zPAEYJ6cfmxcFl2vO-FCcIPemOAYIOUQcMh1FEjW11pa/s2926/Thea%20Hopkins.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2483" data-original-width="2926" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEOB_MWIf5NH6XprptM_pbMi_QsXI-Ht_SFp5oYzdMeMWwoGTJM-ouS2rerrAMwaEE0XphVDLstNsJ4zI4ml4Y4uQP4mrxJVOX14PEs5GEnTwHfMXHQYD4dzKEcF8Nm7VhHpELbi4zPAEYJ6cfmxcFl2vO-FCcIPemOAYIOUQcMh1FEjW11pa/s320/Thea%20Hopkins.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thea Hopkins</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.theahopkins.com/">https://www.theahopkins.com/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.duskywaters.com/band">https://www.duskywaters.com/band</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://grainnehunt.com/">https://grainnehunt.com/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.aoifescott.com/">https://www.aoifescott.com/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUpI9q9Ki5xcczxo1f5w0RmNHpzp2KspH3EBXAwkDmzSDrT_AXDk-9JpINvf4x3YXldxNdEDuE-gDbSjd3kZRYhREcvDr_hYDlTwMUxW1IRWEYNIrNTV2lDTWeX81hhX3LmM6AAAZ3T5ZiazXwPLqnmEpd3p4IcUVu9kQdbUE3CFNH3nPGtN3/s2882/Dusky%20Waters.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2094" data-original-width="2882" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUpI9q9Ki5xcczxo1f5w0RmNHpzp2KspH3EBXAwkDmzSDrT_AXDk-9JpINvf4x3YXldxNdEDuE-gDbSjd3kZRYhREcvDr_hYDlTwMUxW1IRWEYNIrNTV2lDTWeX81hhX3LmM6AAAZ3T5ZiazXwPLqnmEpd3p4IcUVu9kQdbUE3CFNH3nPGtN3/s320/Dusky%20Waters.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dusky Waters</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSmYPgewYhFJXj3IuTRTtvvRNtmazMRUTr2Kb5rIAJ38Y7kePsCEt9i6fSuDwPCyUzALgPct6hf0Ou-E4JAMgVTOX1CbNoGkY4SfNo7IXGaOaZMDob1Nid4iIFKsrrqarrNY3h-QOfqRbea1EycQJn1HifechcMNqpPPEhXK8vfc9EpD8fe6C/s3310/Grainne%20Hunt.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3310" data-original-width="2811" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSmYPgewYhFJXj3IuTRTtvvRNtmazMRUTr2Kb5rIAJ38Y7kePsCEt9i6fSuDwPCyUzALgPct6hf0Ou-E4JAMgVTOX1CbNoGkY4SfNo7IXGaOaZMDob1Nid4iIFKsrrqarrNY3h-QOfqRbea1EycQJn1HifechcMNqpPPEhXK8vfc9EpD8fe6C/s320/Grainne%20Hunt.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grainne Hunt</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6g69mnIN-SC3l8WfZcTQXZJLfdZqvzPUbEQeFF2gVnhf51xce-47e8p8xF7gPeDFyKQ3SIsYbka81UFLR-bMiv_fHzJa47L7bZc59EI0APUdDIA8qBmMTaLakqxwwaryMdZI_ZdKDAJw41VQc9KMG379mBwFA9LpYqZ2ZngvUfK-UaafcqjEo/s3294/Andy%20and%20Aoife.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3060" data-original-width="3294" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6g69mnIN-SC3l8WfZcTQXZJLfdZqvzPUbEQeFF2gVnhf51xce-47e8p8xF7gPeDFyKQ3SIsYbka81UFLR-bMiv_fHzJa47L7bZc59EI0APUdDIA8qBmMTaLakqxwwaryMdZI_ZdKDAJw41VQc9KMG379mBwFA9LpYqZ2ZngvUfK-UaafcqjEo/s320/Andy%20and%20Aoife.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy Meaney and Aoife Scott<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p></div></div>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-3830204743095588532024-02-22T14:58:00.000-08:002024-02-25T12:50:43.903-08:00Moments of Silence and Risk: The Alchemy of Folk Alliance 2024 Day 1<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7kwFqIlmwizynpbXH9gTChj5vlbUP244XcSHxCvxkkARw36WKf6ifbvObmGRMBIVONhr2MMLCoOv9H5dXYhQdETMLG5VBYPid9BXu0yyKkrB7IL_wuMfhUhDVe1stkbBVzQYeG8l-kM1vFbhZXHJgtShj-dimLIMF8lC78Kp4Mewfvy3okPw/s3600/Opening%20talk.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="2597" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7kwFqIlmwizynpbXH9gTChj5vlbUP244XcSHxCvxkkARw36WKf6ifbvObmGRMBIVONhr2MMLCoOv9H5dXYhQdETMLG5VBYPid9BXu0yyKkrB7IL_wuMfhUhDVe1stkbBVzQYeG8l-kM1vFbhZXHJgtShj-dimLIMF8lC78Kp4Mewfvy3okPw/w289-h400/Opening%20talk.jpg" width="289" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shabankareh Honoring Lopez-Galvan</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The evening
before the 36<sup>th</sup> Annual Folk Alliance International Conference, Kansas
City’s KKFI DJ Tommy Andrade hosted a special tribute episode of <i>A Taste of
Tejano</i> dedicated to his co-host Lisa Lopez-Galvan (Lisa G). Lopez-Galvan’s death
by gunfire—amidst twenty-two other victims of the mass shooting that took place
during the Chiefs’ Superbowl celebration—stunned the world, but the loss could
be palpably felt among the international community built by the music Lopez-Galvan and Andrade celebrated every Tuesday night on our community radio
station. The tribute show was an outpouring of grief, yes, but also joy and love.
Listen here: <a href="https://kkfi.org/program-episodes/tribute-to-lisa-lopez-galvan/">https://kkfi.org/program-episodes/tribute-to-lisa-lopez-galvan/</a><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A shrine
honoring the place where Lopez-Galvan lost her life formed just catty-cornered
from the Westin Crown-Center Hotel, the place Folk Alliance International has held most
of its annual conferences over the past decade. The event has always been a celebration
of the community that surrounds music—fans, musicians, and DJs and community
organizers like Lopez-Galvan. So, it was more than appropriate and
extraordinarily important that FAI board president Ashley Shabankareh opened
the first all-conference convocation, the awards show, by speaking of Lopez-Galvan,
calling for a moment of silence, and then urging everyone in attendance to reach
out, look after, and take care of each other over the next four days. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqoWS1HBohK4XFgtXt2AHoy8YtJJNth3pGB9kIYIaZhamdS-r4ummvf7iKwyZVh6El_lSWoVi1UUz1xHAbhtu2iDC_5VgsxBQ84ceVvteCawBywu8AFz-hA0oASunhnM5e847nzJITPje5YM-nMAqNVGftG2tus-mj54x8iBs336c-cdfbuPwc/s6240/Joy%20Clark.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="6240" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqoWS1HBohK4XFgtXt2AHoy8YtJJNth3pGB9kIYIaZhamdS-r4ummvf7iKwyZVh6El_lSWoVi1UUz1xHAbhtu2iDC_5VgsxBQ84ceVvteCawBywu8AFz-hA0oASunhnM5e847nzJITPje5YM-nMAqNVGftG2tus-mj54x8iBs336c-cdfbuPwc/s320/Joy%20Clark.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joy Clark Honors Tracy Chapman</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The theme of
the conference is “Alchemy: A Transformative Force,” and the night’s award recipients
built their careers upon and underscored their commitment to the idea that
music can change the world. First up was a lifetime achievement award for Tracy
Chapman, whose appearance with Luke Combs last week at the Grammys said volumes
about music’s desire to tear down the walls that separate us. Last night, New
Orleans’ great songwriter and guitarist Joy Clark rocked the awards hall
tearing into “Give Me One Reason” with the house band Steel Wheels. </span><p></p><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The other winners
were a diverse list of world changers—Huddie (Leadbelly) Ledbetter’s great
great niece Terika Dean for her work in part as chair of the Blues Foundation,
the LEAF Global Arts Festival for its efforts at environmental sustainability, and
Victor Jara’s estate, for the great Chilean songwriter’s revolutionary career transforming
his country’s music into a vital force that led to revolutionary change (and,
as has too often been the cost) his martyrdom. Contemporary artists who won
were as vital and diverse as popular music at its best—Guatamala’s great “rising
tide” winner Sara Curruchich, as well as FAI favorites Iris DeMent, Billy
Strings, Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway, and Hurray for the Riff Raff’s
Alynda Segarra. Segarra used the moment to call for an immediate ceasefire in
Gaza.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">With the
loss of Lopez-Galvan in mind, particularly poignant were the tributes to the DJs:
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Folk Alley’s </i>Linda Fahey, <i>Just
Us Folk’s </i>Jan Vanderhorst, <i>Mountain Stage’s </i>Larry Groce, <i>A Celtic
Sojourn’s </i>Brian O’Donovan, and <i>Woody’s Children’s </i>Bob Sherman. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezxgoOmoI-QSBRXgPo4VYvTNcDSLC6GHsnGiERBTg_EJYAFtVLIidJtW_3SG-sRIthCxxeJiRpF5zl2n7gKAuA10gorrryK5heoVXzuuTZRVGqngQqLBWBpf-wI7F8T1MwMTLzWQzkG2tWxlCbARz5yswgUjA2010bIzDq63QSIjxm7Zl3nPE/s4080/PXL_20240222_054050943.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezxgoOmoI-QSBRXgPo4VYvTNcDSLC6GHsnGiERBTg_EJYAFtVLIidJtW_3SG-sRIthCxxeJiRpF5zl2n7gKAuA10gorrryK5heoVXzuuTZRVGqngQqLBWBpf-wI7F8T1MwMTLzWQzkG2tWxlCbARz5yswgUjA2010bIzDq63QSIjxm7Zl3nPE/s320/PXL_20240222_054050943.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Northern Resonance</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />After the awards
ceremony, the event moved upstairs to the private showcases in the hotel rooms
where guests had sheltered in place the week before during the events
surrounding the shooting. It was in these rooms six years ago that an artist
from my hometown, Chris Lee Becker, organized a performance in response to the
shootings at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. I wrote about that here: <a href="https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2018/02/once-was-blind-but-now-chris-lee-becker.html">https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2018/02/once-was-blind-but-now-chris-lee-becker.html</a><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In one room,
the Scandinavian musical trio Northern Resonance built infectious reels out of
instruments like the Swedish Nyckelharpa (a string instrument with 37 keys on
its neck), the Norwegian Hardanger fiddle, and the seven-stringed viola d’amore.
In another, I heard such a jaw-dropping solo performance by Trinidad-born UK
singer Michele Stodart that I hesitate to try to say more here. Stodart wields a
voice and guitar as tough and ambitious as blues and pop get. <a href="https://www.northernresonance.se/">https://www.northernresonance.se/</a></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpB-oPq4103nJfOSzM5qzt6ichoCcxwvfCSbSEB3oY60ADi9FBQ859aTeTgkO8X8hZ-QgBXyBC_WxoUuFkjKXzimFoptFC8kfIi9WL_d1Caw7lKnjCs8bCzP3V1Jn_sD9RT9VZvfJv_fJpEjAR0seDBZC2JfU6lslmnghMAy8cixPOJHrJ2XFb/s4080/PXL_20240222_065733093.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpB-oPq4103nJfOSzM5qzt6ichoCcxwvfCSbSEB3oY60ADi9FBQ859aTeTgkO8X8hZ-QgBXyBC_WxoUuFkjKXzimFoptFC8kfIi9WL_d1Caw7lKnjCs8bCzP3V1Jn_sD9RT9VZvfJv_fJpEjAR0seDBZC2JfU6lslmnghMAy8cixPOJHrJ2XFb/w242-h320/PXL_20240222_065733093.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michele Stodart </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxAjODBymDcvx78MacIQPJ7UQSdH1DfYkwgV3DvjzEl_KEhUzqlsdPcup12TkN7T3yH8mUoofFYaYZ0bnphoDTD7EvEt4Z5CKHm0Sg26LW0DE6u0MG2KICFgDQGFo5vJiKoBpiifdHh6dhkjQ34eDZHBDdhoybMEZeVj06oiwH69cwbjfyzw0L/s4080/PXL_20240222_044418950.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxAjODBymDcvx78MacIQPJ7UQSdH1DfYkwgV3DvjzEl_KEhUzqlsdPcup12TkN7T3yH8mUoofFYaYZ0bnphoDTD7EvEt4Z5CKHm0Sg26LW0DE6u0MG2KICFgDQGFo5vJiKoBpiifdHh6dhkjQ34eDZHBDdhoybMEZeVj06oiwH69cwbjfyzw0L/w242-h320/PXL_20240222_044418950.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><a href="https://www.michelestodart.com/home-1">https://www.michelestodart.com/home-1</a><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But I find
myself thinking about the smaller moments—the ones in which we did, indeed,
seem to be taking care of one another. During his often-hilarious set which
featured sing-a-longs to squirrel cookouts and bumper sticker wit, Kansan Sky
Smeed decided to try out a new song to see if he could get any help figuring
out “what’s wrong with it.” Before playing the song, he said, “This could be
where it all goes south, and I’m okay with that.” What he played was heartbreaking
and beautiful. <a href="https://www.skysmeed.com/">https://www.skysmeed.com/</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Similarly,
Canadian singer Ken Presse stopped at one point and asked the small group
gathered to hear him if he should play “a cover, the song I was going to play,
or a French song.” We gave him carte blanche. His cover of “Will the Circle Be
Unbroken” managed to evoke a moving whisper of a sing-along, appropriate to the
size of the room and the fact that he went acapella for the refrain. The
audience happily encouraged the French song as a follow up. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSmlvQw3JbRkD9dDjNJAO00lchTXFk_OTwKcJQ7yHg8rUm4jOK9JKG2XS_dgrcnvNuYWjyKrqI5nt8xqO7VbYAsvZhyphenhyphen1bDtPodVD-4AYQwRA929vt7v5Bi36aSSRBsE9TPwTeNQgMrVbyFUPFY17MGqR8NjC1L7k9uzsTfW9qM8EB9YV6laKw/s2885/Ken%20Presse.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2885" data-original-width="2755" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSmlvQw3JbRkD9dDjNJAO00lchTXFk_OTwKcJQ7yHg8rUm4jOK9JKG2XS_dgrcnvNuYWjyKrqI5nt8xqO7VbYAsvZhyphenhyphen1bDtPodVD-4AYQwRA929vt7v5Bi36aSSRBsE9TPwTeNQgMrVbyFUPFY17MGqR8NjC1L7k9uzsTfW9qM8EB9YV6laKw/s320/Ken%20Presse.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken Presse</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />But it was
an earlier moment that most stood out. Presse mentioned that he was about
to have a child, and that he regretted how much of his life he’d spent working.
He said the song, about another way of living, was called “Someday.” And he
added, “Maybe I can learn from it.” <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course,
the unstated truth was we all could. On this night, perhaps more than ever before,
Folk Alliance felt like a place where the music was there to teach, and we were
there to learn. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.kenpresse.com/">https://www.kenpresse.com/</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><a href="https://www.rainbowgirlsmusic.com/" style="font-size: 12pt;">https://www.rainbowgirlsmusic.com/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blues.org/about/terika-dean/">https://blues.org/about/terika-dean/</a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLuiG2oIHY2H7lCZhp2FRQn8MdFH7gplzHfdiNJi4xLGPqLNXsHmMy91e-zXJBYPz9pp013v7mGUS_UYz1w4-PzVxQ4DME8rmale9OvlGBsih6Wdyr9rLb1vu2HxcbsPWGhu3a29Y7XB7_qfxcyNDQgqGQ7StwogIFfGcV0KQ9dei0J9q47PE/s4080/PXL_20240222_015338558.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLuiG2oIHY2H7lCZhp2FRQn8MdFH7gplzHfdiNJi4xLGPqLNXsHmMy91e-zXJBYPz9pp013v7mGUS_UYz1w4-PzVxQ4DME8rmale9OvlGBsih6Wdyr9rLb1vu2HxcbsPWGhu3a29Y7XB7_qfxcyNDQgqGQ7StwogIFfGcV0KQ9dei0J9q47PE/w482-h640/PXL_20240222_015338558.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rainbow Girls Honor Terika Dean (and Leadbelly)</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-12747540037036345062024-01-27T16:47:00.000-08:002024-01-30T11:24:53.224-08:00Cause of Joy and Light: Emma Langford at the Irish Center of Kansas City<p><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4sTON4IYQCoamtUEF5MvPXSrCecmHlFQIN7_CVjJONOQaM9vfapOkw7lTi-uc2MY4GAF-g_C5AVfOOTCRW0f9LnJANR_2om7FUnXF613g3j_FF-igh1wrawhVKXu-YZk88QSSxVxoLNwmID1jnPnxGn8kBCLQ6WTVEFLP593i6O0rsS_Pm53o/s1032/Emma%20for%20blog.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1032" data-original-width="1032" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4sTON4IYQCoamtUEF5MvPXSrCecmHlFQIN7_CVjJONOQaM9vfapOkw7lTi-uc2MY4GAF-g_C5AVfOOTCRW0f9LnJANR_2om7FUnXF613g3j_FF-igh1wrawhVKXu-YZk88QSSxVxoLNwmID1jnPnxGn8kBCLQ6WTVEFLP593i6O0rsS_Pm53o/w320-h320/Emma%20for%20blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: large;">F</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">rom the auditorium stage of The Irish
Center of Kansas City last Thursday, Emma Langford and crew served up a dizzying
array of characters in story and song—a dear uncle who demanded a song days
before his death (thereby inspiring both song and coda), a twelve-year-old Langford with
vocal nodules maintaining silence so her older self could sing, climbing trees as characters born from the memories roaring through insomnia, and a suite of
songs revolving around St. Abigail, a healer and a fighter who measures souls
without judgment. Throughout, openess and compassion fueled the show.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Early in the set, the Limerick, Ireland native dedicated
“Sailor’s Wife” to her mother, whom she’d promised (and forgotten) to tell when
she landed in the U.S., a tour that took her on nightly dates from New York to
St. Louis, Chicago, and Milwaukee the week of the KC stop. Langford cast
herself as the title character at sea, and she would carry this tension forward
with “All You Want,” a song from her 2017 debut about a family trying to understand
the risky and seemingly directionless life of a professional musician. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The opening line of that song
voices the wide gulf between the artist’s sense of self and that of the audience,
speaking the inconceivable: “There is nothing stunning about me.” Of course any
listener can personally relate to that perspective. But stunning is just the
word when she dismisses her “voice like velvet” as it floats “to the floor.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">What
Langford means by that, I don’t quite know, but I damn well know she means it.
As achingly beautiful as her voice is, such perfection can be problematic. Her
technical strength must be matched by all the warmth and conviction it can
carry. Otherwise, the technique might ring cold, float right past us rather
than connect. As far as I can tell, Langford always connects.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">And with that connection, rooted (as is all connection) in
vulnerability, comes a good deal of humor. Inviting the audience to sing along
with “Tug ‘O War,” a blues about wrestling with demons, she suggested ways the
audience might do so to the point of giddy hilarity, offering up three possibilities
in terms of harmonizing “ooohs.” Hell, the show ended with “Goodbye Hawaii,”
Langford performing what can only be described as mouth trumpet, as if she were
soloing on a horn rather than humming away with (just barely) puffed cheeks.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Langford’s not the only one who is
funny: her core band—Alec Brown on cello and woodwinds as well as Hannah Nic
Gearailt on keys—hold their own. That night Brown was happy to hint that he was the man
caught in the menage a trois suggested by her song, “The Unbearable Lightness
of Being.” And Nic Gearailt seemed to be the instigator of an ongoing gag—a la
Pee Wee Herman—which asked the crowd to go wild whenever anyone uttered the “secret
word” <i>cork</i>. Since the St. Abigail songs (about five if I have the right
count) were all set in County Cork, the word came up a lot even if Nic Gearailt
hadn’t found extra opportunities to work it in. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It's a fine trio.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The show disarmed in countless
ways, including a gorgeous rendition of Paul William’s (by way of Kermit) “Rainbow
Connection,” a song Langford said she and Nic Gearailt played during so many
fallow moments that it made Brown’s “ears bleed.” And Langford started the
second set, just her and Nic Gearailt, with Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares
2 U,” a song she explained was part of a project called Irish Women in Harm</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">ony
and a fundraiser for the Aisling Project (a holistic after-school program for
children </span><a href="https://www.aislingproject.ie/" style="font-size: 12pt;">https://www.aislingproject.ie/</a><span style="font-size: 12pt;">).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Joined onstage by Lawrence, Kansas’s
Carswell & Hope, Langford and company reached numerous powerful crescendos,
not least of which was the night’s performance of “Abigail,” an incredibly
beautiful song I wrote about when I first saw Langford at Folk Alliance last
year (<a href="https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2023/02/folk-alliance-day-four-yearning-hearts.html">https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2023/02/folk-alliance-day-four-yearning-hearts.htm</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Another highlight that night was the powerful “Birdsong,” rooted
in a traditional Irish form of chant singing. You can see a clip of it, and get
a feel for what she does, here: </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5ZkH1a-t1w" style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5ZkH1a-t1w</a><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiI9HUi2sjAGLa2JQmMMhIZgFCJUNsd46RFbz-HrYT68z27FMUcddGv1K5M-FrPv0HQekCHCs5BBQguNcwxdY1VEPJz8zz6vsf6mfXO2nnUqGvqRKaWtSMZGG0UnZ2Kv_Juf3VkrRkIqkg-N_hXFJbmYRuUcSPNAliQeSHXVFzTGsZzBfO7Am6/s1440/IMG_20240126_020753_407.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiI9HUi2sjAGLa2JQmMMhIZgFCJUNsd46RFbz-HrYT68z27FMUcddGv1K5M-FrPv0HQekCHCs5BBQguNcwxdY1VEPJz8zz6vsf6mfXO2nnUqGvqRKaWtSMZGG0UnZ2Kv_Juf3VkrRkIqkg-N_hXFJbmYRuUcSPNAliQeSHXVFzTGsZzBfO7Am6/s320/IMG_20240126_020753_407.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">At Kansas City’s Irish Center, Langford recruited three young
dancers to stomp their way through the rallying cry, the effect almost too
beautiful and moving to take. <br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">And that’s Langford in a nutshell, or perhaps an acorn husk—almost
too beautiful and moving to bear, but the “almost” there is key. Langford uses
her music—wrestling with the dark nights of her own soul—to help the rest of us
bear the heavy loads we carry and find ways to keep going. The stop in Kansas City last
Thursday night was nothing less than a vision of multi-colored paths forward, delivering
new heights and promising even more just around the next corner.</span></p>To order "Abigail":<a href="https://emmalangfordmusic.bandcamp.com/track/abigail-tomhas-ghobnatan"> https://emmalangfordmusic.bandcamp.com/track/abigail-tomhas-ghobnatan</a><p></p><p>For all things Langford: <a href="https://www.emmalangfordmusic.com/">https://www.emmalangfordmusic.com/</a></p><p>Thank you Mike Warren and Ben Bielski.</p><p>Also, thank you to the Irish Center of Kansas City, who provided this Birdsong video: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/irishcenterkc/videos/3743305029280406">Birdsong in KC</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMARRa9h7fO7WKFySKZv6SX_u55jIjZboE5RvOolj0ufK2-G5AwL4mt094obKiWAdqVVEtpx76kPycr5r86djhDKGSj6YZjSiPmc2fH2Tj7z12njbveGZZ8SISEMFhzIvedEqlqP1nczybEYafFX0acmuhNHcEaPZWDyGz_GvYLpgOB-vFSMke/s1440/IMG_20240126_020753_432.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMARRa9h7fO7WKFySKZv6SX_u55jIjZboE5RvOolj0ufK2-G5AwL4mt094obKiWAdqVVEtpx76kPycr5r86djhDKGSj6YZjSiPmc2fH2Tj7z12njbveGZZ8SISEMFhzIvedEqlqP1nczybEYafFX0acmuhNHcEaPZWDyGz_GvYLpgOB-vFSMke/w640-h640/IMG_20240126_020753_432.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-84524234588331033482023-12-22T21:06:00.000-08:002023-12-22T21:41:16.396-08:00Since You Really Matter, Lilli Lewis's "All Is Forgiven"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6J4Jix07hZN8N-RP5jn-rJnAFTfstN2raKVidVCxB2hBJ1vbG3sHeAumC9zx_gn2ogaLT0xmwwTvocRjnIWCGmFmMiioDkjW2tnAbG_38pxIVWeLdWeZnkSG2GkTl5jeAQLCtso5asvYrevCte-eJ3th_owt0tPaprLUA0fl-VmTglNLkZwU/s700/All%20Is%20Forgiven.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6J4Jix07hZN8N-RP5jn-rJnAFTfstN2raKVidVCxB2hBJ1vbG3sHeAumC9zx_gn2ogaLT0xmwwTvocRjnIWCGmFmMiioDkjW2tnAbG_38pxIVWeLdWeZnkSG2GkTl5jeAQLCtso5asvYrevCte-eJ3th_owt0tPaprLUA0fl-VmTglNLkZwU/w400-h400/All%20Is%20Forgiven.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Perhaps rather than start with why and how I identify with this album more intensely than any multi-song progression I've heard in recent memory, I should talk about Lilli Lewis's voice. <p></p><p>Whether someone is technically proficient or not, whether someone is a virtuoso or not, it's never about that, not really. Some of the greatest singers have terribly limited vocal ability, but they know how to use that limited range like no one else. Lewis is sort of the exception that lends insight to the rule. As she proves many times before the operatic lullaby, "Ciel Eternel," Lewis's abilities are singular and profound. If I say the opening three cuts move from a distinctly NOLA version of blues confrontation to an epic self defense that calls to mind the grandeur of "River Deep Mountain High" and then the kind of garage soul one might associate with Smokey Robinson sifted through Steve Van Zandt, this would be selling each song short simply because of Lewis's voice. This isn't about Lewis's voice being better than Tina Turner. It's about why such distinctions don't matter.</p><p>What matters is neither woman would entertain such a silly comparison because what makes them sisters is a vision as big as rock and soul itself. And that vision is why the three soaring piano ballads at the center of the album hit as hard as the rest. These songs ask the questions that are most central to the musical vision that waged a series of cultural revolutions. Lewis asks us to consider the weight of our convictions. If our one life matters, just what is indeed possible?</p><p>In the tumultuous currents of "Possible"--buffeting harp and piano crested by splashing cymbals--Lewis declares a fundamental conviction that is certainly core to why I have devoted my life to writing about this music despite the entire playing field and the role of writers themselves having changed in such quantitative ways that the work feels fundamentally different today than when I started--when rock and hip hop criticism played a prominent role in a series of great cultural upheavals. </p><p>But the basic job hasn't changed. The community feels as alien to me, in many ways, as Lewis's old sense of community (the focus of so much of this album) feels alien to her. If you've been in the room with Lilli Lewis playing her organ and singing or if you are immersed in it on headphones the way I am right now, it's every bit as huge as those rock records that used to crack open the eternal sky as well as the punk and hip hop records that blew holes in that vision of the sky. </p><p>All is forgiven here, for Lewis and for me, because we share an understanding that what matters is much bigger than our personal disappointments, our own failures, and the failures of our old communal homes. She says it plain as day in "Possible"--"I'll never be flattened by perfection/Best to expand by nature's laws." </p><p>We're all trying just as hard every time we sit down to perform because we know in this act we learn, individually and together. And it's been there since people began to recognize something new was taking hold, asking Beethoven to roll right on over because that's alright mama, any thing you do.</p><p>It's no surprise then that Lewis closes this album with the epic rock guitar of "Firefly." One of the greatest voices I've ever heard asks the listener, asks the music itself, to "teach me to sing." Like writing itself, that will never be a fixed goal, not if you want, like Lewis, nothing less than "to light the dark quiet sky."