3×3: Birdtalker on Marching Drums, Cool Canadians, and Cats in Boots

Artist: Birdtalker
Hometown: Nashville, TN
Latest Album: Just This EP
Personal Nicknames: Lil’ Coop (Dani), Pizza Loser (Zack), Big Sounds Guy (Jesse), Bagelman (Bry-guy), Andyana Jones (Andy)

 

A photo posted by Birdtalker (@birdtalkermusic) on

Which decade do you think of as the "golden age" of music?
The 1990s.

If you could have a superpower, what would you choose?
Either to be sleeping all the time while simultaneously awake, or to never have to sleep at all.

If you were in a high school marching band, which instrument would you want to play?
Dani: bass drum
Zack: snare drum.

 

A photo posted by Birdtalker (@birdtalkermusic) on

What's your go-to road food?
Since we haven’t been on the road yet, probably tacos or pizza (the usual).

Who was the best teacher you ever had — and why?
Life, because it teaches you the real stuff. 

What's your favorite TV show?
Currently Parks and Recreation — we’re late getting on the TV train — but for all time forever, The West Wing.

 

A photo posted by Birdtalker (@birdtalkermusic) on

Boots or sneakers?
Boooooooooooots, with cats in them preferably.

Which brothers do you prefer — Avett, Wood, Landreth, or Osborne?
Tough to choose between Wood and Avett, but because the Avett Brothers’ music is woven into Zack’s and my love story, I’ll have to go with them.  

Canada or Mexico?
Though I disagree with the dualistic premise of the question, we’d have to say CANADA! For Brian. He’s Canadian. And we love him. 


Photo credit: Gavin Nutt 

LISTEN: Riley Etheridge Jr., ‘Save Me from Myself’

Artist: Riley Etheridge Jr.
Hometown: New York City, NY
Song: "Save Me from Myself"
Album: Secrets, Hope & Waiting
Release Date: September 9
Label: Rock Ridge Music

In Their Words: "'Save Me From Myself' is about taking responsibility for one's decisions — and belatedly admitting our own fallibility in previous life choices. In the song cycle on the album, it is from the perspective of acceptance of the character's current reality. It was inspired by seeing strong people ask for help and not repeat past mistakes. This was one of those songs that write themselves — the changes, melody, and lyrics were all completed in one afternoon session … a rarity for me. Most of the songs on the record were written/shaped over six to 12 months.

We recorded 'Save Me' early one Saturday morning in New Orleans … still waking up and drinking coffee. Think that contributed to the relaxed vibe of the take we used for the record. We had been doing the song live for a few shows — and I hoped we would capture how the song felt on stage." — Riley Etheridge Jr.


Photo credit: Drew Reynolds

STREAM: Michael Fracasso, ‘Here Come the Savages’

Artist: Michael Fracasso
Hometown: Austin, TX
Album: Here Come the Savages
Release Date: June 10
Label: Blue Door

In Their Words: "The album came together over a period of time, actually as two separate projects with two different producers — an album of covers and one of original material. After we finished them, we realized that they were telling the same story. We compiled the best songs from both to present a story of redemption and hope after casting a shadow or two.” — Michael Fracasso


Photo credit: Valerie Fremin

LISTEN: Coty Hogue, ‘Lullaby’

Artist: Coty Hogue
Hometown: Bellingham, WA
Song: "Lullaby"
Album: Flight
Release Date: May 26

In Their Words: "Last Summer, I biked across the country on the Transamerica and Northern Tier bicycle trails — 4,000 miles and 10 states, Yorktown, Virginia, to Seattle, Washington. There were some really poignant moments on that trip where I felt really confident in how I wanted to shape certain things in my life and act on some goals — this new album being one of them.

'Lullaby' was written as a reminder to myself about those moments. Kind of the goal of, 'Okay, when I have forgotten about those feelings or when I am questioning things or feeling stressed (which can happen a lot!), I can have this song, this little lullaby to bring me back and help me remember those times and the clarity I felt.' So, in that way, it's perhaps a bit more internal than some of the other songs I have written, but also a message, in general, of just going for what you know is true to yourself. I think everyone has had those moments, and it's good to find a way to remind yourself on them." — Coty Hogue


Photo credit: Hot Shins Productions

LISTEN, Lula Wiles, ‘Don’t Ask Why’

Artist: Lula Wiles
Hometown: Boston, MA
Song: "Don't Ask Why"
Album: Lula Wiles
Release Date: May 27

In Their Words: "'Don't Ask Why' is an exploration of human strife, loss, and death and the helplessness one can feel in the face of it. The story comes from a time when my younger brother's life hung in the balance. I vividly remember the little field of wildflowers I was standing in when I got the call from my dad, telling me my brother had suffered a traumatic brain injury. I lost my breath and, in that moment, I felt powerless.

