Tag: Pete Seeger

Bluegrass Memoirs: Thanks to Eric Weissberg

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

On the morning of March 24, 2020 I learned Eric Weissberg had passed away when a friend posted a long and detailed obit. I found several other substantial ones online — Rolling Stone, Variety, New York Times. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Weissberg’s family had a press release ready; he’d been in decline, suffering from dementia. A few days later Jim Rooney posted a very moving memoir focused on his long-time friend Weissberg in mid- and late years; it shed more light on this influential musician. 

Recently Bob Carlin finished a bio on Weissberg. When we spoke at IBMA’s business conference last fall he told me publishers weren’t interested in a book about a studio musician. Too bad, it’s a good story. In 1972 Weissberg won a Grammy for the banjo hit that propelled the growth of bluegrass festivals, “Dueling Banjos,” the theme from the movie Deliverance. 

I first heard Weissberg’s banjo playing in the fall of 1957. I was an 18-year old Oberlin College freshman who’d gotten into folk music as a high school student in Berkeley, California. This was my first time “back east.” I now had classmates from New York City. One of them, Mike Lipsky, had a new Folkways album, American Banjo Scruggs Style. The final band on the second side was by a friend of his from New York, Eric. 

Weissberg was 17 when he recorded for Folkways, backed by Mike Seeger and Ralph Rinzler. He picked a medley of “Jesse James” and Woody Guthrie’s “Hard Ain’t It Hard,” using Scruggs pegs on the latter. When Lipsky played it to me and my roommate Mayne Smith (fellow Californian and a fledgling banjo picker) he had to explain what Scruggs pegs were. 

Lipsky knew about this music because he was one of a group of New York teenage folk music fans, mainly from elite high schools — Bronx Science, Brooklyn Tech, Music and Art — who socialized together. They’d networked not only in school, but also at leftist summer camps where folk music, spearheaded by Pete Seeger, was an essential part of the experience. They called themselves “The Squadron” and they gathered regularly in Greenwich Village on Sunday afternoons to hear two members of their crowd, Eric Weissberg and Marshall Brickman, picking at the Washington Square folk music jams. Weissberg, a student of Pete Seeger, had been playing the banjo since the age of ten.

Lipsky told us Weissberg and Marshall’s fancy picking confounded Roger Sprung, an older banjoist generally thought to be the best Scruggs picker in New York. And he described their banjos — not long-neck, open-back Vegas like Pete Seeger played, but Gibsons! With resonators, too. And on the fingerboard, down toward the body of the banjo, a little block of mother-of-pearl with “Mastertone” written on it.

This weirdness was all new to me. I’d never heard of “Scruggs picking,” and it was only when I borrowed the LP and read its notes, written by Ralph Rinzler, that I learned this music was called “bluegrass.” 

The following March, at spring vacation, my roommate and I went to New York. I stayed with Mike Lipsky, on this, my first visit to The City. Mayne stayed with another classmate. Among our many adventures — we were rambunctious teen tourists — we went one night to a party for The Squadron in a posh upper East Side residence. 

This was a homecoming party. Attending were young women and men most of whom were like us, on spring vacation from their first year as college and university students at a variety of institutions. Lipsky and Karen, another Oberlin classmate who was part of the group, introduced us to their friends. We’d brought our instruments, leaving them in the anteroom and going up a small flight of stairs to the main floor of this elaborate place. Eric Weissberg and Marshall Brickman, both of whom were freshmen at the University of Wisconsin, did the same. 

Midway through the evening we were encouraged to get our instruments out and sing. Mayne had his banjo — an old Stewart with a resonator — and I, my guitar — a 1943 Martin 000-21. We went back downstairs. This was the nearest thing to a front porch or back room we could find. We did several pieces, and then Weissberg and Brickman came down and got out their banjos. Mayne had taken one or two lessons with Billy Faier, the virtuoso banjoist who’d arrived in the Bay Area from New York the previous August. Faier had introduced him to three-finger picking. Mayne chatted about Scruggs with Eric and Marshall. 

Then they played a banjo duet, a Scruggs tune, “Earl’s Breakdown,” in harmony, with each picking with the right hand on his own banjo while reaching around to fret the strings on the neck of the other’s banjo. This was the first time we’d ever seen anyone play the banjo Scruggs style, much less a fancy stage stunt like that! It was a very impressive tour-de-force. You can get a good sense of what the harmony sounded like from the version on their 1963 Elektra album, New Dimensions in Banjo and Bluegrass (reissued in 1972 as Dueling Banjos from Deliverance) although they weren’t playing the fancy solo breaks in 1958.

Afterwards Weissberg told us that the best way to learn this music was to study Scruggs’ playing on one of his instrumental records like “Earl’s Breakdown” or “Flint Hill Special.” Mastering all those licks note-for-note would take you a long way towards being able to play like Earl.

Weissberg noticed that I was playing the guitar with just two picks on my fingers — thumb and index. He recommended that I add a pick on my middle finger, like he and Marshall used for the banjo. I followed that advice immediately, and the following year, when I began working seriously on banjo, I also took his advice about studying Scruggs closely.

Putting our instruments away, we went upstairs and joined the party. I conversed for a while with Eric. I told him I’d heard Billy Faier in Berkeley last summer, had been very impressed with his music, and was looking forward to his forthcoming Riverside album, The Art of the Five-String Banjo. Eric agreed, Faier is a great banjo player, and said he had collaborated with Billy and another banjo player, Dick Weissman, on an album due out this coming summer called Banjos, Banjos and More Banjos! 

That summer of 1958, Banjos, Banjos and More Banjos! arrived at Art Music on Telegraph in Berkeley where I hung out listening to new folk records. The album was on Judson, a bargain line label owned by Riverside’s Bill Grauer.