</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fd9IbODYgOU">Firefly</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib968MvCBBrvwYSMs8pZ1ANTDQKlY0O7hkeympmhV2ICIsFIbxMZBUOJVrW4ka2ZHV8lLrvYppLGyZktayrMIL-8uGmYIgcMsH-g-LqNF0hJwJUSHRtHqRmkoc0fdW53rfr_VqX9uO8zWV_OPAXA_VqCbPcKELHoiEXpGO7oELMoTNZi0cTfGg/s2560/Lilli-Lewis-04-photo-by-Noe-Cugny-for-OffBeat-Magazine-2-scaled.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1707" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib968MvCBBrvwYSMs8pZ1ANTDQKlY0O7hkeympmhV2ICIsFIbxMZBUOJVrW4ka2ZHV8lLrvYppLGyZktayrMIL-8uGmYIgcMsH-g-LqNF0hJwJUSHRtHqRmkoc0fdW53rfr_VqX9uO8zWV_OPAXA_VqCbPcKELHoiEXpGO7oELMoTNZi0cTfGg/w426-h640/Lilli-Lewis-04-photo-by-Noe-Cugny-for-OffBeat-Magazine-2-scaled.jpg" width="426" /></a></p><br /><p><a href="https://folkrockdiva.bandcamp.com/album/all-is-forgiven">"All Is Forgiven" at Bandcamp</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.righteousbabe.com/products/lilli-lewis-all-is-forgiven-album">"All Is Forgiven" at Righteous Babe</a><br /></p><p><br /></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-41402338829744524312023-12-20T23:57:00.000-08:002023-12-22T21:46:41.513-08:00Endings Never Tell You Where to Start: Emily King's Truly "Special Occasion"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOzX30qtO3fXFgkHHLBJQ1KowLj058xbsVwmt6BEtVz7W-Sg-TtftP9Uxh6Hdc1wcHSdCeyo7_XObnTKBmHKXlp_VYsIP5o8RS7z-y4yeQoR0GQzekjQn2lZ99w1j9HnyqdiD_M7PRyfSiKcuRqzNTuR1ZdvNLs69rMRBIWC-U1fuIo92GaY9/s466/Emily%20King%20Special%20Occasion.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="466" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOzX30qtO3fXFgkHHLBJQ1KowLj058xbsVwmt6BEtVz7W-Sg-TtftP9Uxh6Hdc1wcHSdCeyo7_XObnTKBmHKXlp_VYsIP5o8RS7z-y4yeQoR0GQzekjQn2lZ99w1j9HnyqdiD_M7PRyfSiKcuRqzNTuR1ZdvNLs69rMRBIWC-U1fuIo92GaY9/s320/Emily%20King%20Special%20Occasion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It's good to hear Emily King's "Special Occasion" (ATO Records) has received a Grammy nomination. The optimism in my cynicism suggests that means the record sold a few copies. But like so much of my 2023, it's been a quiet, sturdy companion that I assumed flew well under the cultural radar. <p></p><p>"Small is the new big," a friend assured me at the dawn of the digital revolution in music over thirty years ago. That seemed then and even more now, truly prescient. The greatest music of our time hits small numbers hard, but it can't capture a mainstage now reserved for a handful of... royals. </p><p>One of the strengths here is King understands that truth far better than (7 months into listening) I'm beginning to grasp. No doubt for practical reasons, but most clips of King present these songs live and paired down--her guitarist and drummer in accompaniment, the singer building out the beats with handclaps. Ironically, songs that on record have lush, soul grandeur and a funky technicolor punch may even gain a bit of drama offered as busking.</p><p>After all, these are finely crafted songs first, and the record couldn't be more intimate. After the bravado of three would-be hits--"This Year," "Special Occasion," and "Medal," all infectiously celebrating how we might seize the day, the painful recognition of "False Start" retreats into an explosion of electric guitar. </p><p>Bravado helps, but alone doesn't cut it.</p><p>The gorgeously claustrophobic denial of "The Way that You Love Me" follows. Then come the delicate acoustic negotiations of "Home Now" and a new level of realization in the tender duet with Lukas Nelson, "Bad Memory." </p><p>That honesty allows for the realism of "Waterfalls," the naked inquiry of "Who Wants My Love," "Easy," and "Closer to Morning." From the place of greatest self doubt, King finds a way to start a dialogue. That reach alone would be remarkable, nevermind (although it would be foolish to do so) King's evocative, propulsive vocals, the rich, precise arrangements, and the endless melodic hooks.</p><p>The album versions are perfect, but I can't resist ending with these two contrasting live takes:</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGvl16lcVTM">Medal Live on Venice Beach</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbd7Q6_mGXk">False Start Live in the Studio</a> </p><p><a href="https://emilyking.bandcamp.com/album/special-occasion">"Special Occasion" at Bandcamp</a><br /></p><p> <a href="https://atorecords.com/releases/emily-king-special-occasion/">"Special Occasion" at ATO</a></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-19444396006996428172023-10-10T08:00:00.007-07:002023-10-14T07:04:19.370-07:00A Fully Formed Picture: Kelly Hunt's "Ozark Symphony" for 90.9 The Bridge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSt3bkk4St0CAADgke7Lk0uZ0065p6w8o_mMTL5lcaSKnBRW1rcyVKqvk_0o5dcVHGyNqOhvULenz1ANLG8uoRiHsNmd9MnWicNNCE9EKQ_1-eyj-FrlVkwQ9PIHYMw2Il9WaeGrkK_a5AY0O0LuCfwzTAjivOtWtKnymwvFfihUbTGFml8XuR/s5472/kelly%20hunt_promo%20images-0940%20edited.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSt3bkk4St0CAADgke7Lk0uZ0065p6w8o_mMTL5lcaSKnBRW1rcyVKqvk_0o5dcVHGyNqOhvULenz1ANLG8uoRiHsNmd9MnWicNNCE9EKQ_1-eyj-FrlVkwQ9PIHYMw2Il9WaeGrkK_a5AY0O0LuCfwzTAjivOtWtKnymwvFfihUbTGFml8XuR/w640-h426/kelly%20hunt_promo%20images-0940%20edited.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://bridge909.org/news/kelly-hunt-ozark-symphony">A Fully Formed Picture: Kelly Hunt's "Ozark Symphony"</a><br /></p><p>https://youtu.be/4ZVaX-ij_xQ?si=0bloSIHWAivKGg34</p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-78783957581877280502023-08-08T12:42:00.011-07:002023-08-08T23:27:19.221-07:00"Kick Out the Jams" and the Debt I Owe<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXPkjoclKFuipYK6k42Jg1fmt0RjoNC4aw6s1ccP0DFDOZUJDozJwKcFqzYlkNnCC-kwwIl4AmjadEgY9JdWIHfDWx0SOhc-X4IUVosySNzpB7SFv0vRKdLeuvAKwEaBuNgfd_YQhToYrIIgQVtx_7Uf9JVI0xWyv2-80VMvKspg7kiCJRl6zf/s2775/YyUcb6lLuh8eRmuP.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2775" data-original-width="2175" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXPkjoclKFuipYK6k42Jg1fmt0RjoNC4aw6s1ccP0DFDOZUJDozJwKcFqzYlkNnCC-kwwIl4AmjadEgY9JdWIHfDWx0SOhc-X4IUVosySNzpB7SFv0vRKdLeuvAKwEaBuNgfd_YQhToYrIIgQVtx_7Uf9JVI0xWyv2-80VMvKspg7kiCJRl6zf/s320/YyUcb6lLuh8eRmuP.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You can say
what you want about any of those folks, if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be
here.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After the
2021 Land of Hope and Dreams conference celebrating Dave Marsh’s work and ideas,
someone complained about someone else’s performance. Marsh made the above comment in part to defend an old friend. He also wanted us to
recognize the debt he owed. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On the eve
of publishing the new Dave Marsh anthology <i>Kick Out the Jams</i>, I want to
say the same about Marsh. I can put it even more forcefully. If you are not a
member of my extended family, you know who I am because of him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Most people
Dave Marsh influenced wouldn’t put it quite that absolutely, but I bet many
would have to think about it. That’s why the Land of Hope and Dreams conference
came together relatively easily, and that’s why this new book came out of this
discussion. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On Marsh’s
70<sup>th</sup> birthday, half a dozen of his friends began to discuss how to
celebrate such a significant career in our own life stories. He had not only kept
pushing us to think over the past four or five decades, but he was also how
most involved found one another. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A member of the
group talking about all this, University of Wisconsin African American Studies
professor Craig Werner, had a similar conference upon his retirement from the
school. I wrote about that one here: <a href="https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2019/08/the-only-light-we-see-craig-werner-and.html">https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2019/08/the-only-light-we-see-craig-werner-and.html</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Werner and
Marsh are both community builders, and we knew a celebration of Marsh’s
work would tell a unique story of people and ideas set in motion around popular
music. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">About eight
of us started meeting regularly on Zoom and, within a year, pulled together
three weeks of activities that featured five spotlight conversations and twelve
different panels featuring seventy different participants. Each had something
to say about what set this work apart and its implications for the world we
live in today. You can still find the whole conference with panel descriptions
and bios here: <a href="https://landofhopeanddreams.co/">https://landofhopeanddreams.co/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s also
a YouTube page which houses the video links: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@landofhopeanddreamsatribut7061">https://www.youtube.com/@landofhopeanddreamsatribut7061</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The idea of
a sequel to Marsh’s </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Fortunate Son</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> anthology, published in 1985, grew
alongside this project. </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Fortunate Son </i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">is a terrific book, but it covers
a little over a decade in a career that has spanned five. Since leaving </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Rolling
Stone</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> in 1983, Marsh not only wrote or edited a couple of dozen books, each
an important and unique contribution in its own way, but continued working as a
journalist for </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Rolling Stone’s </i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">wonderful spin-off </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Record</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">, and a
great magazine called </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Musician</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">, as well as everything from the </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Village
Voice</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> to </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">TV Guide </i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">to Alexander Cockburn’s political newsletter </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Counterpunch</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">.
Most significantly, throughout Marsh’s post-</span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Rolling Stone</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> career, he collaborated
with music and sports journalist Lee Ballinger, music industry insider Wendy
Smith, my co-editor on this book Daniel Wolff, and editor and agent Sandy Choron
(as well as everyone else they knew) to produce a rock and politics newsletter
designed to eliminate the divisions between insiders and outsiders in the
record industry, </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Rock & Roll Confidential</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> (later </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Rock & Rap Confidential) </i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">or </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">RRC</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEw_RcpR7VE3UybioID9HrsHD1B7oGbSQeHee3vdicF0kShfV8Zd5TznIUtCSbEyJ4nRzJ5JNuumCHGIB5zMFyCbXd32sUR9i3aTUKwNKv7R0iV7WQCBam3rHVUApFGxueaIQ86c-HV9dQ77mKH0CQchRspQQCzMhiE8Jad1zPpVvP7IosiKiX/s3873/PXL_20230808_190254956%20(2).jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3873" data-original-width="2902" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEw_RcpR7VE3UybioID9HrsHD1B7oGbSQeHee3vdicF0kShfV8Zd5TznIUtCSbEyJ4nRzJ5JNuumCHGIB5zMFyCbXd32sUR9i3aTUKwNKv7R0iV7WQCBam3rHVUApFGxueaIQ86c-HV9dQ77mKH0CQchRspQQCzMhiE8Jad1zPpVvP7IosiKiX/s320/PXL_20230808_190254956%20(2).jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first Rock & Rap Confidential</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The history
of Dave Marsh’s writing after the </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Rolling Stone </i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">era is a history of making
connections between artists, music industry workers, and fans around our common
struggles. RRC brilliantly reflected, clarified, and helped facilitate what was
happening in the 80s when even mainstream musicians were regularly making statements
(and making benefit records and throwing huge events) around issues like hunger
and homelessness, basic human rights, and neocolonial human rights abuses in
Central America, Africa, and throughout the world.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">One thing
RRC did so well was to always bring these struggles home. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In 1987, I
found my voice writing for RRC by connecting the antiapartheid movement to the
racial divisions on the airwaves and around my college campus in Oklahoma. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But that
wasn’t the start of Marsh’s influence on my life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It started back
when I turned teenager reading his work in <i>Rolling Stone</i>. My brother first
drew my attention to Marsh’s name, along with Greil Marcus, Mikal Gilmore, Cameron
Crowe, and other stand-out rock critics of that time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">They all
influenced me, but Marsh in a singular way. When I seemed to be the only person
in the world who thought a sophomore album was better than the debut, he would
be the one voice that agreed. When I heard a hitch in a vocal or a four-note
guitar riff that defined the impact of a performance, Marsh tended to be the
one who pointed it out. Even and perhaps especially when we disagreed, Marsh’s
work struck so deep it taught me something else. His writing repeatedly
reinforced the idea that I didn’t have to agree with what everyone else was
saying. What I really needed to do was speak honestly my own perspective
whenever it was important to do so.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That may
seem obvious, but it wasn’t the message this 13-year-old was receiving much elsewhere
in the world. It was liberating, and, later, when I was trying to pick a major
in college, the idea of Dave Marsh flashed through my mind as I declared
English. I didn’t know anything of his short-lived career at Wayne State; but
it was an intuitive leap that paid off.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">About three
years later, I met him at my school. A friend of mine ran the speaker’s
committee, and I saw a Dave Marsh flier on her desk. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I said, “Get
him!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She said, “Join
my committee and fight for it.” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1egRHpiVO1k-DfuEPQg1DPJVdCWBE3l0wssP7R7iD7UBtZA_uV_Y_a9i5ERch-DYFHOxKZEeGxT4ROvveR5m58hkNElQPd9viVehBmpxOczRn6-Ut_N_9hPlVX7kvGjqHdCe59FWW7ofUL7eOo6qRxBAYHXkEJSMCdIWbtvSPTXlBhrGFuFu/s2408/PXL_20230808_190845792.MP%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2408" data-original-width="2397" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1egRHpiVO1k-DfuEPQg1DPJVdCWBE3l0wssP7R7iD7UBtZA_uV_Y_a9i5ERch-DYFHOxKZEeGxT4ROvveR5m58hkNElQPd9viVehBmpxOczRn6-Ut_N_9hPlVX7kvGjqHdCe59FWW7ofUL7eOo6qRxBAYHXkEJSMCdIWbtvSPTXlBhrGFuFu/s320/PXL_20230808_190845792.MP%20(1).jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marsh on the back cover of <i>Fortunate Son</i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I did, and
that whole experience—helping to host the event, a packed house in our campus little
theater—taught me more about myself than I ever would have guessed. We all had
great discussions, and, for my part, he left me with a piece of paper that had
his home phone number and address, as well as the names of imprisoned voting
rights activist Spiver Gordon and imprisoned American Indian Movement activist Leonard
Peltier. My Peltier cover story for the Kansas City alternative press <i>The Pitch</i>
would help me land a second job writing for its chief competitor, <i>The New
Times</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But all that
work started after I sent Marsh my term paper for the semester he visited
campus. He was very complimentary and invited me to help with RRC, acknowledging
that he had little to pay and comparing the offer to Tom Sawyer asking friends
to help him whitewash his fence.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The line I
remember verbatim guided my transition and the rest of my writing career: “What
in hell does the last paragraph on page 11 mean that couldn’t have been said
with half the words and none of the academic gobbledygook?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Nothing”
was my answer, and that lit a fire in me. I started writing reviews of every record I was listening to that Marsh and Ballinger might use
in the newsletter. Most of it didn’t get in, but I kept plugging away.
Eventually, I became a regular.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I also began
to pull together articles for an RRC-like newsletter I was calling <i>The Red
Dirt Runner</i>, but that never got past an initial layout.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In October
that year, I moved to Kansas City and started a newsletter called <i>A Sign of
the Times</i> with other RRC subscribers in the area. We printed our local take
on RRC for about three years, 2000 copies at a time distributed everywhere around
town. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqBXqFCieYjEriL4pXWWR0th9O8DQQWsaw1mLVRDCwUKRUY8EM9Ggl_aleoxi5vs-Xh8xeAOyjJuvwdXoNiFZISgR6-PTeuLc6CdrpqUm-3vKQE9RSx0ZXRGmuz2poMsfR-Er9h7Xk_mXgVNpbAc3azCp7ebgWVTAIoEbqaa23EJT9D-8QUAu/s3837/PXL_20230808_190759679.MP%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3837" data-original-width="2982" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqBXqFCieYjEriL4pXWWR0th9O8DQQWsaw1mLVRDCwUKRUY8EM9Ggl_aleoxi5vs-Xh8xeAOyjJuvwdXoNiFZISgR6-PTeuLc6CdrpqUm-3vKQE9RSx0ZXRGmuz2poMsfR-Er9h7Xk_mXgVNpbAc3azCp7ebgWVTAIoEbqaa23EJT9D-8QUAu/s320/PXL_20230808_190759679.MP%20(1).jpg" width="249" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first issue, every word that fit</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The whole Sign
of the Times bunch would collaborate with folks like Dirt Cheap Recycled Sounds
owner Anne Winter, Carla Duggar and Katrina Coker of the ACLU, and Hollywood at
Home video store owner Richard Rostenberg to form The Greater Kansas City
Coalition Against Censorship, later called the Kansas City Free Speech
Coalition. Marsh would visit and speak as an individual and as part of a panel
at our first annual week-long celebration of free speech, Culture Under Fire, a
tradition that lasted about a decade.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Because of
the networks I inherited by working with RRC, I wrote music-related editorial columns
for the<i> Pitch</i>, the <i>New Times</i>, the <i>Note</i>, and other area
papers. Among other issues, I wrote about music censorship, racial segregation
in our entertainment districts, and curfew ordinances aimed at east side youth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">One reason
Marsh made so much sense to me was that he saw no division between journalism
and activism. I could address questions of objectivity and professionalism by
finding the right angle and stance to get the job done without compromising my
ethics. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Though I was
primarily a journalist, I helped Ron Casanova incorporate and raise awareness
about his organization, the Kansas City Missouri Union of the Homeless. Together
with the free speech coalition, we held a national Break the Blackout Summit to
strategize practical solidarity among poor people’s organizations. This would
eventually lead me to ongoing work with the Poor People’s Economic Human Rights
Campaign. Marsh was there, one way or another, each step of the way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After the
death of Dave Marsh and Barbara Carr’s younger daughter Kristen at 21, we all began to
focus more on health care issues. We took what we learned and held panels on
musician health care at Folk Alliance and SXSW. Locally, we founded the Kansas
City Music Alliance to find local ways to work on such issues. Thankfully, before
long, Abigail Henderson would build the Midwest Music Foundation which did such
things far better than we ever could have managed, but the Music Alliance is a
precious memory, as was my time with the hip hop collective Flavorpak (which continues
to this day), all informed by the idea that there’s an inherent good in
gathering together to tackle the problems we all face. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I could go
on, but I won’t. What’s that great line from Tillie Olsen’s “I Stand Here Ironing”?
“I will never total it all.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In Marsh’s
first anthology, he talked about how music opened the world to him, making him
question everything he knew that held him back from the vision in music. “Looking
over my shoulder,” he wrote, “seeing the consequences to my life had I not
begun questioning not just the racism but all of the other presumptions that
ruled our lives, I know for certain how and how much I got over….What was left
for me was a raging passion to explain things in the hope that others would not
be trapped and to keep the way clear so that others from the trashy outskirts
of barbarous America still had a place to stand—if not in the culture at large,
at least in rock and roll.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Dave Marsh has always done that for me. He helped me find a place to stand and a way to work. That
foundation contributed to everything else I have done. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This new anthology illustrates just how far Marsh carried that mission once he stepped
away from <i>Rolling Stone</i>. In these pages, by looking closely at the
realities of the music industry and the contradictory ideas it cultivates, he
tackles common myths that keep musicians and fans trapped in a world where
nothing can change. Among other stands, Marsh takes on Ticketmaster side by
side with Pearl Jam. fights against the death penalty watching a friend’s
execution, and frames the legacy of musicians like my Stillwater brother Jimmy
LaFave who lost his own fight to the very same rare cancer that took Marsh’s daughter.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I love the
fact that the MC5 song “Kick Out the Jams” which gave us our title, demands
that we keep the music playing as key to overcoming all that we’re up against.
In music, there’s a certainty that we can imagine a better world. Dave Marsh’s
writing never quits pushing that dream toward a working reality. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On August 15<sup>th</sup>,
to illustrate that point, writers, artists, musicians, and activists will gather
at the Warwick Theatre at 3927 Main for a book launch party. Doors will be
open at 5:30, and at 7:00 at least a dozen local musicians, artists, writers,
and activists will take the stage to read from the book and/or make statements about
the vision I have outlined above. In this way, here and in other cities where
we are planning similar events, we plan to build on Marsh’s ideas in the only
way they can truly be addressed, through community.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKSOSQYgtAxM1vM8cAlm2NziC8Sn3EtLvKxVjJAu5nbUDzLeL4wbEciBp0HjFCvs349zjlx-oC24mmIVE91Kw8oStxf1lzQN-389D9etdMZ0XuH4bbGcntT5b-lQKv3ffQjHqzjZfOx0S4oBHrezfxDB8koV4Yosr5x9_vDKT6hgjgm85Ry6R/s1640/Kick%20Out%20the%20Jams%20FB%20Event%20copy%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKSOSQYgtAxM1vM8cAlm2NziC8Sn3EtLvKxVjJAu5nbUDzLeL4wbEciBp0HjFCvs349zjlx-oC24mmIVE91Kw8oStxf1lzQN-389D9etdMZ0XuH4bbGcntT5b-lQKv3ffQjHqzjZfOx0S4oBHrezfxDB8koV4Yosr5x9_vDKT6hgjgm85Ry6R/w640-h360/Kick%20Out%20the%20Jams%20FB%20Event%20copy%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-13525952793624395262023-04-20T18:27:00.007-07:002023-04-20T19:31:44.067-07:00Welcome to the Family, Sara Swenson and Kelly Hunt at Knuckleheads <p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYdBtA4Q7722S8hfzw5QBjitLjfxH9nA2nCH6ZZ5QlA8QQQZS-RSPrvTVP7TKP3VenuXDx2SslvOY9-ZOFiCk5E5es3jUbvcxlUG5R62OPHlIctLasL0UT34tFGbn31_crsVxyDh-3w1_RmIMgHRvMAEx4SKuCD-vVVJLE5q9oOqBrQDZCg/s3320/Sara%20Swenson%20all%20three%20for%20blog.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2212" data-original-width="3320" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYdBtA4Q7722S8hfzw5QBjitLjfxH9nA2nCH6ZZ5QlA8QQQZS-RSPrvTVP7TKP3VenuXDx2SslvOY9-ZOFiCk5E5es3jUbvcxlUG5R62OPHlIctLasL0UT34tFGbn31_crsVxyDh-3w1_RmIMgHRvMAEx4SKuCD-vVVJLE5q9oOqBrQDZCg/w640-h426/Sara%20Swenson%20all%20three%20for%20blog.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flynn, Swenson, Hunt (photo by Shelli Baldwin)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;">On Kelly Hunt’s 2019 debut album, </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">Even the Sparrow</i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">,
she has this remarkable song (well, one of twelve, this one called “Men of Blue
& Grey”) about a greenhouse patched with glass photographic plates from the
Civil War. New life finds its way through the images of dying soldiers. There’s
something core to Hunt’s songwriting in such an image.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">During her opening set, she talked of writing songs,
picking her banjo on the green caboose that sits at the end of Main Street in
her hometown of Weston, Missouri. From this port on the Missouri River, where
the Santa Fe Trail and the Oregon Trail both began, it’s not only easy to
imagine this young woman feeling all the yearning and fear in that history, but
also almost impossible not to hear her wrenching hope and loss out of each word
she sings.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She lay a solid foundation for Swenson, who came onstage
and met us right where we’ve all been living these last three years.
Accompanied by understated, precise guitar (and a little mandolin) from John
Flynn, Swenson joined us in the darkest part of the night with her song “Brother,”
a celebration of what just might matter most, that we’re there for each other
when dawn seems so far away. It’s a beautiful meditation on that need, one that
brings out the full swing of Swenson’s vocals, from an alto drawl someplace
close to Lucinda William’s gravel roads to someplace not only high and lonesome
but delicate and bright, a light in the darkness.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">After, she said, “That’s the song my daughter calls my
imaginary brother song.” And the room laughed, as we did many times that night.