As my brother recovered over the next many months, I wrote this song in an attempt to voice the vulnerability I felt during that experience. I've always been fascinated by the old folk songs with lyrics about unspeakable sorrow such as burying a child or murdering a lover, all sung with a plainspoken sense of honesty. The juxtaposition of major chords and heartache feels really powerful to me. With this song, I tried to approach the lyrics in the same way … combining folk idioms and real emotion with an emphasis on simplicity and earnestness as a songwriter." — Ellie Buckland


Photo credit: Louise Bichan

Take This Hammer, Blow Your Kazoo: Skiffle in the 1950s and Beyond

In July, 1954 — the same month that Elvis Presley unleashed his first two world-changing singles — a Scottish-born singer and trad-jazz musician named Lonnie Donegan released a cover of “Rock Island Line” with backing on washboard and bass. Inspired by the African-American singer Lead Belly, Donegan explains the rules of the rails in his spoken-word intro and includes the shouts and cries of the engineers. Though he strums his guitar in a persistent rhythm to evoke the chug and drive of a freight train, the song picks up speed along the way, finally achieving a breakneck momentum as Donegan’s high-pitched vocals grow wilder. It’s a remarkable performance, studious to the point of mimicry, yet reckless like a runaway train.

It took two years, but the single finally caught on and started climbing the British pop charts in 1956. Donegan followed it up with a full-length album, An Englishman Sings American Folk Songs, which became a massive hit on both sides of the Atlantic. In its wake, a series of like-minded folk acts starting popping up all over Britain: young men and women well-schooled in American folk music yet too irreverent and too wiley to be classified as traditional. Emphasizing ingenuity and spontaneity, they played rhythm guitar almost exclusively, along with whatever instruments happened to be on hand: usually kazoos, banjos, washboards, tea cabinet bass, and assorted homemade noisemakers. This was closer in spirit, if not in sound, to the rock 'n' roll coming out of the American South.

Thus was born skiffle, a short-lived scene with a lasting influence.

The word itself has a long history that reveals the concerns of its mid-century practitioners. Skiffle originated in the 1920s as a word to describe wild, impromptu jazz that mixed blues, ragtime, and folk. When Donegan and a few other musicians began playing sets of folk tunes during their trad-jazz shows, he called them “skiffle breaks,” borrowing the term from the semi-popular ‘30s jazz act the Dan Burley Skiffle Group. Eventually, the break would become the entire show, with Donegan and his small outfit often improvising their covers.

After the success of “Rock Island Line,” skiffle groups came out of the woodwork, with trad-jazz musicians migrating to this more lucrative market and kids picking up guitars for the first time. The Chas McDevitt Skiffle Group enjoyed a hit with a cover of Elizabeth Cotton’s “Freight Train” featuring Nancy Whiskey on vocals. A London outfit called the Vipers Skiffle Group — later known as simply the Vipers — rivaled Donegan as the trend’s guiding light, thanks to a string of smash singles like “Cumberland Gap” and “Don’t You Rock Me, Daddy-O” (which was produced by George Martin, later known as the Fifth Beatle). America even produced its own skiffle star, Johnny Duncan, who was born in Oliver Springs, Tennessee, but found fame in the clubs and charts of England with his 1957 hit “Last Train to San Fernando.”

As Rob Young writes in his indispensible 2010 guide to British folk music, Electric Eden: Unearthing Britain’s Visionary Music, “Skiffle’s accelerated swing rhythms and domestic equipment — kazoos, harmonicas, comb and paper — placed music-making in the hands of the amateur, as well as opening up a conduit for the dust-bowl and rust-belt blues and folk poetry of Woody Guthrie and Lead Belly to be siphoned into British ears.”

Like the trad-jazz scene and like the blues revival of the following decade, skiffle was a result of Britain’s obsession with American traditional music. During the post-war years, even as many musicians strove to define and preserve a specifically English folk tradition in pubs and social clubs, much of the country looked west for musical inspiration, finding it in the music made by poor Americans often in rural settings. Granted, those folk songs could be traced back to European sources, brought over by immigrants generations before and gradually mutated over the years, but by the middle of the 20th century, the music sounded distinctly American.