Grauer’s Riverside productions catered to the hip college kids of the fifties — a generation that grew up on hi-fi LPs. Riverside reissued historic prewar jazz and blues; released contemporary jazz and folk; and recorded sports car events. This major independent label ended abruptly in 1964 when Grauer, just 42, died. Their catalog is now with Concord Records, which has reissued some jazz recordings on CDs.

Riverside albums were well-produced, with glossy full-color cover art. Back covers — liners — had a standard format: bold head at the top with album title and artist names. Below it, three dense columns giving the playlist along with information about the music and musicians. Lots to read while listening!

Faier’s The Art of the Five-String Banjo liner held a full column endorsement by Pete Seeger, slightly longer notes by producer Goldstein, and Faier’s bio. In contrast the liner of Banjos, Banjos and More Banjos had its playlist followed by three columns of folklorist John Greenway’s flowery history of the instrument, and brief bios for the three banjoists. I bought the album (later reissued on Grauer’s Washington label with new cover and title: Five-String Jamboree: A Treasury of Banjo Music) because Eric Weissberg was playing Scruggs-style banjo on it.

At the bottom of the center column on the liners for both albums was the standard data of the time: 

A HIGH FIDELITY Recording (Audio Compensation; RIAA Curve). Produced by Kenneth S. Goldstein. Cover by Paul Weller (photography) and Paul Bacon (design). Engineer: Mel Kaiser (Cue Recordings). New York: May, 1957.

 Now I look back at the album, listen to it for the first time in years. When I last heard of Faier, about ten years ago, he was busking in Albuquerque. He died in Alpine, Texas in 2016. We’d seen each other and talked at the Tennessee Banjo Institute in November 1990, recalling the summer of 1958 when I guested on his KPFA show and worked as his backup guitarist at an SF coffee house. Dick Weissman, now 85, had distinguished careers: first as a performer, then as teacher and author. He published his memoir, The Music Never Stops: A Journey Into the Music of the Unknown, The Forgotten, The Rich & Famous, the same year Faier died.

These guys must have been in the Cue Recordings studio more than once in May, 1957. Their recordings were made with a single-track tape recorder; no overdubs. Faier made his solo album at Cue with Frank Hamilton playing guitar, and there’s one track on Banjos with that pairing — probably an outtake from The Art. Most of the other guitar on this album is by Dick Rosmini, then considered the hot, young, go-to guitar accompanist.

Weissberg is heard playing Scruggs-style banjo on five tracks, and singing tenor harmony in duets on three of those. One was an old spiritual, “You Can Dig My Grave,” with Faier. With Weissman, Eric harmonized on the old folksong “Chilly Winds.” My favorite was another spiritual, “Glory Glory.” This vocal duet with Rosmini featured great backup guitar and seven banjo breaks by Eric, each a new variation. I played that track a lot for my friends that summer!

He also did a reprise of his 1956 Folkways track, focusing on “Hard Ain’t It Hard” complete with Scruggs pegs, and a cool version of “900 Miles” in G minor tuning. 

Weissberg’s music spoke to me as a young folk fan just getting into bluegrass. He’d mastered the instrument in this new style, and learned the vocal style that went with it. Here he was applying it to music that I knew — Woody Guthrie songs, a tune the Weavers had sung on their famous Carnegie Hall concert album, and familiar Black spirituals. 

The door to bluegrass was newly opened. Eric Weissberg stood just inside, beckoning in. Come on, it’s not that hard, it’ll be fun.

Neil V. Rosenberg is an author, scholar, historian, banjo player, and Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame inductee.

Photo of Neil V. Rosenberg: Terri Thomson Rosenberg
Photo of Banjos, Banjos, and More Banjos: Neil V. Rosenberg

Kronos Quartet and Friends Salute Pete Seeger With ‘Long Time Passing’

Posted on by Editor

“There’s no place like home,” says David Harrington, co-founder and leader of the venerable Kronos Quartet, with a little chuckle.

It’s not just because of the smoke from California fires or the pandemic lockdown at his San Francisco home. With the new album Long Time Passing — Kronos Quartet and Friends Celebrate Pete Seeger, Kronos, after more than 47 years of redefining the very nature of a string quartet through explorations of music traditions and contemporary composers from around the world and, to many ears, exotic, is having something of an Oz moment.

Seeger, of course, was one of the key figures of American folk music, from the early 1950s until his death in 2014 at age 94. The album includes interpretations and adaptations of some of the most beloved songs of the folk canon, among them “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” (which gave the album its title), “Turn, Turn, Turn,” “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine,” “If I Had a Hammer,” and “We Shall Overcome,” which Seeger helped bring to national prominence during the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s. All are transformed through the Kronos prism, which has made magic with everything from Thelonious Monk tunes to Bollywood soundtrack songs to young Iranian and Afghani composers and, spanning decades, an ongoing relationship with American avant-garde composer Terry Riley.

Among the friends on board are young American folk singers Aoife O’Donovan, Brian Carpenter, Lee Knight and Sam Amidon, Spain’s Maria Arnal and Ethiopian-born Meklit. Amidon is making a repeat appearance, having been one of four singers along with Rhiannon Giddens, Natalie Merchant and Olivia Chaney, who joined Kronos for 2017’s Folk Songs album. That collection of American and English-rooted songs is something of a precursor to this new one.

Harrington resists the notion that this is somehow a break from what Kronos has done in the past. “I think all of our work is related,” he says. “For me, Pete Seeger’s work is an extension or a variation of [composer George Crumb’s] ‘Black Angels’” — a keystone in the Kronos repertoire and the work that inspired the group’s formation in the first place — “and Bartók and Beethoven and all kinds of music.”

Making that point emphatically is the piece that is arguably the core of the album: “Storyteller,” a 16-minute sonic collage combining Kronos’ playing with audio of Seeger from interviews and on-stage talk throughout the years, all composed and assembled inventively by Jacob Garchik, a regular Kronos collaborator. The ambitious work made its concert debut last year at Kronos’ San Francisco festival.