Swenson told stories of her kids and her sister’s kids. Then there was her grandfather,
celebrated on the song, “My Little Girl.” That’s a song about a time, after her
grandmother died, that little Sara called up her grandfather and asked if she
could spend the night with him. She reveled in his memory, explaining how he
liked to share information he’d gathered from newspaper clippings, always
pointing at the family with such a decisive move she swore they could hear his
index finger pop.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Adding to the familial feel of the set, Hunt joined Swenson
most of the time, standing to her left while Flynn played on the right. Like
the “imaginary brother” her daughter calls her on, Swenson managed to weave a
family not only out of characters fictional and real in her songs, but out of
the circle of friends, family, and fans gathered in Carl Butler’s Gospel Lounge
in the back of Knuckleheads, already the most intimate room in the venue.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She did this with a hard focused, yet playful
progression of ideas. The imaginary brother gave way to the “Messy Love” where
two partners never quite give the other what he or she wants but manage to have
what they need. Then she defined the whole of it with “Welcome to the Family,”
a song Swenson smiled and introduced as, “We’re all just doing the best we can.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She sang of one of her first glimpses of parenthood,
the rollicking “O, My Babies,” inspired by her sister’s children. She followed
that with the lingering contentment of “Night Sounds,” a song she punctuated
with the end comment, “Those were the kind of night sounds you heard lying out
on your deck in Hyde Park, before kids,” then hilariously impersonated children
finding every reason on earth not to settle down and go to sleep.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Though she had us all laughing, she wasn’t done with the
quiet. Hunt and Flynn went and sat down. Swenson said, “I’m going to try
something.” She then offered a solo, acoustic version of the title track of her
2010 album, “All Things Big and Small,” a simple lyric, part prayer and part
lullaby. “Hold these seconds near your heart like a locket.” Though we could
hear the bands over in the Knuckleheads garage and out on the roadhouse deck, we
leaned in and did just that.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Hunt then joined Swenson for a still spare—their voices
and Swenson’s guitar—version of “Big Pretty City” from her 2014 album </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">Runway
Lights</i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">. Before she began singing, she explained she wrote it as a
celebration of London. Without knowing that, it’s all too evident that this mandala-like
work is a rich portrait of the ephemeral’s movement through that which seems
eternal. The turning lights of that song brilliantly set up perhaps
her most famous song, “Time to Go” (featured on the television show </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">The Practice</i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">)
and the close of this warm, familial vision, “Vistas,” a song about the infinite
possibilities of a single relationship.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Introducing, “Time to Go,” Swenson laughed and said, “But
don’t go yet. We’re not done.” The set ended with a surprise, the greatest song
by the greatest songwriter lost to COVID. All three were on stage together for a
gorgeous rendition of John Prine’s “Angel from Montgomery,” and joy and pain
could not have been more perfectly wedded. Swenson, Hunt, and Flynn gave flight
to that imaginary (but all too real) old woman in the song and gave everyone in
the room a reminder of what community can be even in a portrait of its absence.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><a href="https://saraswenson.com/">https://saraswenson.com/</a> <a href="https://www.kellyhuntmusic.com/">https://www.kellyhuntmusic.com/</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykXln9nFzazwGYGV2WlkA2Aeb0WQk_lE9RJ2JYjirdr2R4LAhnmv5DW9Hois5VFh7xPxrq_Md1oyCNq7sWtirNh-VwD97begozVis1jR2cyvH_wxDa48vIB7RK3Z5xQHcnb4SuDMp0yqv7bKYLFEkR2eCmAtRcvJHX75aMk2MkR_G8EOLZQ/s1080/Sara%20Selfie%20with%20Kelly%20and.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="1080" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykXln9nFzazwGYGV2WlkA2Aeb0WQk_lE9RJ2JYjirdr2R4LAhnmv5DW9Hois5VFh7xPxrq_Md1oyCNq7sWtirNh-VwD97begozVis1jR2cyvH_wxDa48vIB7RK3Z5xQHcnb4SuDMp0yqv7bKYLFEkR2eCmAtRcvJHX75aMk2MkR_G8EOLZQ/w640-h482/Sara%20Selfie%20with%20Kelly%20and.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Earlier blog about Swenson:</span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2011/11/sara-swenson-pearl-snaps-and-soft-touch.html">https://takeemastheycome.blogspot.com/2011/11/sara-swenson-pearl-snaps-and-soft-touch.html</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-11757242124792718162023-03-30T19:54:00.043-07:002023-04-01T06:23:21.677-07:00One in the Sacred Now, Ana Egge and Iris DeMent at Knuckleheads Garage<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gvx8BaCGOL6cwfwb7j7OU3z5rdY0eHYBGIhYuQLNFJyVYIXpQONaLVUe2YdrHLVy0P3fU1edavdSauo7RdWZrzrg6y2laARNxojf2agISMGtlopK5_WkOAZ1GwKRq1RxRLtXKpNjiOKWn0wZ1VqQVu3yZbR5itp0Wj41aA0hilkJIC6pTw/s3194/Iris%20and%20Ana.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2260" data-original-width="3194" height="453" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gvx8BaCGOL6cwfwb7j7OU3z5rdY0eHYBGIhYuQLNFJyVYIXpQONaLVUe2YdrHLVy0P3fU1edavdSauo7RdWZrzrg6y2laARNxojf2agISMGtlopK5_WkOAZ1GwKRq1RxRLtXKpNjiOKWn0wZ1VqQVu3yZbR5itp0Wj41aA0hilkJIC6pTw/w640-h453/Iris%20and%20Ana.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iris DeMent and Ana Egge</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I’ve been sitting with it for a week. One morning I
wake up, and “The Sacred Now” jangles in my head telling me that’s the heart of
the show. The next morning, “Heart Is a Mirror” says it’s the
introduction that led to “Sacred’s” conclusion. I abandoned a draft.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In
many ways, Ana Egge and Iris DeMent's show at Knucklehead's Garage was such a simple and direct statement from both. But it’s hard
to overestimate the complexity and power of what that means in this fragile new
world of rejoining one another in public.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">At one point during DeMent’s set, she said, “Did
someone tell you all to be quiet?” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We laughed. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“If I’m not talking, you can get
to know your neighbor.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was indeed that quiet. Egge had set the hushed, warm tone
of a roomful of friends getting to know each other, more interested in listening
than talking. It’s the way she celebrated the “Cocaine Cowboys” with no apologies,
the way she talked about the girls of New York with the ghost of Lou Reed and her
friend Anthony by her side.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Egge sings with a soft but solid push that reaches
across the room. When she sang the words “Sweet Jane,” I felt like I needed to
revisit The Cowboy Junkies’ Margo Timmins. I’m not comparing the two singers so
much as I heard a sense of lineage, and this new voice so perfectly of this
moment. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">As she sang about a father mechanic
and his daughter who struggles to connect with him, as she danced around the
room with her own daughter, as she remembered a moment when it seemed everyone in the world was transfixed
by an eclipse (when ideologies didn’t matter, just our shared humanity), time and again Egge drew
the room close.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">On the opening performance of Egge's new single, “Heart Is a Mirror,” bassist Chris Donahue vamped a bit for the instrumental break. Egge noted, “We start the show with a bass solo.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Donahue would be out there all night. He was the
musical heart, always the pulse. What better place to start? </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51GKgBalXy6gtw27xXxKqr-3Sb_KYYTXijQsey_kL9IDlrWw7oyD_WNY0QT44je27pHG6gsPfH4p-3Ad92Qt0grp4ipqK1v25UmScibhipsOHg2RcvCFEtiyi51Yp_uuJ6DSQ1IeLJqTVqpAfcmzgwE1sIehWDOQZDcfZpQOkH1P54ybPvg/s3926/Iris%20Chris%20Ana%20all%20playing.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3033" data-original-width="3926" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51GKgBalXy6gtw27xXxKqr-3Sb_KYYTXijQsey_kL9IDlrWw7oyD_WNY0QT44je27pHG6gsPfH4p-3Ad92Qt0grp4ipqK1v25UmScibhipsOHg2RcvCFEtiyi51Yp_uuJ6DSQ1IeLJqTVqpAfcmzgwE1sIehWDOQZDcfZpQOkH1P54ybPvg/s320/Iris%20Chris%20Ana%20all%20playing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iris, Chris, Ana play</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was on DeMent’s “Say A Good Word” that the three
first shared the stage, also at the precise midpoint of the evening. DeMent spent
the main set at the piano. She began with a couple of songs in the personal, almost private vein Egge took, both from </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">Sing the Delta</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">, DeMent's first home. But then she
sang the marching “Working on A World,” a song that declares “privilege just to
be working on a world that I may never see.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">That’s when she called out Egge.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">DeMent began quietly, in a voice not that distant from
Egge’s, “The home’s become such an angry place/Friends now wear an enemy’s
face/The chasm’s grown so wide….”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This is right where both artists work, shouting across
that chasm even as they whisper. It made perfect sense when DeMent built a
bridge out of the word “magnanimity,” read like a phrase from another language,
making us believe there’s a way forward.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When Egge left the stage again, DeMent began to fight through
the thickets of that belief. Armed with gospel chords that occasionally sprawled
and expressed everything from confusion to jubilance, DeMent anchored her set at
the intersection of blues and freedom songs, honoring John Lewis, Rachel
Corrie, and that person fighting by your side.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">She would talk about Mahalia Jackson as “a real woman”
and identify the Good Samaritan as “the real one,” not the demagogue of the moment. She would even give voice to a
character from Chekhov, after a quick tender story about her college professor
with a trunk of dog-eared books. “The Cherry Orchard” would speak through a woman facing the end of everything she knows, as aristocracy gave way to
capitalism, managing to find new life in death.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Darkness in light and light in darkness wove their
way through the night, DeMent admitting, “there is no separating the good stuff
from the bad,” Egge acknowledging “There’s never going to be a way to make this
easy,” the two together saying, “Life is so hard, who isn’t scarred?” </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTRJTemT5o1omWvRD3mcMU1D2i9Odh-3VpdyuWeOAG7dqyDjJsrETXiBiFSSwbKcUrkfEpM6YdbLiOM1UPsnRp1Nbh8ZF899KhsPTQiOjDQKP8eWcXooyW8Cqc4q9irb7VkAFd6Y1jIKlfNXFrsHo4E4rdJ0ycceEZuAS9EpTwGXiYvhAlbw/s3958/Crowd%20gathered%20for%20Working%20on%20a%20World.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2466" data-original-width="3958" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTRJTemT5o1omWvRD3mcMU1D2i9Odh-3VpdyuWeOAG7dqyDjJsrETXiBiFSSwbKcUrkfEpM6YdbLiOM1UPsnRp1Nbh8ZF899KhsPTQiOjDQKP8eWcXooyW8Cqc4q9irb7VkAFd6Y1jIKlfNXFrsHo4E4rdJ0ycceEZuAS9EpTwGXiYvhAlbw/s320/Crowd%20gathered%20for%20Working%20on%20a%20World.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Knuckleheads before the show</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Perhaps DeMent’s bravest statement came with the
song “Goin’ Down to Sing in Texas.” Starting with the level of fear in a
fascist state (not just the one in the title but increasingly the whole of the country and the world), the song pays homage to the Chicks for taking the heat for what
they said about their Governor, the one who started not only the longest American
war in history but the one just after it, the one that drew the most antiwar protest since Vietnam. She not only ripped the “war criminal” who lied about WMDs, and all his celebrity
friends, but she called out, “Hey, Mr. Bezos, I’m talking to you.” She declared herself right by the side of all Americans taking a knee against police violence. This declaration--along with the Biblical promise that the very "rocks will cry out" at such injustice--drew the loudest applause of the evening.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Back when she first sang “Wasteland
of the Free” in 1996 (a song she didn't need to sing this night to make the point), she railed against a world where “the poor have now become the
enemy.” </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">With “Texas,” she makes it clear what her enemy is.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It's the opposite vision of “The Sacred Now,” the song for which she brought Egge back to close the set. This Byrds-like rocker offered the perfect meeting place for these two voices (hell with Donahue’s consistent support,
three voices). “We remember, then forget again,” they sang. “All is lost,” then, “some
hope is found.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But “those who stand to gain draw dividing lines,” DeMent sang. The enemies are those trying to separate this room the whole night’s been about bringing together. “We
can’t speak,” she acknowledges, “but still somehow, we all share the sacred
now.” The most political line in the whole song is “it’s not a dream, it’s the
sacred now.” That, coupled with the encore, “Let the Mystery Be,” declared it time--to set ideological divisions aside and build what's possible out of this sacred space.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuEW0mFK8FDWRhhKkV_v-iD9FPFLKbLF137g96nhklvXuPMeZ520krxlRD8LLKtXZaXtOiz94yiUdXpzRs8AJoynuHmtkQmLT7Cy_cOxWqFvgFce73uvolsMqG6RNu2dhdQurAU6jeB3QTUyOI5Y8vOmcng3dccclvhJRd_AnKAYVPJetNQ/s3595/Iris%20Chris%20Ana%20watching.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2845" data-original-width="3595" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuEW0mFK8FDWRhhKkV_v-iD9FPFLKbLF137g96nhklvXuPMeZ520krxlRD8LLKtXZaXtOiz94yiUdXpzRs8AJoynuHmtkQmLT7Cy_cOxWqFvgFce73uvolsMqG6RNu2dhdQurAU6jeB3QTUyOI5Y8vOmcng3dccclvhJRd_AnKAYVPJetNQ/w640-h506/Iris%20Chris%20Ana%20watching.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-74746657073778661082023-02-24T14:55:00.010-08:002023-02-25T09:49:50.451-08:00In the Heart of the Crowd: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, KC and Tulsa<p><i style="font-size: 12pt;">It’s been a tough six months or so for many Bruce Springsteen
fans. First came the Ticketmaster dynamic pricing debacle that no one ever
adequately addressed (and left empty seats to be filled with last-minute cut-rate
ticket sales in Tulsa). Then Sirius Radio’s Live from E Street Nation talk show
went on hiatus. Just at the beginning of the tour, Springsteen’s 43-year-old fanzine, </i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Backstreets</span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">, closed shop. For me certainly, a weight hung
over the show.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To Springsteen’s credit, he focused on what he
did best and achieved far more than I could have imagined. For that reason, I
feel it's important to mention the context, just as its important to let the review
stand separate, the show celebrated on its own merits. DA</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i></i></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjFEav411k8RsKBbCsvGk2fEYASr_cjv4FEL1yaITjdhWt-0lPLhonXfyD9dv6J3PxLYHH1eOolH_WnqEfRxC8_j0J6q6QHxRNl5pgJLBbNc85KX1gHzLPGlvX2L3b_N0eK2p4QEW3-yyIb11QkAPHV9DTf0qXnzvqHlLDYxRZYUfZ1G_dQ/s2048/Springsteen%20in%20Tulsa%202023%20Bruce%20Soozie%20Steve.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjFEav411k8RsKBbCsvGk2fEYASr_cjv4FEL1yaITjdhWt-0lPLhonXfyD9dv6J3PxLYHH1eOolH_WnqEfRxC8_j0J6q6QHxRNl5pgJLBbNc85KX1gHzLPGlvX2L3b_N0eK2p4QEW3-yyIb11QkAPHV9DTf0qXnzvqHlLDYxRZYUfZ1G_dQ/w400-h300/Springsteen%20in%20Tulsa%202023%20Bruce%20Soozie%20Steve.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KC, Photo by Sarah Kathryn Funck</td></tr></tbody></table><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“The first thing to remember about Bruce Springsteen
is that he’s a musician.” –Dave Marsh, Monmouth University talk, 2005</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Though I thought his music perfectly fit the oil
roads, sections, smelter skyline, and main drag of my hometown, I’ve never
lived in Springsteen country. Aside from that handful of hits in the middle eighties,
his 50-year career did not have eastern Kansas and Oklahoma as a base. A 16-year
gap between Kansas City stops (1984 to 2000), two Oklahoma concerts in the 70s
and only two more four decades later about sum up the relationship.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So, I was lucky to get to see two nights of this tour
with loved ones and family—first in my present home of Kansas City, second in
the city next to where I grew up, Tulsa, Oklahoma. Though I’ve been going to
these shows for 42 years now, I have never seen two so early in a tour (stops 8 &
9), and I’ve never had a close second show experience quite match the first.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">What wound up happening was much more powerful than
I could have expected. And that’s ironic because most of what made it so moving
was the company I kept, my family in KC and a longtime road buddy meeting family with
me in Tulsa. But I think the surprise (and it probably shouldn’t have been one)
was how much that companionship fit the show’s purpose and meaning.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WCbLqSkjG4J0TXByZiazNdb3K2fqwdW8wapcwl7d7_rrmLS-pkCxio01AP-ozziGvRZFH5bD68h53TCSx9AVRkFkDzEG7d0BBO9sFYDrLUoEawxJUsS9aDyFEYAXCGIHbX1hMszmsmXUX6JgORbnOHbQ_-kzGfDuC8_TThjmPdOZO-i4tA/s336/The%20Castiles.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="336" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WCbLqSkjG4J0TXByZiazNdb3K2fqwdW8wapcwl7d7_rrmLS-pkCxio01AP-ozziGvRZFH5bD68h53TCSx9AVRkFkDzEG7d0BBO9sFYDrLUoEawxJUsS9aDyFEYAXCGIHbX1hMszmsmXUX6JgORbnOHbQ_-kzGfDuC8_TThjmPdOZO-i4tA/w400-h324/The%20Castiles.webp" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Castiles, Springsteen front left, George Theiss top center</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Before “Last Man Standing,” the one moment in the show
the normally talkative Springsteen chose to stop and tell a story, he recalled his
2018 death bed visit to the leader and only other surviving member of his first
band, George Theiss. He used that memory to underscore the carpe diem of the
“Prove It All Nights,” “Because the Nights,” and “Badlands,” all those songs at
the core of what Pete Townshend once called the “triumph” in Springsteen’s tales
of desperation and long chances.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Last Man” itself makes the concert’s central
confession and pledge. He called on a “flock of angels” to “lift him somehow.”
And where else would he seek deliverance? “Somewhere deep into the heart of the
crowd.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So far, this new show stays focused on that ephemeral
crowd, the souls gathered in the room, in many ways repeatedly reinforced by
the emphasis on the band. His use of the Miami Horns may show it best. From a
“Kitty’s Back” built for improvisation to a rousing “Johnny 99” that even
formed a bit of a second line this Fat Tuesday, Springsteen repeatedly threw the
focus to Ed Manion on baritone sax (and a good deal of tenor in Kansas City
when Jake Clemons was out with COVID), Ozzie Melendez on trombone, Curt Ramm and
Barry Danielian on trumpet.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But everyone had their moments—Soozie Tyrell laid into
fiddle, particularly thrilling on that “99” and “Darlington County” in Tulsa. The
Disciple of Soul’s percussionist Anthony Almonte played supple and quick to
push for mightier and mightier responses from Max Weinberg. Singers Curtis King,
Michelle Moore, Ada Dyer, and Lisa Lowell filled out the sound with shining
punches of soul fire. The core of the old band (and both Steve Van Zandt and
Nils Lofgren in particular up front) vamping, clowning, cavorting, and taking
memorable turns in the spotlight.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In that bridge before the final refrain of “Backstreets,”
where Springsteen has often lingered to sketch stories, this time he touched
his broken heart and said, “I’m gonna carry it right here,” repeating “right
here,” and tapping his breast softly until that final piece of the pledge,
“until the end.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Aside from the lack of talk—one song after another,
relentlessly plunging ahead—the show was also noteworthy for another absence—its
lack of songs focused on anything overtly political. The politics are always
there of course, in the hearts of the kids of “No Surrender,” in the belief in
“The Promised Land,” in the “more than all this” of “Johnny 99.” The most
all-encompassing political commentary might just have been that moment in
“Wrecking Ball,” when he repeats “hard times come, and hard times go” over and
over again before calling on that crane to tear it all down.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This moment, tellingly, was followed by “The Rising.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Before he used to sing “Straight Time” on <i>The Ghost
of Tom Joad </i>tour, Bruce would ponder what we do when all the tricks that
got us where we are, when all the tools that used to work, don’t seem to work
anymore; in fact they seem to make things worse. With this new tour, Bruce
Springsteen has obviously laid some tools aside, but he’s stuck close to the
ones which keep the crowd feeling “high and hard and loud,” strong, not so much
spectators as participants. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When Springsteen closed both shows, he sang of
feeling “split at the seams.” In 2023, for reasons ranging from COVID to
opioids to state-sanctioned murder and the threat of World War III, every
person in that room knew that feeling. As the man sings in the song, we need
each other by our sides, and for these three (and six) hours and some days after, I
certainly felt less alone.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Thanks to Ben Bielski, Cody Alan McCormick, Farrell Hoy Jenab, Josh McGraw, and Sarah Kathryn Funck!</i></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvqyIg-RD8VtGWD-N6I6BlgLlDaWeAwCE7pBxWOYsBjF5u12MoftVzHhRe7bvWWy3iyNqJolknpmrZPxDbz4ja4Ag_pNO18Hf7mYW3x8mSCy0C1TVHTDCQAU6JeSF77fo5CMivlVh9JcolCCMcgD-b_66M20vGRCWD89oOV0kVWa1cMam64A/s2048/E%20Street%20KC%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvqyIg-RD8VtGWD-N6I6BlgLlDaWeAwCE7pBxWOYsBjF5u12MoftVzHhRe7bvWWy3iyNqJolknpmrZPxDbz4ja4Ag_pNO18Hf7mYW3x8mSCy0C1TVHTDCQAU6JeSF77fo5CMivlVh9JcolCCMcgD-b_66M20vGRCWD89oOV0kVWa1cMam64A/w640-h480/E%20Street%20KC%202023.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KC, photo by Sarah Kathryn Funck</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-71032259598336556442023-02-07T13:55:00.003-08:002023-02-08T11:39:49.928-08:00Folk Alliance, Day 4: Yearning Hearts Carried Home: Janice Jo Lee, The Pairs, Eljuri, Missy Raines, Talibah Safiya, Emma Langford, and Women of Note<p> </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfUF9ilmddUvG3BeqR8ZOQPdQAt0rhdxEyv5SXLnnnI5qPBuvlCbHEg90qs3E69mrx4DIGm_cFSs_0M-naR4vMLAY4KQFYWTaHMZvCh5_jaTrLH-MN3e6QqOK_3eVDZmcq97BiqbAph_DycrM4jcUPLZ0e_Nvws2rujhoEdfVACfb10hR7dQ/s1955/Janice%20Jo%20Lee%20for%20Blog.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1859" data-original-width="1955" height="608" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfUF9ilmddUvG3BeqR8ZOQPdQAt0rhdxEyv5SXLnnnI5qPBuvlCbHEg90qs3E69mrx4DIGm_cFSs_0M-naR4vMLAY4KQFYWTaHMZvCh5_jaTrLH-MN3e6QqOK_3eVDZmcq97BiqbAph_DycrM4jcUPLZ0e_Nvws2rujhoEdfVACfb10hR7dQ/w640-h608/Janice%20Jo%20Lee%20for%20Blog.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janice Jo Lee</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">On the last night of Folk Alliance, Janice Jo Lee opened her set
with a spoken word piece that asked, “What Is Folk.” The piece opened the doors to all
manner of ways people share and build upon their spiritual yearnings, providing
an axis to suit all the colors and flavors of the performances that would make
up the evening. </p><p class="MsoNormal">With a keyboardist the crew recruited from Minneapolis, fellow
Toronto vocalist Camila Diaz-Varela and dancer Sam Yoon, Lee kicked
out any purist notions regarding framework and built a set that repeatedly
answered the question with self affirmation (“Crumpled Heart Unfolding”), <span class="MsoHyperlink"><span color="windowtext">dreams of hope in the midst of worldwide turmoil (</span></span>“Swim
Forever”), and a call to find one’s role in the midst of community--both that
around you and that handed down from those who came before (“Ancestor Song”).
That last is the title track for the new album constructed around this work,
and folks like me who can’t wait to hear it can contribute here: <span class="MsoHyperlink"><span color="windowtext"><o:p></o:p></span></span><span color="windowtext"><a href="https://janicejolee.ca/">https://janicejolee.ca/</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span color="windowtext"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxZRPetwUtSQULciRONmE-0z-23bWHTY4KLagwz4IJMk9saJxfvLfrfu-7C9FcTpKfYrAOTDA-8_dh1zqOQlXXJ1nUhaAq6yWXy8nnn1ReB6INpP-SE63RgvF7xkTVNrnYT9wGHpkI-8wg2QK-UXEa6-pOcG6n7vvBF0s7Q6sLhchbeBaIw/s2062/The%20Pairs.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1831" data-original-width="2062" height="568" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxZRPetwUtSQULciRONmE-0z-23bWHTY4KLagwz4IJMk9saJxfvLfrfu-7C9FcTpKfYrAOTDA-8_dh1zqOQlXXJ1nUhaAq6yWXy8nnn1ReB6INpP-SE63RgvF7xkTVNrnYT9wGHpkI-8wg2QK-UXEa6-pOcG6n7vvBF0s7Q6sLhchbeBaIw/w640-h568/The%20Pairs.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pairs</td></tr></tbody></table><span color="windowtext"><br />Before her, on that same Toronto stage, the five-piece
band, the Pairs (named after two sets of twins who grew up together, three of
them the frontwomen) turned out an endearing and remarkably powerful set. Renee
and Noelle Coughlin lived up to the promise of sister harmonies, bright, close,
and shining in every direction. Flanked by the twins, Hillary Watson anchored
the sound with her own bold, close vocals. </span><div><span color="windowtext"><br /></span></div><div><span color="windowtext">The set repeatedly disarmed listeners
with Renee calling, “Are you ready to get weird?” before launching one song’s impromptu
stomp dance choreography and Noelle’s repeated jokes about her nerves,
particularly funny when she exclaimed, “Oh, we have time for two more songs,”
before nervously (touchingly, hilariously) carrying on her banter as she plucked
notes and fumbled with her pegs. “This isn’t normally a bit,” she said, “tuning
my guitar.” Renee showed her own comic timing when they asked the crowd if
anyone had ever been to therapy, and she added, “If not, you should probably go…like…tomorrow.”