What distinguishes skiffle from imported jazz or blues is its emphasis on labor and class. Most of the main skiffle hits were about workers’ laments: engineers and linemen, sharecroppers and cotton pickers, migrants and chain gang prisoners. Weirdly, skiffle was viewed as largely apolitical at the time, a harmless fascination with another country’s past. However, the subject matter of these songs reinforces the populism that lies at the heart of all folk music, which likely made it more appealing to everyday Brits, especially teenagers.

As Alan Lomax noted at the time, “At first, it seemed very strange to me to hear these songs, which I had recorded from convicts in the prisons of the South, coming out of the mouths of young men who had suffered, comparatively speaking, so little. But I soon realized that these young people felt themselves to be in a prison — composed of class-and-caste lines, the shrinking British empire, the dull job, the lack of money … things like these. They were shouting at the prison walls, like so many Joshuas at the walls of Jericho.”

Skiffle left a mark on an entire generation of men and women who picked up guitars and created some of the best music of the 1960s. The list of musicians who started out in skiffle is long and impressive: Jimmy Page, David Gilmour, Ritchie Blackmore, Pete Townshend … even Cliff Richard. Van Morrison was not only a huge fan of the genre, but also recorded an album with Lonnie Donegan and Chris Barber in the late 1990s. And one obscure skiffle group from Liverpool eventually changed its name from the Quarrymen to the Beatles.

The craze lasted barely five years, replaced by the screams and shouts of American rock 'n' roll, which offered similar freedoms and pleasure. Skiffle remains a brief chapter in pop history, but its lasting influence belies its short life. Although it remains obscure today — unknown by pop fans and often overlooked by folkies — the genre reinforced the idea that popular music is often best left to the amateur, the unschooled, the self-taught: those artists who innovate intuitively, without anyone telling them what they can’t do.


Dewi Peter's Skiffle Group outside Kayser Bondor, Pentrebach C.1957. Photograph courtesy of Clive Morgan.

Bob Dylan’s Greenwich Village: A Self-Guided Walking Tour

New York is not a sentimental town. It takes pride in its ever-evolving skyline. It doesn’t have a museum commemorating the Harlem Renaissance. The only jazz memorials are Woodhull Cemetery and the Louis Armstrong House. There is nothing celebrating the folk revival. It’s up to you and your two feet to seek out its history. A good starting point is Bob Dylan and Greenwich Village, a historical neighborhood that maintains much of its original architecture. On a cold Winter day in January of 1961, Dylan arrived in New York City. In the next three years, he left an indelible mark. Forever after, the two would be forever connected.

Start at 1 West 4th Street.

It’s a big brown building. Peek in a window and you are likely to see an art exhibit. It’s not much now — another bland NYU building — but it was formerly Gerde’s Folk City, a hotbed of folk talent in the 1960s. It was a bit off the beaten path, but it still attracted large touring acts. Dylan’s first professional show was at Gerde’s Folk City. He opened for the great John Lee Hooker. “A bright new face in folk music is appearing at Gerde’s Folk City. Although only 20 years old, Bob Dylan is one of the most distinctive stylists to play a Manhattan cabaret in months,” wrote New York Times critic Robert Shelton. “But if not for every taste, his music-making has the mark of originality and inspiration, all the more noteworthy for his youth. Mr. Dylan is vague about his antecedents and birthplace, but it matters less where he has been than where he is going, and that would seem to be straight up.”

On this same block is the former site of the Bottom Line. Dylan never performed at the Bottom Line, though he did live nearby in the 1970s, during the club’s hey day. It opened on February 12, 1974 and played a prominent part in preserving Greenwich Village's legacy as a cultural hotspot. Bruce Springsteen played some legendary showcases. Lou Reed recorded the album Live: Take No Prisoners here. A middle-aged Dylan spent some lonely nights here.

Continue two blocks on West 4th to Washington Square. Go to the fountain and look at the arches … there might even be some folk singers performing.

Washington Square Park

Folk musicians began performing at Washington Square in 1945. It was rough and tumble music. Then, in 1958, the Kingston Trio had their first hit — a pop-folk version of the traditional song “Tom Dooley.” Folk music boomed and, suddenly, Washington Square Park was flooded with musicians. By 1960, Sundays in Washington Square were the big day when the folkies would descend on the park. It was so popular with both tourists and players that the police put up barricades. When Dylan arrived in January 1961, he quickly began playing at the Square.