“He has been part of our work for probably 15 years,” Harrington says. “It’s so wonderful to see him flower as a musician. Jacob and I have had innumerable conversations about all aspects of music from traditional cantorial music to pygmy songs. It seemed really natural that Jacob would be part of Long Time Passing and that he would make a piece that would bring Seeger to life.”

As well, there is no lack of global cultural reach here. There are songs in Spanish, German, and a South African dialect, plus the instrumental “Raghupati Raghav Raja Ram,” associated with Mahatma Gandhi’s 1930 Salt March protest, which Seeger learned on the instrument bhajan on a trip to India and made a regular feature of his concerts. In one “Storyteller” passage, Seeger himself is heard singing “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” in German. Arnal sings two songs, recorded in Barcelona last year, one being the Spanish Civil War ballad “Jarama Valley,” a bloody tale of fighting the fascists, written to the tune we know as “Red River Valley.”

And then there is “Mbube,” the South African tune that transformed into the international staple, “Wimoweh/The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” This serves as tribute to Seeger’s lifelong dedication to finding and sharing songs from other cultures, following in the footsteps of his father Charles, a musicologist, folklorist, and composer.

“Alan Lomax [the famed folk archivist and producer] gave him a pile of LPs that they were going to throw out at the Library of Congress,” Harrington said. “Lomax said, ‘I’ve got these LPs from Africa. Would you like to listen to them?’ Seeger comes over and in the middle of the pile somewhere is that song. I mean, what a story! The Weavers [the ‘50s group Seeger was in that launched the folk boom] started singing it. Then the Tokens had the big hit. And then Disney picked it up for The Lion King. I mean, that’s culture. That’s the way it works. But what an ear Seeger had!”

Meklit’s performance is not in Ethiopian. Rather, the Bay Area-based artist was asked to do the elegiac “The President Sang Amazing Grace,” a relatively new song by songwriter Zoe Mulford, inspired by President Barack Obama singing the hymn at the pulpit of the Mother Emanuel American Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, shortly after the 2015 mass shooting there.

“I have always been a fan of Pete Seeger and his empathetic yet passionate advocacy for the people,” says Meklit. “This is a song about how music carries us when the limits of language can’t meet our deepest grief, anger, and heartbreak. It’s about a President who understood that and offered us empathy made of melody. It’s about how the violence of racism and white supremacy continue tear at us and cost people their lives. Ultimately I hope the song provides the smallest bit of catharsis in our ongoing season of reckoning with America’s ghosts.”

Having an East African-born singer do this song honoring Obama, with his Kenyan ancestry, brings a lot together, and while it’s the only song on the album that was not part of the Seeger canon, coming after he died, it fits perfectly in his sensibilities.

“There are all sorts of connections,” Harrington says. “They just happen. It’s part of the texture of our society.”

The real magic of the album is finding the new, the current, in the old material, of bringing into vivid life Seeger as an artist, an organizer, an explorer. It’s there from the opening song, “Which Side Are You On?” a question that as much in Kronos’ hands, with Knight almost channeling Seeger, demands a definitive answer. And it’s there in “Garbage,” again with Knight and a child’s chorus, linking today’s concerns with climate change to the environmental concerns Seeger championed through his life, from well before it was a “movement.”

“In terms of the moment in which we live now, obviously Pete’s music and his sensibilities and his spirit came from troubled times,” he says. “He grew up privileged and he knew it. And he paid it back. He was able to adapt throughout his life and address the struggles and issues that were coming in. He saw a real continuity of it. Now we’re talking about civil rights. Not we’re talking about the environment. Now we’re talking about racial divisiveness. It felt like it was all one thread, the same thing. You can see [today’s issues] through that lens, and you can see it through the continuity of what Pete was through his life and what he experienced.”

Harrington stresses that while the album itself seems like something different for Kronos, he can connect it to the very first work written specifically for the quartet back in 1973, “Traveling Music” by composer Ken Benshoof which quoted “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine.” And that is by no means the only thing on this album with which Kronos has history. He notes that his kids and more recently his grandkids have been raised on Seeger recordings, and that a few years ago the group played “We Shall Overcome” for a third-grade class taught by his daughter. But the song has been in their world for much longer than that.

“The idea of doing ‘We Shall Overcome’ is something that we tried out in New York in the early 1980s,” he says. “At that point we did not have the right arranger. I didn’t know how to do it. We tried it, but it didn’t work. But the flame was always there.”

They finally had success with it a few years ago, in a concert that included a piece featuring tapes the voices of gospel great Mahalia Jackson and Chicago writer, labor activist and radio host Studs Terkel, on whose show Kronos had played a few times. Also in that concert was a piece incorporating recordings of Clarence Jones, Martin Luther King Jr.’s lawyer, telling the story of the “I Have a Dream” speech.

“The only thing we could imagine doing as an encore was ‘We Shall Overcome,’” Harrington says.

So yes, Long Time Passing is, for the Kronos Quartet, an act of coming home.

Photo credit: Jay Blakesburg

LISTEN: Newport Folk Festival Opens Bluegrass Archive for Saturday Stream

Posted on by Editor

Where do you begin to talk about bluegrass at Newport Folk Festival? And how do you capture 60 years of musical magic in just one show? The curators of the festival’s archive have taken a very cool approach, pulling out musical highlights from their first decade as well their most recent decade for the upcoming Burnin’ & Pickin’ Bluegrass set.

The 90-minute show — featuring some recordings that have never before been released — will stream during the festival’s Revival Weekend on Saturday, August 1, starting at 1:37 pm ET. The list of performers on the show has not yet been announced, but considering the breadth of talent that the festival has hosted, you might hear iconic figures like Roy Acuff, Bill Monroe, and Doc Watson, or a new generation that includes Carolina Chocolate Drops, Old Crow Medicine Show, or Gillian Welch & David Rawlings. Legendary artists like Joan Baez, Johnny Cash, and Elizabeth Cotten could potentially show up on the set list, too.