The set hit an emotional crescendo with the aching “When Will We Find Our Way”
followed by another new song, “High Hopes” You can hear that beautiful pair
here: </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjPCCvFb0kY">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjPCCvFb0kY</a><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span color="windowtext" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">and here, with an opportunity to contribute to their new
album’s crowdfunding: <o:p></o:p></span></span><span color="windowtext"><a href="https://thepairsmusic.com/album-pre-order">https://thepairsmusic.com/album-pre-order</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span color="windowtext"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span color="windowtext" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"></span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyDF1bwlJzSaJLaoNB7s4MtH40ExdQXW_1rZ3JxLFb_v9YG_Y6eyXUNEAmgbndP6p9Lxa98KP94r_Ch7kyekfZsvAW4ARuDsC0BGoATvFqGTCz3Eds8SxPEqg3Omgs7wNGGdRDm1VKnMnwT1YQT96K7xZlqnPFwGZGs5iUHmUg5oi544vMQ/s3872/Eljira.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2297" data-original-width="3872" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyDF1bwlJzSaJLaoNB7s4MtH40ExdQXW_1rZ3JxLFb_v9YG_Y6eyXUNEAmgbndP6p9Lxa98KP94r_Ch7kyekfZsvAW4ARuDsC0BGoATvFqGTCz3Eds8SxPEqg3Omgs7wNGGdRDm1VKnMnwT1YQT96K7xZlqnPFwGZGs5iUHmUg5oi544vMQ/w640-h381/Eljira.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eljuri</td></tr></tbody></table><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span color="windowtext" style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Ecuador-born, New York-raised Eljuri (Cecelia Villar
Eljuri) pushed the limits of Folk Alliance in one direction, playing a Latin
rock set easily imaginable at the large South American venues she’s used to
playing. She struggled a bit for the crowd response she deserved in a banquet room tucked into a back corner of the conference, but her set was
impressive—her guitar sharp and explosive, drummer Alex Alexander and bassist Winston
Roye effortlessly moving from relatively laid-back reggae rhythms to funk to
merengue. The trio underscored the heart of the conference with her new song, "</span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Salva La
Tierra (Save the Earth)”<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q50THkWV1Bw">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q50THkWV1Bw</a> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61sYAISm2F4rtVWJtnV1q7-DyMEi-YUembF46pfq64pE3Ygaq6qyzgS3bQJQzcF4mqwZz-MJYbKGP_GwGonbmBaJ8oupFviqtaSih_NJW3tunrtkwl4dHWgVlK_e0xTW5jkYx9Z_Yd40c4NgRR3b2G_mGAzlfIRu3J90dVVVGZbf5WAqa9w/s4087/Missy%20Raines.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2896" data-original-width="4087" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61sYAISm2F4rtVWJtnV1q7-DyMEi-YUembF46pfq64pE3Ygaq6qyzgS3bQJQzcF4mqwZz-MJYbKGP_GwGonbmBaJ8oupFviqtaSih_NJW3tunrtkwl4dHWgVlK_e0xTW5jkYx9Z_Yd40c4NgRR3b2G_mGAzlfIRu3J90dVVVGZbf5WAqa9w/w640-h454/Missy%20Raines.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Missy Raines and Allegheny</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />Introducing her band Allegheny, Missy Raines noted fiddler Ellie
Hakanson was having a case of laryngitis, but “you can still hear her because
that’s how you do.” Indeed, the band seemed unstoppable with breakneck interplay
between Hakanson’s fiddle, Tristan Scroggins’ mandolin, Ben Garnett’s guitar, and
newest member Eli Gilbert’s banjo. As with the voiceless Hakanson joke, their
set was peppered with humor, Scroggins at one point introducing a ballad as, “Not
as dark as most bluegrass; nobody dies, but it’s still plenty passive-aggressive.” </span></div><div><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Still, the peak moment in their set was about as bleak as it gets,
Raines testifying to the devastation of her native West Virginia by the opioid
crisis before singing, “Who Needs a Mine,” it’s lyrics, “Who needs a mine to
kill us dead/When a little pill works fine instead.” </span></div><div><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">More on this song here: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1124940681418788">https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1124940681418788</a><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">More on Missy Raines: <a href="https://www.missyraines.com/">https://www.missyraines.com/</a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span color="windowtext"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUSEPiTHaTYoXSBKsFC3rs7dVrH2LXBsaWHR9-DlycvLwIHDcjGuWiuQxQJXL2VhL9X6-2k06QVBgqc-7-f9caCpMCCE5jY_vfvoJD2Ly0tS7BmAZI4Ed45RHU2DyII9l4bVPYzBz5HF8qBNXjMbe1FSRhs_mKACtBQDTXCSYypXqpkpGQQ/s3036/Talibah.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2643" data-original-width="3036" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUSEPiTHaTYoXSBKsFC3rs7dVrH2LXBsaWHR9-DlycvLwIHDcjGuWiuQxQJXL2VhL9X6-2k06QVBgqc-7-f9caCpMCCE5jY_vfvoJD2Ly0tS7BmAZI4Ed45RHU2DyII9l4bVPYzBz5HF8qBNXjMbe1FSRhs_mKACtBQDTXCSYypXqpkpGQQ/w640-h558/Talibah.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madam Fraankie and Talibah Safiya</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Up in the Memphis Room’s private showcase, Talibah Safiya arrived
with a quiet radiance. While her guitarist tuned up, she looked out around the
packed room and smiled, her voice soft and genuine, she said how nice it was to
see all these new faces.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">She began with a propulsive piece about weathering the hard edges
of reality, “Up and Down,” her voice soaring and plunging with the refrain. She then sang the sultry “Middle of the Night” and lingered in
the seemingly doomed relationship of “Like Water,” before calling the lover out
with “Imagine that Mutherfuckers.” “Ten Toes Down” closed the set with a call
for honest self-interrogation and commitment. All through this set, Safiya’s guitarist
Madame Fraankie kept her head down, delivering soulful, poignant arpeggios, a riff
here and there, perfectly matching the precision of Safiya’s eloquence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Talibah Safiya: <a href="https://www.talibahsafiya.com/home-1">https://www.talibahsafiya.com/home-1</a></span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJouZ6-vxEGq_anxk10qE1C4TlmwWsTCV4lh9VDCTmgl6dVuHdA2eNA3PaTnPs6MHEJz2QR0d33ow4LfJqhDNuRlGQ3bAhU1vfP1-UxQft7cRnhKRHtBfalPD6q0mS4xfg4dwWTg_4EtqI3EhTQK_PuRoeHRSXiBYJ0rccmaHGBgjKLuLnQ/s4128/Emma.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4128" data-original-width="3096" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJouZ6-vxEGq_anxk10qE1C4TlmwWsTCV4lh9VDCTmgl6dVuHdA2eNA3PaTnPs6MHEJz2QR0d33ow4LfJqhDNuRlGQ3bAhU1vfP1-UxQft7cRnhKRHtBfalPD6q0mS4xfg4dwWTg_4EtqI3EhTQK_PuRoeHRSXiBYJ0rccmaHGBgjKLuLnQ/w480-h640/Emma.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emma Langford</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Up in the Women of Note room, Irish singer Emma Langford’s bright
eyes and smile lit the room when she looked up from concerned concentration over
the set-up of her trio. Surely without knowing, she echoed Safiya. “It’s so good to be here in new spaces, playing new
music for new faces,” she said. </span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">She launched into an otherworldly performance of her new song
“Abigail,” which she described as a sort of pagan prayer dedicated to the Irish
goddess Gobnait. On her Bandcamp site, she explains, “it is written in the form
of a love song in honour of someone who embodies all the values of the goddess:
kindness, forgiveness, healing, generosity. It celebrates divine feminine
energy….” </span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">With carefully stepped support from Hannah Nic Gearailt’s
keys, Langford’s beautiful voice began with a distinct focus on surefootedness.
Then, her wordless crooning shifted to a series of shining, joyful cries met by warm woodwind accompaniment from Alec Brown (who otherwise played
cello). The song modulated to what seemed as much like another plane of existence as a key change, carrying those in the small, tightly packed room with it. </span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">You can hear the song on YouTube, but I strongly suggest
picking up a copy here: <a href="https://emmalangfordmusic.bandcamp.com/track/abigail-tomhas-ghobnatan">https://emmalangfordmusic.bandcamp.com/track/abigail-tomhas-ghobnatan</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Langford’s set was filled with warmth and beauty, as well as
plenty of entertaining stories. She recalled a wonderfully “witchy” music
school teacher who warned her that the world would “gobble you up and leave
nothing but bones,” before singing a song just such an experience inspired, “Birdsong.” At one point, after explaining the context
for a song called “You are Not Mine,” she explained that she had to add “(This
Song Isn’t About You, You Lying Bolix)” to the title because someone claimed it
was about him. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">A woman shouted from my left, “It’s the ‘Your So Vain’ of
Limerick!” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Without missing a beat, Langford grinned and said, “Yes, I’m the
Limerick Carly Simon.”</span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Emma Langford: <a href="https://www.emmalangfordmusic.com/">https://www.emmalangfordmusic.com/</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Wonderful as Simon is, as humbly as Langford meant the joke, it seemed an understatement. </span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Langford’s set was followed by Aoife Scott’s usual song-trading
at midnight with the four women of note for the day. It’s a key ritual of Folk
Alliance I’ve written about before that started as an event back in Dublin, the
Temple Bar Tradfest, a weeklong January festival that takes place in various
landmark buildings around the city, recently taking place at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.</span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Saturday’s Women of Note began with Scott singing “Liverpool
Love” for an aunt who constantly gives to others
without doing for herself. The great Clare Sands, who I wrote about in more
detail last summer, followed that with a song to St. Brigid of Kildare, who she
noted was somewhat absurdly the only woman saint of Ireland. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHrBRwlcYM46o0c_pepI6Lns9DoIWbdy0f5dJp8eYUR53JrfSx7_7k3Vd-QO4ZKvB1RcrC2sNsxjHtwT2IMWTqGIjS3ISVxXN64zS0yVl1Pif-neqQoIBbbD3WGU-_nqo2M1SGE6TSA1f3FY0hUNHAKXTXX5rQmK7Bf0ZoGCXvacws6ydj0w/s2645/Clare.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2645" data-original-width="2246" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHrBRwlcYM46o0c_pepI6Lns9DoIWbdy0f5dJp8eYUR53JrfSx7_7k3Vd-QO4ZKvB1RcrC2sNsxjHtwT2IMWTqGIjS3ISVxXN64zS0yVl1Pif-neqQoIBbbD3WGU-_nqo2M1SGE6TSA1f3FY0hUNHAKXTXX5rQmK7Bf0ZoGCXvacws6ydj0w/w544-h640/Clare.jpg" width="544" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clare Sands and Aoife Scott</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><br /></span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Carrying forward this tribute to women, Kitty McFarlane, a
singer-songwriter from Sommerset County in South West England, sang of the Mediterranean women who make this rare, golden fabric from fibers made
by a particular clam. She explained that she was fascinated with textiles, the women
in her family going back several generations working with fabric. Her full-throated
vocals shone with a delicacy that suited her pledge to “spin salt water into
sun.” That song, "Sea Silk," is here: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WBRaQwGcMCs">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WBRaQwGcMCs</a></span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Kitty McFarlane: <a href="https://www.kittymacfarlane.com/">https://www.kittymacfarlane.com/</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">“Wow,” Jean Rohe said after the other three finished. She said she didn’t know how to follow all this ethereal beauty. But, then, she stood and delivered an extraordinary song that tied her own abortion to her father’s death. Though she
joked that, being from New York, she only knew how to sing about herself, that
song, “Animal,” perfectly complemented what came before, her description of
work in a garden a powerful metaphor for the tough choices we are forced to
make in life. The song is here: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSfyP5zbQmc">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSfyP5zbQmc</a> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">More about Jean Rohe: <a href="https://jeanrohe.com/">https://jeanrohe.com/</a></span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrLFqJxIfRgpX2DPhM5VrifOuOPQTSe4Q8OVP23bUi4afxM7PLfYhurDMs29Po0TwgId4jSWLULwFTuJTcPQX6bz_e6MUL3wLJeJhdhu4eS7nvP2DiF7Kqbq9lGoMNygOPWNq_MaMCMR-OGIZKtzbBslfdZao-0pALb2Ut_jHmkbwp0FVIQ/s4053/Jean.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4053" data-original-width="3075" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrLFqJxIfRgpX2DPhM5VrifOuOPQTSe4Q8OVP23bUi4afxM7PLfYhurDMs29Po0TwgId4jSWLULwFTuJTcPQX6bz_e6MUL3wLJeJhdhu4eS7nvP2DiF7Kqbq9lGoMNygOPWNq_MaMCMR-OGIZKtzbBslfdZao-0pALb2Ut_jHmkbwp0FVIQ/w486-h640/Jean.jpg" width="486" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jean Rohe</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"></span></p><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">On their second round, Scott sang a cover of Damien Dempsey’s
“Colony,” a passionate protest song calling out the "Christian" powers that forcibly
rob indigenous people of their homes, their freedom, their dignity, their livelihood,
and lives. Scott introduced the song explaining that Dempsey taught her to try to
find a way to sing in her true Dublin accent. The mix of her traditional style
and its contrast with her more colloquial spoken word made her extraordinarily gripping. </span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">You can hear Dempsey’s original here: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0igMlr0tmXo">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0igMlr0tmXo</a></span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">And here is Scott singing it from a few years back: </span><span style="background: white; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DQOq-lYZMg">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DQOq-lYZMg</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; letter-spacing: 0.2pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">When Scott would sing, Sands added some impromptu fiddle
support to Andy Meany’s guitar. (As I've mentioned before, Meaney backs Scott's sets.) This time, Rohe, also began to
add some counterpoint with her own guitar. These snatches of improvisation hinted
at what was yet to come.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">McFarlane finished up with “Glass Eel,” a song that ties the migration of eels across the Atlantic to the plight of refugees facing arbitrary and inhumane borders. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp0hxgdfVgGAQF7RUp4umAj02W73qHVhOOGeDBa-g6_2eDvbPwlcyXxAKcXN8L2XxhdmhZQNXweJVcKvhamWfjXDXGSzjtL6xEc8IWzRBtqy96iZ_s-eW1jrgCk5MBcXt0GfAlONT5zWeHxMxRYiZ1oZQpeZTpWR_Ubh0j-uB4fIWjMd4uhw/s3875/Kitty.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3052" data-original-width="3875" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp0hxgdfVgGAQF7RUp4umAj02W73qHVhOOGeDBa-g6_2eDvbPwlcyXxAKcXN8L2XxhdmhZQNXweJVcKvhamWfjXDXGSzjtL6xEc8IWzRBtqy96iZ_s-eW1jrgCk5MBcXt0GfAlONT5zWeHxMxRYiZ1oZQpeZTpWR_Ubh0j-uB4fIWjMd4uhw/w640-h504/Kitty.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitty McFarlane and Clare Sands</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">At that point, Rohe realized she was due at another showcase, and she had
to leave. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Sands agreed to fill in, and though the plan was made with whispers,
it took seconds for the women who would perform the final two sets of the
evening--the Henry Girls and Karan Casey—to pile into the front of the room, the
Henry Girls pulling a harp and accordion out of their cases and ready in seconds.
Scott pulled out a hand drum.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Meaney decided to let the women have this and sat back in the crowd.
Together, these seven women, and most of the room, erupted into a triumphant
performance of Sands’ “Awe Na Mna (Praise the Women).” Exuberant voices filled
the room and one another's hearts. It was a perfect moment to carry us home, in the moment and well into the days ahead. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><br /><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">More on Clare Sands: <a href="https://claresands.com/">https://claresands.com/</a></span><p></p><div>More on Aoife Scott: <a href="https://www.aoifescott.com/">https://www.aoifescott.com/</a></div></div>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-48730306859245268592023-02-04T15:25:00.002-08:002023-02-07T14:09:58.912-08:00Folk Alliance Day 3, Rakish, Charm of Finches, and Aoife Scott<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYj3CJ_tffy8JGlKmWYgThgZp-j6kSVMYX3PM4jGYQqahU7b65DWIOButBCNSsY1sAqwFdOEXuZbNlJTCqwZKCqQ9X3gvKTevrlvMzeF-M2nh7BjzEPa-IN7cKDCIVFWk9t-4AIUte03ZASRT9_epgr9SZJq1InlXZ4k0j1HMGl0oQuepn_Q/s960/Aoife%20Scott%20and%20Andy%20Meany.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="960" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYj3CJ_tffy8JGlKmWYgThgZp-j6kSVMYX3PM4jGYQqahU7b65DWIOButBCNSsY1sAqwFdOEXuZbNlJTCqwZKCqQ9X3gvKTevrlvMzeF-M2nh7BjzEPa-IN7cKDCIVFWk9t-4AIUte03ZASRT9_epgr9SZJq1InlXZ4k0j1HMGl0oQuepn_Q/w640-h422/Aoife%20Scott%20and%20Andy%20Meany.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy Meaney and Aoife Scott</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>My usual Folk Alliance running partner Mike Warren couldn’t be here this year, and he is sorely missed. He has what seems an encyclopedic memory for music he’s encountered (especially that he loves), and his presence at the conference inevitably leads me to see many remarkable acts I wouldn’t have found on my own. With my much narrower bandwidth, I occasionally find something he hasn’t heard too. We come together like Folk Alliance itself, a dizzying spiral of intersecting communities falling for one another’s passions. All of this is to say, when Mike told me he hated to miss the act Rakish, 40% of a wonderful band his nephew was in, (Pumpkin Bread), I knew I had to go. </div><div><div><br /></div><div> Fiddler and banjo player Maura Shawn Scanlin and guitarist Connor Hearn make up the act, a duo that seems to delight in smashing boundaries between musical genres. To do so, though they may explain that one song “Bilateral Craziness” (an autocorrect mistake that Scanlin decided to keep) has no time signature, and “Courante” is a piece by Debussy, they repeatedly work their way back to swinging spirals of sound just next door, if not in fact, their beloved Irish or Scottish reels. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigxaYycHJJZwr-JOvUbtwIvMt40COFzUZ4Q0lqXAsb0Mc07FfoyVENP21JqKZfLX1p8vDfOHt1D_BhUb-ztngucRhUpJfoTG0jVzLf9vV44-541TUakoPjoLVFB3eas0iSTCx8aO5TWapqxbNknv_sav0sDa-a6um2zo4CGVQULPo7WE-Cgw/s3461/Rakish%20for%20blog.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2683" data-original-width="3461" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigxaYycHJJZwr-JOvUbtwIvMt40COFzUZ4Q0lqXAsb0Mc07FfoyVENP21JqKZfLX1p8vDfOHt1D_BhUb-ztngucRhUpJfoTG0jVzLf9vV44-541TUakoPjoLVFB3eas0iSTCx8aO5TWapqxbNknv_sav0sDa-a6um2zo4CGVQULPo7WE-Cgw/s320/Rakish%20for%20blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> They trade vocals and feed off each other’s banter. Last night they noted it was Bandcamp Friday, which meant it was the one-year anniversary of their first self-titled EP, while also encouraging us all to take advantage of the day’s deals and buy all our favorite Folk Alliance music before midnight (so the artists can receive 100% of their profits from each sale). They also joked about their influences—Connor Hearn, an English major, wrote the first song they played inspired by James Joyce. The classically trained Scanlin introduces a piece by Robert de Visee<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span>noting, “We like to justify our degrees.” </div><div><br /></div><div> And such good-natured self-deprecation is part and parcel with their down-to-Earth charm. Scanlin soon turned and introduced “No Such Thing as Luck” as a number “for the Star Wars fans!” But the humor only helped bridge the music’s wide range of emotions. A “Scottish” instrumental Scanlin said wasn’t really Scottish (because she wrote it) offered a plaintive note to bring tears to the eyes, for a minute. Shining eyes seemed to be everywhere as heads all around the room began to nod and bob, once again, as they had done throughout the set (yes, even to the one without the time signature). </div><div><br /></div><div>Rakish playing “Courante/The Sunny Hills of Beara/The North Star” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uraqJj6DlV8 ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uraqJj6DlV8 </a></div><div><br /></div><div>“Do you all know the TV show 6 Feet Under?” Ivy Windred-Womes of the Melbourne sister act Charm of Finches asked the room to scattered applause and murmurs of approval. The sisters nodded and agreed that they love the show, explaining that the song they were about to play, the title track to their most recent album, <i>Wonderful Oblivion</i>, is inspired by the show. </div><div><br /></div><div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGCt7WkqMhHvu-m5ZTeo0U7oGKPlaWIG1Vq_KR-C6NifsIlI4LEJbJ4WVWxt-WfBrn8tJh-Ysbzgtcy_5_dJrQOWy6qznXcnx4SNCojCKmPJJ4t7UOM5vJfJ4ir2owAFChwxyFK3VU3yGBQ_A8lqYylD4tnRV6Fv2Tp5bDbd7QcqNFZb5NA/s2698/Charm%20of%20Finches%201.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2698" data-original-width="2679" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGCt7WkqMhHvu-m5ZTeo0U7oGKPlaWIG1Vq_KR-C6NifsIlI4LEJbJ4WVWxt-WfBrn8tJh-Ysbzgtcy_5_dJrQOWy6qznXcnx4SNCojCKmPJJ4t7UOM5vJfJ4ir2owAFChwxyFK3VU3yGBQ_A8lqYylD4tnRV6Fv2Tp5bDbd7QcqNFZb5NA/s320/Charm%20of%20Finches%201.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>Then, with a dry, sly comic timing that recurred throughout the set, Ivy added, “Also, our dad is an undertaker.” They launched into the song. Not to say that explained anything, but, boy, it solidified the poignant distinction of these two haunted young women in bright blue and pink bell dresses, singing brilliant, vertigo-inducing meditations on the fragile nature of our existence. </div><div><br /></div><div> The song titles told their own story—“Concentrate on Breathing” followed by “Canyon” (a song about being thrown into that space), “Clean Cut,” “The Bridge,” “Gravity,” and, finally, “Wonderful Oblivion.” The sounds range from the sharp crunch of “Clean Cut” to a variety of ethereal textures provided by a mix of keys, violin, and tambourine coloring the air around the notes from Mabel’s acoustic guitar. </div><div><br /></div><div> Mabel offered a quiet deliberative quality that played as a comedic counterpoint to sister Ivy’s quick jabs. Mabel recalled a recent four-month tour through Europe that had been…she hesitated…” great fun but a long time.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Immediately, Ivy’s eyes cut across her keyboards to her sister, “a long time with the one person.” </div><div><br /></div><div>They both laughed at that one. </div><div><br /></div><div>But Mabel could then turn around and add an earnest thoughtfulness to the banter. She told a story from years before, recalling a group of young people they encountered on the road to the Woodford Folk Festival. They were gathered at a bridge where a friend of theirs had recently fallen and died. “It was sad,” Mabel said, adding that they could relate to these other kids because they too had lost a friend, far too young, in a similar way. This was, of course, the set up to the song, “The Bridge,” which seemed a love letter to their long-lost friend. It was a lump-of-the-throat moment in a set filled with enough quiet beauty, pain, fear, and wonder to have listeners gripping their seats. </div><div><br /></div><div>Charm of Finches’ video for “Canyon” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lG-1SZE72Vw ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lG-1SZE72Vw </a></div><div><br /></div><div>Dublin’s Aoife Scott and her partner, guitarist Andy Meaney placed the perfect final touches on such an emotional evening. Scott began by telling the story behind her 2020 song “Sweet October.” In that terrible pandemic spring, they’d written the song dreaming of a time when they could go to the coast again. The unassuming gentle melody and Scott’s wistful vocal provided a kind of climax to the evening, everyone well aware of how lucky we were to be together again. </div><div><br /></div><div>But Scott was just getting started. She talked frankly of trying to break with her family’s musical heritage, which she grew up perceiving as a hard life for very little pay. (Her mother, Francis Black, is a member of the Black family, a renowned Celtic group who inherited their trade from their own parents.) However, Scott found herself miserable in the corporate job she’d landed, losing her voice, and struggling with depression. </div><div><br /></div><div>One day, Meany wanted to play her a Bruce Cockburn song he’d just heard, “Wondering Where the Lions Are.” At first, she resisted, but the song almost magically began to lift her from her depression and restore her voice. Scott sang the Cockburn song, leading the room in call and response around the refrain. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the end of her set, Scott sang a song “The Growing Years” (written by Don Mescall) off her 2016 debut <i>Carry the Day</i>. The song told the
story of a father’s death, and a child plagued by the unfairness of it all, fearful for what might happen next. Meaney’s
propulsive guitar pushed Scott’s vocal to face down
the pain and fear, asking “please, please, please, please, please, tell me now, where’s the
justice in this, there’s no justice in this world.”</div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div>The conviction in Scott’s vocals comes to a particularly fine point in that lyric, which makes sense. It was the fight for justice in the Cockburn song that restored Scott's voice. It's also her work with the singers she presents at Folk Alliance (and at Tradfest Temple Bar back home) as “Women of Note” that stands as one of the finest statements in pursuit of justice the conference makes each year. </div><div><br /></div><div> Aoife Scott’s “The Growing Years” from her first album, <i>Carry the Day</i> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2llNDsNPZE ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2llNDsNPZE </a></div><div><br /></div><div>Websites:</div><div><br /></div><div>Rakish— <a href="https://rakishmusic.bandcamp.com/album/rakish ">https://rakishmusic.bandcamp.com/album/rakish </a></div><div><br /></div><div>Charm of Finches— <a href="https://charmoffinchesband.com/ ">https://charmoffinchesband.com/ </a></div><div><br /></div><div>Aoife Scott— <a href="https://www.aoifescott.com/">https://www.aoifescott.com/</a></div></div>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-43506407567797498162023-02-03T17:54:00.001-08:002023-02-03T17:54:24.163-08:00Folk Alliance Day 2, One Step Makes Many: Valerie June, Cary Morin Duo, Genevieve Racette, Iona Fyfe, and Joy Clark<p> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmaB0UI2RaX76oMMmqhHEcYcuANFPS-ql-I1Khom3icvMET5CdKTp7mNmgzZfRDLWc3027mmjNfmLF9RSLlGr8eRiuZqKLDTHgcW0jWWOKmfsmo1jHuDJyujkOa3OcO-JJ89nwiwQRPlQludnRmUM-tLP2xUzIQ8WOrhRM6BuzN3b8e_6NA/s2959/Joy%20Clark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2767" data-original-width="2959" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmaB0UI2RaX76oMMmqhHEcYcuANFPS-ql-I1Khom3icvMET5CdKTp7mNmgzZfRDLWc3027mmjNfmLF9RSLlGr8eRiuZqKLDTHgcW0jWWOKmfsmo1jHuDJyujkOa3OcO-JJ89nwiwQRPlQludnRmUM-tLP2xUzIQ8WOrhRM6BuzN3b8e_6NA/s320/Joy%20Clark.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joy Clark and Tiffany Morris</td></tr></tbody></table>Echoing Janis Ian’ sentiment from the day before, New Orleans singer-songwriter Joy Clark said, “I don’t know about you, but I always
feel that I’m behind.” She used the comment to introduce her song “One Step in
the Right Direction,” a beautiful meditation on perspective.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the midst of one of many intricate guitar tapestries, Clark returned to a refrain that worked like a mantra-- “I know this road is not a race, so I keep going my own pace, until I find
my place.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"> Fellow New Orleans musicians Tiffany Morris on bass and Bradley
Bourgeois on drums complemented her search with solid, unobtrusive backing, both lockstep and free.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Joy Clark, singing “One Step in the Right Direction” solo a
few months back: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYfKov8XylQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYfKov8XylQ</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I found myself thinking about Valerie June’s keynote speech
earlier in the day. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfAyS9P4pn5GdNhNU4u7ddd8FUW98RgKP-elhWV1A2L1Gpivb8rlRAjuPazO3tvvgTFCMdQUn5pYonI-2UkRNZ7TRxy2zief1lyWV-0f2hmNnh0344euDPNMZYg0PC5DMX3rjA_pGjIfg-tEnlDYA0paC0WPqOQKT0Njd1OUGQu5zKYOtMA/s3178/Valerie%20June%20for%20blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3178" data-original-width="2844" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfAyS9P4pn5GdNhNU4u7ddd8FUW98RgKP-elhWV1A2L1Gpivb8rlRAjuPazO3tvvgTFCMdQUn5pYonI-2UkRNZ7TRxy2zief1lyWV-0f2hmNnh0344euDPNMZYg0PC5DMX3rjA_pGjIfg-tEnlDYA0paC0WPqOQKT0Njd1OUGQu5zKYOtMA/s320/Valerie%20June%20for%20blog.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valerie June Delivering the Keynote</td></tr></tbody></table><br />June took us on a rough but necessary journey to find hope. She recalled leaving Memphis on icy roads the same day police
murder victim Tyre Nichols was laid to rest and then ticked off the many
threats we face—from a global climate crisis to technology that “hacks our mind
and body,” and the “daily threat of nuclear war.” She called to mind the many disagreements
that keep us pitted against each other, and asked, “What will these battles
mean when we are all made equal by unfortunate circumstances?” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She sang a cover of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful
World” before focusing on reasons for some hard won hope. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Valerie June singing “What a Wonderful World” on Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=265677271129168">https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=265677271129168</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Someone will post this talk soon, and I’ll repost it here.</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Meanwhile, I want to emphasize the vision she offered. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">June asked, “What if it’s as simple as starting where we
are?” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And she meant, specifically, at that moment, Folk Alliance. June
noted, after all, there’s “wizards and fairies everywhere,” gesturing toward the packed darkness of the room. She added, “We begin
with the revolutionary act of making art.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">June called for “a language of joy” to combat language that “elevates
fears.” She pointed out that our entire money system is simply based upon our
belief in it, so she wanted us to think about our potential to shift such beliefs, to live without fear, to build “a more loving world.” She followed
that with a performance of her song, “Astral Plane.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Valerie June, “Astral Plane”: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rN35g4eLQgg">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rN35g4eLQgg</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Her talk was a perfect complement to the introductory
remarks by Cary Morin and his partner and life and music, Celeste Di Iorio.
