“Silly Wizard were pioneers in developing the modern Scottish folk group blueprint, popularizing Scottish music around the world through playing traditional music with a never-before-heard energy, spirit, and spontaneity and introducing original songs and tunes written from within the tradition,” (Hands Up for Trad).
“Formed in 1972 by guitarists Gordon Jones, Bob Thomas, and Bill Watkins and named after a character who shared their Edinburgh flat, Silly Wizard began playing at the capital’s Triangle Folk Club. Soon after singer Chris Pritchard replaced Bill Watkins, they added a teenager who would go on to play a crucial part in the band’s image as well as their music, Johnny Cunningham. A tremendously exciting, virtuosic fiddler, who was still at school and often had to be picked up from and returned to the school gates after overnight drives from gigs, Johnny energised the band’s live performances and helped to generate a new young following for folk music.
… Booked to play an opening twenty-minute spot in front of an audience of thousands at Philadelphia Folk Festival in 1979, Silly Wizard, now in its classic five-piece line-up (Bob Thomas having left), won a standing ovation and almost instantly created a huge demand in the US for a brand of folk music that could be as passionate in the low gears as it could be rousingly intense at full tilt and was always presented with wit and an infectious sense of fun.”
Originally released in 1983, “Finlay M. MacRae” initially features a mid-tempo waltz feel in A minor. At 1:34, a penny whistle joins the accordion, bringing a more sprightly tempo and a transition to a 4/4 feel. 2:17 brings a return to a focus on the accordion and a shift upward to B minor. A close listen also reveals many fast-firing repeating notes in the accordion melody, using sequential flicks of multiple fingers — some fancy playing indeed!
“If your childhood was anything like mine, you owned Marlo Thomas’ illustrated book Free to Be…You and Me and its companion CD, featuring recordings by Diana Ross, Shel Silverstein, Mel Brooks and The New Seekers. Released in 1972 in collaboration with the Ms. Foundation for Women, the Free to Be project—which later included an ABC television special—aimed to teach children about gender equality (Miscellany News) … The impact of Free to Be was tremendous. The book became a classic. The series won a Peabody Award. And in 2021, the album was inducted into The Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry. Former Supreme Court Justice and trailblazer for women’s rights Ruth Bader Ginsberg called the titular song the definition of feminism.
My mom and dad may have had very different parenting styles, but in raising three daughters, they agreed on one thing: My sisters and I would be empowered girls. We would know that we could do anything and be anything we wanted. They encouraged us to wear princess dresses and practice taekwondo; to paint jewelry boxes and look at bugs under microscopes; to speak up in class and speak up when we were angry … I cannot remember a time in my childhood that predates that sweet book. As I grew older, I grew out of ‘The land where the river runs free,’ as the opening poem imagines. It felt dated. Who did not believe that girls could be firemen and that boys could cry? … Free to Be had served its purpose in becoming a relic. My generation was proof that progress is real.”
The book and album were released in 1972; the TV special followed in 1974. The album’s title track is performed by the UK group The New Seekers (probably best known for their 1970 cover of Melanie’s “Look What They’ve Done to My Song, Ma”). Featuring banjo, glockenspiel, a small chorus (which sounds like it might be adult singers impersonating a children’s choir), and an odd false ending at 2:40, the track shifts up a half step at 1:41.
Melanie Safka was only 22 when she performed at Woodstock. Prior to that appearance, the largest audiences she had faced were the intimate crowds at Greenwich Village folk clubs such as Café Wha? and the Bitter End.
Her appearance at the festival was basically a fluke. The Woodstock organizers had an office in the same NYC building as Melanie’s manager, Peter Schekeryk (who would ultimately marry Melanie). Very early in the planning process, before the organizers had lined up some of the major acts who ultimately performed at Woodstock, Peter asked them whether Melanie could appear at the festival, and they essentially said “sure, whatever”. Given all the chaotic, last minute changes to the running order, it was not clear that Melanie would even get a shot at performing. But on the first night of the festival, the storm rolled in, and the Incredible String Band and several other artists refused to go on in the inclement weather. As a solo act with only an acoustic guitar, Melanie was an easy setup, so she was thrust onstage on very short warning. She didn’t even have a prepared set-list; instead, she apparently played every song she knew that night.