Three months after his arrival — in April of 1961 — the police cracked down on public performances in the park, insisting that all performers have a permit. When the folk musicians applied, they were denied. The following Sunday, Izzy Young from the Folklore Center and 500 musicians gathered and sang songs in the park. They then marched down 5th Avenue to the Judson Memorial Church where the riot squad was waiting. They attacked the singers with billy clubs, arresting 10 people in what is now known as the Beatnik Riot, much to the folkies' disdain.

Continue West on West 4th toward 6th Avenue. Cross 6th Avenue and continue on West 4th. Dylan’s first apartment is at 161 West 4th Street.

Bob Dylan was homeless for his first year in New York. When he fell in love with Suze Rotolo, they rented this apartment. She is on the cover of The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, which was photographed right down the street.

Continue on West 4th Street to 1 Sheridan Square, home of the infamous Café Society.

In the 1940s, this was one of the first nightclubs to feature folk music. The great protest and folk singer Josh White held court at Café Society for five years. Billie Holiday and Lester Young were regular performers in what was one of the first clubs to truly break color barriers. When Dylan lived here in 1962, it was the Haven — one of New York’s largest openly gay nightclubs.

Now turn around and head back toward Dylan’s first apartment. Stop and buy a record at Bleecker Street Records. Maybe something by Bob Dylan?

Keep heading toward Dylan’s apartment and then turn right on Jones Street.

This is the street from The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan album cover. Take some photos and continue down the street — at the end is Caffe Vivaldi. Pop in for a beer. It’s a great place to hear some burgeoning New York musicians, as it is still home to songwriters and one of the only clubs with a piano. It’s a great old room.

Turn left at the end of block and cross 6th Avenue. Take a slight left up Minetta Street. Panchito’s is at 13-11 Minetta Street.

This room has a rich history. It was first the Commons. Opened in 1958, the Commons was originally a small theater and café that was tres bohemian. It was also one of the first basket houses — a coffee shop that had live music — in Greenwich Village. The performers were paid in tips, which were collected in a passed basket. The Commons expanded in 1960 and changed its name to the Fat Black Pussycat. This is where Dylan wrote "Blowin' in the Wind."

Take a right on Minetta Lane. On the corner of Minetta Lane and MacDougal Street is Café Wha?

Dylan performed at Café Wha? on his first day in New York. It was an open mic hosted by Fred Neil. Fred Neil is best remembered as the songwriter behind “Everybody’s Talking” from the film Midnight Cowboy. In 1961, he managed the café’s day bookings and MC’d the open mic. Dylan did a set of Woody Guthrie songs and Neil hired him on the spot as his harmonica player.

Take a right down MacDougal Street. Caffe Reggio is at 119 MacDougal Street.

This café is virtually unchanged from the day it opened. Without a doubt, Dylan spent time here. You might also recognize it from the film Inside Llewyn Davis. Caffe Reggio also claims to be the birthplace of the cappuccino.

Keep heading down MacDougal Street, away from the park. At 116 MacDougal Street is the former Gaslight Café.

The Gaslight was the place to play in the 1960s. It was the Carnegie Hall of folk music, where Dave Van Ronk hosted the weekly hootenanny every Monday and Dylan was one of the regular performers within a year of moving to town. There were typically five performers each night and they would rotate every four songs. It is a tiny spot, and there would be lines stretched down the block. Before being converted to the Gaslight, this was the coal room for the building. The walls were stained black from years of storage, but the room embraced it and left it dark. It’s also been rumored that this is where the beatniks began snapping instead of clapping, so as not to disturb the upstair tenants.

Immediately to the right is 114 MacDougal Street.

This is the former Kettle of Fish. When not performing, the musicians would eat and play cards up here.

Two doors down, at 110 MacDougal, is where the Folklore Center used to reside.

Izzy Young from the Beatnik Riots was the proprietor. Dylan referred to the Folklore Center as “The Citadel of American Folk Music.” Izzy was a notoriously bad businessman, but his folklore center was the hub of the New York folk revival. Van Ronk, and countless other musicians, were technically homeless — although they always had a place to crash. This was where their mail was sent. It was also where Dylan came to absorb records and learn new songs.

At the end of the block, turn left on Bleecker Street.