One thing we do know: The Burnin’ & Pickin’ Bluegrass set will include this previously unreleased recording of Ralph Stanley and Ray Cline’s “Sally Goodin'” from 1968.

To honor the festival’s incredible heritage, please consider a donation to Newport Festivals Foundation, which in the last year has provided financial relief to over 400 musicians impacted by the pandemic and over 100 grants for music education programs across the country.

Billy Glassner, archivist for Newport Folk Fest, tells BGS, “Bluegrass has always been an important ingredient in the Newport Folk magic. From its first year in 1959 when Earl Scruggs brought the Cumberland Gap to the shores of the Narragansett Bay up through last years’ collaboration between Billy Strings and Molly Tuttle, that high lonesome sound has been a constant companion to the Newport Folk Festival.”

Glassner hints at more music to come from the vault, too. He adds, “The Newport Folk Archives house an embarrassment of bluegrass riches and curating this set proved to be a joyful yet challenging experience. The only way we were able to make the tough decisions of what to cut was with the knowledge that this is only the beginning of our efforts to make the recorded history of Newport more available to our fans.”

Tune in to Newport Folk’s Festival Revival Weekend from Friday, July 31-Sunday, August 2.

 

BGS 5+5: Bill Kirchen

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Bill Kirchen
Hometown: Austin, Texas
Latest album: The Proper Years (July 24, 2020)
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): First band name, 1965: The Who Knows Pickers, an acoustic jug band. One gig only, we shared stage with The Iguanas, Jim “Iggy” Osterberg on drums.

Which artist has influenced you the most… and how?

I have to go all the way back to Pete Seeger. I learned my first string instrument, the 5-string banjo, from his instructional book and record, and had lots of his recordings from the ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s. He was an ecstatic singer, very successful and influential songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist. Soft-spoken on stage, he was most definitely outspoken politically his entire career, always for racial equality, workers rights, and freedom of speech. In the early 1950s McCarthy era, he went up against the powerful but later utterly disgraced House Un-American Activity Committee. He earned himself a career-hijacking blacklist that lasted years by asserting his constitutional rights and refusing to name names and implicate others. He never backed down. His performing career spanned nearly 70 years. I saw him in the mid-’60s many times, then again in the ’90s.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I wanted to be a musician as soon as I figured I could sing a song. I have early memories of being a toddler lumbering around, singing along with my cardboard record (yep, they existed!) of “Teddy Bears’ Picnic.” At 8 I learned trombone, then played it in orchestras and bands until the mid-’60s folk scare lured me away. As for wanting to be a professional musician, I guess getting my first paying gig in ’64 or ’65 cemented that desire. I certainly never thought, “I’ll just do this for a bit then quit and get a job.”

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Not clear on the concept here, but it sounds interesting and I’ll give it a try. I certainly never had a mission statement, rather I just got in the canoe and now here I am and where I’ll be next, I don’t know. So here are my suggestions to the young me: Bill! You know you love listening to, singing, whistling music all the time. That’s super important, don’t let go. Learn to play an instrument as soon as they’ll let you, then learn some others. Play with folks, preferably better than you. Take any opportunity you can to go hear live music. Now don’t blow this one: you liked the 1963 Blues at Newport record and Mississippi John Hurt. Well, you are within hitchhiking distance of the ’64 Newport Folk Festival, he’s gonna be there, Dylan too, go do it. Sleep on the beach, whatever, it’ll all work out. Then do the same in ’65, trust me. Many of the extraordinary people you will see will be gone less than 10 years later. Then before the ’60s are over, move away from your Ann Arbor hometown. Try San Francisco. Travel everywhere and play as much you can. Pull up roots and move across country a couple more times, find more kindred spirits and play with them. Just get in the canoe. You’ll be surprised.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

The toughest time I always have writing is making myself sit down and do it. I love the process when I get rolling, but I don’t have a burning desire to bare my soul in verse and melody, then buttonhole folks and make ‘em listen. But I enjoy making up my own songs, lots of perspiration plus a little inspiration. Then again I wouldn’t mind just singing Haggard and Dylan songs all day. Couldn’t really ask people to pay for that, I know. As the great Roger Miller said writing a hit song is just like taking candy from a gorilla.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

I hid behind characters a lot early on. Wrote a lot of truck-driving songs, though I’m not and don’t want to be a truck driver. It was a legitimate sub-genre when I discovered country music, and I do come by a love of the road and travel honestly. As for finger-pointing songs, I’m usually not a big fan. And you know what they say, when I point my finger there are three more pointing back at me. Oops.

I didn’t let myself write songs that were more personal and closer to the bone until I started making records under my own name in the ’90s. When I went to England to record my first record for Proper, Hammer of The Honky-Tonk Gods, it was with Nick Lowe and the band with which we’d recorded and toured the world several years before. Nick is one of my favorite songwriters and I remember thinking, dang, I can’t just show up with a bunch of I’m A Burly Truck Driver songs. I’ve got to get closer to the bone and try a little harder.

Photo credit: Valerie Fremin

MIXTAPE: John Craigie’s “Can We Learn From History?” Playlist

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When I was a kid I was obsessed with music. From as far back as I have memories I loved every aspect of it. However, it wasn’t until I started watching older movies and TV shows and becoming educated that I became aware of music as a historical record. Shows like The Wonder Years and Forrest Gump (and others) made me realize that music was telling me a story of what had happened in the past and how we could learn from it. As much as I wanted to be a musician to heal people individually from their darkness, I also wanted to become a musician to inspire large-scale change like my heroes Nina Simone, Pete Seeger, Ani DiFranco and other countless heroes that used their voice to echo what many musicians have been saying since the dawn of human connection I assume.