Morin has been working as an artist in residence to raise awareness, alongside
the Friends of the Kaw, regarding our river system. Morin sang as the Kaw, part
of this great river system that allowed us to settle here in the first place,
continues to give us life and suffer our neglect. Asking on behalf of the river
for our care, Morin sang, “You’re helping me help you.”<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9q9HKVeymKwaCi3GZvsdixsKfFm-wChtD8JmoB1HIcSNa2lI5KoeWJQ8UjaPu2VFB5_HNnkxUGUtvX439VyK6k4RDPVVIOxiI0HdmCStoJY2gkN2wVm2kZpKisTh_CTFOftZOyEw_L3BScTFXVAi9tLkad0ECWr0fhEc_6aoecr863SkyA/s4128/Cary%20Morin%20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9q9HKVeymKwaCi3GZvsdixsKfFm-wChtD8JmoB1HIcSNa2lI5KoeWJQ8UjaPu2VFB5_HNnkxUGUtvX439VyK6k4RDPVVIOxiI0HdmCStoJY2gkN2wVm2kZpKisTh_CTFOftZOyEw_L3BScTFXVAi9tLkad0ECWr0fhEc_6aoecr863SkyA/s320/Cary%20Morin%20.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cary Morin and Celeste Di Iorio</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More about the Cary Morin duo here: <a href="https://carymorin.com/cary-morin-duo">https://carymorin.com/cary-morin-duo</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I found myself thinking a lot about the ways people were
working together throughout the day. At Genevieve Racette’s showcase, Folquebec's Gilles
Garand thanked the army of volunteers that make Folk Alliance happen. As the set
closed, Racette acknowledged she was, in fact, dating a volunteer and offered another
word of thanks. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I
thought about all the people building off this music—the photographers, others like me scribbling
notes in pads, club owners and festival owners making plans. As June had
pointed out earlier, we all understand what it means to hustle for a job,
but there’s something else going on here too--a collective energy and vision fed
and inspired by the music. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The echoing sentiments in the artist's voices suggest how that energy moves full circle, inspiring the art. Racette’s pledge to try some new
things this year, including playing a song she’d never played live in front of
anyone before, particularly considering the song, reminds me again of Clark’s “One Step in the Right Direction."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMq00D4OPtpswGjmVCacJRt710mjl447u9Mg-B3pElLVPj0PuGPxxmyKjrYCEy-5ndyxMxmP9OwF40k9FJ5FZjbUoNXYoweOiIQq8QkdIy31NeuFKasDMLqr5JueHEHFvPx9RLIq__yFEH_xz3xHRFckgXL-030P6CZGdVR3GAfC9FNUQ-iA/s4128/Genevieve%20Racette%20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMq00D4OPtpswGjmVCacJRt710mjl447u9Mg-B3pElLVPj0PuGPxxmyKjrYCEy-5ndyxMxmP9OwF40k9FJ5FZjbUoNXYoweOiIQq8QkdIy31NeuFKasDMLqr5JueHEHFvPx9RLIq__yFEH_xz3xHRFckgXL-030P6CZGdVR3GAfC9FNUQ-iA/s320/Genevieve%20Racette%20.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eleanore Pitre, Genevieve Racette, and Judith Little D<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Racette sang a new song I would presume is called “Same Old
Me,” a song about wanting to overcome one’s anxiety and what seem lifelong
traps. Her entire set seemed more
relaxed and powerful this year though I was seeing it on a much larger stage than before (in the
Century C ballroom where June spoke earlier in the day). Racette included more banter, hilariously confessing, “I’m not
really a go with the flow person. I’ll gladly go with the flow, but I need to
know when does it start and when does it end, and, also, is there a snack?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Though it was largely the same songs as last year, Racette seemed to have grown more self-assured. A quiet grandeur seemed to come naturally. Racette’s deeply touching
vocals were bolstered by dark counterpoints from Eleanore Pitre (of the band
Rosier) on guitar and Judith Little D on drums.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Genevieve Racette’s opener, “Hostage”: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpnV9LpqftQ&list=OLAK5uy_mku9n0UQIwFHlb3lFhX4PMjew86xAS810">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpnV9LpqftQ&list=OLAK5uy_mku9n0UQIwFHlb3lFhX4PMjew86xAS810</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Similarly, Scottish singer Iona Fyfe seemed ready to take on any challenge that may come her way. Quick and funny, in her banter alone she managed
to take on the American health care system, teach us about the Scots language,
and declare her unabashed belief in Scottish self-determination. Before singing
a cover of Taylor Swift’s “Love Story,” translated into Scots, Fyfe noted it’s
a pain to try to sort the legal clearances between here and there, “so if
anyone knows Tay Tay,” she said, holding an invisible phone to her ear.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Guitarist Adam Hendy lent solid acoustic backing to her
bright clear vocals which shone, flexed, and punched as needed. She sang a song
of the “Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen” although she noted the writer Mary Webb
had never been there, and Fyfe had lived there for 17 years without seeing any
sign of these things. She also sang of Lady Finella, who killed King Kenneth II
of Scotland to avenge her son’s death. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Iona Fyfe, “Lady Finella”: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzsbJtg9gFE">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzsbJtg9gFE</a> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnYZ-kDXx-x2bVhA8uIl7W9Qim70h17c9ujMayS4_EEP6j7WlaZLzPKFfQWdYcjANw5gyUfpRh_l3M2NtGQCRpCB-vGhz1oPNYHSZqfrVf9jUlLXMOut6hTrga8v5k292v8uFqlBUtzKna9N18fh9rVSnUiUkO0wlSVFt4FsObl-8gILFllg/s2999/Iona%20Fyfe%20and%20Adam%20Hendy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2877" data-original-width="2999" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnYZ-kDXx-x2bVhA8uIl7W9Qim70h17c9ujMayS4_EEP6j7WlaZLzPKFfQWdYcjANw5gyUfpRh_l3M2NtGQCRpCB-vGhz1oPNYHSZqfrVf9jUlLXMOut6hTrga8v5k292v8uFqlBUtzKna9N18fh9rVSnUiUkO0wlSVFt4FsObl-8gILFllg/s320/Iona%20Fyfe%20and%20Adam%20Hendy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My evening
really ended with Joy Clark’s set. She finished with the song, “Good Thing.” The refrain offered assured gratitude and hope: “You know we got a good thing/And a
good thing is not so easy to find/Yeah, you know we got a good thing/Take my
hand and it will be all right.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">In such moments, the more loving world in June's dream felt like a living reality.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Joy Clark’s video for “Good Thing”: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bc_ZL1djWOQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bc_ZL1djWOQ</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> Websites:</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Cary Morin Duo: https://carymorin.com/cary-morin-duo</p><p class="MsoNormal">Valerie June: https://valeriejune.com/</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Genevieve Racette: https://genevieveracette.com/</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Rosier: https://rosierband.com/</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Iona Fyfe: https://ionafyfe.com/</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Joy Clark: https://joyclark.bandcamp.com/</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-39826650744095695622023-02-02T09:55:00.006-08:002023-02-09T08:23:16.090-08:00Folk Alliance Day 1,, "Imagination Is a Discipline," the 2023 Folk Music Awards' Vision of Change<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVVkTuMg4GKCrmkSdHGJkn_-xyBDDTgUA8nV_WyDcL9rCXXjbAp9PH83ubigaOFpI4M5tw1acAd-AcEvFPIwKU5vJBKJw0NJuQn4Z4YrT8Gerut8ZFkIY8dJWbwyDVlgrMVQNUEzH6HHUnBm8E4ImlclM74GKejKNxkSz3m3S4_RYCnAT3g/s4128/Sara%20Currachich%20for%20blog.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZVVkTuMg4GKCrmkSdHGJkn_-xyBDDTgUA8nV_WyDcL9rCXXjbAp9PH83ubigaOFpI4M5tw1acAd-AcEvFPIwKU5vJBKJw0NJuQn4Z4YrT8Gerut8ZFkIY8dJWbwyDVlgrMVQNUEzH6HHUnBm8E4ImlclM74GKejKNxkSz3m3S4_RYCnAT3g/s320/Sara%20Currachich%20for%20blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sara Curruchich</td></tr></tbody></table>“They say women hold up half the sky,” NPR's Ann Powers began at last night’s Folk Alliance International awards. She added,
“They’re holding up more than half the sky tonight,” the comment met with
exuberant cheers and applause.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The Alliance’s infrastructure has seemingly
always been women. But with Board president <em><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: black; font-style: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Ashley Shabankareh</span></em><span style="background: white; color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span>replacing <em><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-style: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Amy Reitnouer
Jacobs, </span></em>and the Alliance’s new executive director Neeta Ragoowansi
replacing </span>Aengus Finnan</span>, the women at the top of the organization
are clearly holding their own.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Guatemalan singer Sara Curruchich opened
the evening with an all-woman band—marimba, acoustic guitar, drums, and bass—performing
the spirited, march-like, anthem, “Mujer Indigena.” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwUnFHA3XKQ">Mujer Indigena video</a> Janis Ian received two
awards, one for lifetime achievement and one as artist of the year for her 2022
album <i>The Light at the End of the Line</i>. Most of the award recipients—including
Leyla McCalla, Molly Tuttle, Anais Mitchell, Aoife O’Donovan, Marcy Marxer and
Cathy Fink—were all women, and the evening closed with a tribute to John Prine
that featured a surprise appearance by Iris DeMent. <o:p style="font-size: 12pt;"></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5m_ah6t9IBlRcFW7oCfFndSxrszdnfI_q7yK5V4TYC2IxZr6lPw0_RIPZebkfx1lBPwRnSSZd4EI8rFdzBIlm_oJw2QLUjXvPQm5K8csN21BAajsPObO0L7oCSTGDm_D2JNL63m_RDkp2FLV_3lps5RVVqz22j6wuOds81iOeuDL7KWPiBQ/s4128/Josh%20White%20Jr%20sings%20for%20blog.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5m_ah6t9IBlRcFW7oCfFndSxrszdnfI_q7yK5V4TYC2IxZr6lPw0_RIPZebkfx1lBPwRnSSZd4EI8rFdzBIlm_oJw2QLUjXvPQm5K8csN21BAajsPObO0L7oCSTGDm_D2JNL63m_RDkp2FLV_3lps5RVVqz22j6wuOds81iOeuDL7KWPiBQ/s320/Josh%20White%20Jr%20sings%20for%20blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh White, Jr. Sings "One Meatball"</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />But the award Powers gave was a posthumous
lifetime achievement award for singer Josh White, given to his son Josh White
Jr. After a touching tribute to his father—cast out on the road as a child by
the de facto lynching of White’s own father into a rough and tumble youth witnessing
“more violence than any child should see”—Josh White Jr. led the room in a sing
along of his father’s biggest hit, the tragicomic “One Meatball.” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWJatM-s2LI&list=RDpWJatM-s2LI&start_radio=1">Josh White Jr. Playing "One Meatball" a few years ago</a> </span>This was
immediately followed by Leyla McCalla alone with her cello singing White’s “The
Riddle Song.” <div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Even Jimmy Lee Beason II, the
representative of the Osage Nation who gave the land acknowledgment, cited a
woman, Buffy Sainte-Marie, as the first artist who came to mind when he thought
about his connection to folk music. He added that he thought of what he was
doing as, “Not so much a land acknowledgment as a native people acknowledgement,”
reminding those in attendance that “we’re still here, and still resisting” and recalling
the crucial role played by folk in the 60s and 70s. He said the music “gave Native
voices a platform that is still sorely needed.” </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Ajm9BAgRm7PhM0xzfTq1nS1NrNRPcUEP1oCgUiT02pTP6OzOcYKo2HG5ZvLpuTJ66lRPds__M_Ic-UiP48Hy9S-PI6jxeWhTRXNO0VhG6o3xB7jbPW7mginA8QoC-i1X4U_lWSNo5iWSKlQPNHzbPavvonzv_3GUxAfpJLSQ46PSzv3fvg/s1684/Leyla%20for%20blog.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1613" data-original-width="1684" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Ajm9BAgRm7PhM0xzfTq1nS1NrNRPcUEP1oCgUiT02pTP6OzOcYKo2HG5ZvLpuTJ66lRPds__M_Ic-UiP48Hy9S-PI6jxeWhTRXNO0VhG6o3xB7jbPW7mginA8QoC-i1X4U_lWSNo5iWSKlQPNHzbPavvonzv_3GUxAfpJLSQ46PSzv3fvg/s320/Leyla%20for%20blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leyla McCalla Sings "The Riddle Song"</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I</span><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">n her lifetime achievement award
speech, Janis Ian echoed Beason’s call by stating how she’d always hoped to
give “voice to the voiceless.” Ironically, 2022 was a year in which the “Seventeen”
and “Society’s Child” singer both released what she feels is the best album she
ever made, <i>The Light at the End of the Line</i>, and permanently lost her
singing voice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Ian reflected on the loss. “I don’t
know what to say yet to be honest. It’s been less than six months,” but she
added, “I came to a realization of how much time I wasted.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Of course, she noted this is a feeling
common to artists. “Artists are born looking at the hourglass and watching it
run out. We measure time by how much we’ve accomplished of what we plan to
accomplish.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">To help, Ian advised the artists in
the room to, first, “Trust your talent”—to steer them to the uncomfortable
places they need to go and to steer clear of business dealings that don’t feel
right. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">She also underscored the spirit of the
evening with a call to “Be brave.” Recognizing, she had not always been
particularly courageous herself, she had some thoughts about how to go about
it. “If you pretend to be brave long enough,” Ian said, “You will be brave.”
Adding that heroic people have to act the part first. With a self-deprecating smile
and an implied wink, she confided, “There’s more sleight of hand to this business
of being a ‘legendary’ and ‘heroic’ person than you might think.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Then, Providence, Rhode Island’s Jake
Blount sang “Seventeen” before a performance by Irish singer Wallis Bird. With a
gregarious laugh, Bird joked about the pressure she felt singing in front of
Ian. She then moved the crowd to sing along with Ian’s 2022 “Better Times Will Come.” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QF83dg2pj3o">Janis Ian's "Better Times Will Come"</a></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrLd73UIwyPWGvKyC_40UeBgau5conM8nLmvtahaKErs9JDxVBxxwrCrivnsrPRKqjMw02gh65ZJlDUuD7cJGqeUUpnJibO-d3g6ZGTf0HbEZF0VJpmqkiTjSdO9kpMCBnoyqaqL8R_TOZG_ZQm5XqByyrvT1fWYTsQhD69g7rnrZxUqy_Q/s4128/Wallis%20Bird%20sings%20for%20blog.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4128" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrLd73UIwyPWGvKyC_40UeBgau5conM8nLmvtahaKErs9JDxVBxxwrCrivnsrPRKqjMw02gh65ZJlDUuD7cJGqeUUpnJibO-d3g6ZGTf0HbEZF0VJpmqkiTjSdO9kpMCBnoyqaqL8R_TOZG_ZQm5XqByyrvT1fWYTsQhD69g7rnrZxUqy_Q/s320/Wallis%20Bird%20sings%20for%20blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wallis Bird sings "Better Times Will Come"</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Tying themes together, People’s Voice
Award winner Leyla McCalla quoted prison abolitionist Mariame Kaba with “Hope
is a discipline.” McCalla then added “I believe that imagination is also a discipline.” She
acknowledged that, though we live in a capitalist, colonized society that works
to keep people from realizing their own power, “The work that we do as artists
is the active undoing of this conditioning.” Furthering such connections, Dan
Rafferty of the Shambala Festival (which received a sustainability award) said
that the environmental solutions “are inseparable from the fight for social
justice,” calling once again on the crowd “to bring about the change that’s
sorely needed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Award shows are problematic events,
honoring a handful of “stars” in their field while the breadth and the depth of
the real community around any organization, certainly Folk Alliance, isn’t
really made up of stars and is so much larger than any such show can convey. At
their worst, such events tend to celebrate the wrong people. But what’s
remarkable about the Folk Alliance awards each year is how it recognizes itself
as setting the tone for a community bent on, sure, selling their work, but more
generally striving to change the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The night ended with a tribute to
perhaps the most unassuming practitioner of that vision, John Prine. The award
went to Oh Boy, which reportedly is the second oldest indie label in the business.
That took this writer back to both my delight and puzzlement finding a new John
Prine album, <i>Aimless Love</i>, at a Stillwater, Oklahoma grocery store back
in 1984. I thought maybe Prine lost his record deal. I was worried about him.
Little did I know, Oh Boy would not only keep the rest of Prine’s career going
but provide a venue for everyone from Todd Snider and Kelsey Waldon to Kris Kristofferson.<o:p style="font-size: 12pt;"></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4k6UuzZcjpTalcSAzYAAfn6UiJLDNIR28L889idzOa7hT7l96aYxzFZ4WCS8QFoFI6eRWKNr7DBxsR0v2RvB17JfpSxZQLLu-9kCDOE8VAssCzbgdlAyBTtqpkl03dQaTqvPTMAbEgzLCl-U2XXLuhVK-FjNm25jJTcOP5QiEgsPlUeXjw/s2166/Iris%20for%20blog.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2075" data-original-width="2166" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4k6UuzZcjpTalcSAzYAAfn6UiJLDNIR28L889idzOa7hT7l96aYxzFZ4WCS8QFoFI6eRWKNr7DBxsR0v2RvB17JfpSxZQLLu-9kCDOE8VAssCzbgdlAyBTtqpkl03dQaTqvPTMAbEgzLCl-U2XXLuhVK-FjNm25jJTcOP5QiEgsPlUeXjw/w400-h384/Iris%20for%20blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iris DeMent, the Milk Carton Kids, and Company</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Fiona Whelan Prine and Prine’s adopted
son Jody Whelan accepted the award, Fiona declaring, “If John wasn’t folk, I
don’t know what is.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Jody once again
reminded the Folk Alliance of its power and potential. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“[Oh Boy] started with faith in the
community, the fan community,” Whelan said. Then he added that the label would
come to realize how much it needed “the larger community” to survive. To be
clear, Whelan said, “The only place you could hear Oh Boy’s music was folk DJs.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">With that, the Milk Carton Kids played
a cover of Prine’s “That’s the way that the world goes round” before backing
Iris DeMent as she sang “Mexican Home.” Delight united the room as we celebrated
“that sacred core that burns” inside us all. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">The whole show is broadcast here: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2t9LVfyEu-I">2023 Folk Music Awards</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKsq3FJ0EwUoYaXwPdJq8Vzj9Qm1hJ2XKa_NSSG_bSeWe31qR1AvfbiVmpTeOkOnVAuMCC3Ty5_Ca8h5_2u4xvzBbaOS3jG2NmeSSa8jz05Iu839s67CA1ngYyygO2kDCJHzQ9uyQbcCTduE4ZR4lsqC7YbU0VdHguwrwFmRxwB17_MbWcIA/s466/Janis%20Ian%20album.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="466" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKsq3FJ0EwUoYaXwPdJq8Vzj9Qm1hJ2XKa_NSSG_bSeWe31qR1AvfbiVmpTeOkOnVAuMCC3Ty5_Ca8h5_2u4xvzBbaOS3jG2NmeSSa8jz05Iu839s67CA1ngYyygO2kDCJHzQ9uyQbcCTduE4ZR4lsqC7YbU0VdHguwrwFmRxwB17_MbWcIA/w400-h400/Janis%20Ian%20album.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><p></p></div>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-41996299326483636572023-01-29T16:14:00.005-08:002023-01-29T16:22:01.365-08:00"All Genres Are Part of the Vision," DJ NONAME at Tulsa's Mercury Lounge<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzGQeXN9a9PG6_FdV7QNfSSrN3dOWIQ0TdUDHjyrQfB_gil-xwRvvd9XcArx6uu-oWJmKbt78xS-EIjhyMFSUCuDywX-eXdyRG9gT7QssZzhvaX373UVHOVxS7JglVgGK8TYDSl7hy-XOajNG3yHE1j1zG2xHNa0G0PmwZxT30AbtkzrwoqQ/s1200/DJnoname.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzGQeXN9a9PG6_FdV7QNfSSrN3dOWIQ0TdUDHjyrQfB_gil-xwRvvd9XcArx6uu-oWJmKbt78xS-EIjhyMFSUCuDywX-eXdyRG9gT7QssZzhvaX373UVHOVxS7JglVgGK8TYDSl7hy-XOajNG3yHE1j1zG2xHNa0G0PmwZxT30AbtkzrwoqQ/s320/DJnoname.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dj noname debut, "Who Else But Me?"</td></tr></tbody></table><br />At the end of December, we
went to the Mercury Lounge in Tulsa to check out a hip hop set by DJ NONAME (from here out dj noname) featuring several special guests. So many hooks drew me in. First, the event
was a fundraiser for an organization called the Center for Public Secrets,
which seemed to be focused on raising awareness about the details of the 1921
Greenwood Massacre, specifically a new film called <i>Oaklawn</i> about the public
fight to find the mass graves from that horrific chapter in our history. <div><br /></div><div>The
evening also promised three sets, one by the metal band Blind Oath <a href="https://blindoath.bandcamp.com/">https://blindoath.bandcamp.com/</a> and a final set by a band
I knew fairly well, the great Tulsa Sound rockers, the Paul Benjamin Band <a href="https://www.paulbenjamanband.com/">https://www.paulbenjamanband.com/</a><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQ1RH0ICIb2oLZ-Vy7VPj4xVNjNDb6AQN34V3zaYXVa6zwlIkgxNM__8mRAzbGOu48MpVtwv_a6YEWURkhBKlxS1YICJ7GZqhIqB8AO1W-9GWEOPU4RczSRAhsF2j8KByKw2XOy2wS7MB65HyK60SSmht154iNftklHnYy0aj-rs518joFQ/s700/Blind%20Oath.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQ1RH0ICIb2oLZ-Vy7VPj4xVNjNDb6AQN34V3zaYXVa6zwlIkgxNM__8mRAzbGOu48MpVtwv_a6YEWURkhBKlxS1YICJ7GZqhIqB8AO1W-9GWEOPU4RczSRAhsF2j8KByKw2XOy2wS7MB65HyK60SSmht154iNftklHnYy0aj-rs518joFQ/w320-h320/Blind%20Oath.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blind Oath due March 2023</td></tr></tbody></table>Just
the mix of styles would have been enough to draw me in, but the kicker was that
they were all there to build cultural unity out of tragic divisions. <span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh216N7gY6y9kzXJsOOiwaQXuTIokVaU0eK74kOVM_OAizoomRDDhc6zaDyoAitM48qcvLDUvwVLRbekK5hTPIYfBkRclofDtcZKD2MEY2-R1Cqa3NM425_g2BS0XceyQA7rJkAAxgWBWsuRzfKfJMAhXHUGnCLpxLMPa59Jh3VLuQjVxZBrA/s700/Paul%20Benjamin%20Band.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh216N7gY6y9kzXJsOOiwaQXuTIokVaU0eK74kOVM_OAizoomRDDhc6zaDyoAitM48qcvLDUvwVLRbekK5hTPIYfBkRclofDtcZKD2MEY2-R1Cqa3NM425_g2BS0XceyQA7rJkAAxgWBWsuRzfKfJMAhXHUGnCLpxLMPa59Jh3VLuQjVxZBrA/w320-h320/Paul%20Benjamin%20Band.jpg" width="320" /></a><br /><br /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015 Horton Records Release</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Right
away, I was impressed by the mix of people and the energy gathering in this small
space. Hip hoppers, head bangers, and cowboy longhairs greeting each other with
warm hugs and huddling in the chill air on the outside deck as well as around
the bars and booths inside. A woman with a pet skunk made her way through the
crowd, people taking pictures and petting the docile, curious creature as she passed by. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;">Despite
the noise of a crowded, excited room, I had a nice conversation with the folks running
the Center for Public Secrets table. They told me about Lee Roy Chapman, the
character they credited with starting the organization who dedicated his life
to raising awareness about what had happened in 1921. More about Chapman here: <a href="https://www.centerforpublicsecrets.org/about">https://www.centerforpublicsecrets.org/about</a> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The people at the table were, not surprisingly, musicians themselves [by the
way, if you all see this, can you send your names and the band’s name again?],
and they made sure I had a copy of ASLUT zine, which focused on the Greenwood Massacre,
diving into the politics of the violence, including the class politics that
rarely get discussed in the national shorthand: <a href="https://aslutzine.com/">https://aslutzine.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">With
an early start the next day, we only stayed for the hip hop, but what a set that
was. The crowd gathered around the stage, some rapping along with pieces of the
rhyme, others responding with smiles and hands up, everyone rocking in their heels
with increasing intensity. The final MC had a green and black scarf covering
the bottom of his face but managed to spit rhymes with a clarity and intensity
that captivated the room. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in 0in; text-indent: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS0BiZBogGUPlqZUOtVDOrmkZGDfqNEtjNZRvWxcqDpUhb4PcKVzZNEdWjtV5w-JA-xLRmyth2A_F_fjxSQ_8_cCUt1dE1aZ2fryp2SPiBUV49kig9ePXdFi1_AJOx9CnprNsdMUyPhuXi2oTVKadRxm8wzb6Sd0cQN7nmHsQCnX27jfFJg/s700/Lou%20Purch.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS0BiZBogGUPlqZUOtVDOrmkZGDfqNEtjNZRvWxcqDpUhb4PcKVzZNEdWjtV5w-JA-xLRmyth2A_F_fjxSQ_8_cCUt1dE1aZ2fryp2SPiBUV49kig9ePXdFi1_AJOx9CnprNsdMUyPhuXi2oTVKadRxm8wzb6Sd0cQN7nmHsQCnX27jfFJg/w320-h320/Lou%20Purch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I now know that last MC was Earl Hazard, who worked with noname as Lou
Purch <a href="https://djnoname.bandcamp.com/album/home-furniture-nothing-older-than-1977">https://djnoname.bandcamp.com/album/home-furniture-nothing-older-than-1977</a>
He’s also been featured in the ongoing Tulsa hip hop podcast <i>Fire in Little
Africa </i><a href="https://anchor.fm/fire-in-little-africa/episodes/Episode-32-m-E-em96j6">https://anchor.fm/fire-in-little-africa/episodes/Episode-32-m-E-em96j6</a><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Anyway, I downloaded the Lou Purch mix and a few other things, including
the new solo work <i>Three</i> <a href="https://djno.name/">https://djno.name/</a>
and hit this eclectic, connected DJ up with a few questions. I knew what was
happening in Tulsa was, in some ways, singular in my experience and, in others,
very much like the best of what I’ve experienced all across America over the
past three decades. In my years as a writer, I’ve never felt a greater need for
the vision I saw in Tulsa’s Mercury Lounge in December. <br /><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Q: </span></i><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">That night at the
Mercury Lounge, I was impressed to see so many different kinds of groups coming
together with community activists, Is that unusual for Tulsa? If not, how did
that night come about? If so, why do you think that's happening in general?</span><o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">dj noname:
It’s not unusual around these parts. Tulsa’s been getting better at that, especially
during the past year. Center for Public Secrets reached out to me to be part of
their Benefit Concert (we raised a nice amount). Once we followed-up and confirmed,
I had a “noname. & friends.” set in mind. Outside of the 3 MCs you watched
perform: Joey Organic, Keezy Kuts and Earl Hazard… I had even more artists I
wanted to put together and perform and then decided to peel back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">It’s
happening in general because Tulsa is (finally) realizing how much talent we
have outside of the usual suspects, and there are more facilitators giving
platforms. The only way it happens at this rate is by continuing to have
different genres and acts on the bill and being consistent about it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Q: You have at least a dozen albums on Bandcamp, but the oldest date is
2020? How did your work develop so quickly over such a short amount of time?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">dj noname:
The way I started was funny because my original idea for my first solo album
was going to have nothing with me doing any beats. I was going to put producers
together to make stuff, and make it have a mixtape feel like how it was during
my high school days (ca. ‘04). I was connected with artists in the Town so I knew
I could turn into DJ Khaled and put some songs together.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Fast
forward, I was working with another artist and producer MaliMotives, and when I
told him what I was trying to do with my solo album, he told me I can make
beats with my phone (I had an iPhone). Ever since he told me, I kept trying
with GarageBand and couldn’t get it down. One morning, I told myself I wasn’t
doing anything else until I got it down. The very next moment, I started making
joints off GarageBand, and there was no going back, I was going at it day and
night. This was before “Halftime” (2019) and “Snackin’ with Flavor” (4/3/2020).</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZgOvSYaajKuJ-YP2u8vnq4ZObNkSVd9ucVgLfD9HDCJm-xPXgDhtyEjWJJWw_kTuN1UN3JHQuPLM_NdntLrCHPaBEsK1RKkxGVnq0ondEFM6pJT7T8xtNKJTHCQF6FlsS15uC0O9boXF8_IgQ5ooCd3Qpvoc2CqWZG7GYjesyl0fgEmjfw/s3000/Artwork.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZgOvSYaajKuJ-YP2u8vnq4ZObNkSVd9ucVgLfD9HDCJm-xPXgDhtyEjWJJWw_kTuN1UN3JHQuPLM_NdntLrCHPaBEsK1RKkxGVnq0ondEFM6pJT7T8xtNKJTHCQF6FlsS15uC0O9boXF8_IgQ5ooCd3Qpvoc2CqWZG7GYjesyl0fgEmjfw/s320/Artwork.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small; text-align: start;">Snackin’ with Flavor (Photo by nosamyrag)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I
dropped my solo debut a month after “Snackin’ with Flavor” on 4/20/20 which is
in connection to the first night I ever DJ’d, which was the year before at The
Soundpony Lounge. Once I dropped my solo debut, I convinced myself to go on a
run to just drop material at high volume. I did it to gain traction along with
competing with myself to catch-up with everyone else as far as discographies go
(I have over 40 projects). 2020 and 2021 were great years. I slowed down last
year, which I called my “Cook Up Year” to where I was being more direct and intentional
with what I was doing. I’m about to put it back in gear again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 111%; margin-bottom: .4pt; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: 25.25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 25.25pt 0.4pt -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Q: I'm
pretty obsessed with the solo <i>EP No Days of Christmas: Three</i>. I'm
intrigued by what you're doing with that--the opening George Benson stroll, the
Maze stuff in the middle that's evocative of the two sides of a relationship,
and then Joe Bataan's version of "I'll Be Sweeter Tomorrow," which seems
to have moved the opening search to a new resolve. It's a little symphony that—though
the music comes from 1969 to 1982 maybe—fits together as a coherent piece.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 111%; margin-bottom: .4pt; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: 25.25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 25.25pt 0.4pt -0.25pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">dj noname:
I do everything in threes, and the two from the series before that give the
same feel. I listen to George Benson heavy. The first beat that gave me a spark
to start on my first solo album was a George Benson song that was chopped up by
MaliMotives. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 111%; margin-bottom: 14.95pt; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 14.95pt -0.25pt;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPN6BsSFrsI1f6fBMNoifeKlVWlX3aW4-FuJIZ-EGo-_Mx2NDBL40VyHQKyRnqSkHgU4C_0qf1GU9Sq7J-gW-6f-4ssdCTz__3DVPXYnIhJV8WS2CaWberaqvzoar3xZPsXnoMRWGcBH8y3NojyK7C1Y_EX_tNpuG1vFjtaM1h1WswZDItA/s5000/dj%20noname.%20presents%20Tra3Qwan%20(Artwork).jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5000" data-original-width="5000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPN6BsSFrsI1f6fBMNoifeKlVWlX3aW4-FuJIZ-EGo-_Mx2NDBL40VyHQKyRnqSkHgU4C_0qf1GU9Sq7J-gW-6f-4ssdCTz__3DVPXYnIhJV8WS2CaWberaqvzoar3xZPsXnoMRWGcBH8y3NojyK7C1Y_EX_tNpuG1vFjtaM1h1WswZDItA/w320-h320/dj%20noname.%20presents%20Tra3Qwan%20(Artwork).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small; text-align: start;">dj noname. presents Tra3Qwan (Artwork by Blake Brown)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-weight: normal;">Q: This
seems like a new approach to me. Is it different than the way you've approached
your previous solo work or with MCs?</span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">dj noname:
My approach with each MC is both the same and different. The same because once
I hear it, I already have someone in mind and want that artist to have it.