Melanie has described herself as so terrified that she basically had an out-of-body experience as she took the stage and confronted a half million people, arrayed on the hillside before her. But unbeknownst to her, the Hog Farm (the informal “Please Force” for the concert) had been passing out candles to the audience, in an attempt to keep spirits up during the rainstorm. The audience started lighting their candles as Melanie’s performance progressed, and something about that connection with the audience transported her an almost fugue-like state for the balance of her performance. Years later, when she saw some archival footage of her performance, Melanie was shocked by how long she had been onstage. Although Melanie wrote “Lay Down” soon after Woodstock, it wasn’t released until 1970.
Melanie’s Woodstock performance was the first widespread example of a concert audience lighting candles en masse, a tradition that has been passed down from Bic lighters to iPhones.
The first 1:48 of the recording is a spoken-word prologue, describing the Woodstock candles-in-the-rain experience. [On the single, the “Candles” portion was released as the B-side, which was an interesting A&R decision, if nothing else].
The song proper finally commences after two minutes, with a dramatic cold open by the Edwin Hawkins Singers, belting out the chorus. Melanie then sings the much quieter, folkier verse alone. This gospel/folk alternation continues for the rest of the song, with a dynamic range that prefigures the standard grunge template of two decades later. The song ends with an extended gospel outro, loosely organized around call/response and an improvised vocal vamp.
The outro [which was omitted from both the single and the LP, but is captured in the 9-minute master being discussed here] has its own fascinating back-story: Apparently, the entire vocal track was recorded in a single take! The choir had rehearsed a much shorter outro, but during their first take in the studio, the producer was so pleased with the vamp that the singers had settled into that he kept signalling for another go-round. A careful listener will hear several junctures [5:45, 6:05, 6:15, 6:46, 7:10, etc.] where Melanie and/or the choir subtly fumble the call/response handoff before recovering on the fly. Improvisation like this from a 40-voice SATB choir was possible only because the singers had spent countless hours in live worship settings following Edwin Hawkins (who played piano on the take) as he arranged on the fly.
The chorus (1:48) is in G major, with a strong mixolydian skew due to the bVII -> I backdoor cadence. The verse (2:12) is in E Aeolian, and the bridge (3:07) is in E Dorian.
For many more stories about this amazing recording – including how the 9-minute version saved a helicopter crew during the Vietnam War – check out Sam Tweedle’s detailed history.
Dana Valery was ahead of her time. She released her cover of Simon + Garfunkel’s “You Don’t Know Where Your Interest Lies” a half-year before their own version was released as the B-side to “Fakin’ It” in July 1967. There’s even a snippet of Paul Simon speaking on the recording (at 0:39). Her version is a banger!
She was born in Italy, and moved with her family to South Africa at an early age. Her brother was the famous tenor Sergio Franchi. While she recorded mostly in English, her discography includes 1963’s All’Italiana and two EPs of Italian material released in South Africa. Valery was a member of the original South African cast of the musical Wait a Minim; she later reprised her role with the London and Broadway productions of that play.
The sonic palette of this track is so expansive that it’s hard to believe its runtime is only 2:13 long! The groove of Valery’s cover version is stronger, the textures more saturated, and the tempo is faster than the original (which we’re including below). The cover’s key change is at 1:34.
“Around the mid-to-late ’80s, major labels started to notice a new group of folk artists,” (Popdose). “They were more diverse than the Seegers and Guthries of decades past; the ‘new folk’ label could apply to traditionalists like Ellis Paul or Jonell Mosser just as easily as it could to the more overtly commercial Shawn Colvin. And the new folkies could be obvious direct descendants of living masters, like the Richie Havens-channeling Cliff Eberhardt, or they could head off in new directions entirely, like Patty Griffin. Though it’s doubtful anybody in a record label boardroom ever thought the “new folk” would be a huge commercial success, having an “Americana” imprint was sort of prestigious — it meant the suits hadn’t been entirely blinded to the meaning and appeal of music at the root level. A&M Records, recognizing this … signed David Wilcox.