Here are some of my favorite songs in that vein. — John Craigie

Nina Simone – “The Backlash Blues”

I seriously could have picked any one of her amazing performances, but this one always stood out to me. So direct and in your face. So powerful and moving. It put so much in perspective for my young ears and mind.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono – “Power to the People”

I was always a serious Beatles fan as a kid, but it took me a while to discover John’s solo work outside of “Imagine” and “Instant Karma!” As soon as I got interested in protest music I kept finding such great songs from him and this one has always been a favorite.

Curtis Mayfield – “Move on Up”

When I was in my first band in college I got interested in Curtis Mayfield after hearing the whole album Superfly and falling in love with the bass lines. Taken from his debut album as a solo artist after the Impressions, I’ve included the single version for easy digestion. However, if you can’t get enough I suggest checking out the nine-minute album version.

Buffalo Springfield – “For What It’s Worth”

Most people know this song as the beautiful anthem that it is, and surely still stands the test of time. However, a lot of people forget that this is Stephen Stills and Neil Young before they were in CSNY. I always loved the peaceful and soothing nature of the guitars and harmonics while the lyrics spoke of what was happening all around and begging us to not ignore it.

Richie Havens – “Freedom (Live)”

Legend has it that this song was created on the spot at the Woodstock festival in August of 1969. Richie was slated to go first, and since the promoters weren’t ready with the second band (not to mention many other things) they kept making him go back out after he had finished his set. After several encores he didn’t know what to play so he freestyled this beautiful song. You can feel everything that is going on in the state of the world through his passionate delivery of these simple lyrics.

Bob Dylan – “The Times They Are A-Changin’”

I admit it does feel a bit cliché to add this to the mix but I’ve always felt it was a huge inspiration to me and catalyst for my songwriting. Embarrassingly enough, I first heard this on The Wonder Years when I was about 11 years old. I had no idea what it was but I felt like it had been written that day for exactly what I was going through and seeing in my community of Los Angeles at that time. When I got a guitar a few years later, it was one of the first songs I wanted to learn.

Marvin Gaye – “What’s Going On”

Like most people, I associated Marvin Gaye early on as smooth, sexy date music. Something to put on in the dorm room when your girlfriend was coming by. But I remember getting a little pamphlet from my local record store of “essential landmark albums.” Having never heard of What’s Going On but trusting Marvin I got that album and it has been a favorite ever since. This is the first track on side 1 and it says everything about injustice so beautifully.

Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young – “Ohio”

I’ve read that Neil heard about the Kent State shootings and was so emotionally affected that he wrote this song immediately and soon after they went in the studio to record it. The shootings happened on May 4, 1970 and the single was out just a couple weeks later on May 21. It’s hard to listen to right now with the state of the world as it is, and was probably hard to listen to then. Yet a moment in time we should never forget and never stop learning from.

Aretha Franklin – “Think”

I truly wish Aretha was still with and screaming “freedom” like she does on this track. This track, along with “Respect,” were some of the first songs I heard from her as a young man and felt so inspired by her voice and passion. As tumultuous as 1968 must have been, 2020 feels right in line and this song speaks volumes to the lessons we can learn from our past.

Bruce Springsteen – “Born in the U.S.A.” (Demo Version)

To be honest, for the longest time I didn’t like this song. I grew up with the popular album version of this song blaring out of every dad’s speakers and even though I liked Bruce I just felt this song was so cheesy. It also seemed blindly patriotic and I never bothered to listen to the lyrics. It wasn’t until much later that I was digging through some demos that they had released that I heard this version. Once you sit and hear the lyrics against this minor chord backdrop it stands out as a great protest song.

Sam Cooke – “A Change is Gonna Come”

Closing out the playlist with a bit of optimism coming from the eternal Sam Cooke. Written as a response to the many instances of racism he was privy to, specifically when he and his band were turned away from a whites-only motel in Louisiana. This song will always work as a soundtrack to a revolution whose work seems like it’s never done. But hopefully we can learn from history and see how far we’ve come and have hope that we can keep going farther.

Photo credit: Bradley Cox

BGS 5+5: Special Consensus

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Artist: Greg Cahill of Special Consensus
Hometown: Oak Lawn, Illinois
Latest album: Chicago Barn Dance
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Special C

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I actually enjoy and appreciate all the forms listed here. I have always been a history buff and read a good bit of American history books as well as books about country and bluegrass music. I also enjoyed the Carlos Castenada books of the 1970s, which actually inspired our band name, Special Consensus. I very much enjoy live theater (Hamilton was unbelievably superb) as well as seeing movies in movie theaters and I am a fan of Cirque du Soleil dance troupe. Living in Chicago provides access to fantastic museums and of course the Art Institute, where I thoroughly enjoy spending an afternoon any time.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

My mother’s mother was a fabulous piano player who played for silent movies and gave piano lessons throughout my mother’s childhood so my mom also became a great piano player. My father’s father was a great harmonica player who would give me his old harmonicas whenever he got a new one (usually a Christmas present from my grandmother) and he began teaching me to play when I was 5 years old. My father was a great tenor singer in the church choir. By the time I was 7 or 8 I began taking accordion lessons, which I continued until I was about 15.

By senior year of high school I became interested in string instruments and went off to college with guitar and long-neck banjo (a la Pete Seeger and Dave Guard of the Kingston Trio) in hand and played in a folk group until graduation. I first actually heard bluegrass music around junior year of college and dabbled with playing 3-finger style on the banjo, went into the Army for two years after graduation and came back to Chicago after living in Georgia for a bit and seriously began to try and play the five-string (around 1970-71). I have always had music in my heart and in my bones and I still absolutely love to play the banjo!

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

I think the most important thing about playing music professionally is to decide what you really want to do and set some goals. A mission statement might be something like practice your music to hone your skills, decide what type of music you really want to play and set goals for creating musical situations for yourself (like finding other people to play with) and be willing to continually work on improving. One has to create opportunities for oneself in the world of music.