Different because I won’t send the same type of beat to Artist A I’d send to
Artist B; I don’t shop it around to see who gets first dibs. I know the artists
sense that; that’s what makes the projects even better.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjOUiuufhi3iW0lqVJ8_4RlNSjGfowEiQrqntTPpUksZx3MRNcwcXhQ0vlrZADVO4nUUN6JdQ2zcEIwZlLyKzEr95IdwHYZFZ6OjxYkI9sKCvNC9zHfsRV3HPKYqsFHuC5U-NyUorKNvUu417hXgdcVQNeQnHe-bwSVDJSEx-Hw74svlsRg/s2999/Pie%20In%20The%20Sky%20(Artwork%20+%20Border).JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2999" data-original-width="2995" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjOUiuufhi3iW0lqVJ8_4RlNSjGfowEiQrqntTPpUksZx3MRNcwcXhQ0vlrZADVO4nUUN6JdQ2zcEIwZlLyKzEr95IdwHYZFZ6OjxYkI9sKCvNC9zHfsRV3HPKYqsFHuC5U-NyUorKNvUu417hXgdcVQNeQnHe-bwSVDJSEx-Hw74svlsRg/w320-h320/Pie%20In%20The%20Sky%20(Artwork%20+%20Border).JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small; text-align: start;">Pie In The Sky (Artwork by Elizabeth “Feahther” Henley)<br /><br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;">The
approach for my solo work, it depends if I’m doing a studio album or just all
instrumentals. When it comes to my solo studio albums, I just have to know,
it’s a feeling. Once I get a direction, the wheels start spinning. I have two
solo albums out and want to drop my third this year. It’s something I want to
consider my magnum opus.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 111%; margin-bottom: 14.95pt; margin-left: .5pt; margin-right: 11.85pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 11.85pt 14.95pt 0.5pt;">Q:
In February, you have a month-long residency at the Mercury Lounge. What is
your hope and plan for this residency?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 111%; margin-bottom: 14.95pt; margin-left: .5pt; margin-right: 11.85pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 11.85pt 14.95pt 0.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">dj noname: The
more shows I do and the more people I connect with, I vow to showcase talent whenever
I’m given the opportunity. That’s the purpose of my residency. I know where I
stand in Tulsa, and I’m starting to plant seeds and share the wealth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJodxK2YGlb32jDnnOOw7C11jZH2V_d8LfDfYRYb9evcT5iM4RlxQAuOZO0SR9p1z0FM1wF8fnLH90p71CqrkVGgL1JoSKRIa5ljRifvQg-dlqJ_v-8arJCDjH_1R_gIXopblSRnnSD3zEyYvi6rcDFfh2hP1xAeEz4KltHRHk1wzWoaVkw/s700/a1316764137_16.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJodxK2YGlb32jDnnOOw7C11jZH2V_d8LfDfYRYb9evcT5iM4RlxQAuOZO0SR9p1z0FM1wF8fnLH90p71CqrkVGgL1JoSKRIa5ljRifvQg-dlqJ_v-8arJCDjH_1R_gIXopblSRnnSD3zEyYvi6rcDFfh2hP1xAeEz4KltHRHk1wzWoaVkw/w320-h320/a1316764137_16.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GTR, COMBSY & dj noname</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The
homie Costa, an artist and producer who also does work at Mercury Lounge, put
me on. Super unexpected, I got right on it once everything was confirmed. At
this very moment I have three shows lined-up for the first three Mondays of
February while plotting on the last Monday of the month to cap it off.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 111%; margin-bottom: 14.95pt; margin-left: .5pt; margin-right: 11.85pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 11.85pt 14.95pt 0.5pt;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Q:
What’s next?</span><o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">dj noname: I
see myself at festivals more. Each year I get bigger opportunities, and it’s
fun, I love what I do. I also see myself branching out to more artists outside
of Tulsa along with producer placements on other projects that aren’t mine. All
genres are part of the vision; I’m very open to that. Community is something
I’m big on, and I show that in things I do. With more experience and
opportunities, I know we can make a bigger impact. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .2in; margin-left: -.25pt; margin-right: .25pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25pt 0.2in -0.25pt;"><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPShVXlLYJmDcZPpip2jDZpbHmaGgV0gTsRLGY_IxKE_7osazuN9c8Z56xuauK5AA7cuoVRi_yu3dwKl5ftnuj-Gi8rjJ0OjoErzLgc8BrkdmPybDqy39a6HeOHHuexjbZ6OFVXhUb0CdpiDY6ZzucryrqjBv0VbBiKiuZNrP1t5rJlw2xTg/s1600/image0.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPShVXlLYJmDcZPpip2jDZpbHmaGgV0gTsRLGY_IxKE_7osazuN9c8Z56xuauK5AA7cuoVRi_yu3dwKl5ftnuj-Gi8rjJ0OjoErzLgc8BrkdmPybDqy39a6HeOHHuexjbZ6OFVXhUb0CdpiDY6ZzucryrqjBv0VbBiKiuZNrP1t5rJlw2xTg/w400-h400/image0.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p></div>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-75663888048108053232023-01-19T10:38:00.002-08:002023-01-19T10:43:49.936-08:00Much Depends Upon Bushwick Bill, Merle Haggard, More Poems about Money, Survivor's Songs, and Pallbearer's Clubs<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKdnS1SGn3aYOeUT3CzlvnR5Mxbikk-TUU3OKER_jaCYoKT1D_wuEfTWrI6E57LJIoV-gsnEeokbzm0oCP7DTOHx4FN-LxVR1pglkcbGFKkKf6z97keq-UeBYV_AjP906WGVo_DW7SRAiYP1Vir48LMtdNzJlyZi1B320JqAb-cKMoALXxg/s499/Bushwick.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="357" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKdnS1SGn3aYOeUT3CzlvnR5Mxbikk-TUU3OKER_jaCYoKT1D_wuEfTWrI6E57LJIoV-gsnEeokbzm0oCP7DTOHx4FN-LxVR1pglkcbGFKkKf6z97keq-UeBYV_AjP906WGVo_DW7SRAiYP1Vir48LMtdNzJlyZi1B320JqAb-cKMoALXxg/s320/Bushwick.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><br /> I used to write book reviews in my blog, and I may still occasionally do so. However, lately, it seems if I really want to help a book out, it needs to go on the Amazon page.<p></p><p>Don't get it twisted, when we can figure out a way to replace Amazon's hold on almost everything we read, watch, or listen to, I'm there. I'm down for the conversation right now, just like I'd like to have one about Ticketmaster and LiveNation and why regular folks can't afford big concerts anymore.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYk5bKLmqoPXow8DCyqvDevlJcI8OPh33PFTEuL3ufl5L5BeFis6ZWJc25NdIX56vXGLa9UgwRV0AbXLWPILWJndUJCYd1zz0ceGv4yVwj_jE17BR5UscCU7FwkYpfmPCdnRD_VakB62OjTJ6HdIU3xP_W5Y1EJZHYmL_dYGGFDteZFWVrYQ/s499/41dSsKyyDbL._SX329_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYk5bKLmqoPXow8DCyqvDevlJcI8OPh33PFTEuL3ufl5L5BeFis6ZWJc25NdIX56vXGLa9UgwRV0AbXLWPILWJndUJCYd1zz0ceGv4yVwj_jE17BR5UscCU7FwkYpfmPCdnRD_VakB62OjTJ6HdIU3xP_W5Y1EJZHYmL_dYGGFDteZFWVrYQ/s320/41dSsKyyDbL._SX329_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>That said, more eyes will see these reviews on Amazon than anywhere else, and Amazon won't abide the duplicate posting here. So, I'll post the links. I thought it was some of my better work this past year.<p></p><p>I started with Charles Hughes' indispensable work on Bushwick Bill--<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R26OTDF0WBNHKB/ref=cm_cr_dp_d_rvw_ttl?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B0BS4F9MKD">https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R26OTDF0WBNHKB/ref=cm_cr_dp_d_rvw_ttl?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B0BS4F9MKD</a></p><p>Before moving to David Cantwell's perfect reworking and expansion of his book <i>The Running Kind: Listening to the Music of Merle Haggard-- <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R22A4355KPXOPR?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp">https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R22A4355KPXOPR?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp</a> <br /></i></p><p>And Daniel Wolff's latest, one-of-a-kind and crucially important <i>More Poems About Money--</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZkpkNeZ-f3tDSdyDHErK9BLL2GBlbOgSBzgIx1qMzl9vd3xCnMxejdltcULpCa1QuVFxTlpNvJJ_JDXMibR6IKkVU5yZSVuHGnBd8ubWnMW0DUZgSO-qvjc1Dc95kqItb1jMwfHHJaBzohDIPKEtPM5vTWtSRHxd_4sIlZ--kQneeLFQMw/s500/51S8035fZsL._AC_SY780_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZkpkNeZ-f3tDSdyDHErK9BLL2GBlbOgSBzgIx1qMzl9vd3xCnMxejdltcULpCa1QuVFxTlpNvJJ_JDXMibR6IKkVU5yZSVuHGnBd8ubWnMW0DUZgSO-qvjc1Dc95kqItb1jMwfHHJaBzohDIPKEtPM5vTWtSRHxd_4sIlZ--kQneeLFQMw/s320/51S8035fZsL._AC_SY780_.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i><p></p><p><i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/RYZN5DBBKVQDQ?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp">https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/RYZN5DBBKVQDQ?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp</a></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju29JoCj5p7BOK7WOhX1_VBg-cINJF_085mv-JnbZ84EbWHmYnqFKZa5tvHJ2GH4XafrgCgdP7w_tPY0gRbyA7UGUiQ2m9hG7KpJ6mal_mKxS7FjuEJyKBO7JYrQAoiqGmsDJvZS6R8oFNo9ITSaMD29t7_PwtTMcxn5-voK5zoNDFHVXcFw/s293/51tKa3uezhL._SY291_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_FMwebp_.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="193" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju29JoCj5p7BOK7WOhX1_VBg-cINJF_085mv-JnbZ84EbWHmYnqFKZa5tvHJ2GH4XafrgCgdP7w_tPY0gRbyA7UGUiQ2m9hG7KpJ6mal_mKxS7FjuEJyKBO7JYrQAoiqGmsDJvZS6R8oFNo9ITSaMD29t7_PwtTMcxn5-voK5zoNDFHVXcFw/s1600/51tKa3uezhL._SY291_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_FMwebp_.webp" width="193" /></a></div>To two reviews of Paul Tremblay's latest books, one of my favorite novelists growing richer and warmer with each outing--<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJ_HPrDaXB5vV59gi6vojuufTrGu3xmWszhxhyldpvLg0XDIALlTOjlscfFDD4rH-gVbxLe8DIQkk5qoOi5mN1kQ6gpv-1fiwfBaesdBintvPmkMjmqSm2VFewz-uLBUOA8Voy7hLDDtbrztH4otbgq6O5NORlx9jy4xRabBXBjXja7XM-Q/s350/Pallbearer's%20Club.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="229" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJ_HPrDaXB5vV59gi6vojuufTrGu3xmWszhxhyldpvLg0XDIALlTOjlscfFDD4rH-gVbxLe8DIQkk5qoOi5mN1kQ6gpv-1fiwfBaesdBintvPmkMjmqSm2VFewz-uLBUOA8Voy7hLDDtbrztH4otbgq6O5NORlx9jy4xRabBXBjXja7XM-Q/s320/Pallbearer's%20Club.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R16DOKDLGPONJF?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp">https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R16DOKDLGPONJF?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp</a><p></p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R3M3IIY3J8D0ZO?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp">https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R3M3IIY3J8D0ZO?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp</a></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-39221307348553407432023-01-01T17:23:00.021-08:002023-01-02T09:01:18.009-08:00Bruce Springsteen's "Any Other Way" and Other Conversations<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY4p3V8bc5c8IWEJqynJU9vjfF2rHKfpEZu0g-7CtYczNZUuFj7uee_rpY8KwzAzjxdvPB6qlQb0_FEJeddl2xQ3EbZUvQC6x1Py2M_fajFjBLNwqsJX43vaHOiMmYLr5oyT-IRtwW0Mf3CTaqOqYHz-K-lwVmZ4XChM3ZKPbLg7SkvgTKdw/s599/Chuck%20Jackson%20Greatest%20Hits.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="599" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY4p3V8bc5c8IWEJqynJU9vjfF2rHKfpEZu0g-7CtYczNZUuFj7uee_rpY8KwzAzjxdvPB6qlQb0_FEJeddl2xQ3EbZUvQC6x1Py2M_fajFjBLNwqsJX43vaHOiMmYLr5oyT-IRtwW0Mf3CTaqOqYHz-K-lwVmZ4XChM3ZKPbLg7SkvgTKdw/s320/Chuck%20Jackson%20Greatest%20Hits.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">People argue over which version of William Bell’s “Any Other
Way” Springsteen is covering on his new record (as Greil Marcus put it “a fan’s
record”). I have half a dozen reasons for suspecting it starts with Chuck
Jackson, not least of which is that he substitutes Jackson’s “you might see a
big man cry” for “you might see a grown man cry.” The other singers simply say “you
might see me cry.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Bell’s 1962 single charted at 131 on the Hot 100, meaning
most stations 12-year-old Bruce Springsteen might have listened to never played
it. Released soon after, Shane’s version only charted in Toronto but hit #68 in
Canada with a 1967 reissue. Jackson’s version charted #81 pop and #47 R&B,
but, most importantly, was a track on Chuck Jackson’s 1967 Greatest Hits
collection, a record an R&B-loving Jersey Shore musician with a band may
well have picked up at the time. If nothing else, that collection’s a record Springsteen
likely would have known by the time he worked with Jackson on the 1982 Gary
U.S. Bonds record, <i>On the Line.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVJU-2l4EzLTmqUqJYrWs6ROc20Zpz7Te4XSC2Vh84q9bHRGuszLKEuZkcm0KUgxtjwh6T68kUh8E0Fq7eXb-Tc33Q0OrEPzETWYCLiKjRN2A-348Cfeo-0JVEn7dJz0o6gzkV2-AyNSg6KHhJC6tTxEXbqnp6vEpvWZklCJDJv70sdRzLg/s300/418JAJW18GL._SY580_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="300" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVJU-2l4EzLTmqUqJYrWs6ROc20Zpz7Te4XSC2Vh84q9bHRGuszLKEuZkcm0KUgxtjwh6T68kUh8E0Fq7eXb-Tc33Q0OrEPzETWYCLiKjRN2A-348Cfeo-0JVEn7dJz0o6gzkV2-AyNSg6KHhJC6tTxEXbqnp6vEpvWZklCJDJv70sdRzLg/s1600/418JAJW18GL._SY580_.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Of course, a crate digger since his early days, Springsteen
has mentioned that several of the songs here were, for him, recent discoveries,
recent discoveries that play like more than a fair share of the DNA for his entire
career. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Springsteen heard anything
doesn’t much matter. It’s the dialogue that went on because of the music that matters.
What Springsteen heard whenever he heard it was filtered through all sorts of
musical dialogue, including the Beatles “She Loves You,” a similar discussion
between two friends about a girl, and a single released about a month before
the Jackson version. I enjoy pondering the whole arc of a teenage romance occurring
over the course of that month.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But that’s just musing. All four versions add something to
the discussion I would like to hope records like this may still start. The
build certainly illustrates Steve Van Zandt’s notion that rock and roll, at
least in its origins, is white kids trying to make Black records and “failing
gloriously.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">William Bell’s record conjures the sort of pre-Beatles (and
Beatle-fueling) grandeur of, say, the Drifters, the backing singers even evoking
the great girl groups. Without either we don’t have <i>Born to Run</i>—<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Msa5LRtIJ-k">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Msa5LRtIJ-k</a> <br /><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCT1QSVl5z7hVsbDB9OMf1w-QlvF4Wwl51KP_cu0DamrVTsU5v98Luw3iJHJ8G6TmQms8d7l9feN3WVFeY_4LLCobVxrgfXjZu83xFcncWX5cksLZjnSyxVZHhct5Ia_DaDevfkZ8bBF_z4ftX5slG2eRACy5j5mE4Bp6KpT0PF9VPKQDiA/s300/R-11014314-1508256185-3271.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCT1QSVl5z7hVsbDB9OMf1w-QlvF4Wwl51KP_cu0DamrVTsU5v98Luw3iJHJ8G6TmQms8d7l9feN3WVFeY_4LLCobVxrgfXjZu83xFcncWX5cksLZjnSyxVZHhct5Ia_DaDevfkZ8bBF_z4ftX5slG2eRACy5j5mE4Bp6KpT0PF9VPKQDiA/s1600/R-11014314-1508256185-3271.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />Jackie Shane’s sultry version, substituting the word “gay”
for happy, is at once the saddest sounding version of the record and the most
defiantly certain of itself, dispensing with the fragile male bravado central to the other versions. While the sexual ambiguity no
doubt resonates with any number of Springsteen’s decisions (the names
of partners in song after song, the nightly Big Man stage kisses, the decision to
cancel a 2016 North Carolina concert to protest transgender discrimination), I
would argue that lack of a certain front-to-keep-from-crying aesthetic is precisely why Springsteen's record
doesn’t move this direction—<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZnwLamCia4">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZnwLamCia4</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Chuck Jackson’s comes closest, with its emphasis on horns
and its celebration of freedom, though Springsteen stops short of the gospel
outro—<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FELQMDkkxt4">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FELQMDkkxt4</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Bruce plays it as the Jersey Shore party song where the
singer fights to live brokenhearted—<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcvxp5E-ROw">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcvxp5E-ROw</a> <br /><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil7k_OYOLJ6OVAO7y3wVCVdxTpeiN6EG5Fv-AIZwWKlh4SlkiOZcZ6aU-eoVt-HIFzYbvymcaJXyazPeQvh0kDkkll_dXXP-ASTXQBu2V4xM6nyGVe3NB_poq-yifaIFD7WKsnNaWvlxn1aqMv4pryNRspKGbXhrQytcHqxeSQ2SgHw1v-2w/s980/attachment-SpringsteenSources.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="980" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil7k_OYOLJ6OVAO7y3wVCVdxTpeiN6EG5Fv-AIZwWKlh4SlkiOZcZ6aU-eoVt-HIFzYbvymcaJXyazPeQvh0kDkkll_dXXP-ASTXQBu2V4xM6nyGVe3NB_poq-yifaIFD7WKsnNaWvlxn1aqMv4pryNRspKGbXhrQytcHqxeSQ2SgHw1v-2w/w400-h266/attachment-SpringsteenSources.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">FWIW, not the best of 2022 in any objective way, but my 2022
playlist nevertheless—</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6PdzTp2VCQHToBA6ZQNHmJ">https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6PdzTp2VCQHToBA6ZQNHmJ</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-16153685994328137492022-05-24T16:44:00.037-07:002022-05-25T08:31:45.182-07:00Folk Alliance Day 4, To Serve the Music<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRbUyqozJ6zKWmplfQyU7CL3qaK5eQgosc3K_UiWIkPPJ5yZVkK4gcQHZ843sDdMfLe3YqSUS5pTCSr8CQQ5NnQ7Wc3oB2R1eAarP11vqL7SUgmm0vIPYjKdep0VqL2zPjaJSw90NeLLDDwAzckktlJilN6EliTuRwKtkl9KgFiBrI8L22Q/s951/Room%20dancing%20to%20Le%20Diable%20a%20Cinq.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="951" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRbUyqozJ6zKWmplfQyU7CL3qaK5eQgosc3K_UiWIkPPJ5yZVkK4gcQHZ843sDdMfLe3YqSUS5pTCSr8CQQ5NnQ7Wc3oB2R1eAarP11vqL7SUgmm0vIPYjKdep0VqL2zPjaJSw90NeLLDDwAzckktlJilN6EliTuRwKtkl9KgFiBrI8L22Q/s320/Room%20dancing%20to%20Le%20Diable%20a%20Cinq.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The room explodes to Le Diable a Cinq</td></tr></tbody></table> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">On the last day of Folk Alliance, I was driving two
other volunteers (David Torrejon and Concepcion Neuling of the Chilean duo Coda) to the various load out points for the Folk
Alliance gear. At one point, David said that he preferred the volunteer aspect
of the conference to the artist side of things.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That surprised and intrigued me, so I asked why. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“We like to serve,” Concepcion said from the little
spot I’d dug out for her in my messy back seat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Reflecting on the good-natured attitude of all the
volunteers as we waited for trucks to arrive and keys to unlock doors, all the
little snafus of any such operation, I found myself connecting that spirit to the
patience expressed repeatedly throughout the conference.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Each night, the Westin hotel restaurant was overwhelmed
whenever the folkies came down to eat dinner and celebrate in the evening. One
night, desperately hungry, I squeezed into a spot at the bar, and a couple by my side managed to flag the server for me. We immediately
began expressing our concern for how overworked and understaffed the crew who
was serving us was, a conversation we would repeat the next day at the
merchandise table where I was working. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When things hitched up, I didn’t hear anyone complain.