Wilcox had been plying his trade in and around Asheville, North Carolina, for some years, and had become a favorite fixture at the legendary Bluebird Cafe. The Bluebird’s proprietor, Amy Kurland, was instrumental in the development of his career — even after the release of his second A&M album, the label was referring publicity calls to her — and it’s easy to see why she took such an interest. Other artists may have been more implicitly traditional, and thus more representative of ‘true’ folk, but Wilcox’s smooth vocals and emotional lyrics hinted at bigger things.
It’s no Born To Run, but for a folk musician in 1989, How Did You Find Me Here came fairly close — the album won him a modicum of critical attention on the national stage, nearly unanimous in its praise, and A&M realized it had a potential moneymaker on its hands.” One of the album’s standout tracks, “Rusty Old American Dream,” might be about an old car which has seen better days. But propelled by Wilcox’s intricate fingerstyle technique and impeccable time, an unprepared half-step key change (1:47) “gives that old starter a spin.”
“In the close-knit world of English folk music, Leveret boasts an impressive pedigree,” (NPR). “The trio’s Andy Cutting is renowned for his mastery of the melodeon, a type of accordion with a push-pull mechanism for intonation that imbues it with a wheezy kick. The band’s fiddler is Sam Sweeney, of the flamboyant nu-folk band Bellowhead, and its concertina player is Rob Harbron — both are deft and expressive musicians in their own right. (The concertina is yet another variety of squeezebox, a small hexagonal specimen with a pure, invigorating honk.) Within its respective milieu, Leveret might be considered a supergroup were the term not anathema to the band’s entire ethos: introspective, understated, minimalist.
… Leveret’s members have stated on multiple occasions that their music is not so much arranged as felt, operating without predetermined parts — a jam session. So profound is the trio’s communion that its players seem telepathic, charting a rippling musical terrain visible only to each other. Leveret’s (2017) effort features exclusively original material and is aptly titled Inventions. In an album overflowing with lovely melodies, ‘Ricer II’ is the most baldly euphoric. (The tune was composed by Cutting, who named it after a potato ricer, presumably one that brought him especially great joy.) The happy-go-lucky number skips along in accelerated triple-time; about halfway through, it even goes so far as to change keys, modulating triumphantly with the gusto of a Broadway finale. ‘Ricer II’ is neither difficult nor complex, just two short parts that circle round and round like a kitten chasing its tail.” The two keys in question are C major and (after 1:04) D major.
“As the daughter of two Brazilian musical icons – legendary singer Elis Regina and acclaimed pianist Cezar Camargo Mariano – it’s no surprise that Maria Rita has followed in their footsteps to become one of her native land’s best selling artists,” (BBC). “After studying at New York University and working as a journalist, Rita didn’t release her first album until the age of 24, but over a million sales worldwide for her eponymous debut and a host of Latin Grammy awards soon established her at the pinnacle of the MPB (Música Popular Brasileira) scene.
After further success with 2005’s Segundo,Samba Meu (My Samba, 2007) sees the São Paulo-born star paying tribute to the traditional music of Brazil, featuring acoustic reinterpretations of works by some of the country’s great songwriters. Backed by some impeccably tasteful musicianship and arrangements, Rita meanders politely through 13 pleasant, yet distinctly unmemorable, tracks; her note-perfect vocals never threatening to break into anything more taxing than a breezy trill.”
Beginning in D minor, Rita’s “Maltratar, Não é Direito” (which translates approximately to “mistreating others is not right”), shifts to D major at 1:00 for its chorus. At 1:36, it returns to D minor for an interlude centering around a wordless vocal before shifting back to the next verse. The pattern continues from there, propelled by a saturated instrumentation (layered percussion and the small yet mighty cavaquinho, in particular).