It is vital to attend concerts to hear the music you want to play, to practice a lot and to seek those opportunities to play with others. Audition for bands you would like to play with whenever there is an opening. Once you are in a band or are gigging as a solo or duo/trio artist or in any configuration, take it seriously — it is very enjoyable but it is also now your job. Most importantly, don’t give up if this is what you really want to do. There will always and forever be huge ups and downs — keep the faith, believe in yourself and keep on keepin’ on!

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I would have to say it was the first time Special C ever played the Grand Ole Opry. It was in I think 2003 and the Opryland venue was under renovation so we played at the Ryman Auditorium. My bandmates at the time were Josh Williams, Jamie Clifton, and Tim Dishman. We had been together for a few years and gone through some wonderful times and some difficult times, including being in a bus wreck (fortunately, none of us were seriously injured).

Our individual and collective dream was always to play the Grand Ole Opry and that night we were truly living the dream. After being instructed backstage to play one and only one song, Jeannie Seely introduced us and we went out and played our hearts out. The audience went wild and the whole house was standing and cheering — Jeannie had no choice but to give us an encore. I will never forget that night.

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

There are many artists who have influenced me. My parents’ love of music was instilled in me as a young child and they appreciated the “old standards” of the day and Dixieland music — family gatherings always included everyone around the piano singing and then my sisters and I would be asked to play. I was of course influenced by the master Earl Scruggs but then I would say J.D. Crowe became my mentor, even before I ever met him, because I loved his way of creating new licks and ways of playing with the drive and clarity and beauty of Earl’s playing.

Then there are so many great banjo player influences (Munde, Keith, Trischka, Vestal, Bela, Pikelny, Shelor, Shelton, Luberecki, Brown, Kruger, Munford, Benson, etc.). Other musicians whom I admire and listen to include Jethro Burns, Benny Goodman, Louis Armstrong, Buddy Guy, Don Stiernberg and many more. I believe it is the brilliance of these players, this gestalt that has and always will continue to influence me and keep me growing.

Photo Credit: David K. Cupp

LISTEN: The Mammals, “Radio Signal”

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Artist: The Mammals
Hometown: Woodstock, New York
Song: “Radio Signal”
Album: Nonet
Release Date: March 27, 2020 (single); May 22 (album)
Label: Humble Abode Music / Soundly

In Their Words: “The day of the 2017 Charlottesville riot I got a text from our friend, Vern, reading: ‘PLEASE for the song that kills fascists.’ ‘Radio Signal’ was written in the next 10 minutes. Where is the hope in our twisted culture? Bob Dylan says it’s in the wind. Daniel Quinn described a sacred ‘blaze of life’ that connects all things. Pete Seeger showed us the power of many people making small contributions: the ‘tea-spoon brigade.’ Each verse of ‘Radio Signal’ is a nod to one of those three great teachers, melodically informed by the beautiful old folk song, ‘Shenandoah,’ and transformed into the anthemic rock song we share with you today. ‘And I roll, and I roll, down the backroads of my soul. Lookin’ for light like a radio signal…'” — Mike Merenda, The Mammals

Photo credit: Tom Eberhardt-Smith

Six of the Best: Protest Songs

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It’s hard to pick my favorite protest songs. The Woody, the Dylan, the ’60s counterculture pop hits, the singularly chilling “Strange Fruit” — I love them all. The original “This Land Is Your Land” is an anarchist hymn, Dylan’s “Masters of War” is as scathing and righteous today as it was then, “Ohio” by CSNY was so poignant and cathartic in its time, and Billie Holiday laid bare the terrorism of whiteness, breaking the silence for a new generation to sing and speak their truth.

But I’ve opted to go toward the personal: the formative songs that revealed to me just how powerful songwriting could be in conveying a message. The ones that viscerally grabbed me, shook me and changed me; that still send a chill down my spine when they twist the knife. The songs that made me look up from the pages of my diary and want to write songs about the world and the way it could be.

In the past three years I have ramped up my commitment to learning to write this kind of song, and I have had plenty of inspiration. So much so that Front Country’s next record is almost entirely protest songs of one kind or another. Songs of meaning and truth and change. Here are six of the songs that made me the hopelessly idealistic and sanctimonious songwriter I am today. — Melody Walker, of the band Front Country.

“The Wagoner’s Lad” – Traditional

The old ballads are not known for being feminist anthems — far from it — but this one has to be my favorite. The first verse is one of the most honestly brutal accounts of what life was (and still is) like for women in most of the world living under Abrahamic religious rule: “Oh, hard is the fortune of all womankind / They’re always controlled, they’re always confined / Controlled by their parents until they are wives / Then slaves to their husbands the rest of their lives.” As well as the first known field recording sung by Buell Kazee, I recommend Joan Baez’s version because I love her interpretation of the lyrics, and my favorite modern version is by The Duhks. Interestingly, Doc Watson recorded it with a declawed first line “The heart is the fortune of all womankind,” as did several others after him, and I’d be ever so curious to know the story behind that change.

“Killing in the Name” – Rage Against the Machine

You know how parents in the latter half of the 20th century were convinced that music was radicalizing and warping the minds of their children? Well, I can safely say that Rage Against the Machine was my gateway drug into politics and protest, and I’ve never looked back. The raw angst and explosive energy drew me in, and the messages made me stay. Fox News themselves couldn’t write a more cliché tale of my descent into liberal madness: I went to my first RATM show at age 13 in Oakland, California, got a million pamphlets outside the show, read them all, and was immediately indoctrinated into progressive politics. Rare in the realm of protest music, this song, the performance, and the production still sound as fresh today as they did all the way back in 1991. This song was released in the wake of the Rodney King protests and it’s famous refrain sadly still rings true in America: “Some of those that work forces, are the same that burn crosses.”