These struggling artists and promoters all understood the nature of work. And,
in these congenial conversations, many with Kansas Citians I’d somehow never
met, we understood that, when it wasn’t completely overwhelming, this work we
were engaged in was rife with useful lessons. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Waiting on the truck we were to load, David and
Concepcion showed me the quena flutes David plays, which
originated with the indigenous Andean peoples. When I commented on the textile
of David’s vest in a picture of the duo (which plans to tour Denmark, Sweden, Germany, and Spain this summer),
David showed me a piece of the aguayo cloth they had with them, a beautiful
wool woven from alpaca. Concepcion showed me how the aguayo could be worn for
warmth, how it could hold a baby, and how it could also store food. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpGmyH6a15TcRo0DfU_EM1z55RSWLAyRR__8Qzv4TH8w31lytpD0UlPKUZv_ZM1LAF1AVcaja7ttUsjEsqimgHG3ogUvaeBzSPd9vwNkQrnephS_3ymlXi1X2zmHxY_Acd2i57B7FRiJDL29DClmQa6sHZgCu50m-i_5HsHGjJofgyEpp-w/s480/283450320_1057585165156878_1054064606210716981_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="477" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpGmyH6a15TcRo0DfU_EM1z55RSWLAyRR__8Qzv4TH8w31lytpD0UlPKUZv_ZM1LAF1AVcaja7ttUsjEsqimgHG3ogUvaeBzSPd9vwNkQrnephS_3ymlXi1X2zmHxY_Acd2i57B7FRiJDL29DClmQa6sHZgCu50m-i_5HsHGjJofgyEpp-w/s320/283450320_1057585165156878_1054064606210716981_n.jpg" width="318" /></a></div></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">These lessons were topped off by a gift of a CD made
by a group with which Concepcion plays cello called Ensamble Transatlantico de Folk Chileno. The album’s twelve
tracks tour the varied cultures of Chile and blend those sounds with the folk
music of Japan and Sweden, as well as performances by the Indian singer Shubham
Modi, Colombian singer Victoria Saavedra, and the haunting vocals of Finland’s
Viivi Maria Saarenkyla and Hilda Lansman. With a full orchestra composed of
many woodwinds and strings, this Chilean tour of folk music is a head-spinning celebration
of unity in our diversity, the motto in the liner notes taking me back to my previous blog— “we are all this and much more!”<br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That last night, too, was a lesson in unity through
diversity. We began with a set from Toronto singer Melissa Lauren. She sang
jazz and blues-flavored gems accompanied by her producer Tyler Emond on guitar.
Lauren joked about how many of her songs were written about arguments with her
husband but promised, “we’ll get to more romantic songs.” She needn’t have
worried. Anyone whose been in a relationship long enough to survive an argument
or two could hear the love pouring through the struggle of each original— “The
Day We Stopped,” “My Blue Friend,” “Back to You,” and “My Voice,” as bright and
clear as Lauren’s voice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Melissa Lauren, “The Day We Stopped”— <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPPIV0hGrv4">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPPIV0hGrv4</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZB1UPOvIn4h0MmXnmae9A38k4CkTF8Q7JnXrf941giZn3CnA9_agXewHMzrOB0mgBBIJ_Y9yXXTHAHG3y_CFwXd8-IxziPz-dIfKtacZhuuoKpSkYrPIXb8uGw64SxYoxdZfLHltW-tHgAI2GMHVG1uqe6ewKn_CaQ0nCqXdEn0u29K6xA/s3096/Gilles%20Garand%20and%20Le%20Diable%20a%20Cinq.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="3096" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZB1UPOvIn4h0MmXnmae9A38k4CkTF8Q7JnXrf941giZn3CnA9_agXewHMzrOB0mgBBIJ_Y9yXXTHAHG3y_CFwXd8-IxziPz-dIfKtacZhuuoKpSkYrPIXb8uGw64SxYoxdZfLHltW-tHgAI2GMHVG1uqe6ewKn_CaQ0nCqXdEn0u29K6xA/s320/Gilles%20Garand%20and%20Le%20Diable%20a%20Cinq.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gilles Garand and Le Diable a Cinq</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />Back at Mundial Montreal, Folk Quebec host Gilles Garand
started the set by Le Diable a Cinq with a fevered harmonica solo. After about one
song of the band’s set, Garand was walking down the aisle telling people to
stack their chairs against the wall. In moments, the chairs were gone, and the
room exploded with dancing and clapping to these Cajun-like jigs and reels. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Le Diable a Cinq, “Les Chaises a Chabot”—<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxFEVd_DKkg&list=RDfxFEVd_DKkg&start_radio=1&rv=fxFEVd_DKkg&t=11">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxFEVd_DKkg&list=RDfxFEVd_DKkg&start_radio=1&rv=fxFEVd_DKkg&t=11</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdegsKNP_1spVUL6ZGXf7fZAml5FJB17E8hYf5hbtZiVFfPKQUAWnlEyjjWX7Jv8g_NJ2j4U4M5rWXG-VKJ-rAemQ3Y2Nqo3WROetdqJ66_5RVF-yOaQav15x2qXD_u_DHY_bTvDwG9lOR2Zb7-D0o7qE1GeRXncUOk_u-ilgCAdXBa45Vw/s3096/Sal%20of%20Kora%20Flamenca.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="3096" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdegsKNP_1spVUL6ZGXf7fZAml5FJB17E8hYf5hbtZiVFfPKQUAWnlEyjjWX7Jv8g_NJ2j4U4M5rWXG-VKJ-rAemQ3Y2Nqo3WROetdqJ66_5RVF-yOaQav15x2qXD_u_DHY_bTvDwG9lOR2Zb7-D0o7qE1GeRXncUOk_u-ilgCAdXBa45Vw/s320/Sal%20of%20Kora%20Flamenca.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zal Sissokho and Kora Flamenco</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Chairs back, we settled into a dazzling performance by
Kora Flamenca, a group helmed by Kora player Zal Sissokho and flamenco guitarist
Caroline Plante. The call of Sissokho’s Senegalese vocals and the dazzling waterfall-like
sound of the kora strings with Plante’s driving guitar inspired someone in the
room to respond to with large maracas. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Kora Flamenca, “Manssani”—<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZDcf4WJ6DM">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZDcf4WJ6DM</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Our night ended back in the “Women of Note” room, where
Aoife Scott was hosting the UK’s Katherine Priddy, New Orleans-based Lilli
Lewis, and New York folk-blues singer Elly Wininger. Priddy began with the
remarkably tender and tough “Wolf” about loving someone who is “everything I
hate,” that contradiction nicely mapping out the tough territory ahead of us.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Katherine Priddy, “Wolf”— <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iq34LkghY38">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iq34LkghY38</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After another forbidden love song in Gaelic by Scott,
Lewis raised the stakes with “Piece of
Mind,” calling it, “my one murder ballad.” Wininger finished off this
round with a minor-keyed and gorgeous explanation for why these hard songs must
be sung, the title track to her album, “The Blues Never End.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Elly Wininger, “The Blues Never End” --</span> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQOTlvdeocs">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQOTlvdeocs</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After that, Priddy’s “Letters from a Traveling Man” seemed
like the living damnation so often associated with the blues singer as well as that
hapless lover from “Wolf.” It’s not unsympathetic…. She sings from his point of
view. But the man wants a fire waiting for him while promising he won’t pass
this way again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisAwV6vUgGG_uTEbqZWeFhyMhOPQxKL6dYdQGoNDvqm1vCYGz9RQT36DvOlmQJwC5hQOYATutUEu3Zy0_7IS58aYsdY1pa77-g6l18SLTnl953wdI3K3Tf9ef95XfNq34WHB9OZTKppNfdwdacDuvUIcKiO41wO2-xgLBJ6pm_Eyepj2Log/s4053/Lilli%20and%20Aoife.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="4053" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisAwV6vUgGG_uTEbqZWeFhyMhOPQxKL6dYdQGoNDvqm1vCYGz9RQT36DvOlmQJwC5hQOYATutUEu3Zy0_7IS58aYsdY1pa77-g6l18SLTnl953wdI3K3Tf9ef95XfNq34WHB9OZTKppNfdwdacDuvUIcKiO41wO2-xgLBJ6pm_Eyepj2Log/s320/Lilli%20and%20Aoife.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilli Lewis and Aoife Scott</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />Scott took the strain of such personal politics to the
bigger picture with a cover of Damien Dempsey’s “The Colony” accompanied by her
“fella” Andy Meany on guitar and Lilli Lewis on keys. With a litany of violence,
that song describes the common cause that binds together the Irish with the
indigenous people of North America, Australia, and Africa, and it ends with the
hard-fought declaration, “You’ll never kill our will to be free.”<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lewis answered this with a story about the cotton gin
and how Eli Whitney’s invention transformed the business of cotton into an exponentially
more brutal system. And then she sang “Wednesday’s Child,” a song she
called her own story, of violence, sickness, and suicide rooted in the bigotry
of those who stole and sold her family. Wininger used “Alabama Blues,” about
the attack on women’s reproductive rights specifically, to underscore the set’s
direction, a tale of women under siege from every conceivable front.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lilli Lewis, “Wednesday’s Child” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVm637vTOSE">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVm637vTOSE</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That coherence of this in-the-round session showed the
potential of a collaborative set, each woman playing off the other’s
perspective, each expanding our concept of how the personal and the political tie
together. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I find myself again thinking about David and
Concepcion’s concept of the conference itself as an opportunity to serve the
music and to serve the musical community. At its prevalent best, that is what
Folk Alliance does—the entire activity of gathering these people together in
one place to meet in affinity groups and to discuss every aspect of their careers
from songwriting to promotion. ‘<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That, too, is the spirit of these blogs. I will have
done my job if I’ve been of some small service to the music. It’s the music which
binds us together, after all, and, as Scott sang in “The Colony,” it’s the music
that holds the key to our freedom.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2PA_C9AfqIpiP4Kz8ckKU0ioYu-rJz_vgMkSNl_phPkNyxVwYhV0JtXmA-Y39WbSqBZPXjFECp2CzjervW6E3LoFJU4SVnsnFYKzdaj4DGgiYKmgrrPRTkC_YDUYdqtIBl45qiry7O92PdXooZTiAQtYq935oJ6NhQywmiuEoBgTZgmFwg/s3096/IMG_20220522_105513_794.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="3096" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2PA_C9AfqIpiP4Kz8ckKU0ioYu-rJz_vgMkSNl_phPkNyxVwYhV0JtXmA-Y39WbSqBZPXjFECp2CzjervW6E3LoFJU4SVnsnFYKzdaj4DGgiYKmgrrPRTkC_YDUYdqtIBl45qiry7O92PdXooZTiAQtYq935oJ6NhQywmiuEoBgTZgmFwg/s320/IMG_20220522_105513_794.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilli Lewis</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfhD73IWHVHZofdY6WrAfCDy-zcMCW5KMTdtLBZW_hkgUQ3ZuYreVp0X9tsnIBT34OcgIByd2wSGtAOYos57jkFe-7W9oOEplpFkK3Z_yxwym3L_zkCLVq4lcbbgSu0ChHQlqGhulvKw1QDsPARsWOh4leimUHbKGXj_ZMu3flzrtUDqPKw/s3096/IMG_20220522_110301_666.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3096" data-original-width="3096" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfhD73IWHVHZofdY6WrAfCDy-zcMCW5KMTdtLBZW_hkgUQ3ZuYreVp0X9tsnIBT34OcgIByd2wSGtAOYos57jkFe-7W9oOEplpFkK3Z_yxwym3L_zkCLVq4lcbbgSu0ChHQlqGhulvKw1QDsPARsWOh4leimUHbKGXj_ZMu3flzrtUDqPKw/s320/IMG_20220522_110301_666.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katherine Priddy</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-37850596301221512192022-05-21T11:25:00.009-07:002022-05-21T11:36:27.479-07:00Folk Alliance, Day 3: Praise the Women<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8HLVCgs2aNxeE8Y9l5qnjiskgt_k0En52PZ1gtyilPG-vNDpHd0u5g5czWgZclxiOjjq7cafGsvftWeYFfY4ozIo0WG2JqhKYQSwDjV8xAn3qCtksUHN_k5EclEoVivGAeZf1JJfAcLp2lN4uLgUsuvd8DRII8GndgYWHz_xJfEUkY52jVA/s3266/Louise%20O'Connor%20dancing%20in%20Women%20of%20Note%20room.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2732" data-original-width="3266" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8HLVCgs2aNxeE8Y9l5qnjiskgt_k0En52PZ1gtyilPG-vNDpHd0u5g5czWgZclxiOjjq7cafGsvftWeYFfY4ozIo0WG2JqhKYQSwDjV8xAn3qCtksUHN_k5EclEoVivGAeZf1JJfAcLp2lN4uLgUsuvd8DRII8GndgYWHz_xJfEUkY52jVA/s320/Louise%20O'Connor%20dancing%20in%20Women%20of%20Note%20room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />“In Appalachia, it’s not traditional for a dancer to fiddle
or a fiddler to dance. We typically do one or the other. But here at Folk
Alliance, I’ve met three other dancing fiddlers, who I’m thinking will be
lifelong friends,” Nashville-based Hillary Klug said this as part of her endearing (earnest and funny) patter that accompanied what she presented as a sort of demonstration
regarding her beloved buck dancing.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Klug said, “Now, how many of you all are familiar with buck dancing?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Pause.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Three people?” She paused again. “Now this is
embarrassing. I’m the national champion of something only three of you ever
heard of.” It was the oh-so-natural laugh line, and we laughed, hard and natural. </p><p class="MsoNormal">That's the way the whole evening went.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You’re probably familiar with clog dancing. They come from
the same tradition, but buck dancing is older, and while clog dancing is fun to
watch with all the high kicks”—Klug jumps and kicks heels together to
illustrate— “buck dancing is all about the sound, and boring to watch.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Klug was anything but boring to watch. Running through an
array of standards from “Oh, Susanna!” to “Cotton-Eyed Joe” and “The Cuckoo,”
her almost marionette-like movements were emotionally moving. As she fiddled with abandon and danced (though visually understated) much the same way, something that could only be called joy filled the room. Her set was the original concept of the North American Folk Music and
Dance Alliance in the microcosm of one person.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lZ4UFTUJP_ivtxisJYzDVHR5bZi2CdDzlgHFGzj7jDAeOdaLXcCkNCFLPhaz0S7AVQCk6cZ62S56ljlzpL2SfavuaTlMZzKqweIyFb1xx8fl1P9vxSnyFfqBp1KuYq-gpCEddnRFaLoUv0Sc9yeY-8VAW81I-zUXootmuU2tha_EchYr2Q/s800/Hillary%20Klug.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="533" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lZ4UFTUJP_ivtxisJYzDVHR5bZi2CdDzlgHFGzj7jDAeOdaLXcCkNCFLPhaz0S7AVQCk6cZ62S56ljlzpL2SfavuaTlMZzKqweIyFb1xx8fl1P9vxSnyFfqBp1KuYq-gpCEddnRFaLoUv0Sc9yeY-8VAW81I-zUXootmuU2tha_EchYr2Q/s320/Hillary%20Klug.webp" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hillary Klug</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Hillary Klug, “Cotton-Eyed Joe” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lNkCt1CDc0">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lNkCt1CDc0</a></p><p class="MsoNormal">Noting the difference in Canadian dance
fiddlers and Appalachians, mentioning the loss of her accompaniment that night
as serendipitous because the approach she now used would be more traditionally
Irish, Klug tied together the traditions in the “Women of Note” room, a room created
by Dublin’s Aoife Scott to pay homage to a yearly Irish Tradfest where women gather
and sing in the round at Dublin’s Saint Patrick Cathedral. (This past January Scott performed with Wallis Bird and Peggy Seeger.)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Last night, Scott opened for Klug, a brilliant and funny warm up for the buck dancer. Scott managed to render stories of the interminable Irish
Lockdown and dark days of depression (including sad jam
sandwiches) in a way that brought laughter and tears intertwined. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“One thing about the lockdown, before, I didn’t know who I
was without gigging. I found out I am someone when I’m not gigging, and that
was grand.” The sweet humor in that brief, confessional comment was, in many
ways, a theme that ran through the evening. We're more than all this, but isn't it grand that we're all this, too?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Aoife Scott, “Sweet October” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjqljZ8ZyFE">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjqljZ8ZyFE</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Each night of the conference, at midnight, Scott is gathering a group of women
to sing in the round. Last night, she was joined by Thea Hopkins, a member of
the Aquinnah Wampanoag tribe in what is today Massachusetts, who calls her
music Red Roots Americana. With her full-throated yet ethereal vocals, Hopkins
sang of having wings to fly like an angel and compared the power of love to
rain feeding the dry earth. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thea Hopkins, “Love Come Down” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORJrXrkwJOQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORJrXrkwJOQ</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_MlqWvyo9PFjmD2UhGcyaZNdI_fFbYayT4YC1l942vKJSU7lIaY7JxvFqgPZ4LFgg5zN81vvr0Qd01TOFD_0tK4QC-fJZtWeiu7MREgAPtA-k_wIzWvdApmS2dSO9iKmTcRBI3yKHA5Y-Ubl8kYqz54r21lSG54YM0VqspGiG7oxBwF-Pg/s3107/Charly%20Lowry%20singing.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2626" data-original-width="3107" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_MlqWvyo9PFjmD2UhGcyaZNdI_fFbYayT4YC1l942vKJSU7lIaY7JxvFqgPZ4LFgg5zN81vvr0Qd01TOFD_0tK4QC-fJZtWeiu7MREgAPtA-k_wIzWvdApmS2dSO9iKmTcRBI3yKHA5Y-Ubl8kYqz54r21lSG54YM0VqspGiG7oxBwF-Pg/s320/Charly%20Lowry%20singing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sands, Lowry, Scott, and Hopkins</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Another indigenous American singer, of the Lumbee/Tuscarora
tribes of North Carolina, Charly Lowry spoke thoughtfully about her own
life story, how she moved from a predominantly native American hometown to a
university town where most people were not indigenous, acknowledging she
went through a profound culture shock, leading up to her celebratory anthem, dedicated to women, “Brown Skin.” Later in the set she called upon all of us to celebrate our
backbones as well. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Charly Lowry, “Backbone” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlOsH5zbYKs">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlOsH5zbYKs</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Cork’s Clare Sands furthered the celebration with a
song called “Praise the Women” in Gaelic, “Awe na Mna,” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rhmX4fV-Uo">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rhmX4fV-Uo</a>
Then she closed the evening with two fiddle tunes accompanied by dances from
another native of Cork, Louise O’Connor. At one point or another, Lowry and
Scott playing hand drums, the room giddy with our common humanity.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcN3bE_5gLy_4WTnDcbErDIKG6x23khYl6Ah0cFiyaahUalyPJCXDq8SuFcZB-jUX4QnVPC3CiHbyaLnvoFpcyvJTwNEQEvuL9raLyCgKPMiojN9cVBDV2SIe4BPHhrxHc5svtjxJiqwXOSvo5Qx0YCJjp494n--h7A1oV-5TCDnDzgcbuTg/s3410/Louise%20O'Connor%20Two.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2696" data-original-width="3410" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcN3bE_5gLy_4WTnDcbErDIKG6x23khYl6Ah0cFiyaahUalyPJCXDq8SuFcZB-jUX4QnVPC3CiHbyaLnvoFpcyvJTwNEQEvuL9raLyCgKPMiojN9cVBDV2SIe4BPHhrxHc5svtjxJiqwXOSvo5Qx0YCJjp494n--h7A1oV-5TCDnDzgcbuTg/w640-h506/Louise%20O'Connor%20Two.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">O'Connor, Sands (almost hidden in red), Lowry, Scott, Hopkins </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-39507206778764585132022-05-20T11:50:00.013-07:002022-05-20T15:41:10.080-07:00Folk Alliance, Day 2: Marching On<b><b></b></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVzfgkgk5YNgNzCpKZznwuqCQ9U65mPO52IYt5V9bhqNb9Q5fIhsygfZvLe1jNks88O9Nam4U-nagkmWjXJjFxtD8APnCMAuus1GGdLJRtKDBfHAOpndv3FKtbPO_5iZcEbMAer_2kKEU-xqNUjTp8krvzDJiq9BFEBmS7jOoh1oCNxak8Q/s852/2022-mathieubittont1340199-edit-hr-3_orig.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: block; float: left; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="852" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVzfgkgk5YNgNzCpKZznwuqCQ9U65mPO52IYt5V9bhqNb9Q5fIhsygfZvLe1jNks88O9Nam4U-nagkmWjXJjFxtD8APnCMAuus1GGdLJRtKDBfHAOpndv3FKtbPO_5iZcEbMAer_2kKEU-xqNUjTp8krvzDJiq9BFEBmS7jOoh1oCNxak8Q/s320/2022-mathieubittont1340199-edit-hr-3_orig.jpeg" width="320" /></a>
</div>
Los Angeles singer-songwriter Chris Pierce began his set by congratulating the
Oklahoma City couple that fronted the trio Wood Willow before him.
Someone had shouted “It’s their honeymoon,” and Pierce said, “That’s a beautiful
thing, to declare your love in front of friends and family like that.” <div><br /></div><div>With
that, Pierce took command of the room.
I’m probably underestimating that Los Angeles singer-songwriter Chris Pierce stands 6’4”, but what matters is
the way Pierce’s black-suited, white hatted frame seemed almost to crouch to fit
in the stage area by the hotel window. Moving through one pointed confrontation
with injustice after another, from “American Silence”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80dpcoV5eVU (“It’s a crime!”) to the hard
therapy of “Ring Them Bells” (“Shame it, face it, damn it to hell!”), to his
contemplation of the concept of freedom in a world where the poor person
stealing for her survival faces prison while the employer stealing wages faces
no repercussions, only rewards, “Chain Gang Fourth of July,” </div><div><br /></div><div>Pierce’s part
blues, part gospel shout insisted everyone in the room and half the hall that
extended beyond us face the lies that tear us apart and keep thinking on them until we
find a way forward. As Pierce puts it in “Silence,” “we sing through the pain
and keep on marching on.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Any attempt to describe Pierce’s sound falls short. He
has a beautiful, soulful voice that can soar, like Sam Cooke, beyond all
imaginable boundaries. At the same time, on songs like “It’s Been Burning for a
While” and “Static Trampoline,” he can run that voice through urgent jazz
figures to pick this stubborn lock that keeps us where we are
rather than where we are being called to be. </div><div><br /></div><div>On “Trampoline,” a song about the
loss of his father, he turns that improvisation into proof that he will find a way,
pouring his desperation into fevered harmonica explosions before pushing that voice
as hard as he can. For Chris Pierce, music isn’t simply magic from the ether
(oh, that’s there, in a big way) but more importantly it's hard work and
fierce determination. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pierce ended his set with “How Can Anybody Be Okay with
This?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KMjhNFDf-JM, a song that begins “I’m sick
and tired of this song/we’ve been singing it too long/singing ‘we shall overcome
someday.’” </div><div><br /></div><div>He said that he planned to read the names of the ten people killed in
that Buffalo supermarket last weekend, but he didn't have it, so resolved, “I’ll do it tomorrow,” before
beginning the simmering build, asking why we stay in this holding pattern,
society corroding from the wear, his voice a desperate effort to maintain hope,
his melody a leap of faith that resonated throughout the rest of the evening. </div><div><br /></div><div>My
friend Mike Warren and I carried Pierce’s resonating vision with us to the
Mundial Montreal room, where artists from Quebec built upon it. With a trio our
host compared to Crosby, Stills & Nash, and songs that called to mind virtually
every seasoned impulse of early 70s folk rock with its warm melodies and
harmonies, David Lafleche started that part of our evening in an assured, inviting way.
Lafleche’s debut single “We Collided”
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCs7ksHskKpc9vQo42uXIJLw </div><div><br /></div><div>And the musicians who
followed fleshed out the idea of music as a tool to fight for the world we can
envision when we sing and play together.</div><div><br /></div><div>Colombian Ramon Chicharron’s four-piece blended sounds
from South America with the Caribbean, even a touch of West African Highlife
slipping in and out on the guitar. It perfectly suited Chicharron’s sound when
he talked of a world without borders, “like the one all the other species we
share this world with live in.” Then, he introduced “Pescador,” a song about a South American culture where fishing is done daily because, “why keep more
fish than you need? The ocean is the refrigerator!" Ramon Chicharron,
“Pescador”--https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgeMM8rfv_s&list=PLqpvhIJmoG_ZJIZjdz9BBwwuJyBLaL8NS&index=7 </div><div><br /></div><div>Things became tender with a performance by Montreal’s Genevieve
Racette and her brilliant three piece. Songs like “Someone” and “Maybe” were
lump-to-the-throat direct and evocative. Genevieve Racette, “Someone”—
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNk1pD3fHGY</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDe83ZkNTzIia8BImqj_hIqygGsNavyzxc83RJA-fiqW68ZwFH9MfaoxmtW7CF9FXj3mI12sVGf_QPGhf0PqjR1SCuH6cPAIYW4VvodFNYY_R2FcsD5j2V8N7_MCXrpTtfEup8M2G3ZwWSH53V4QLm2OrTpQ2hhpcnsoycOytvi6BVTIe1g/s3339/Genevieve%20.jpg" style="clear: right; display: block; float: right; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2340" data-original-width="3339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDe83ZkNTzIia8BImqj_hIqygGsNavyzxc83RJA-fiqW68ZwFH9MfaoxmtW7CF9FXj3mI12sVGf_QPGhf0PqjR1SCuH6cPAIYW4VvodFNYY_R2FcsD5j2V8N7_MCXrpTtfEup8M2G3ZwWSH53V4QLm2OrTpQ2hhpcnsoycOytvi6BVTIe1g/s320/Genevieve%20.jpg" width="320" /></a>
</div>
The evening ended with a raucous set by the jump-suited, and jumping,
band put together by Sao Paulo, Brazil’s Diogo Ramos. Ramos spoke of genocide
back home and called on us to sing all the louder for those whose voices can not be heard. He concluded with a sentiment echoing Chicharron, ”Samba sans
Frontieres.” A highlight of Ramos’s set, “Gamela” https://youtu.be/IdoNsyi4K4o
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvCeaTaqFjUdtwkh8gzfAfBZ8egfXoP2bpUpv4Sd6jaNPTAi5rRVZv3o6OqzghAW19HcZVwduDSqCxr944zSmAgj8KcSSAIw81Xt7B7IumKRPpkP_6QbN7npwCWPbnjzdLTy4cQM9Sj6YBM41FYqVSdJOGc-_BvQtBUiFWwX7MqhhXqGflQ/s2884/Samba.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2474" data-original-width="2884" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvCeaTaqFjUdtwkh8gzfAfBZ8egfXoP2bpUpv4Sd6jaNPTAi5rRVZv3o6OqzghAW19HcZVwduDSqCxr944zSmAgj8KcSSAIw81Xt7B7IumKRPpkP_6QbN7npwCWPbnjzdLTy4cQM9Sj6YBM41FYqVSdJOGc-_BvQtBUiFWwX7MqhhXqGflQ/s400/Samba.jpg" width="400" /></a>
</div>
</div>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-22761188962610161622022-05-19T11:10:00.006-07:002022-05-19T18:27:32.787-07:00The Return of Folk Alliance, Day 1: Magic and Contradiction<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTFlvDR9xqLxPYWr5gAkhM70ecSfB4D_6WzjxpozGrp2_VcpZi0s9ZgD8kN6NQJIWzMEPBq-3huSN3DEXPhWRK6arSqhjd6KrUo_W9qZkJ0jMeyxx0o7fHRhULejySrGbRdlHv9up9IGVllqtRS9N2a_pbHZrZ3lrPs4B4a9xUT7i8y__RQ/s1500/AR_outsidechild_cover_5x5-600-rgb-1500x1500-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTFlvDR9xqLxPYWr5gAkhM70ecSfB4D_6WzjxpozGrp2_VcpZi0s9ZgD8kN6NQJIWzMEPBq-3huSN3DEXPhWRK6arSqhjd6KrUo_W9qZkJ0jMeyxx0o7fHRhULejySrGbRdlHv9up9IGVllqtRS9N2a_pbHZrZ3lrPs4B4a9xUT7i8y__RQ/s320/AR_outsidechild_cover_5x5-600-rgb-1500x1500-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">A refrain at this first Kansas City Folk Alliance in four
years connected Allison Russell to Jason Mraz and countless others, some way of
saying, “music is magical.” For the four years before the break, Folk Alliance
served as a yearly reminder for so many of us. Especially those private showcases. There’s something to getting
away from the mainstage and even the barroom and hearing music in a hotel
bedroom, beds generally (but not always) replaced by folding chairs, the hotel
room stage either the area in front of the wet bar or the spot in front of the
windows. Everyone in the room is engaged in a strikingly intimate ritual, a kind
of party where one or four or half a dozen take the others on a mystery
tour through their musical ideas, everyone engaged more as participants than
audience and performers.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So after the lack of intimacy demanded by the past two years
in particular, the magic was especially palpable at this reunion. When Fayetteville, Arkansas’s
Patti Steel sang about missing every hug she might have had from her family and
friends, she was speaking for virtually everyone in attendance. The conference
featured three lanyards—a green one (hugs and handshakes please), a yellow one
(ask first), and a red one (no contact please), and it made perfect sense that
the green ones were gone by the afternoon. By evening, attendees were writing “green”
on their yellow lanyards so others wouldn’t shy away.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Still, pandemic numbers are edging higher again, and the postponed-from-February
conference was lighter in attendance than four years ago. Everything was
available through remote access, and the halls to the private showcases were far
from the brimming chaos of past years, more like any other halls anywhere,
though a few people would be crowded outside a door halfway down and at the
other end, and, in those muffled distances, beautiful voices clearly sung out. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCF3ON7akdXSXu9o9lAPLuP_08UtXWk64phpr01IINNUiLUXGXJN8l2gC3GZc54KGEMVagZigIAPt9fUNXREfgXhV8__CnwaG3i8p71q58EDQom5V24vLxEgieAXZUgh0JyIejKXE8xB1JX5Kn7b27owXaBFjwQa7fqZC2jf7oZnBZFLpxg/s450/Changemakers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="450" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCF3ON7akdXSXu9o9lAPLuP_08UtXWk64phpr01IINNUiLUXGXJN8l2gC3GZc54KGEMVagZigIAPt9fUNXREfgXhV8__CnwaG3i8p71q58EDQom5V24vLxEgieAXZUgh0JyIejKXE8xB1JX5Kn7b27owXaBFjwQa7fqZC2jf7oZnBZFLpxg/s320/Changemakers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>That said, the International Folk Music Awards filled the
great Century C Ballroom, and it was an extraordinary event. Though the politics of
past Folk Alliance Conferences have been generally muted, give or
take what happened in individual sets, four years of apocalypse had
certainly changed that.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">On the mainstage of the awards show, singer Diana Jones led
the crowd in refrains of “We Believe You,” a song explicitly for Southern
border refugees but speaking to all those being brutalized by the current
system. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0NS9FGERCg">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0NS9FGERCg</a>
While song of the year winner, Crys Matthews declared we all commit to being “The
Changemakers.” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZbJk-WXaSw">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZbJk-WXaSw</a> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizcAlo6-YS5O_cTcCNimOHPqsqrtpfroo4GR5z_8EpJbrtHyRb7hAz1xXaTwRPckn_92T4x315VZ6_kUak7wI-ZM03v3NN3hTU9-howU314wNdrITAc2ivvnqmp64itXNvFaurSBRrqIMMHVlYCELWZRXY0CsMzV_Ye9nuLcFPmQSzWd61zw/s1200/Lachi%20and%20Gaelynn%20Lea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1102" data-original-width="1200" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizcAlo6-YS5O_cTcCNimOHPqsqrtpfroo4GR5z_8EpJbrtHyRb7hAz1xXaTwRPckn_92T4x315VZ6_kUak7wI-ZM03v3NN3hTU9-howU314wNdrITAc2ivvnqmp64itXNvFaurSBRrqIMMHVlYCELWZRXY0CsMzV_Ye9nuLcFPmQSzWd61zw/w320-h294/Lachi%20and%20Gaelynn%20Lea.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lachi and Gaelynn Lea of RAMPD</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> 2016 Tiny Desk Contest winner and cofounder (along with
singer Lachi) of Recording Artists and Music Professionals with Disabilities
(RAMPD), Gaelynn Lea said that it was important that we recognize disability as
not simply a setback but a matter of diversity, raising the issue of equality
in a system that is, by design, unequal. For all the beauty of seeing the Folk
Alliance celebrate artists as diverse as Bolivian composer Amado Espinoza, organizer
of Black Opry Fest Lilli Lewis, Los Cenzontles leader Eugene Rodriguez, <span style="color: black;">Odanak Wabanaki First Nation</span> songwriter/performer
Mali Obamsawin, and Africasong Communications founder and deejay Dr. Jonathan
Overby, the systemic roots of our oppressions were gotten at by Lea’s comment.
Such roots were also addressed by Lifetime Achievement Award Winner Flaco Jimenez
when, in a video tribute, he acknowledged his music had long been dismissed as low
class and unworthy of attention. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;">Allison Russell, when she received
the first of her two awards (one for album of the year <i>Outside Child</i>,
one for Artist of the Year), challenged the room by stating, “we know tolerance
is not enough. Tolerance is not enough. We tolerate mosquitoes. Humans need
love.” With those clear calls, insisting that it is more than the look of Folk
Alliance that matters, the awards ceremony celebration of diversity became a bigger
call to think hard about the central problem of equality.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaOmeCVIbjXaBAmon1NWLciYFEP1Xl-_SaZuCY9ZA2Ete5Z0OSYIzzee3qtVOeDOslIDW7Gqzblj9JoM5wpxd2vlW-wPFj7nVCFfjSWdP9dp9Qa7bnKHfnQpD3hre-XGF_OXo62C1m7mE6p0OgShy6vtAnmrbqml99d2xyQY7IJBk8sCtTw/s1600/Patti%20Steel.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaOmeCVIbjXaBAmon1NWLciYFEP1Xl-_SaZuCY9ZA2Ete5Z0OSYIzzee3qtVOeDOslIDW7Gqzblj9JoM5wpxd2vlW-wPFj7nVCFfjSWdP9dp9Qa7bnKHfnQpD3hre-XGF_OXo62C1m7mE6p0OgShy6vtAnmrbqml99d2xyQY7IJBk8sCtTw/s320/Patti%20Steel.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patti Steel</td></tr></tbody></table><br />That theme was picked up by Patti
Steel, a remarkable multi-instrumentalist (we’re talking guitar, mandolin,
clarinet, and spoons here) with a powerful voice, who sang of the rent being
due and all her money spent. It takes more than magic to solve that rent
problem, a problem that threatened the lives of millions during the pandemic, a problem
addressed by Steel’s "Quarantine 2020." The folks working to solve that problem—like
KC Tenants and the Kansas City Homeless Union—can tell us all just how useless
magic is in solving that problem. But the magic of music indeed does break down barriers
and builds bridges, my own aim of the past thirty years never more apparent
than driving home last night past the homeless encampment off Southwest Boulevard,
contemplating how the world of Westin Crown Center and such groups struggling
to survive might be brought into more immediate dialogue and constructive work, not charity events but strategic planning
as equals.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHAu5Q3uGvo1zqv2r0rwC-c1kkHVa2ZMMYR8tTfIJOoPGVnje996Fz6GANGkuDqjwDje9a_yHg5AfkpNaEsTwFI0N9Ol5DhSVwlIJVChHuEfGzEeRHZkmCbYacwONuYPhd48a7HA6s75hz-rtQUYfafSmdk7V8UxD6vN7Znk5Thdhs14E-g/s690/junk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="290" data-original-width="690" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHAu5Q3uGvo1zqv2r0rwC-c1kkHVa2ZMMYR8tTfIJOoPGVnje996Fz6GANGkuDqjwDje9a_yHg5AfkpNaEsTwFI0N9Ol5DhSVwlIJVChHuEfGzEeRHZkmCbYacwONuYPhd48a7HA6s75hz-rtQUYfafSmdk7V8UxD6vN7Znk5Thdhs14E-g/s320/junk.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stillhouse Junkies</td></tr></tbody></table><br />My night ended in the British
Underground room listening to the Stillhouse Junkies, a band from Durango.
Lanky guitar and mandolin player Fred Kosak acknowledged, “Yeah, that’s
right, we’re the obligatory Colorado band on your British Underground bill.” Kosak
and upright bass player Cody Tinnin picked with an insane urgency, while fiddler
Alissa Wolf not only matched their frenetic energy but used her long full bows
to lend the music a sweeping, mythical grandeur. In the end, a song about certain
defeat became its own refutation, the magic of the music existing in its
contradictions. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;">The Stillhouse Junkies, “Whiskey
Prison” <a href="https://rhythmic-rebellion.com/video/1a92ebb438/whiskey-prison">https://rhythmic-rebellion.com/video/1a92ebb438/whiskey-prison</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gaelynn Lea’s Tiny Desk Concert <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6oSeODGmoQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6oSeODGmoQ</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-90863886045187201552022-04-09T00:26:00.010-07:002022-04-09T14:02:14.607-07:00The Kids Are Alright: grandson with Royal & the Serpent<p> <span> </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBR8XApDRp25MQftIhVGPWIEm9lmDmqlVi7tUIxBfueiUxEqEWpeMdNg6KPJbN3xiQHMrYwHQXLH0_0vQek7iBpyhuUkBYCuOjM_Gf1GGxwLImcZHr6MqVy_PvKMUMxa7NwY0e6Pyg8NxmK0mq5mmY1dL-ovjVcUuPWD4k15j406L39ocKQ/s3247/OBC_2019_Night_Two_Grandson_(cropped).jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3247" data-original-width="2234" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBR8XApDRp25MQftIhVGPWIEm9lmDmqlVi7tUIxBfueiUxEqEWpeMdNg6KPJbN3xiQHMrYwHQXLH0_0vQek7iBpyhuUkBYCuOjM_Gf1GGxwLImcZHr6MqVy_PvKMUMxa7NwY0e6Pyg8NxmK0mq5mmY1dL-ovjVcUuPWD4k15j406L39ocKQ/s320/OBC_2019_Night_Two_Grandson_(cropped).jpg" width="220" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">grandson</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span> At last night's tour ending show at the Granada Theater in Lawrence, Kansas, grandson and opener Royal & the Serpent stood united selling the idea that rock and roll still exists to not only save lives but change the world. Prowling and bouncing around the stage, both acts fronted three piece heavy rock bands that played like each moment of their sets was the one that most counted. Both artists radiated vivid, nuanced emotion: Royal, a young woman defiant in the throes of pain; grandson, a young man who cuts the excitement of a legendary rocker with a kind of vulnerable physical comedy. Not only did they both rock hard, but Royal and grandson talked to the crowd, a lot, with an eye-to-eye compassion, telling all of us to take care of each other for them, for us, for what the night was all about. It was the perfect bill, Royal wielding the rock band to liberate the crowd followed by grandson trying that same thing on an epic scale, taking time to linger on how bad those we don't understand are hurting, perpetually turning the conversation to keep our unity the focus. </span><div><br /></div><div>Royal's set may have been my favorite of the two moment-for-moment. Lyrics I'd never heard before put a lump in my throat. Her talks with the crowd were unflinchingly honest, and that voice only leapt into another level of intensity when she sang. And I would be remiss to overlook the band's cover of the Killer's "Mr. Brightside." So many were at my daughter's age, uniquely experiencing the trauma we're all experiencing in the most formative years of their youth. Hearing that whole crowd sing that refrain at the top of their lungs, I couldn't help but think of what it meant in a new way. In this crowd just coming out of a pandemic, facing a disastrous economy, not having known anything like peace in their lifetimes, the song sounded like today--saints lost in a sea of contradiction, once comforting lullabies now just plain lies, everyone there rightfully distrustful of their parents' generation and the future itself. After hearing (and watching) that room embrace their mutual struggles and pain in song after song, that moment all-but-reinventing a 2004 Top 40 hit carried a giddy sense that everyone could also write that pain off as "the price I pay" and recognize the future as unwritten, a destiny calling. </div><div><br /><div><p></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_v3q04G_6gsI7izIkG_eTA-n2j2gUR0td_vOhmgFESbVOoufz2HlCnRTs2xObZ-HpELgCY9Q4fsBJGxwiyLFg-UCwaAvQ6CF2tFkio3JIQGP2QCRO-g0MudSrjAOa3y4Ab3WCken2bLcrt1tYSKIBxPYUNOY4vW3ommUvXejTb_dFkbkftw/s400/iidwac-new.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_v3q04G_6gsI7izIkG_eTA-n2j2gUR0td_vOhmgFESbVOoufz2HlCnRTs2xObZ-HpELgCY9Q4fsBJGxwiyLFg-UCwaAvQ6CF2tFkio3JIQGP2QCRO-g0MudSrjAOa3y4Ab3WCken2bLcrt1tYSKIBxPYUNOY4vW3ommUvXejTb_dFkbkftw/w200-h200/iidwac-new.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Royal 1</td></tr></tbody></table>Grandson centers the show on the center of the crowd, dividing us up to respond to different calls, himself diving into the heart of a thrashing crowd to finish the climactic song. From the innocent bodies of "WWIII" to the messy determination to win in "Dirty," this music was about everyone, artist as fan and fan as artist. The narrative was a story we all acted out in the room together. At one point grandson asked who were artists in the house. He paused as if jumping thoughts, saying, "The only thing that separates the artists from those who aren't yet on this stage is a delusional belief they can save the world, and it's fragile as porcelain." <p></p><p>My daughter kindly invited me to this show to see a favorite she'd introduced to me four years ago. Those were dark days for me, and I have a distinct memory of grandson's "Best Friends" keeping me upright on a nearby track I ran like it was spiraling into the Earth. At that time this music seemed a glimmer of what it's all about. Tonight, seeing these two bands perform, I watched that glimmer take shine. On the final cut "Blood//Water," Royal & the Serpent and an opener we missed (Nova Twins) all took the stage and that light exploded with warm textures of shimmering brilliance. It was no less than a revelation to see such a light, once again, shining boldly into the future. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_NbKwvltwYvV-pYovCI_DWTthVo8uzsM9HcEBW065axvi57CWvcBZGsyU99qgzH39Q_t0lMrHF_atZ0fpx2kLfHNPfmvfd3lOGkzPwXUJKDugYZqagbegO75pUGEX8Px4K8UePJDPFJboXxLu8tr_2PiFIPWM4DaGovxfOAoh2veqpmG-g/s800/Happier-in-Hell-Artwork-No-Light-Leak.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_NbKwvltwYvV-pYovCI_DWTthVo8uzsM9HcEBW065axvi57CWvcBZGsyU99qgzH39Q_t0lMrHF_atZ0fpx2kLfHNPfmvfd3lOGkzPwXUJKDugYZqagbegO75pUGEX8Px4K8UePJDPFJboXxLu8tr_2PiFIPWM4DaGovxfOAoh2veqpmG-g/w320-h320/Happier-in-Hell-Artwork-No-Light-Leak.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Royal 2</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_tEysZWFJxWJtIESqDioTnDXOq_yZzuBT8Q8vgwEJpt2bjTgc7cVbaB3jc26J9PdEQIQ7h-lzT-KfoNsM_xLSTfpV7qylZlgK1Ao9i10ItKlhnFfqsieC_5fsg8C0sUdnrB39sNE-HD0HnuD2u3cx4AWbs8bEQZLEygTMwRc65vpPES70Ig/s444/440px-Nova_Twins._Wikipedia.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_tEysZWFJxWJtIESqDioTnDXOq_yZzuBT8Q8vgwEJpt2bjTgc7cVbaB3jc26J9PdEQIQ7h-lzT-KfoNsM_xLSTfpV7qylZlgK1Ao9i10ItKlhnFfqsieC_5fsg8C0sUdnrB39sNE-HD0HnuD2u3cx4AWbs8bEQZLEygTMwRc65vpPES70Ig/s320/440px-Nova_Twins._Wikipedia.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nova Twins, I'm definitely following now.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><br /></div></div>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21035353.post-73383116963641160392022-02-14T07:12:00.027-08:002022-02-16T11:21:53.136-08:00Knowing Where She's Going As Sure As Where She's Been: The Much Needed Vision of Miko Marks<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjvGSLHRzNIX3MPiTrm__Epo8nGnvU_n38dHa21qPiw29ym07TNobdTlyyZ0y3QmHm9Anp97k6Z5bYvqPiA7o0i6-3hH4iznkRIFB5co66cY3gfL6PUg3t2nstmrswq5_YBfthTPAfef18EvUrjseJVZAAZb-oh0ANQyD-adDgZkMo0cQmFKg=s500" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjvGSLHRzNIX3MPiTrm__Epo8nGnvU_n38dHa21qPiw29ym07TNobdTlyyZ0y3QmHm9Anp97k6Z5bYvqPiA7o0i6-3hH4iznkRIFB5co66cY3gfL6PUg3t2nstmrswq5_YBfthTPAfef18EvUrjseJVZAAZb-oh0ANQyD-adDgZkMo0cQmFKg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">When my friend David Cantwell played Miko Marks’s “Race
Records” for me over the holidays, something in the sound of Marks’s voice (and
her fine band, the Resurrectors) showed me what I’d all but left behind. In a
world where pop music’s well into its third decade of being so micro-formatted
that the concept of a Top 40 or any meaning to a Billboard album chart seems
quaint, I find myself questioning why I do what I do.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But Miko Marks cannot be denied. To hear her singing Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Long as I Can See the
Light” transforms everything that came before into something improbably new and,
arguably, more powerful. Marks’s rallying cry here, her take on John Fogerty’s “Yeah!
Oh-Yeah,” sounds as sure-footed as the tree planted by the water in “We Shall
Not Be Moved,” the traditional that closed her most recent full-length, “Our Country.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk6mks_-J2YZYTGIz_R9XWxfwKTmZ7Wm8w9ETEl6m_5x4K0EblqdvlPJScaGZScaVYNUIEHk-PNY4cwmkbkWMvDdRqZoeClfIkFTGJfFM3iri7EtAQs0ppHQi1DhUuykDcTbnyOxX6iX_U7JnoGusDBpj02l5T6G7XlttvqRf2bFYGTbVCnw=s504" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk6mks_-J2YZYTGIz_R9XWxfwKTmZ7Wm8w9ETEl6m_5x4K0EblqdvlPJScaGZScaVYNUIEHk-PNY4cwmkbkWMvDdRqZoeClfIkFTGJfFM3iri7EtAQs0ppHQi1DhUuykDcTbnyOxX6iX_U7JnoGusDBpj02l5T6G7XlttvqRf2bFYGTbVCnw=w198-h200" width="198" /></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Miko Marks has displayed
the heart of her vision since her remarkable debut “Freeway Bound” and its
follow up (now almost fifteen years ago) “It Feels Good.” Marks has a big
vision that ties generations together with a possibility found through
compassion. For new listeners, her March 2021 album “Our Country” and (6 months
later) EP “Race Records” serve as sublime introductions to what came before.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEEO6xpOG7w">"Kickin' Back," Freeway Bound</a><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhg3Gw8-RakWGfDoPtb-gciB2kF46NeZHk0xvI0cVaVAWqm9_xQkZTl8FW9LvYBEoUq1Hi0MU-7ABdDlyBEFvpSjazD0ooeN7IO4rKn-atfPqEJJAKLYAZG0D7wT2uHwGMFxNhxGmgshdKHiJ7ifAyHZapuM8BET1ZO2AAm6t9KMkwJv3hkEQ=s500" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="500" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhg3Gw8-RakWGfDoPtb-gciB2kF46NeZHk0xvI0cVaVAWqm9_xQkZTl8FW9LvYBEoUq1Hi0MU-7ABdDlyBEFvpSjazD0ooeN7IO4rKn-atfPqEJJAKLYAZG0D7wT2uHwGMFxNhxGmgshdKHiJ7ifAyHZapuM8BET1ZO2AAm6t9KMkwJv3hkEQ=w200-h199" width="200" /></a></span>“Ancestors” opens “Our Country” establishing a sense
of purpose, certainly as a Black woman (even further, as part of a movement) working within a tradition often
associated with whiteness. The emphasis on primal drums and percussion keeping
the singer “walking the weary road” calls on the entirety of the tradition
touched by the African diaspora, from freedom songs to country to rock and soul.
Marks takes a perspective she’s had since her first album, looking back to
gauge her way forward and offers a rare sense of clarity—“I know where we’re
going sure as I know where we’ve been.” <a href="https://youtu.be/8UTXD5ig_Og">Ancestors video</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Her cover of Stephen Foster’s “Hard Times,” takes on
the complex legacy of America’s pop music for its central metaphor. Singing
through a thicket of cascading arpeggios with a bass line guiding her way,
Marks names “the song, the sigh of the weary,” tying the age-old field worker’s
struggle to the Flint water warriors of “We Are Here.” This music underscores what music, at its best, helps us do--find the
strength to fight and a unity that just might win. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXTCd-XTBuQ">"Hard Times," on both albums, performance video</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That strategy is there at play in the following raucous
“Pour Another Glass of Wine, Jesus,” and it’s there when we’ve all but given up,
as in the biting, elegiac ”Goodnight America.” Always, as on the gospel centerpiece
“Mercy,” it’s drawing together the people to “raise up a nation,” to “move
every mountain,” to keep on “fighting, fighting, fighting for better days.” By
the end of that performance, the piano, organ and Marks’ voice and choral backing have built to a
state near jubilation, an army of the meek not just inheriting but, potentially, saving this weary old Earth. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDv-Tx7fpAg">Mercy lyric video</a> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But the path from here to there is a hard one, and “Travel Light” tells of the fighter scrambling home to regroup. The strong
narrative that runs through both these albums makes sure we hear the difference
and the connection between that shaken traveler and the mothers, children, and
unemployed workers in “We Are Here,” fighting for their lives at home. In one
sense, they are every bit as defeated as one another, so they do what they have to do to (what they can) to survive, using music to “hold
on to faith” and “cry, we are here.” <a href="https://youtu.be/_6ebzNntB_E">"We Are Here"</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Moving far from Marks's onetime home Flint to some place way down the
Mississippi, the ragtime “Water to Wine” follows, declaring the singer’s
conviction to “be planted by the water til that [potentially poisoned] water turns to
wine.” With that, she ushers in the closing traditional, “Not Be Moved.”
“Like a tree planted by the water,” this anthem roots not only the album but Miko
Marks’s vision. Shoulder to shoulder with all these frail souls, she warns
those in the way, “Boy, you are weak, and you won’t hold on much longer.” All
our ancestors are in this righteous choral refrain, burning with guitar,
smoldering with organ, and high-kicking with piano and percussion. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mNPJo7m_-U">Not Be Moved </a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The six covers (released six months later) that
make up “Race Records” amplify the story told above by calling directly on the
ancestors again and again. All songs made famous by white artists, they are
also songs that would not exist without the African aesthetics, including call and response, that define American popular music. The title references both the genre label for any song cut by
a Black artist for the first half of the 20<sup>th</sup> Century and the
segregation of music marketing that generally remains to this day, vividly
evident in Marks’s own beloved country music but also the historical dividing line between rock and R&B. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLjD6iISnenCableH4zFsPaWaP0H-6XQM-5edvPar5pRBzlKdQG_7u3T3BVMwK9QKYsNNZrPlyL0A1VaRAJiGxlApelhmdd9Lo4BkaI_Yp2jBVb1XmUHsTU--8EeKNCmCfxDTakqahw_mFz5WGfcugxn-SDosz4VdVOnkfNOlPlMqZV4GxFg=s630" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="630" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLjD6iISnenCableH4zFsPaWaP0H-6XQM-5edvPar5pRBzlKdQG_7u3T3BVMwK9QKYsNNZrPlyL0A1VaRAJiGxlApelhmdd9Lo4BkaI_Yp2jBVb1XmUHsTU--8EeKNCmCfxDTakqahw_mFz5WGfcugxn-SDosz4VdVOnkfNOlPlMqZV4GxFg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">With the Stanley Brothers’ “Long Journey Home” we get
the weary traveler from so many songs before accompanied by harp and acoustic
guitar and haunted by that death that’s been waiting in the shadows since the
beginning of “Our Country.” It’s the threat that keeps these characters moving.
Coupled with the concept of home here, it’s also a place of life and inspiration,
a source of strength, the place of the ancestors. <a href="https://youtu.be/WIxdqZ2C52c">Long Journey Home video</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Playing with Willie Nelson’s psychedelic blues take on
Johnny Bush, Marks revels in “Whiskey River,” a stubborn celebration in what seems
like the deepest darkness yet. As she bites down on “I’m drowning in a whiskey
river,” Marks delivers the metaphor as all but literal. Still, swaying as hard as “Water to Wine,” there’s life, even delight, in her ability to
sing it. Plunging into even more treacherous territory, her honky-tonk “Tennessee Waltz” recognizes the
music itself as capable of producing heartache. The important thing,
though, is the tragic-comic acceptance of this vocal—when Marks’s voice soars
in celebration of the “beautiful, wonderful, maaahvalous, glamorous” song that
took her baby away. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N67lHplfXug">Tennessee Waltz, Race Records</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As she reiterates with the Carter Family’s “Foggy
Mountaintop,” the very power that can take her “all around this whole wide world”
is the same power that can leave her stranded and alone. It’s the bluegrass
strut bolstering her wide-open vocals that tells us she’ll be alright. Marks’s
voice is a wonder: with a light touch, she delivers grit and gravity, always
soothing where she cuts. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfBdyUcHrQg">Foggy Mountaintop, Race Records</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The way she maintains that sound and vision renders
her absolutely convincing when she cries “I won’t, won’t be losing my way” on “Long
as I Can See the Light.” Over these sixteen songs released in the dark days of
2021, Miko Marks forges a coherent narrative out of the whole of the American music
story. She insists on the strength in our vulnerability, carrying us toward a
certain peace glimpsed just over the horizon. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEpIVjbsFGE">Long As I Can See the Light video</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiktQTQrQ21Ncl6Z9y-AeLkVfGx3hh2-4ZdZiMLZfws5XRr1EqRpvx2CtM0m7yFyGQNfSW87uqLLUmRsf_5g8l1Lih73VeT2EU4jtvrNZ9KHHXlS1pLVFMNiFyqGsDeP4Q2BNQ06WCbPzn1JPbRU5X8QpIrjcQlUifBQ-L_DFxomFMQu2Y_nw=s555" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="555" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiktQTQrQ21Ncl6Z9y-AeLkVfGx3hh2-4ZdZiMLZfws5XRr1EqRpvx2CtM0m7yFyGQNfSW87uqLLUmRsf_5g8l1Lih73VeT2EU4jtvrNZ9KHHXlS1pLVFMNiFyqGsDeP4Q2BNQ06WCbPzn1JPbRU5X8QpIrjcQlUifBQ-L_DFxomFMQu2Y_nw=w640-h352" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Danny Alexanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10895177352804665940noreply@blogger.com0