“Somehow, enough people have kept Don McLean going through the years in a niche all his own,” (MrMedia) “He has never had a press agent and rarely does interview anymore because, rather dangerously it seems, ‘you get what I think.’ Pete Seeger … hailed him as one of the most talented singer/songwriters he had ever met: ‘He has a clear, intense gaze, a clear voice, and a clear head.’ And angst, lots and lots of pent-up angst for some reason.
‘To be remembered at all, to me, is a wonderful honor,’ McLean says. “But to have ‘And I Love You So,’ ‘Vincent,’ ‘Castles,’ ‘American Pie,’ and a version of ‘Crying’ that stands up to Roy Orbison’s – to have a handful of songs like that, to be remembered by any one of them, I would be very proud of that. I think that those songs are damned near perfect in a lot of ways,’ he says of his own output, ‘even in terms of the records that were made … You shouldn’t get the songs confused with the records. It’s like getting a screenplay confused with the film. You might start out with a great screenplay, but you choose the wrong actors, the wrong director and you come up with a bad film (from) a good story.”
Known primarily for his iconic tunes “American Pie” and “Vincent,” McLean has released two dozen albums. His 1972 folk-pop track “If We Try” begins in A major, shifts gradually to G major for the chorus (0:31 – 0:58).
“In October (2019), Aldous Harding’s song ‘The Barrel’ claimed the 2019 APRA Silver Scroll Award. It’s a groovy little folk number, containing whimsical imagery through its lyrics and video, each of which are ambiguous enough to support multiple interpretations.
In a recent NPR interview, Bob Boilen quizzes Harding on the meaning of both the video and music. Boilen reminds us that Harding is not known for talking about the meaning of her songs, but states that in this case, the video (described by Boilen as having Amish/futuristic/sci-fi tendencies), is not intended to be any visual representation of the content of the song – it is intended to keep it loose. Furthermore, Harding then rejected the notion of expectation and purpose with regards to songwriting in general. (Boilen, 2019).”
“The Barrel” starts with a verse in B major, while the chorus (1:10 – 1:26) is in C# mixolydian. Adding to the feeling of running-on-fumes life force from this New Zealand-based artist are Harding’s clipped syllables, her relaxed enunciation, and the nicely performed but barely-there bassline played with EQ levels better suited to a soprano guitar. Finally showing a faint proof of life at at the 5:00 mark, the band executes a tiny but precise ritardando as the tune ends.
If you thought the live video was interesting, check out the “studio” version, also posted below. But please do not operate any heavy machinery for at least two hours after viewing.
“Joni Mitchell’s ‘My Old Man’ is quintessentially Joni: whimsically metaphorical, groundedly realistic, and fiercely independent with its laissez-faire approach to long-term, committed relationships,” (American Songwriter). “She wrote the iconic track, which she included on the 1971 album Blue while living on Lookout Mountain in the Laurel Canyon neighborhood of Los Angeles. At the time, Mitchell was in a whirlwind relationship with Graham Nash—a relationship that, although doomed from the start, produced other enduring tracks like ‘Our House’ and ‘A Case of You,’ the latter of which is also on ‘Blue.’
A definitive musical power couple, Mitchell and Nash’s relationship was bigger than either party and, as the song clearly states, antiquated ideas of legal domesticity through marriage. Within the context of Joni Mitchell and Graham Nash’s relationship, the opening lines of ‘My Old Man’ paint a clear picture of the creative duo: My old man is a singer in the park; he’s a walker in the rain; he’s a dancer in the dark. Almost immediately, Mitchell asserts the fact that neither party feels the need to validate their bond through traditional means of marriage. We don’t need no piece of paper from the City Hall keeping us tied and true, she sings in the chorus. “
The intro and choruses are built in A major; the melody soars to Mitchell’s legendary high range as she details times spent together with her partner. From 1:17 -1 1:42, a verse (bridge?) cycles through several keys, all providing vivid contrast to A major! After another chorus, the verse/bridge (which returns at 2:17 – 2:42), which recounts the couple’s time apart, features a lower melody and more complex, darker harmonies.