“One Tin Soldier” – written by Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter

Cheesy as all get out, preachy as hell, but one of the most hard-hitting story songs with a pacifist moral out there. The one time I got to go to sleep-away summer camp at 10 years old, our cabin counselor would sing us to sleep with her favorite folk songs, and when she sang this one I was pretty sure it was the best songwriting I had ever heard in my life. What can I say? It never fails to turn me into a blubbering mess by the end. Truly great songs can stand up to any style or instrumentation, so take your pick of the original ’70s AM gold, punk rock, and pop reggae versions — or this legendary clip of the Bluegrass Alliance from the documentary Bluegrass Country Soul featuring baby Sam Bush and Tony Rice!

“Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” – Buffy Sainte-Marie

I first heard this song on a live Indigo Girls album and it turned me on to Canadian-American First Nations singer-songwriter Buffy Sainte-Marie. Though she has had a long and successful career as a writer and performer since the early ’60s, including co-writing the inspirational “Up Where We Belong,” this song is from her ’90s comeback album and it pulls absolutely no punches in its accounting of ongoing terrorism against indigenous people in North America. One listen to this song is an invitation to learn more about the activists of the American Indian Movement and how corporations still collude with governments every day to displace and destroy native cultures around the world.

“My IQ” – Ani DiFranco

No one artist embodies the 3rd Wave Feminism of the 90s more than prolific and perpetually independent songwriter Ani DiFranco. Every song is a stream-of-consciousness integration of the personal and the political, redefining and queering the protest song in a polarizing performance style you either love or hate. She paved the way as a completely DIY artist with her own independent record label from the beginning, sending a message not just through her music, but also her entire business model. Each song is a subversive blend of breakup song, political manifesto, slam poetry piece and almost jazz-like playful vocal exploration, unwilling to be pinned-down as a singular statement. I finally settled on one that ends with my favorite of her famous zingers: “Every tool is a weapon… if you hold it right.” I love this well-worn, reimagined live version from 2002.

“If I Had A Hammer” – Pete Seeger & Lee Hays

Speaking of tools, it’s easy to see why this menacingly titled early hit of the “folk scare” put the fear of revolution in the hearts of the powerful. While it was debuted in 1949 by writers Pete Seeger and Lee Hays at a meeting of the Communist party, it became as mainstream as apple pie by the time Peter, Paul & Mary had a hit with it in 1962. Perhaps considered a children’s song today, it has a subversively empowering message in its simplicity. The night Trump got elected, Front Country had just flown to Seattle to start a tour, and there was a palpable sense of grief in the air at those West Coast shows. We closed every show of that run acoustic, on the floor, with a singalong of this song. It seemed to provide a much needed collective catharsis for ourselves and our fans. When one feels helpless, this song reminds the singer that we each have our own unique tools to bring to the work of dismantling systems of oppression and creating the world we want to see. There are a mind-bending number of recording of this song, so here are a few lovely ones.

Photo of Ani DiFranco: GMDThree

BGS 5+5: Spirit Family Reunion

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Artist: Spirit Family Reunion
Hometown: Brooklyn, New York
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Mag, Kendo, Pank, Zuba, the Stiv.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

There are many treasured stage moments to choose from, like collaborating with some of the biggest inspirations for our band, but probably the most transformational moment was our first performance at the Newport Folk Fest on Sunday morning 2012. It’s hard to put into words what made that moment so special, but it was as if all these enormous things like years of passion, dedication, exhaustion, the music, which has a life of its own, the history of that festival, and so many more elements were all being crystalized into what felt like one single moment that was so extraordinarily palpable. It was a genuinely special moment that revealed the power in music. Both fleeting and eternally memorable.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be musicians?

We had been screwing around playing some haphazard late-night sets at a bar that a couple of us worked at. One weekend this guy Frankie from the bar invited us up to Saugerties, New York, to a big house he was looking after which belonged to the guy from Swans. We gathered some instruments and he put a microphone in front of us, and I think that was the first time we heard ourselves recorded. We maybe had one or two original songs at the time, but it gave us enough encouragement to put some real effort into this thing. We got a few more songs and a few more musicians, and all of a sudden we had ourselves a band.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

We usually eat a meal together before whatever is next. When our band was beginning we used to get together pretty regularly to make big family feasts. On the road a good meal can reach legendary status, and over the years we’ve gathered up some favored spots we always try to return to. A good meal has a special way of bringing people together.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Our band has always been guided by the social nature of music. We want to convey the energy and attitude of the good old stuff that pre-dates the record industry, while being genuine and relevant to ourselves today. The danger of looking back is to fetishize either through absolute preservation or appropriation. We are drawn to the raw, communal, rebellious spirit of the old music we love, and we want to translate that into our own original expression that is vibrant and alive right now. We want people to sing and dance who have no idea of the old stuff we’re referencing, and we want traditionalists to recognize that familiar essence in the music we’re making today.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

When we got to open for Pete Seeger in 2013 the organizer of the show said Pete requested Chinese food and asked if that was OK with us. We said whatever Pete wants is fine by us, but I think we were far too nervous to eat anything before the show that evening. Pete Seeger has always been a guiding light for our band and it was an unbelievable honor to join with him that night, cold leftovers and all.

Photo credit: Rakel Stammer

Pete Seeger: Effecting Change With Music (Part 2 of 2)

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Pete Seeger was a prolific songwriter, a dogged activist, and a folklorist who believed in magnifying voices from every corner of America. He used his music to further causes from Civil Rights to environmental preservation, and he never let the magnitude of a task scare him away from a fight for what he believed in. The spirit of servitude that Seeger brought to the world didn’t die when he passed away in 2014, and that fact is perhaps most evident at Newport Folk Festival, the now-iconic event that Seeger helped George Wein get off the ground in 1959. “The spirit of Pete, and of Pete’s egalitarian nature, is in every ounce of this festival’s DNA,” says Jay Sweet, executive producer of Newport Festivals.