Bleecker Street was a mecca of basket houses. In the '50s and '60s, this street was crawling with amateur musicians toting guitars and hoping to be next big star. Café Figaro was located at 184 Bleecker Street. Today it is a Bank of America.

The Village Gate was at 158 Bleecker Street. Dylan wrote "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" in September of 1962 in the basement apartment. The Village Gate was a notable folk hangout for 36 years. It’s now Les Poisson Rouge and still hosts some of the best events and concerts in Manhattan. If you look at the corner, the original Village Gate sign is still posted.

Continue to 152 Bleecker Street where the old Café Au Go Go is now a Capital One Bank. Café Au Go Go was a cultural hotbed in the 1960s hosting folk, jazz, comedy, blues, and rock. The Grateful Dead played their first New York show at Café Au Go Go. A young Joni Mitchell had a weekly gig. Blues legends Lightnin' Hopkins, Son House, Skip James, Bukka White, and Big Joe Williams performed at the club after being "rediscovered" in the '60s. Young Bob Dylan spent many nights listening to his peers and forefathers.

Across the street at 147 Bleecker is the Bitter End.

This is where Dylan came up with the Rolling Thunder Review. When he moved back to Greenwich Village in the '70s, he spent many nights at the Bitter End. There were many late-night jam sessions and, one night, he decided to take this loose collective on the road. He recruited some of his famous friends, hired a film crew, and embarked on one of the most ambitious tours of the 1970s. The Bootleg Series put out an amazing double album, and Heavy Rain was recorded on this tour. If you’ve ever seen Dylan in white face with a pimp hat, it was from the Rolling Thunder Review.

LISTEN: Freddy & Francine, ‘If You Want Me’

Artist: Freddy & Francine
Hometown: Los Angeles, CA
Song: "If You Want Me"
Album: Gung Ho
Release Date: June 10
Label: F&F Records

In Their Words: "Bianca wrote the beginning melody of the tune on piano and then brought it me to convert to guitar. This song deals with the process of learning to see the forest through the trees in a relationship, regardless of the present circumstances. It reminds us to simplify love and ask for the things we need." — Lee Ferris (Freddy)


Photo credit: Danielle Mulcahy

LIVE AT LUCKY BARN: Sam Amidon, ‘Way Go Lily’

We've teamed up with the good people at Pickathon to present a season's worth of archival — and incredible — videos from the Pacific Northwest festival's Lucky Barn Series. Tune in every fourth Tuesday of the month to catch a new clip.

The second video from the Spring season of the Lucky Barn Series features alt-folkster Sam Amidon who recruits the crowd to sing along with him on "Way Go Lily." Amidon comes by his folkiness honestly — from two parents who traveled the same path before him — and started playing fiddle when he was a three-year-old growing up in Vermont. Somewhere along the way, he wandered over to guitar and began reimagining classic songs with contemporary twists.

Pickathon comes back to the Pendarvis Farm in Happy Valley, Oregon, from August 5-7, 2016. Recent additions to the festival lineup include Mac DeMarco, King Sunny Ade, Thao & the Get Down Stay Down, Joseph, Ry X, Cory Henry, Promised Land Sound, Town Mountain, Myke Bogan, Blossom, Caleb Klauder & Reeb Willms, Open Mike Eagle, and Chanti Darling. Tickets and the full lineup are available now.

Click here for more, and stay tuned for another wonderful season of Lucky Barn videos. 


Photo credit: Miri Stebivka

LISTEN: Nate Leavitt and the Elevation, ‘When I Was with You’

Artist: Nate Leavitt and the Elevation
Hometown: Boston, MA
Song: “When I Was with You”
Album: Someone Send a Signal
Release Date: April 22

In Their Words: “The most surprising part happened to me during the lead vocal tracking. Somewhere during the third verse, I was overcome with emotion and started crying. I was able to keep enough composure to finish the take, but thought to myself it was a throw-away. Producer Dan Nicklin convinced me otherwise, and we kept the take to use in the song.

Writing songs about personal events in my life are a sort of therapy. However, reliving those moments can become emotional. Even though I don't feel the same way now as I did while in the moment writing, it's impossible not to be taken back to that place while reciting the lyrics. The amount of emotion that surfaced during the vocal take of 'When I Was with You' was unexpected. One of the main reasons I play music is to channel my emotions in a positive way. I guess what came out showed I still had some things to work out deep down inside. The finality of recording this story played a part, too.” — Nate Leavitt


Photo credit: Johnny Anguish