To coincide with what would have been Seeger’s 100th birthday this month, Smithsonian Folkways released a six-disc anthology celebrating Seeger’s astounding career, complete with twenty unreleased recordings and a hardcover book detailing the many ways Seeger was a catalyst for positive change, both in American culture and the world at large. Pete Seeger: The Smithsonian Folkways Collection is a window into the life of a musician who shaped American folk music, but it’s also a road map for those who hope to advocate for positive change themselves.

“We can’t complain about what’s happening to us in the present day unless we start giving the kids the strength and the wisdom and the history of what came before them, and ask them to really pay attention,” Sweet says. Here, the festival producer discusses what Seeger taught him and how he’s using Newport to spread Pete’s message to a new generation.

Editor’s Note: Read the first part of our BGS interview with Jay Sweet.

BGS: You can tell a lot about a person by how they handle a disagreement. Did you ever argue with Pete?

The biggest disagreement I had with Pete was never about any kind of problem he had with rock or electric guitar or any of that. It was that he didn’t think we were doing enough. For a while, the nonprofit’s mission statement was, first and foremost, to keep the Newport Folk and Newport Jazz Festivals going in perpetuity, and then to help continue introducing these genres of music to students and young people. Well, Pete thought that was back asswards, and he let me know it.

The thing is, we’re not publicly traded — there’s no AEG, there’s no massive underwriting sponsor. Newport is hand to mouth, like most nonprofits. But he thought it was wrong to take the financial benefit from the festival and put it back into an endowment to ensure that we could keep this festival going. Pete wondered why we did that—to which I replied that I happen to think it’s important to keep this festival going! [Laughs] But his point was that every year we should be giving every dollar we can back. He didn’t care whether it was music education, environmental issues, housing for the homeless. It was, “Why save for the future if you can affect the present?”

That mantra seems like it’s become more and more a part of what you do.

Because of Pete, we realized maybe we did have it back asswards, in some respects, and that the best way to do this would be to flip our mission statement—now, it’s primarily to provide music education for those in need, and to use these festivals to draw attention to the need. We’ve gone from being a company that works year-round to put on two festivals to being a nonprofit that works year-round on music education, and celebrates that yearlong work with two big supporting parties.

For years, Pete was shaking his head and saying we could do more. [His disapproval] was really tough to hear—if we don’t have enough money, [I worried] we might not be able to do [the festival] at all. We had it backwards because we were trying to look out for the future, but the future is now. Pete’s reason for starting [Newport] was to effect change by giving a platform for the freedom of speech, freedom from rules. And if you’re always giving money away, you’ll find a way to do it. You will find a way to throw the festival if you’re helping people.

One of the ways Pete used Newport to effect change was during the Civil Rights era—he will always be known as a fierce advocate for equality. How can you honor that with what you do at Newport?

Equal rights was one of Pete’s biggest causes. Newport was one of the meeting points for the Civil Rights movement—[the festival] was always being watched by the government, and people learned how to sing the marching songs in workshops with Pete at Newport. All these Cambridge, Mass., and Ivy League people would come, and he’d say, Let’s get on these buses now, and go South and stand with our brothers and sisters. It was very politicized and very political at the time.

But the spirit that I take away, that I continuously turn to almost daily, is the egalitarian nature of Pete. At Newport Folk in particular, that egalitarian nature lives on. We’re all in general admission, and there’s no VIP pass to purchase. We don’t do a poster where [artists’] names are in different font sizes, or anything like that. If you’re playing, you get the same treatment whether you’re a five-hundred dollar artist or a five-thousand dollar artist or — well, I won’t say fifty-thousand because we won’t really ever pay artists that much. [Laughs] There are plenty of five-hundred-thousand-dollar artists who play Newport, but we basically tell them, ‘You need to check your ego at the Pell Bridge, because it will not fly at Newport.’ Because of that, we’ve been able to foster a community, that does go back to “We are all equal,” but it also promotes all opportunity for all people beyond the festival.

Pete stood for using music to effect change. As a person who always had an instrument on him — walked around with a banjo and a guitar for his entire life, or a penny whistle — Pete took for granted, I think, that music would always be in the curriculum for all kids. I never once think he considered there might be a world where there are five million kids in the United States who don’t have access to music education. And that’s just access to any music education—I’m not talking about the uncounted amount of broken instruments, or the fact that sports teams get brand new uniforms and stadiums and lights, when the music departments get nothing. Those things would shock Pete because he used music as his medium. We think the best way to create more Pete Seegers is to actually give more people access to music.

One could argue that, with Newport, you are fostering the next generation of legends. What do you look for in up-and-coming artists, and how do you help bring those attributes to the forefront?

I think it goes to what we were just talking about. It’s the people who I can’t see doing anything else. There is no separation between showperson and who they are off stage. To me, a folk artist is not necessarily someone who puts on a persona and comes out and creates. And by the way, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ll say some of the best pop performers in the world come off the stage and they resemble nothing of the personality they bring to a show. But I think a true folk artist is somebody who can’t separate it. What you see is what you get. …

Newport, to me, is not just a platform for artists to be able to speak their mind in a safe environment. Yes, that was its blueprint from the minute it was conceptualized but that was when other platforms didn’t exist. [“Needing a platform”] meant that you couldn’t break into radio and you couldn’t break into TV. Now there’s a festival on every g-ddamn street corner, and with the Internet, everybody can get their fifteen minutes of fame.

But Newport continues to represent a true sense of community. You are not alone out there, in a van doing three thousand miles every month. You have a place. No matter how far you go, you can feel tied, feel a weight off your shoulders, and have a rest from the corporatization of music and the sludge factory that’s out there for a lot of these people to make a living. If I can offer that respite and a sense of community and a sense of home, that, to me, is just as much a part of Pete’s legacy as anything else. This idea that we’re in this together. If you’re part of our tribe, we’re fiercely loyal. And the door is pretty open if you leave your ego behind.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson