Robert Frost's Banjo

"Ruchama In Her Worn Nightgown,"

2012-01-28T04:00:00.000-08:00

[Much gratitude to my friend Brittany Newmark for making this powerful poem available to Robert Frost's Banjo.]

Ruchama In Her Worn Nightgown,


1.

It has taken so long to arrive here, late,
the dust in my shoes
and my pockets
turned out like some clown in a silent film.

Sometimes it was like
Rowing across the lake where all the fish were named for saints
And feeling like you were not a tourist,
(in other words feeling smug)
and then being slighted
And at last knowing, how fragile it is to belong.

Ruchama you had a white dress, before white dresses.
Do you remember it?
I do,

on two counts,

1. it was so much more than I could have ever afforded, even now
and 2. It was braver than I have ever been, especially now.

Nu, your feet are bare,
The wells of your clavicle filled with indiscretion.
No need to worry the last bleeding cuticle
or to scour the teakettle at all hours of the night.

O you must be so cold,

Go, go back to bed. What is happening will go on without you.
It does not concern you.

Stay out of it.   No good can come of it.

I am sorry to say that there is no one left to comfort
or to betray.

Whatever beauty was
She has picked another hill to die on.


2

They were good times though,
those parties you used to throw,
And how you served

entire meals of revenge, the sweet breads of ambition,
the small red fruits of petty resentment.
You knew.

Really, what else can you offer to a room full of opportunists?
With their hands outstretched like ghouls in a B movie

They got what they deserved
and that is so rare in this life.
What did you tell me?
You had the salon repainted and the shutters opened wide
and even the workmen
yes especially the workmen thought
of bedding you,
it was hot repetitive work,

they all imagined you
naked. We all always imagined
you naked, with a pool of clothing at your feet.

That thought and those conversations
pure, like an American song on the green radio:

You don’t believe I love you,
Look at the fool I’ve been.
You don’t believe I’m sinkin
Look at the hole I’m in.

By that time, so many had abandoned their rituals, in the fields,
In the camps, in the gulags—

They understood oppression not as the boy in fawn colored pants
looking out of the French doors onto a garden,
but they knew it
from a hut, the inside of a latrine.

Then there was the man, in the army greens
he waded through the canal
choked with corpses, both theirs and ours.
And he told those stories over and over,

or the story was told around him
after he left.

Of course you know
He did not get separated from his unit
He walked away
at nineteen—armed to the teeth
We all know what happened from there, not pretty.

And he left behind a lesson that would serve.

But even he went on to marry and have a life,
(meaning a wife and children)
Alongside a beach and striped umbrellas.
But of course you know that,

How else could he have slipped so neatly
between you and what could have been?
How else was there always sand on your stone floors?


3

I am not sure if I fully understand the premise
But it interests me.
In each generation there are 36 righteous men.
I expect one or two must have been impulsive youths,
hellions in jaunty grey caps.

Or just boys playing chicken on a long dark stretch of highway,
and lost.
They are not angels these men, who may be fewer than 36
they may not even be righteous
But they carry a generation.
I can’t say how to manage the darkness or the isotopes of faith

You can no longer manage even the red scarf or the sassy quip,
they seem sad and ridiculous—old woman, ugly woman.

Because even if they are silent—long gone
the ghosts of guests are well positioned around the room,
just where you placed them
one in the blue velvet chair,
the other just leaning by the bookshelf.

They are not listening they do not look up from the papers they hold out in front of them.
Ruchama, your hand,
you have a tremor.

In the hot wind of August
and in another century
somebody on the fourth floor throws open the door and steps out onto the porch,

Ruchama, you are lovely with a belly full of loquats

that you picked up under the tree, just outside the gates.
Was it stealing?

No more or less than the man,

what he took from you,
he carried back to her
I suppose everybody needs to eat.

Brittany Newmark
© 2012

“Steam Powered Aereo Plane”

2012-01-27T04:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Banjo Friday! It’s the final Friday of the month, so if you’ve been following along, you know what that means: Bluegrass!

Actually, today’s song & today’s artist probably both defy strict genre categorization. Let’s consider the artist first. Chances are, unless you are a fan of modern bluegrass, & especially the “Newgrass” movement, you may not have heard of John Hartford—or it’s possible that you know him for the one song that made his fortune—which was not a bluegrass song at all. John Hartford wrote the song “Gentle on My Mind,” & was the first to record it. His recording was a modest hit at best, but when Glenn Campbell recorded the song, it became a real chart-buster & ultimately a song that was covered by artists as diverse as Elvis Presley, Aretha Franklin, Dean Martin, Lucinda Williams & R.E.M., just to name a few. In fact, during the height of the song’s popularity, the royalties were bringing Hartford a cool $100k per year; according to his online biography, “Hartford often said that Gentle On My Mind bought his freedom. He used that freedom to explore his various creative curiosities, and was usually happy to take his friends along on the trip.”

John Hartford had an abiding love of country music & bluegrass, but he was about as far from a hidebound traditionalist as one could be, & he brought more than a little counter-culture sensibility to his brand of bluegrass music. In 1971, he released the album Aereo-Plain on Warner Brothers, & this is one of those truly innovative albums that a lot of the general listening public have never heard or even heard of. Aereo-Plain didn’t sell well at the time of its release, & in fact Warner failed to promote his follow-up work as a result, which led to him asking for (& receiving) a release from his contract. But history, at least, was on Hartford’s side, as Aereo-Plain is considered seminal to the “Newgrass” movement that sprung up in the 1970s, 80s & beyond.

One thing about Aereo-Plain: Hartford assembled a dream line-up of bluegrass musicians to make the album. In addition to Hartford playing banjo & taking the vocals, Norman Blake played guitar, Vasser Clements played fiddle, Tut Taylor played dobro & Randy Scruggs played electric bass. Actually, the story is a bit more complicated, because Hartford played some fiddle & guitar, Blake also played mandolin, & Clements added in viola & cello(!)

The album is largely comprised of Hartford originals, tho it does contain a cover of the old country gospel song “Turn Your Radio On,” as well as a Bluegrass version of the old fiddle tune “Leather Britches.” Otherwise, there’s some great song-writing by Hartford, & great music-making by all involved. Listening to the album while preparing this post, I was reminded how much Hartford partook of the musical clown role—evident in both his lyrics & singing style at times, tho he could also be as straightforward & sincere as they come on numbers like “First Girl I Loved.” Of course, the musical clown role has a venerable history amongst banjoists, dating to disturbing origins in the days of minstrelsy, but having been largely transformed thru the years in the stage personas of great players like Uncle Dave Macon, Stringbean & Grandpa Jones. I see Hartford very much as a part of that tradition.

“Steam Powered Aereo Plain” is just sheer fun & great music. I know you’re going to enjoy it!

Raintown #5

2012-01-26T04:00:00.000-08:00

2 empty hopper bird feeders dangling
from bare limbs on N. Mason—2 broken
concrete blocks out of kilter cast down be-

side a trailer—it devastates me not to
know the trees’ names—black gnarled
limbs out of whack yet budding blood-

red in January—black crow leaning in-
to its caw from a power line—my shortness of
breath, breathing thru pursed lips ex-

haling trapped air— alveoli col-
lapsed—2 pink flamingoes skewer a
lawn past the deadheaded roses—a second

crow swoops down on the blacktop—chest
rale as if someone mumbles walking just a
few steps back—on a concrete block

wall on N. Vancouver Ave in careful white
paint: tonight I can write the saddest of all
lines—disturbing not to hear sparrows in

red willows become unadulterated
melody—as if someone walked a few steps back:
our death unswerving comrade

Jack Hayes
© 2012

Welcome to Rose City

2012-01-25T04:00:00.000-08:00

Downtown Portland-taken from the Portland Aerial Tram

Happy Wednesday, friends, & welcome to Portland, Oregon! As I mentioned last week, Wednesdays here on Robert Frost’s Banjo will be featuring posts about my new hometown. I hope to explore various places, events, & landmarks, with possibly a bit of Portland history & fun facts thrown in. One thing I know will happen: restaurant reviews! This is a great foodie town, & I’ll be checking out some places that look likely to have both good food & fit in my tight budget.

But today’s post is an overview & all about preliminaries—some of the “facts” here have been mentioned in previous blog posts, but as this is the beginning of the series, I think I may be excused for going over them again. Portland is divided into “quadrants,” as you can see from the graphic. The city is divided into “east” & “west” sections by the Willamette River, & divided into north & south sections by Burnside Street. Therefore, street names typically have the SE, NE, SW or NW tag, & people talk about their neighborhoods as being in “the Southeast,” “the Northwest,” etc. However, as you’ll notice from the map, there are actually five “quadrants,” because there’s also “the North.” & as I can’t seem to help being different, I live in that fifth quadrant.

Mississippi Studios - North Portland-my neighborhood

Portland Streetcar on SW Market in - you guessed it - Southwest Portland

Each of these quadrants—or for those who insist on mathematical corretness, sections—are divided into a number of neighborhoods, so it seems to me at least that it’s difficult to make sweeping generalizations about any one of the geographical designations—to say, “the Southeast is thus & so” or “the Northwest is like this.” Two things I should state, one a historical fact, the other personal. Portland originated on the west side of the Willamette, so from 1851 until 1891, the city existed solely on land that now falls within the Northwest & Southwest quadrants. In 1891, Portland absorbed Albina, Oregon & East Portland, Oregon, & these brought in parts of the current North, Northeast & Southeast sections; further expansion in 1915 gave the city most of its present-day territory.

Looking back toward Northwest Portland from the Steel Bridge

The Laurelhurst Theater on E. Burnside - the street that divides North & South

On a personal note? Fact is, I know the east side of Portland better than the west. In my almost 6 months of living here, I’ve been on the east side, & when I used to visit Portland while living in Idaho, I also spent most of the time in the east, & especially the Southeast, because that’s where many of my friends live.

Quonset Hut Bar - NE Alberta

Avalon Theater - SE Belmont

Other fun facts about Portland? It’s the 29th most populous U.S. city with a 2010 census population of 583,776, & the greater Portland metro area—which includes the city of Vancouver, Washington, as well as other areas in Washington just across the Columbia—numbers around 2,260,000, making it the 23rd most populous metro area. Tho Portland is Oregon’s largest city, both Seattle, Washington & Vancouver, British Columbia are larger cities within the Pacific Northwest. The climate? Per Wikipedia, “Portland experiences a temperate climate that is usually described as oceanic with mild, damp winters and relatively dry, warm summers.” Some might note that “damp” is a relatively mild term, & Portland does get a lot of rain, especially in the late fall thru the winter & into the spring. But as a result of its temperate & damp climate, it’s a great spot for gardening—hence, the nickname “Rose City” or “City of Roses.”

The Portland Aerial Tram arriving at OHSU with the Willamette River in the background

Although Portland is a mid-sized city, it truly has a lot to offer, & I’m very happy & grateful to have the opportunity of living here. Also looking forward to sharing it with you readers every Wednesday!

Here's the info on the neighborhood graphic: This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license by Wiki Commons user Sean Kelly

"ENGINE, ENGINE"

2012-01-24T04:00:00.000-08:00

[Hey, folks, time for an L.E. Leone poem—but not just any L.E. Leone poem: an L.E. Leone poem about trains! How cool is that?]

ENGINE, ENGINE

Two of my dearest dears wrote
poems about trains last week, so
I thought I would jump on board

But

One featured the clatter
of the tracks, while the other
touted the toot-toot of it all

So

That leaves me with steel
on steel. Or the tick, electric and
loud, between cars in the station

Or

Silence. Hmm: This one
is way up there somewhere
in the mountains, buried in snow

And

To think, just last week I learned
that shhh is spelled with three h’s,
not sssh! . . . I am ready now.

L.E. Leone
© 2012

Poor Boy Long Way from Home #9 – Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee

2012-01-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

A happy Monday, friends, & welcome to the Monday Morning Blues! We’re here with another installment in the Poor Boy Blues series, & this time around we have a version by the great Brownie McGhee, accompanied by his usual musical partner, the equally formidable Sonny Terry.

McGhee’s version of the “Poor Boy Blues” is one of the more mellow songs in the series, & the lyrics are more individualized; other than the “Poor boy, a long way from home” statement—which is de rigueur with slight variations for all songs in the series—the song doesn’t dip into the usual pool of “Poor Boy” lyrics—there’s none of the existential angst of the Ramblin’ Thomas, Booker White or John Dudley versions.

Of course, McGhee & Terry, at least in their folk music incarnation, were two of the most musically easygoing bluesmen around. They were fixtures on the folk music circuit from the late 50s on until the 80s; as such, they lived different lives from many of their contemporaries—they recorded with Woody Guthrie & Pete Seeger, for insatnce, & made recordings of songs like “Pick a Bale of Cotton” & “Skip to My Lou” along with such blues classics as “Key to the Highway” or “Sportin’ Life Blues.”

But McGhee & Terry actually lived a few distinct musical incarnations in their lives. Both suffered significant disabilities from an early age: Terry lost his eyesight in his teens, & McGhee was unable to walk after having polio (an operation funded by the March of Dimes later enabled him to walk.) Growing up at a time when jobs were scarce for everyone, but certainly for African-Americans & even more so, men with significant disabilities, both relied on their considerable musical abilities. Terry became a street performer, & partnered with the great Blind Boy Fuller, & McGhee later came under Fuller’s tutelage as well.

Fuller is considered one of the great exponents of the “Piedmont” style of guitar playing, & McGhee is considered another—not only did he learn from Fuller, but he was a gifted player in his own right, & with assistance from Happy Traum, who was his student, he published a book on his guitar playing in the early 70s. McGhee & Terry met, of course, thru Blind Boy Fuller, & not long after Fuller’s death in 1941, they became a hit as a recording duo.

It’s interesting to me that McGhee & Terry continued a completely separate musical career during the time they were such prominent figures in the folk scene. They fronted a jump band called Brownie McGhee & his Jook House Rockers" or "Sonny Terry & his Buckshot Five." This combo included not only horns & piano, but also McGhee on electric guitar, which was of course taboo in the folk music at that time!

I should also note that Terry’s harmonica playing is at least as masterful as McGhee’s guitar picking & smooth singing—his blues harp is almost immediately familiar, & not just from his characteristic whoops, but from the sound itself. Terry was known not only for his ability to produce any number of effects using the harp, but also for his outstanding breath control.

Finally, I’m not sure when this particular recording was originally released. There is a live version of “Po’ Boy” (as they invariably titled the song) from either ’61 or ’62 (the notes on that vary), but this is a different recording. I do know that it was released on the 2003 Tomato release Sun’s Gonna Shine, but this is a compilation—both men passed away in the 1980s.

Hope you enjoy these two top-flight musicians’ gentler take on “Poor Boy Blues”!

Photo of the Week 1/22/12

2012-01-22T04:00:00.000-08:00

Public Art Wall
N. Mason Street/Maya Angelou Complex
Portland, Oregon
Monday 1/16/12

Raintown #4

2012-01-21T04:00:00.000-08:00

black boughs gesticulate in gray
air, moss girdles these parking strip trees
sullen green—commenting on decay in

January drizzle—not merely shades of
gray: olive green gate chained shut on what must
be a garden—young mother on the #4 line

bus cradling her baby in a purple
fake fur-lined parka—her angular face re-
flective; her gray flannel pajama pants in-

scribed LOVE in faded red letters—at the
hospital the woman describes her lumbar
puncture, biting the tongue depressor, the

14-day ensuing migraine “meds didn’t
touch”—fluorescent lights humming a sham
yellow-gold, an electric guitar note bent

a quarter tone sharp—she explains we have
nothing to do besides talk, talking bone
marrow renal failure talking god dangling her from

a height letting her drop—a Yellow Line
train passes over the double-decked Steel
Bridge & the polyrhythmic drizzle’s ab-

sorbed inside the Willamette’s gray
mechanical currents & fractured reflections:
none of us being merely broken

Jack Hayes
© 2012

“One Morning”

2012-01-20T04:00:00.000-08:00

A happy Banjo Friday everybody. Hope you’re ready for some fine banjo music, because that’s what we have for you.

Let me start by stating a fact: I am completely in love with Gillian Welch’s music. For my money, there’s no better songwriter in US popular music today, especially when you consider the richness of the music combined with the poetry of the lyrics. The fact that Welch is also a top-notch, soulful singer makes her songs so very compelling—rife with emotion, evocative both in terms of sound & lyrical content. To my mind, Welch has something that a relatively small number of songwriters have had in the latter half of the 20th century & beyond—the ability to draw from roots American music in a way that makes the songs seem truly timeless—instantly recognizable both in terms of rootedness & contemporaneity. Dylan certainly has had this, as has Tom Waits in a somewhat different context. Others in addition to Welch? Very few. I would put Welch’s songs up there with the best.

Now you may be saying: that’s all well & good, but Gillian Welch is a singer-songwriter, & we’re here for banjo music! It’s true that on the majority of her songs, Welch plays rhythm guitar behind the intricate solos & fills of her partner David Rawlings—a truly inventive guitarist, & a player of the first caliber. But Welch also plays clawhammer banjo, & while her playing is not “virtuosic,” it’s plenty good; on songs like “My First Lover,” “One Morning,” “Rock of Ages” & others it adds a stark & unexpected color to the music.

It’s interesting to me to see someone using the banjo, especially in the clawhammer style, as a singer-songwriter. We know about the clawhammer style being used for instrumentals & dance music (with or without vocals), but it’s not found much with singer-songwriter types, & I think that’s a shame. It’s true that the banjo is quirky & that its chord voicings can be ambiguous—certainly a guitar gives a fuller background for a voice to ride on—the guitar’s whole set up is geared to producing chords as distinctly as possible—I know this, because in much of the music I do, the aim is to get the chords back to sounding musically ambiguous! What the banjo offers singers is something a bit more spare & contrapuntal, & at its best, this can be a striking effect.

In terms of today’s clip: this is a live recording from a recent show at the Paradiso in Amsterdam; the song, “One Morning,” comes from Welch’s 1998 release, Hell Among the Yearlings. Now a word of warning—this is not a six minute song. In fact, Welch starts playing & finds the banjo is out of tune & stops while Rawlings re-tunes it. As a performer myself, I’m always fascinated to see how a seasoned musician reacts to something like this, so I enjoy watching the clip from start to finish. If you don’t want to see that part, move the slider to about 2:25 & you’ll be able to catch the actual beginning. Besides the fact that I find the first two minutes interesting, I also chose this clip because of the high quality of both the video & the audio, which I didn’t find on other YouTube clips of Gillian Welch with the banjo. Of course, David Rawlings' guitar playing isn’t exactly shabby on this!

Enjoy!

The photo of Gillian Welch & David Rawlings is from Wiki Commons, & the image links back to the page of origin. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license by its creator, Flickr user furtwangl.

I Am Here #2

2012-01-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

The new Robert Frost's Banjo Central

Greetings from a rather soggy day in Portland. I woke a bit late this morning to the sound of a garbage truck & big raindrops. In the right context, the latter sound can be almost inviting: asking you to stay in for a pleasant day of reading & music for instance—but the sad fact is, I need to get out & about on errands. Timing is almost everything, & in this case, my timing is not spectacularly good!

It occurred to me that I haven’t posted a “personal” update for some time: we’ve been enjoying a lot of poetry & music here on Robert Frost’s Banjo, which is of course all to the good. Yours truly has even started writing again, & that’s always a cause for some small celebration here at Robert Frost’s Banjo Central.

But as far as personal news goes: I’m settling in to my new place, which is a sweet little apartment & all in all, feeling much like home. One of the most lovely thing about my place is that almost everywhere I look I see something that was a gift from a friend, & that’s something that makes my heart glad.

Two such gifts-both very practical as well!

Still, truth be told, I deal a lot with loneliness—I state this as a fact, & given the circumstances, a rather obvious one, & not to elicit sympathy. But I am in a transition from being one person in a couple to being a person on his own, & I’m also doing that in unfamiliar surroundings. In addition, the move from southeast Portland, where I was staying the first few months, to north Portland where I now live is significant because the neighborhood is new & the connections I do have here are a bit further away—it’s about 45 minutes to an hour by bus to visit my friends in the Southeast. But on the plus side, I have found a music jamming pal over in my neck of the woods—a fine guitarist who goes by the name of Kentucky Bob—& spent most of yesterday jamming on tunes from “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down & Out” to “Kodachrome.” Great fun.

There’s also a certain “finality” to the Portland move that comes from having my own place. While I’m convinced the move was the best thing for all concerned, I’m no longer in the “limbo” state I occupied from August thru November. This is also to the good, of course, but it does carry a concomitant stress & sadness.

In other news: I’m slowly building my teaching practice, now with two guitar students & two uke students. In addition, I explored some forms of assistance thru the state of Oregon, & these have actually made a significant improvement in my financial picture. So on a practical level, things are looking quite good.

As far as Robert Frost’s Banjo news goes: for the past while, Wednesdays have been an “off” day here. I’m going to be starting a new series, however, as of next Wednesday, which will explore an aspect of Portland each week—thanks to my good friend Scotty Houston for this suggestion! This will be fun writing for me, & it will also be motivation for me to explore—something that can be a bit difficult to muster in the rainy Northwestern winter.

Hope you have a great Thursday, friends!

Rainy day-the view from my front door!

“Overpacked”

2012-01-17T04:00:00.000-08:00

[Funny, sad & sweet—another of Barbie Dockstader Angell’s lovely Chaplinesque poems! & some of Barbie's wonderful artwork too.]

Overpacked

I’ve packed too much again you see,
I do this every time.
I fill my bag up to the top
and I must leave things behind.
I have some extra memories
and precious souvenirs.
I left behind a wish or two
and lots of empty fears.
I took a ton of snapshots
which are stored inside my mind.
But I packed too much again you see,
so I left my heart behind.

Barbie Dockstader Angell
© 2009-present

Going Electric: Fender Telecaster!

2012-01-16T04:00:00.000-08:00

A happy Monday, folks, as we come at you with this week’s edition of the Monday Morning Blues. Time to explore another legendary blues guitar, & this time around we're going electric!

Actually, the Fender Telecaster is just purely & simply a legendary guitar—when you talk about solid-body electrics, the conversation always seems to start with three: the Fender Telecaster & Stratocaster & the Gibson Les Paul. All three guitars have made a huge impact on music since the mid 20th century—& each has also made huge impact on guitar design. The Telecaster was the earliest of the three, with a prototype known as the Broadcaster being available in the late 1940s, & the Telecaster itself going into distribution late in 1950. A companion model, the Esquire, also went into production at this time. The Esquires only had a single pick-up, whereas the Telecaster has two, one in the neck position & one in the bridge.

Leo Fender, who designed & built the Telecaster, incorporated a number of innovations that have since gone into widespread use with other models of solid-body electric guitars. For the uninitiated, “solid body” refers to the fact that the guitar’s body is a solid block of wood rather than a hollow sound chamber as is found in an acoustic guitar or a “hollow body electric.” When you think “electric guitar,” odds are what you picture in your mind is a solid body guitar.

While Leo Fender’s construction techniques were important—& if you’re interested in this, Wikipedia has a good article on the Telecaster here—the thing we all know is the sound. Again, to refer to Wikipedia, which gives a nice thumbnail on this:

The Telecaster is known for its ability to produce both bright, rich, cutting tone or mellow, warm, bluesy tone depending on the selected pickup, respectively "bridge" pickup or "neck" pickup... [making] the Telecaster a versatile guitar, usable for most styles of music including country, blues, rock and jazz.

Yes, even in jazz! One doesn’t think of jazz guitarists as playing solid-body electrics, but noted jazz player Bill Frisell has used a Telecaster as his main guitar for years! Noted Telecaster players have also included players as diverse as Merle Haggard, David Gilmour, Bruce Springsteen & Joe Strummer—just to name a few.

But we’re interested specifically in the Telecaster being used in the blues, & there are some top-notch players in that field as well. Albert Collins—the “Master of the Telecaster” (see the first video below), Muddy Waters (third video), Roy Buchanan, Snooks Eaglin (second video—amazing!), Robben Ford, Deborah Coleman, Sue Foley—even Keith Richards, who can certainly play some blues, & whose main guitar (named “Micawber”) is a Telecaster strung with only five strings & tuned to open G.

The proof, of course, is in the listening, & today we have three videos—in large part because I had to include both Collins & Waters, but couldn’t pass on the amazing performance by Snooks Eaglin! Hope you enjoy them.

Photo of the Week 1/15/12

2012-01-15T04:00:00.000-08:00

The Marquam Bridge (Interstate 5) Crossing the Willamette River
Taken from the Observation Deck at OHSU
Friday 1/13/12

Raintown #3

2012-01-14T11:29:00.000-08:00

despite this sky blue sky the
damp insinuates bone-deep—these
planter box violets on SW 5th avenue

slouch reigned as if they too waited for this
streetcar that doesn’t come—black
mulberry branches overhanging an

empty playground—leafless—the
difficulty exhaling in raw air, lungs in-
elastic—empty cream white corridor in the

hospital ramped for wheelchairs &
gurneys—a kid riding the aerial tram telling each
evergreen goodbye as it passes beneath—his

appointment was so good his parents
explain—your hands are cold the RN tells
me—awkward, matter-of-fact, kind tho—odor of

isopropanol, blue scrubs, blue vinyl chairs, blue
pillows, blue chux pads, gold plasma flowing
cool thru the basilic vein over 30 minutes

weekly—this weekend will see snow on
violets mullberry pines alike—the
biggest mercies are what we are spared

Jack Hayes
© 2012

“Old Corn Liquor”

2012-01-13T08:41:00.000-08:00

A happy Banjo Friday to you, friends. We’ve got two great music videos for your entertainment!

I’ve written in the past about how the clawhammer style of banjo playing has been associated particularly with dance music. That’s not only true in terms of the banjo’s history, but also true today. After all, much of what’s called “old-time” music today is dance tunes, & “old-time” musicians routinely play at contra dances & similar events. When “old-time” banjoists play this music, the vast majority of them use the clawhammer playing style. Its percussive, rhythmic attack, in which the banjoist uses the fingernail of either the index or middle finger to strike down on the strings, alternating with the thumb, is particularly suited for such dance settings.

This dance tradition thrived in both the African-American & European-American communities—a fact that isn’t as commonly known as it should be. In part, this meant that there was a sharing of musical repertoire between the two communities, as well as a sharing of musical techniques. There are a number of sources available for studying this confluence of musical traditions, but the most enjoyable no doubt are those “sources” that allow you to actually hear it—& for that, you can’t do much better than listening to the music of the Carolina Chocolate Drops.

I’ve written about the Carolina Chocolate Drops frequently in this space—to my mind, they are one of the most exciting musical outfits going today. Without going back over familiar territory, I will mention that band members Dom Flemons, Rhiannon Giddens & Justin Thompson (who has since left the band—Hubby Jenkins is now the third member) met at the Black Banjo Gathering in Boone, NC in 2005. Following this, the three musicians began to play weekly with then octogenarian fiddler Joe Thompson, perhaps the last surviving link to the black string band tradition as it existed in the early 20th century. The Chocolate Drops incorporated much of Thompson’s repertoire into their own, & tho the overall sound they achieve is traditional, they added any number of wrinkles. Joe Thompson’s version of “Old Corn Liquor” is found in the second video, with his brother the late Odell Thompson playing banjo. This is taken from the important Smithsonian/Folkways collection, Black Banjo Songsters of North Carolina and Virginia.

The song “Old Corn Liquor” is in fact a square dance tune (by square dance here I mean traditional square dance, not Modern or Western square dance), & a tune that was shared by both African-American & European-American communities. The song is typically played in G, so the banjo is in the “standard” G tuning.

Great fun! Enjoy!

"My Blue Heaven"

2012-01-12T04:00:00.000-08:00

[A remarkable new poem from Brittany Newmark-much gratitude for the privilege of posting it on Robert Frost's Banjo]

My Blue Heaven

Heaven is a continent with no oceans.

And it stands to reason that
all the languages spoken there are dead languages,

So, finally I can use my one phrase in Aramaic
abra’ ki’dab’rah
        Meaning: from this utterance I create.

But then I will keep my mouth shut.

In heaven all gray pack mules become horses
prancing with colored streamers or some become storms, huge dust devils

a wild herd across a grassy plain

others are armored steeds en fête for the Emperor’s parade.

In heaven the fact that you died ruined, humiliated
and slow, with those dark brown stains

on the sheets does not matter

because in heaven nobody has any bodily functions to carry

around or leave behind.

Heaven is the green crack of the poppy bud

just before it opens
It is the third prayer of the day.

In heaven David brushes Av’shalom’s hair and all is forgiven.

You can rest; your future is no longer rushing to meet you at some off the chart velocity, weighted by happenstance and awkward failures and phony politics.

Hard to believe but true, in heaven they only play the music you love
That song you long to hear over and over,
and her voice
what is it about that voice?

In heaven the cuffs never fall out of your pants
And a love that ended decades ago one bad winter stays like a secure seam
Stitched into a silk purse made from a sow’s ear.

The light in heaven is not artificial light

(but who am I to speak of the light of heaven,
I am getting ahead of myself, I hope)

Mostly, there are warm nights in the Summer garden and friendly games on the grass

Be advised though that there are drastic changes in heaven concerning human
relationships,
O sweet relief

And after so many azure decades the beloved becomes the lover.

In heaven you will not meet those women with rouged cheeks and ballerina buns they
have gone elsewhere.

I have it on good authority that in heaven there are no arguments, no counter
arguments and no snarky retorts.

I do know that you cannot speak of heaven
Without at some point addressing the here, the now, and

the child that we will meet there,

(oh how fast she has grown, into a lovely lady)

on the sweeping lawn, that we wanted so badly to stay here alongside us

        (well I did, I should not speak for you)
in all the narrow beds that preceded the last one.

                        just breathe, please just breathe.

I wholeheartedly imagine that even a thief in his tunnel
    who prays
simply not to be caught will be in the Summer garden for a friendly game,
                        and among friends finally.

You may not know that until you get there
But
In heaven you can love notions without understanding them
and people that never lived long enough to be.

Brittany Newmark
© 2012

“WHERE EVERYBODY IS”

2012-01-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

[haiku/by L.E. Leone/enjoy it!]

WHERE EVERYBODY IS

Like half a cherry
tomato on an iceberg
salad, I wonder

L.E. Leone
© 2012

“Roll ‘Em”

2012-01-09T12:14:00.000-08:00

A happy Monday, folks! We’re here at last with a much belated edition of the Monday Morning Blues, & coming at you once again with a piece of music that explores the intersection of blues & jazz.

Up to now this series has only explored songs from the “hot jazz” era of the 1920s. While I love music from that era, I didn’t want the series to turn into a sort of “moldy figs” appreciation of traditional jazz to the exclusion of later developments in the music—both because I love later jazz as well, & also because there are some prime examples of blues meeting jazz from all points in jazz history, & even from some composers who have been considered quite radical.

Today’s song comes from one of the most talented composers & pianists in the history of jazz, tho sadly she is still all too often overlooked. That is the great Mary Lou Williams, of whom Duke Ellington wrote:

Mary Lou Williams is perpetually contemporary. Her writing and performing have always been a little ahead throughout her career. Her music retains, and maintains, a standard of quality that is timeless. She is like soul on soul.

Mary Lou Williams began her performing career in the 1920s when she was still in her early teens, & at age 15 she was performing with Duke Ellington’s Washingtonians. She made the claim—a true claim at that—that in her long career she played in “every era” of jazz, & in fact she composed & performed in the hot jazz era, thru the big band time & was an important tho frequently neglected figure in the development of be-bop. Williams continued to be a significant force in the jazz world up to her death in 1981.

In addition to the fact that Mary Lou Williams was a masterful pianist, she was also a composer & arranger of note. Her Zodiac Suite from the mid 1940s is a great extended composition, & she also composed a number of noteworthy songs, including today’s selection, “Roll ‘Em,” which she wrote in 1937 in response to Benny Goodman asking her to come up with a theme song for his band. “Roll ‘Em” is a hard driving boogie, & the version we have today showcases Williams as a performer backed by the Benny Carter Orchestra. In its basic structure, “Roll ‘Em” is a 12-bar blues, but it’s transfigured by Williams’ inventiveness & her powerful flow of musical ideas.

Hope you enjoy it!

Photo of the Week 1/8/12

2012-01-08T04:00:00.000-08:00

The KOIN Center (AKA the King Kong Building)

Taken from SW 5th Ave

Portland, Oregon

Friday 1/6/12

Raintown #2

2012-01-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

weathered prayer flags fringe the porch's
chipped white paint molding, a paper
star dangling ungraceful alongside frayed

cloth—nailed to cedar boards a Christmas
Scotch pine lies derelict & dripping at Albina &
Mason—white wicker

rocker's set upside down in a drab Dodge
pickup’s bed atop heaped wheels &
tools—this white air swirls: this stifling cold

smoke—lawn chairs, sun umbrella, patio
table all pastel, upturned at random be-
hind a snarled wire fence—this crimson

bow lies on the sidewalk not so far from the
Monster energy drink can—slat fence
spilling white spirea into white fog spilling

drizzle & wreckage—January’s red
roses cling to clapboards, yellow rose stands
all on its own in the parking strip—not

least: a rusted Schwin bike secured to porch rails:
it’s festooned with tangled icicle lights—
will mercy ever be sufficient

Jack Hayes
© 2012

Sometimes a Banjo is Just a Banjo?

2012-01-06T04:00:00.000-08:00

Banjo Friday is upon us once again, friends. & after a month-long fun excursion into the rapid-fire pleasures of bluegrass banjo, we’re back to doing what we do best: the odd & obscure! However, I do want to announce that I’m henceforth designating the final Friday of each month as Bluegrass Friday, so you fans of Scruggs rolls, take heart. & I’m anticipating a very special inaugural Bluegrass Friday coming up at the end of January—stay tuned for further announcements!

Early in the Banjo Friday series I devoted a post to the Ekonting, a west African instrument that is typically considered a close relative of the banjo, especially in the banjo's earlier American manifestations (4-stringed but with a drone, fretless, with a gourd head.)

But there are other instruments in west Africa that have been connected with the banjo, & the principal one of these is the ngoni; the term ngoni actually refers to a few related instruments, one of which is used by the griots, who—to over-simplify things—are musical storytellers. The ngoni is fashioned either using a calabash or wood for the body; when a calabash is used, a goat skin is often used as a resonating surface in much the same way as the head works on a banjo.

The ngoni is not only used in traditional music, however; it’s also employed in the very vibrant west African pop music scene, & is played by a number of notable instrumentalists, including Issa Bagayogo, Bassekou Kouyaté, Baba Sissoko & Cheick Hamala Diabate, all from Mali.

But musical instrument genealogy is an inexact science—even the taxonomy of a given musical instrument gets incredibly complicated! Just think of all the different types of banjos we’ve considered on Banjo Friday: 5-string banjos, plectrum banjos, tenor banjos, bass banjos, banjitars, banjolins & banjo-ukes! Are they all equally “banjos?”

& if we look at instrument family trees, things can get confusing even with instruments that have been a part of the European musical tradition for some time—for instance, while a direct line can be traced from today’s guitars all the way back to 15th & 16th century instruments like the vihuela & the baroque guitar, considerable changes have occurred even in terms of number of strings & general lay-out of the instrument. & while a number of people—including such influential players as Béla Fleck & Bob Carlin—have made a point of including the ngoni within the banjo world family, other researchers, like Shlomo Pestcoe have tended to downplay the connection between the banjo & the ngoni, seeing the ekonting as a much closer relative.

I have no basis for forming an opinion on this—I will say anecdotally that the playing technique of the ekonting, which is very similar to frailing, seems perhaps in some ways more “banjoistic” than the ngoni playing technique—yet that technique is not all that far removed from two-finger picking. I do know that Cheick Hamala Diabate told Bob Carlin all of his ngoni music “fits” on a banjo, & that seems a rather important statement in itself.

We have two videos for your listening & viewing pleasure: the first shows Malian musician Mama Sissoko improvising on the ngoni—it’s a beautiful piece of improvised music too!—while the second shows Cheick Hamala Diabate & Bob Carolin dueting on two banjos—Carlin is playing a Pete Ross Gourd Banjo in the frailing style, while Diabate is playing an open-back 5-string very much in the ngoni style.

Enjoy!

Raintown #1

2012-01-05T04:00:00.000-08:00

Raintown #1

watercolor gray white sky the
aerial tram swings into its 45 degree
descent towards the Willamette’s yellow barges—

a wheelchair the fogged glass a green
oxygen tank a cell phone—a child grasping
his mother’s shoulder—cyan blue

streetcar’s reflection in mirrored
plate glass windows, & mosses’ awkward
hand against a weeping birch’s trunk be-

low the streetcar’s electric wire—
green coffee cup half-filled on the
train perched by an empty purple seat—

the Willamette River viewed from the
Steel Bridge—impasto ripple
in oils running slate gray under the

Broadway Bridge— on the bus someone’s words
overheard, half understood—the
bare tree on the lawn surrounded by

slick brown leaves & hung with un-
gainly gold-blue-red holiday decorations:
you are not alone

Jack Hayes
© 2012

"Gas, Heat & Water Included"

2012-01-03T04:00:00.000-08:00

[Barbie Dockstader Angell paints a lovely word picture of “home” here—may she & we all have such a “concise” dwelling in which to play!]

Gas, Heat & Water Included

For Eben

Life is where you live.
Home is where you are.
Worth only what you give,
Known only from afar.
My life is pretty small,
Though I like to say “concise.”
But I guess I have it all,
and I must admit it’s nice.
It has a lot of windows;
a good view of all I see.
The ceilings have a star’s glow,
though it never rains on me.
The shelves hold all my thoughts
and loves that I once had,
but the memories they bought
never seem to make me sad.
The table in the kitchen
is where we share our minds.
The bathtub is for swimming
whenever we have time.
Somewhere in the hall
is where we leave our jokes,
though silent through it all
on little paper notes.
Life is where you live it
and mine has lots of stairs,
free from all the bullshit
built up through the years.
And when I’m feeling lonely
at the end of a long day,
Happiness will greet me
and always want to play.

Barbie Dockstader Angell
2009-present

Poor Boy Long Way From Home #8 – John Dudley

2012-01-02T11:51:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday, folks. It’s still Monday morning out here on the Left Coast (just barely) as this posts—so welcome to a much belated edition of the Monday Morning Blues.

We’re here with the next installment in the Poor Boy Blues series—there will be two installments this month, since there are five Mondays in January. & today’s version is one I really love: some wonderful slide playing by a musician known as John Dudley.

We know very little about him. The recording was made in 1959 by Alan Lomax during a visit to the notorious Parchman Farm prison in Mississippi. Dudley was working in the dairy section of the complex—the photo leading off the post shows Dudley in a prison uniform—he’s the man to the right of center. Lomax took two photos of him, & no other photographs exist. All in all, Dudley made the following recordings during the session: “Clarksdale Mill (2 takes)", "You Got a Mean Disposition","Big Road Blues", "Cool Drink of Water Blues (2 takes)", "Poor Boy Blues", "I'm Gonna Move To Kansas City," & an interview about "playing guitar at dances." You can hear an mp3 of his “Clarksdale Mill Blues” on the page I’ve linked for a biography. This song, a loose adaptation of Charlie Patton’s great “Moon Going Down,” is considered by some to be Dudley’s masterpiece.

Dudley came from Tunica County, Mississippi—also the birthplace of Robert Johnson, & one county to the north of Coahoma, where Clarksdale is located. Clarksdale is of course one of the centers of Delta blues music, & it’s notable that four of Dudley’s songs are adaptations—I think the term fits better than “cover,” which implies an attempt to make the song sound as much like the original as possible—& three of those are versions of Delta standards—in addition to “Clarksdale Mill Blues/Moon Goin’ Down,” there are also the two takes on Tommy Johnson songs, “Cool Drink of Water Blues” & “Big Road Blues.” Of course, the latter song has had such a history of adaptation in the Delta that folklorist David Evans wrote a book about it!

This music & two photographs are all we know about John Dudley—but it’s a legacy a man could be proud of, recorded under extremely adverse conditions. Hope you enjoy it.

Photo of the Week 1/1/12

2012-01-01T04:00:00.000-08:00

The Willamette River with the Boradway Bridge & the Fremont Bridge

Taken from a Max Train on the Steel Bridge

Portland, Oregon

Friday 12/30/11

"Epiphany Road"

2011-12-31T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Saturday, friends. I have something special for you today.

I’ve spun my wheels a bit on the creative front since the move to Portland. Not surprising, given all the circumstances of course. So I’m really pleased to bring you a recording of a new song composed by yours truly—it’s my first venture into composing instrumental music since the early summer of 2008, & a welcome return at that!

The song is called “Epiphany Road,” & I’m indebted to a dear cyber friend for both the title & the inspiration to compose the piece. That friend is Sandy Maxey, a brilliant person who I'm fortunate indeed to know thru Twitter. If any of you doubt that Twitter can be used to convey important information & indeed, both deep thought & observations, you clearly haven’t experienced what Sandy Maxey can do with the form. But more importantly—as in all friendships, whether in “3-D life” or in the “virtual” sphere—there has been a chance to share on a real level. For this, I have so much gratitude; & in the course of such a conversation, Sandy told me about a special place that she calls “Epiphany Road.”

The name stuck with me, & I began noodling on the guitar with that conversation in mind. This was the result—a humble piece given the amazing title, but one that I like. It’s played on my Gold Tone wood-bodied resonator guitar tuned to open D. It’s actually the first time I’ve ever come up with a song in an open tuning & I must admit it presents some challenges—it’s not as easy to rely on a string of extended chords to give some melodic interest for example.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the recording equipment I used to use at my disposal anymore. For the time being, I’m using an Olympus hand-held digital recorder—not a bad piece of equipment for what it is, but not up to the quality of the Boss workstation I’d been using. I do have a little Sony condenser mic, which is a big step up over the Olympus’ built-in, tho again, it’s not the same quality as the mics I used when recording in Idaho. The song is a single, “live” track.

So here is “Epiphany Road” for Sandy Maxey—& very much hope you all enjoy it too.

The photo isn’t a picture of the actual “Epiphany Road,” but rather of a road not far from where I grew up along the Saxtons River in Vermont. It seemed to fit on a few levels.

“You Can’t Stop Me From Dreaming”

2011-12-30T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hey everybody: time for Banjo Friday!

If you’ve been following along, you know that all month we’ve been featuring great bluegrass banjo players—& a good thing there were five Fridays this month, I must say. Still, you can only cover so much ground in the space of five posts, so I promise we’ll be featuring more bluegrass banjo in the New Year.

Today’s featured player is Ron Stewart, & what a talent this man possesses! In fact, if one were running a similar series of posts on great contemporary bluegrass fiddlers, Stewart would be deserving of a feature there too—he’s that strong of a double threat on banjo & fiddle. Of course Stewart also plays guitar, mandolin & bass too, but who’s counting!

Ron Stewart has worked with some of the top names in bluegrass music during a 30 plus year career that dates back to his youth—he played on a live album with Lester Flett when he was age 9; he spent a half dozen years playing fiddle with JD Crowe, & also played with the Lynn Morris Band & with Curly Seckler, as well as filling in with acts like Rhonda Vincent & the Lonesome River Band. As a first-call session musician, he’s appeared on scores of albums adding his fiery instrumental expertise. Stewart is currently the banjoist in the Dan Tyminski Band.

Lynn Morris, a certified bluegrass star in her own right, has said, "Ron Stewart has Flatt & Scruggs in his deepest roots, the feel of a Mississippi blues man in his soul, & the power of a lightning bolt in his touch."

We began this month’s series of bluegrass banjoists with the legendary Earl Scruggs (naturally), so it’s fitting that we bring it to a close with a contemporary version of a Scruggs’ classic, “You Can’t Stop Me From Dreaming.” Earl Scruggs played this as a banjo & bass duet with the Foggy Mountain Boys’ bassist, “Uncle Jake” Tullock. Leave it to Scruggs—always an innovator—to take a 1930s pop tune & give it full-on Scruggs picking treatment, but with a bass solo! “You Can’t Stop Me From Dreaming” is in fact not a “country” song at all, but a “standard” that’s been covered by the likes of Billie Holiday—& was introduced by Dick Powell, of Busby Berkeley musical fame!

Stewart brings his considerable banjo chops to bear on the tune & is joined to great effect by bassist Marshall Wilborn of the Lynn Morris Band & other top-flight bluegrass outfits.

It’s a rollicking good time—enjoy!

"A Letter From The Committee For the Advancement of Loss"

2011-12-29T04:00:00.000-08:00

[A big week for poetry here on Robert Frost's Banjo: today, another stunningly good poem by Brittany Newmark]

A Letter From The Committee For the Advancement of Loss

I am making a drawing of the world,
an analogy in ink dotted outlines

between that which is lost
by our own errant ways
and that which is torn from us
and that which recedes with time.

We will speak of these quietly in hushed tones,
that are leaned into.
It serves as a history lesson,
And that freight an uneven load.

As always, in my imagination
My lecture today begins
as my lecture yesterday began
and as I will begin tomorrow.
There in the repetition of what has been said—a long silence

Once it had everything to do with the chestnut trees
and a poplar wood, a tan pup
tucked under a blue woolen coat with horn buttons.

And I. Steinmetz, a star man
and stone cutter
Who traveled that great distance in a wooden cart

hidden beneath the straw bales.

Dreaming
in a codeine stupor
of ten thousand clocks and brass gears and enamel hands,

And later

licking the icicles beneath a truck’s chassis,
or were they hanging from the roof of a boxcar?
No matter they were cold and slick.

The thirst: a reminder, drink
you must drink.

The long always
winter on the back of the eyelids, specks of snow
the shadow of wolves

Like what the letter should have said:

Dear Mr X,

The committee has met and discussed the unfortunate situation that was your family.

We wish to thank you for your generous contribution to the world of loss. Their names should be blessed and you should be written in the Book of Life

Respectfully Yours,

The Committee For the Advancement of Loss

PS. We cannot await a reply.

Brittany Newmark
© 2011

"THE GRUMPIEST MAN"

2011-12-27T04:00:00.000-08:00

[L.E. Leone assures me that her poem "The Grumpiest Man" was essentially found by her on a random sheet of paper that was originally some sort of non-poetic school exercise. If so, we must congratulate her unerring poetic eye, as it's a truly delightful poem!]

THE GRUMPIEST MAN
(a found poem)

1. The man didn't like people.
He didn't like cats. He didn't
like dogs.

2. A man was working on the street.
He made a noise.

3. The little girl went to the store.
Her father told her she could have
a new game.

4. The little girl didn't get a game.
She saw some earmuffs that she
wanted.

5. The grumpiest man was happy when he
put on the earmuffs.

L.E. Leone
© 2001

Any Woman’s Blues #18 – Bonnie Raitt

2011-12-26T09:10:00.000-08:00

A happy Monday, friends. If you were celebrating Christmas yesterday, I hope your time was merry. If for any reason the merriness has worn off or worn thin, don’t worry: we’re here with the Monday Morning Blues! (Sorry it's a bit late.)

Today’s post is a special one indeed: the last post of the year in our Any Woman’s Blues series (I want to stress: this series definitely will continue in the new year)—& I saved a very special musician for the year’s end: Bonnie Raitt. Let’s face it, if you’re having a series about great blues guitarists who also happen to be women, you can’t overlook Bonnie Raitt.

Although Raitt may be best known to the general public for more commercial material that’s a step away from hardcore blues, her blues roots run deep. She began playing guitar at age 8—& in good blues tradition, her first guitar was a Stella. She also credits listening to the album Blues at Newport 1963 while in her early teens with piquing her interest in this style of music. While Raitt was a freshman at Radcliffe, she met blues promoter Dick Waterman, who handled such performers as Howlin’ Wolf, Son House, Sippie Wallace, Mississippi Fred McDowell & others. Raitt became friends with Waterman & thru him had a chance to perform with & learn from these veteran bluesmen. In particular, Raitt learned much about bottleneck slide playing from McDowell.

While at Radcliffe, Raitt had performed local coffeehouse gigs, but she left school in her third year to devote herself to music. At this point she was performing as an opening act for some major blues stars, & Warner Brothers signed her to a contract that led to her self-titled debut album in 1971. This was largely traditional blues, tho it did include a Stephen Stills song & two of her original compositions. From the very beginning, Raitt was able to present contemporary material in the mix with more traditional sounds.

Between 1972 & 1989, Raitt released eight other albums, generally to critical acclaim, & she won a solid fan base that was drawn to her great singing, guitar playing & strong material, both original & covers. However, none of these albums really “hit”—the highest chart position any reached was number 25 by Sweet Forgiveness in 1977.

This changed with the release of Nick of Time in 1989. Now on Capitol Records, Raitt worked with renowned producer Don Was, & the result was a number one record that won three Grammys—including album of the year—& went 5 times multi-platinum in the U.S. Raitt built on this success with a string of three more platinum albums, Luck of the Draw, Longing in their Hearts, & Fundamental.

Bonnie Raitt’s main guitar is a Fender Stratocaster, tho I have seen photos of her early in her career playing a Gibson ES-175 hollow body; & she also (as in the second video below) plays a Guild jumbo acoustic. Raitt is a masterful guitarist & slide player. One particular quirk—for lack of a better term—Raitt has is that she wears the slide on her middle finger. This is quite unusual; typically people use either the pinky or the ring finger, as either of these keep the more dextrous index & middle finger free for fretting the strings. While I can’t see any advantage in using the middle finger—& can see some distinct disadvantages to it—I have to say it doesn’t hurt Raitt’s playing at all! I’m only aware of one other guitar player who wears the slide on the middle finger, & that’s Joe Walsh. Again, it definitely doesn’t seem to handicap him!

Two videos today, as usual: the first is Raitt covering Elmore James’ “Coming Home,” while the second is her original composition, “Love Me Like a Man.”

Hope you enjoy them!

Photo of the Week 12/25/11

2011-12-25T04:00:00.000-08:00

Pigeons on the Wire

SE Gladstone St

Portland, Oregon

12/24/11

"Fairytale of New York"

2011-12-24T04:00:00.000-08:00

It’s Christmas Eve, friends, & I have a short post for you today, along with one of my favorite Christmans songs, one that never fails to bring a small tear to just one corner of my eye!

The song is of course the Pogues' great "Fairytale of New York" from their If I Should Fall From Grace with God album. The Pogues are without question one of my favorite bands ever, & the song seems so perfect for an aspect of the season: the dreams countered with disillusionment, all delivered with thrilling & heartbreaking voice by the great Shane MacGowan & the late, great Kristy McColl. Of course, the accompanying music is superb—the Pogues could really play!

But here we are, Christmas Eve! Whether or not a given Christmas season has seemed stressful to me due to obligations, financial worries, loneliness or any of the other myriad woes that can assail us this time of year, Christmas Eve has often seemed a peaceful & magical time. While I lived in San Francisco, I went on epic walks on Christmas Eve to watch the lights & ride the streetcars—back then you could ride the streetcars with a monthly Muni pass! In Idaho, I often performed music on Christmas Eve—usually in churches, which is odd I suppose, since I am a distinctly non-churchy fellow. But these & other, earlier rituals have always proved a balm to me.

This year I’ll be dining & visiting with friends this afternoon & evening: very grateful for that! People in Portland have been so generous in taking me in to their circles & helping me in so many ways as I've made a new life here in rather straitened circumstances. But all of you have been wonderful, & all my friends are near to my heart today.

& with that, I leave you to your holiday, with all my best wishes for a true Christmas of peace & goodwill. If you don’t celebrate Christmas, I wish you the happiest time in whatever festival you do celebrate to mark this season of passing from darkness to light.

Much merriness to you, friends!

“I’d Worship You”

2011-12-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

A happy Banjo Friday, friends! We’re back with a feature on another renowned bluegrass banjo picker & let me tell you: today’s video clip is short—but man, is it sweet—& it might just have some smoke coming out around the edges!

Sammy Shelor reportedly first learned banjo at age 4 on a homemade instrument that used a pressure cooker lid. Whether that’s true or not, it makes a good story, & it is definitely a fact that by age 10 he was performing on the banjo in bluegrass bands. His first full-time professional gig was with the Richmond, Virginia band Heights of Grass, which he joined at age 19 in the early 1980s. The Heights of Grass became the Virginia Squires, & when this group at last disbanded, Shelor joined the Lonesome River Band with Tim Austin, Ronny Bowman & Dan Tyminski. Their 1991 album on Rebel, Carrying the Tradition, proved to be a breakout hit for the band, & with Shelor at the core, the Lonesome River Band has continued as a top-notch bluegrass outfit to this day, tho with many personnel shifts—in fact, Shelor is the only remaining original member.

Shelor plays a hard driving style that has its basis very much in the roots of Scruggs picking. Still, he has made that prototypical bluegrass style very much his own & has added more than his share of licks to the bluegrass banjo repertoire. Shelor has won the International Bluegrass Music Association banjo player of the year award four times, & he was also a recipient of the 2011 Steve Martin Prize for Excellence in Banjo and Bluegrass (his connection with Steve Martin ought to endear him to one of our resident poets!); the Steve Martin Prize is picked by a panel including such luminaries as Martin himself (who is, in case you don’t know this, a fine banjo player in his own right), Earl Scruggs, Tony Trischka, Béla Fleck & others—a true honor when one is picked by such luminaries!

“I’d Worship You” is not in fact one of the many bluegrass gospel songs—it’s a high speed love lament originally popularized by the Stanley Brothers. Here the Lonesome River Band gives it a barn-burning rendition, with Shelor’s banjo pyrotechnics definitely starting several fires in the process!

Enjoy!

“Three Angels”

2011-12-22T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Thursday, kids! I’m checking in today with odds & ends, not to mention some Xmas Music for People Who Hate Xmas Music.

The holiday is really almost upon us of course, & I must say it’s been an odd one for me, living on my own after a number of years of sharing holiday traditions in a relationship. It’s lonely at times, tho mostly I consider myself fortunate—indeed, in a real sense of the word, blessed—to have so many dear friends with whom I can share the time, whether they’re friends here in Portland or friends scattered not only thru this country but in others as well.

The holiday has been simplified for me, that’s for sure. I bought exactly one gift, which was for my mom—95 & still maintaining back in Massachusetts. I did “splurge” on some Christmas cards, which I enjoyed sending & which helped me feel like I was acknowledging the holiday in a way that meant a lot to me—again, getting back to the friends who’ve so enriched my life.

Speaking of friends, some local friends loaned me the small tree that you see in the photo above, as well as the decorations. That also meant a lot to me—the tree is perfectly in scale with my celebration this year, & I enjoy it daily. As far as other holiday festivities go, I’ll be attending a Christmas Eve dinner party, which I’m really looking forward to—some great folks involved—including great cooks!—& have decided that I’m going to watch (for the umpteenth time, but who’s counting) Chaplin’s Modern Times on Christmas Day itself—one of my very favorite films. It sounds pretty nice to me.

I’ve loved today’s song for many years. Bob Dylan’s New Morning album has always struck me as a somewhat overlooked gem in his oeuvre; admittedly, “If Not For You” was a hit, but all in all, I think the album hasn’t received the attention it deserves. Songs like “Sign on the Window,” “Time Passes Slowly” & “Day of the Locusts” are really powerful compositions, both lyrically & musically, & the album has a definite sound—lots of piano on this one. While writing this post, I was looking thru the list of outtakes for New Morning—it’s quite long—& was fascinated to learn that Dylan recorded both “Yesterday” (yes, that “Yesterday”!) & “Ghost Riders in the Sky” for possible inclusion on the album! Wow.

Anyway, “Three Angels” is a beautiful recited piece—complete with the “angel chorus” at the end. I’ve never been sure whether I liked how he ended the song lyrically—it seems a bit pat to me—but the rest of the lyrics are very strong.

Robert Frost’s Banjo will have posts right up thru Christmas morning, so stay tuned for your holiday listening & reading pleasure.

Enjoy!

“No Vacancy”

2011-12-20T04:00:00.000-08:00

[It’s time once again for my favorite Chaplinesque Poet-in-Residence Barbie Dockstader Angell—a sad poem this week. Now it’s just a guess, but if you’ve enjoyed reading Barbie’s poems & seeing her art as much as I have, I think this would be a great week to stop & leave a comment telling her hello & thanks! I’ll start things off by saying: Thanks, my friend, for all you’ve brought to this blog—it’s a joy to work with you & to share your work!]

No Vacancy

I’ve taken down the sign.
Please don’t call here anymore.
The vacancy’s been filled.
Quit pounding on my door.

The ad’s no longer valid.
The space is not for rent.
My mind is quite made up.
I really won’t relent.

It’s true the place was nice,
at a rate you could afford.
Now please remove your foot
‘cause I’d like to close the door.

The room was fairly small,
but it grew in a short time
and you started occupying
too much space inside my mind.

And I’m not sure if you cared.
And the place was in a mess.
Feelings cluttered everywhere,
Confusing all the rest.

No one else has taken it,
the space inside my brain,
but it’s in no shape to rent now
‘cause it’s filling up with rain.

Barbie Dockstader Angell
© 2009-present

Martin Dreadnought's Got the Blues!

2011-12-19T07:13:00.000-08:00

It’s Monday—got here before I knew it, it seems! Here’s a slightly belated edition of the Monday Morning Blues!

Our monthly examination of famous blues guitars continues with what may seem at first an odd model to include. After all, while Martin dreadnoughts are highly prized guitars, but they are generally thought of as quintessential bluegrass & country instruments, & secondarily as prime rock/singer-songwriter acoustics. One doesn’t generally associate these large guitars with fingerstyle blues—& yet some great fingerstyle blues players have used them.

Although Martin produced dreadnought style guitars as early as 1916 for sale under the Oliver Ditson Company name, the first actual Martin brand dreadnoughts appeared in 1931. The guitar’s name refers to a large British battleship, the HMS Dreadnaught, & indeed, these guitars are large: the upper bout (the upper flare of the soundbox) measures 11-1/2 inches, while the lower bout measures 15-5/8; the body depth is 4-7/8 inches. This size gives the dreadnought a very “bassy” tone, & as such it’s an ideal rhythm guitar, able to define the underlying harmony & even being able to approximate the role of a bass if one doesn’t happen to be around! When dreadnoughts were first designed, the guitar neck met the body at the 12 fret—this was in fact standard for guitars at the time. The Martin Company made a significant innovation by building guitars on which the neck joined the body at the 14th fret, giving access to higher notes; from what I read, this innovation was particularly aimed at drawing in plectrum banjo players, who are used to much longer necks, at a time when the guitar was seriously beginning to supplant the banjo as a rhythm instrument. However, it’s generally considered that guitars on which the neck meets the body at the 12th fret have a superior tone, simply because the soundbox is longer, so Martin re-introduce the 12-fret neck models in 1967. While the 14-fret models are simply designated by the letter D followed by a number in the Martin classification system, the 12-fret models are designated D, followed by a number, followed by an S.

At least four noteworthy blues guitar players used Martin dreadnoughts: these were Brownie McGhee, whose main guitar was a D-18; & Elizabeth Cotten also played a D-18 along with other Martins & a Gibson jumbo. During the 1960s, Skip James played both Martin D-18s & D-28s, while RL Burnside played a D-28 for much of his acoustic material. So while the Martin dreadnought may not be a “classic” blues guitar like a Stella or National, it sure has found its way into the hands of some great players!

The two videos I included here illustrate that nicely. Brownie McGhee’s “Born & Livin’ with the Blues” is a great example of his clean, melodic & even jazzy playing (accompained as he so often was by the great Sonny Terry on harmonica & whoops), while Skip James’ version of “Devil Got My Woman” from the 1966 Newport Folk Festival is sheer brilliance. Perhaps James—one of the most skilled blues guitarists & singers going on even an average day—was particularly inspired by the presence of Howlin’ Wolf, Mississippi John Hurt & Son House: quite an audience! By the way, while McGhee is playing a D-18, I believe James is playing a D-28; I think I see binding on the guitar, which is found on that model.

Enjoy!

Photo of the Week 12/18/11

2011-12-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

Seasonal Window Display in the Light Bulb Store

N Failing Street, Portland, Oregon

Friday 12/16/11

"Dear Reader,"

2011-12-17T04:00:00.001-08:00

[Another poem from Brittany Newmark—fantastic, & a privilege to post]

Dear Reader,

Easy now, all I am going to do is talk

And not even say
One way
or the other that
The story does not end at the

Good-bye

Or the journey on a snowy evening alongside a vacant lot
in a city full of promise.

No doubt, I have read too much
into our lives,
the lives of our family,
our friends
the tables we gather around.

The light accumulates and settles into the recesses of the room
And never exposes us to one another.

Friends, I am sorry I can’t stay
It is late.

Where have I been?
To Indiana and New Hampshire
Jerusalem, Ohio
Texas, Virginia twice
Each place a promise

And lived well enough to call it a life
A glow aloft

I’ve carried infants in my gut,
my arms,
my heart still asleep
on my back
And been completely fulfilled by a fat fist no bigger than a baked roll
And clenched tight, alive.

A simple observation:
sunflowers growing in an open field always face east
And serve sometimes as the only compass
for the especially impoverished and misdirected.
The ones that notice such things
as the tilt of a thousand flowers.

Reader,
you know
(as well as I,
before I had the words for it you knew)

human hurt—
a water stain
and that in those future beds of straw & hair every kiss will taste like ash.

I promise to no longer be fool-hearted

I promise to no longer mistake the swing of
a girl’s hips
for some hint of melancholy

I promise to linger long enough to be taken
inside.

Brittany Newmark
© 2011

“Shuckin’ the Corn”

2011-12-16T04:00:00.000-08:00

A most merry Banjo Friday to you friends! Hope your day is off to a great start, & hope we can make it a little better with some fantastic banjo picking!

As regular readers know, this month the Banjo Friday series is looking at some of the stars of bluegrass style banjo playing—there are five Fridays this month, so we’ll be taking a look & a listen at five great banjoists who’ve made a big mark in the bluegrass field. In the interest of full disclosure, however, I should note that I don’t have anything like the background in bluegrass that I do in blues, old-time or jazz. As a result, this particular series has required a bit more research than other music writing here on the blog, simply because I have less experience with the music.

Now of course Earl Scruggs & Ralph Stanley were pretty much automatic choices. But following them there are several bluegrass banjo players who make music at an extraordinarily high level. The next one I picked for your listening pleasure is JD Crowe, a man who’s been making music of the very highest quality since the 1950s when he was barely 20 years old—in fact, his first recording with Jimmy Martin’s Sunny Mountain Boys was made in 1956, when he was still only 19 years old.

Martin’s band was a traditional bluegrass outfit, but Crowe began to experiment with other songs, rhythms & sounds than those heard in the traditional style—it’s interesting that one of Crowe’s early musical inspirations was Scotty Moore, Elvis Presley’s guitar player on his groundbreaking late 1950s recordings, & his original dream was to play electric guitar with Ernest Tubbs!

Instead, Crowe became one of the bandleaders who most influenced the changing sound of bluegrass music, & this was especially true with his band that formed in the 1970s, the New South. The 1975 album JD Crowe & the New South really healded a new era in the music; the album featured Tony Rice on guitar & lead vocal, Ricky Skaggs on mandolin & tenor vocal, Crowe on banjo, Bobby Slone on bass & fiddle, & Jerry Douglas on dobro—a line-up of future all stars. The New South has existed with various personnel changes over the years, but always with Crowe & his hard-driving & virtuosic banjo playing at the helm.

Today’s song features a slightly later version of the New South. Here Jimmy Gaudreau has taken over on mandolin & Keith Whitley on guitar, while Steve Bryant plays electric bass (!) & Bobby Slone plays fiddle, Crowe gives us three superb & smoking banjo solos in the space of two minutes!

Enjoy!

Joseph Spence is Coming to Town

2011-12-15T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Thursday folks! I’m here with another installment of the series Xmas Music for People Who Hate Xmas Music, & I changed the song title slightly so as not to scare away people that fall into that class. In fact, today’s selection is the great Joseph Spence’s singular interpretation of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

If you’ve never heard Joseph Spence, you are in for a major eye-opening. To my mind, he was one of the most inventive guitar players you will ever hear—& I’m not alone in that assessment. Ry Cooder famously proclaimed:

It started with Joseph Spence when I was a little kid. He was one of my all-time great inspirations. When he did those bass runs, I didn’t understand it. I was so mad all the time.

Other notable admirers of Spence include Taj Mahal, John Renbourn, Olu Daru & Woody Mann. In his all-too brief Allmusic biography, Mark A. Humphrey states, “he was a folk guitarist's Thelonious Monk,” & as a fan of both men’s music, I’d have to say that is a truly fruitful comparison.

Spence lived in his native Bahamas thru his entire life—born in 1910 & passed away in 1984. His guitar playing—which to the best of my knowledge was all done in the “drop D tuning” (meaning that the lowest sounding string is tuned down from an E to a D), is extremely intricate, featuring Cooder’s aforementioned bass runs acting as counterpoint to the melody & melodic improvisations on the guitar’s treble strings. Now it is true that Spence’s guitar is not “in tune” by Western standards—he didn’t tune to A=440 (which is the Euro-American standard for playing in tune), & even given that the base criteria for tuning is a bit off, there’s a slight but noticeable disjuncture in tuning between the bass & the treble strings, & especially involving the third string, which would be tuned to a G (G below middle C for those who care about such things.) However, one thing about Spence’s tuning that has been pointed out & confirmed: his tuning was always consistent. He didn’t tune this way because he was incapable of hearing the correct pitch, but because this was the correct pitch to him. In fact, the pitches that we use for notes in Euro-American tuning are dictated by equal temperament tuning, which essentially is a tuning that means you don’t have to re-tune an instrument every time you play in a different key (as was the case with earlier tuning systems.) In fact, equal temperament dictates that one has to “split the difference” on the pure mathematical proportions between notes, so in fact some intervals that we hear as correct, musicians from other cultures would hear as being “off.” This is especially true of the major third—i.e., the note “mi” in the do-re-mi” scale.

But enough for musical relativism! In addition to Spence’s rather amazing guitar playing, his singing is also unique—in fact, the casual listener may focus more on this idiosyncratic vocal style than anything else. In essence, the words of a song seem only of passing importance to Spence; instead he hums, does a sort of guttaral scatting & overall includes all manner of vocalized effects almost as another counterpoint to his guitar playing. Those of us who are older, remember the 60s expression “blow your mind.” Joseph Spence will, indeed, blow your mind.

You will never hear “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” like this, I promise. Enjoy!

"STOCK"

2011-12-13T04:00:00.000-08:00

[Our favorite Chicken Farmer Poet in Residence is taking stock, & not chicken stock neither! Another delightful dead-serious/comic romp with L.E. Leone!]

STOCK

Then it was time to stand back and take stock of my life. I had reached "the age." So I did, I stood back and took stock. I went outside, at night, in just a shabby sleeping gown, and stood on the sidewalk. If anyone asked, I would say that I was taking stock. Of my life!

A street person walked past. His face, set deep inside his oversized hood, was darker than night itself. In fact, he might have been death. “Aren’t you the one keeps chickens in an old RV?” he said, without even stopping to hear my answer—which would have been that I was not, I was the one who was taking stock of her life at three in the morning, in a shabby gown.

For distance I went to Paris, France. I don't speak French. My first morning there I met a fellow American who said, "Have you been to Paris before? This is my third time, although: it's the first time I’m spending real time here. The first two times I was more like passing through, touring Europe and such. But Paris is the one city in the world I always want to come back to. Except in winter." And he gave me a look that said, I know you know.

“Me,” I said, “I'm taking stock.”

“I think I understand,” he said.

“You do?”

“I think so,” he said.

For distance, I came back home.

L.E. Leone
© 2011

"Wild Cat Blues"

2011-12-12T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hey folks, it’s a musical Monday morning here on Robert Frost’s Banjo—this week’s edition of the Monday Morning Blues! We’re back with our monthly installment of the Jazz Me Blues series, which looks at (& listens to) various points where the blues & jazz genres meet.

When you’re talking about the great early jazz soloists, one of the first names that must come to mind—perhaps the first name after that of Louis Armstrong—is Sidney Bechet. In fact, if one looks at the recorded history, Bechet actually beat Armstrong to the punch with some of his 1923 sides with Clarence Williams’ Blues Five (a group that also featured Armstrong’s cornet playing.)

For those who may be less familiar with Bechet (whose name is usually pronounced buh-SHAY, tho it reportedly is pronounced BAH-shay by the family), he was born in New Orleans in 1897 to a Creole family. Sidney Bechet was a prodigy, first performing with his brother’s band at age six, & performed with such New Orleans luminaries as Bunk Johnson, King Oliver & Freddie Keppard in his teens, even touring as far north as Chicago. Sidney Bechet’s instruments were the clarinet & the soprano sax. In fact, prior to Coltrane, Bechet was probably the most noteworthy jazz performer on the latter instrument. Bechet’s style on both instruments was passionate, & he favored a broad vibrato tone—a characteristic that has made listeners tend to form strong opinions either favorable or unfavorable about his sound; but he most certainly made a huge mark on jazz history along the way.

“Wild Cat Blues” comes from a 1923 recording by Clarence Williams Blues Five made for Okeh. The band for the session was Sidney Bechet (soprano sax), Thomas Morris (cornet), John Maysfield (trombone), Clarence Williams (piano), & Buddy Christian (banjo). The song, which was composed by the great Thomas “Fats” Waller & Clarence Williams, isn’t technically a blues at all—it features four separate 16-bar patterns rather than the conventional 12-bar pattern of blues, & the structure owes more to formal rags. However that may be, "Wild Cat Blues" is a fine example of hot jazz, with the typical New Orleans polyphony forming a basis from which Bechet’s solo can soar up & away, & soar he does!

This ought to chase your blues away—enjoy!

Photo of the Week 12/11/11

2011-12-11T04:00:00.000-08:00

Mt Hood in the Distance, Portland South Waterfront in the Foreground

from the Observation Deck at Oregon Health & Science University

Friday 12/9/11

Nocturne

2011-12-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

Night, sporting her lover’s black sportcoat
—a few sizes too large at that—

arrived unlooked for & said: You knew I’d be back,
right?— her voice a traumatized snowdome—

always a small woman despite her sunglasses—white
smoke from her cigarette coalesced to lace curtains—

& those windows offered a vista on the lost
highway & headlights shining on poplar leaves—

green enamel dishwasher on casters in a dark hallway,
a linen closet, a metal frame twin bed, an orange crayon

the apple tree stunted by the fence’s corner
brace heaped white & gray with cold rocks—

a maple bannister, a red tin roof, a chrome guitar hushed
on a stand—everything in angles & hard—

no, I never was sure, I said—in black & white she
sat next to me on a red loveseat—it was all as if in a

silent movie—a movie that grinds to a close in a
smoking projector—lost highway—empty white farmhouse—

smoke—everything I wanted to believe right there in a
poem like a fistful of white pills—like

the redwinged blackbird’s trill from the wild apple—
the purple finches frenetic in a spring snow flurry—

which have morphed to stone silence & muted
sepia photographs on a gravel road in frozen fog—

ice crystals invading the lungs—breathe despite them—
she said: wake up, it’s time to go home—

Jack Hayes
© 2011

"Clinch Mountain Backstep"

2011-12-09T05:52:00.000-08:00

It’s another Banjo Friday, kids! A bit late, but none the worse for the wear.

This December on Banjo Friday we’ll be featuring some of the best bluegrass banjo pickers—an exciting series, but with only five Fridays & so many great bluegrass banjoists from which to choose making the selections is a bit of a challenge. However, just as Earl Scruggs was the obvious choice for the lead-off Friday, so I believe today’s featured artist, Ralph Stanley, is also a clear choice—a masterful player with a distinct style who has been as much a part of bluegrass history as Scruggs himself.

If you know your bluegrass history, you know that Ralph & Carter Stanely were the Stanley Brothers, performing with the Clinch Mountain Boys from 1946 until Carter’s death in 1966. Although Bill Monroe at one time claimed the Stanley Brothers were mere imitators of his bluegrass sound, to my ear I’ve always heard a harder, more old-time edge in the Stanley Brothers’ music, & as such the Stanley’s have always been among my favorites in the bluegrass field.

Certainly Ralph Stanley’s formidable banjo playing & powerful singing were a major part of the Stanley Brothers sound; Stanley’s strong, plaintive tenor voice almost defines the “high lonesome” in a bluegrass context for me, & his three-finger banjo playing is quite distinctive (Stanley also has played in the more old-time clawhammer & two-finger styles, but generally adheres to the bluegrass three-finger method.) A concise description of his playing style can be found on Wikipedia:

"Stanley style" is distinguished by incredibly fast "forward rolls," led by the index finger, sometimes in the higher registers utilizing a capo. In "Stanley Style", the rolls of the banjo are continuous, while being picked fairly close the bridge on the banjo, giving the tone of the instrument a very crisp, articulate snap to the strings as the player would strike them.

Although Carter’s untimely death ended the Stanley Brothers, Ralph Stanley has continued a solo career with the Clinch Mountain Boys as back-up almost until this day. Stanley is a member of the Bluegrass Hall of Fame, & has received a National Medal of Arts, as well as being named a Library of Congress Living Legend in 2007. From the early days with the Stanley Brothers right up thru his recording of “O Death” for the Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack (& beyond), Stanley has put an indelible mark on the bluegrass sound & on the US musical tradition.

In choosing a song to represent Ralph Stanley’s banjo playing, I was fortunate to find a clip of him playing “Clinch Mountain Backstep” solo on the old Pete Seeger Rainbow Quest TV show. “Clinch Mountain Backstep” is attributed to Stanley, & while it certainly contains a lot of traditional music, the song also is re-shaped by Ralph Stanley in such a way that he “makes it his own.” My only regret is that the clip isn’t longer.

I know you will enjoy this true bluegrass legend’s amazing banjo playing!

“Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis”

2011-12-08T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Thursday, friends! Hope the day is treating you well.

It is Christmas season isn’t it? Yes: December 8th, just two days past the Feast Day of St Nicholas, the Greek/Turkish Bishop who has somehow morphed into the red-cheeked & portly elf of unfettered capitalism.

Christmas is an odd season for those of us who live by the Christian calendar but are—like myself—agnostic/secular humanist or just more or less non-religious rabble. Because while the holiday is most certainly religious in origin, what it’s become in the States at least has very little religious content, but instead huge content related to “getting & spending,” to countless pleas to sentiment, to any number of “feel-good” stories from the blatant to the subliminal that seem to prime us for parting with significant amounts of money, while at the same time expecting our friends & family to do the same.

But make no mistake: while I may point this out, I’m as susceptible to the charms of the season as the next guy or gal. I’ve always enjoyed the decorations & all the small traditions that grow up in a life regarding this holiday: watching a certain movie, always including a certain dish for Christmas dinner, always buying a beloved partner a particular type of gift, & so forth. Most of us could compile a list.

& this list might include what may be the most pernicious aspect of theseason: the insistent holiday muzak track that assaults us in every single retail outlet, from grocery store to pharmacy to boutique & beyond. Now, I should note that I don’t necessarily dislike the songs themselves; after all, I’m a working musician (at least when there’s work to be had!), & I’ve played a good number of these songs myself—in general, this season is a good one for getting gigs whether for cash or at least “singing for your supper.” But the aerial bombardment of holiday muzak: this is truly pernicious.

In the past, I have posted holiday music on the blog, versions of holiday songs played by yours truly on various instruments. I toyed with doing that again this year, but I decided against it, in part because I decided I didn’t feel like adding to the soundtrack of holiday standards.

But then it occurred to me there’s something a bit strange—even phony in a way—for a blog that’s set-up like Robert Frost’s Banjo to pass the holiday season by without comment. In fact the Christmas season is very much on my mind, tho I expect my observation of it this year will be much different than in most past years. I’ll write more about that on the next two Thursdays. & at the same time I’ll post a song that is related to the season without being in any way part of the usual soundtrack.

Today’s song is—of course!—by the great Tom Waits from his amazing 1978 album Blue Valentines. While the song only mentions Christmas in its title, the litany of wishes, dreams, disappointments, losses & lies found in its lyrics seem to mesh perfectly with the season, as does Waits own compassionate if bemused view of the song’s prostitute narrator. The music meanwhile is vintage 70s late 70s Waits: beautiful jazz chords put forth thru a tasty piano accompaniment.

A great song in every way! Enjoy!

"Four-Thirty Thoughts"

2011-12-06T04:00:00.000-08:00

[A bit of a seasonal meditation from our favorite Rockstar Poet-in-Residence, as she contemplates craving & disappointment. Another lovely poem & drawing—enjoy!]

Four-Thirty Thoughts

I don’t really like the taste of food that much.
Not really.
Not the way I’ve seen other people truly enjoy it.
However, I do have one exception.
There is one taste that I spend 10 months waiting for,
and two months savoring.
Egg Nogg.
I crave it in April.
I crave it in June.
I crave it in the heat of summer and two days after
they’re out of it at the grocery store in January.
And in those two blissful months that Egg Nogg is
flowing like a breath stealing, cream-colored stream….
My thirst for it is insatiable.
It hit the stores yesterday.
I purchased my first half-gallon of the season
in a fevered state, and I could feel it slip down my throat
from the moment I reached for the carton.
I perused the dairy section for a full fifteen minutes
trying to decide which flavor to try first.
Because when Egg Nogg is an option, the selection of
styles is seemingly unending.
Lite, Traditional, Laesch, Kemp’s, Premium, and on and on.
I chose carefully.
This was not an impulse buy.
This was not a key chain or a lock de-icer.
This was, after all, Egg Nogg.
I left the store with all the eagerness of a twenty-one year old
purchasing his first legal bottle of booze.
And when I got home, I poured myself the perfect glass of my seasonal addiction.
But when I tasted it,
when all of the sweetness of it ran over my tongue,
I thought of you.
And I realized that maybe I was never meant to have
any of the sweeter things in life.
That maybe I shouldn’t set my heart on something
that I’ll only be able to have for a short time.
Because it only makes everything more difficult when
the Egg Nogg isn’t available anymore.
I dumped the rest of the glass down the sink.
And I left the carton in the fridge.
Maybe someone else will drink it.
Someone who won’t become as addicted to it.

Barbie Dockstader Angell.
© 2009

Poor Boy Long Way From Home #7 – John Fahey

2011-12-05T04:00:00.000-08:00

Monday morning, kids—you know what that means: time for the Monday Morning Blues on Robert Frost’s Banjo.

Today is our monthly visit to the song “Poor Boy Blues” in its many incarnations, & our feature today is unique in a few respects. First, it’s the only scheduled post in the series that doesn’t feature a vocal version of the song; second, there are two quite different versions of “Poor Boy” here, both played by the masterful John Fahey. The first video, a live recording from the late 1970s, features Fahey’s more or less original “Poor Boy Long Way From Home,” while the second video features Fahey’s instrumental take on Booker White’s “Poor Boy,” a version we explored in this post.

With this post, which marks chronologically Fahey’s 1958 recording of “Poor Boy” for the amateur Fonotone label under the pseudonym of Blind Thomas. The song was later re-issued on Fahey’s own Takoma label on his 1965 masterpiece, The Transfiguration of Blind Joe Death—Blind Joe Death being another of his musical alter egos.

Fahey’s appearance on our timeline marks an important point in blues history, since by the late 1950s blues was very much attracting the attention of white musicians & record collectors (sometimes, as in the case of Fahey, these two categories existed in the same person.) This was the time of the folk revival—Dave Van Ronk, like Fahey, a white musician who very much internalized much African-American music, also released his first Folkways album in 1959, & of course Bob Dylan’s first Columbia album—which included covers of old blues tunes such as Booker White’s “Fixin’ to Die”—was only a few years away.

Some things changed as the blues became subsumed by the folk revival—in all its permutations, which should be stressed, because Fahey was never a coffeehouse guitar picker in the stereotypical mode: he was arch, sophisticated & an adamant outsider right from the first. In addition to the music now being performed by people of European-American descent as well as African-American descent, two other big changes should be noted: first, at least prior to the British Invasion & Dylan going electric, the white musicians focused on an acoustic sound—they focused on it in their own playing & they also expected it in the playing of African American blues musicians. Elijah Wald in Escaping the Delta documents numerous stories about performers such as Brownie McGhee & Big Bill Broonzy who essentially led parallel performing lives during the revival: they played acoustic for the white folkie college crowd & electric when playing in African American communities.

The second change is that the blues came to be thought of more as primarily “guitar music” & thus less as primarily “vocal” music. To this day the work of people like Fahey, Stefan Grossman & others almost gives the impression that the old blues musicians were guitarists first & vocalists only incidentally. For instance, while I admire Grossman as a player, composer & teacher, if one looks at some of his instruction books it looks as if he’s teaching instrumental pieces, whereas the guitar parts played on recordings by the old “country blues” players were accompaniments, however sophisticated they might be.

Fahey is a bit of a special case here, because in addition to being an extraordinarily talented guitarist, he was also a formidable composer who essentially brought together elements of old country blues playing with elements of modern classical music. His compositions have been as innovative & inventive as the titles he gave them (“The Dance Of The Inhabitants Of The Invisible City Of Bladensburg” for example), using open tunings & ideas from far flung sources to put together a remarkable body of original work.

Fahey is not as well known to the general music listening public as he should be, not by any stretch. His career was marked with personal difficulties: alcoholism, Epstein-Barr Syndrome, even such extreme poverty at one point that he was forced to pawn his guitars. He died at age 61 in 2001, far too young. His music is still played tho—it’s a delight & a challenge to many of us guitarists!

Hope you enjoy the amazing John Fahey’s two versions of “Poor Boy”!

The Land of Nod

2011-12-04T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Sunday, friends. Apologies to fans of the long-running Photo of the Week series—the way this week went down, I simply don't have a photo for the blog. What I do have is a new poem! & I'm pretty excited about that, because the last poem I wrote prior to dates back to early May. This new poem—#4 in the following sequence—was written yesterday. Since the other poems in the sequence appeared on the blog back in the spring, I'm taking the liberty of posting the sequence as it now stands for the sake of context. Hope you enjoy them!

The Land of Nod #1

nighttime busy as a ship the stars frozen the
radio signals crackling along a north wind an
orange teddy bear ditched beside the highway in

April—in the middle of life under a eucalyptus—
you must excise all the connections—in the middle
of life in a sodium light spotlight, the moon’s

fingernail, the porch on Myrtle Street its
chipped paint railing & clothesline—nighttime busy as
a semi truck on a 6% grade a sheet of

particle board a toy cat’s porcelain
face with inscrutable grin, in a sepia photograph a
gin bottle in the mirror—in the middle

of life on interstate 70 west of St Louis the gas tank
leaking—a rope hammock above the
blue blue crocuses its dreams decomposing:

there was a guitar with f-holes an
N-scale train depot, a wind-up toy duck
dressed like a clown on a trike but

wound down—a fire escape in green streetlight glow—
nighttime busy as a ship off the Oregon coast a
frozen light in blackness between dreams

The Land of Nod #2

the molecules congeal the molecules dis-
sipate, The Seven Samurai black-white-gray on TV in
a Bozeman Comfort Inn—you’re learning exhaustion’s alphabet

one cup of coffee at a time—steam from a Vicks vaporizer—
another Silver Surfer comic book, magenta &
gray splayed across a card table’s diamond veneer in-

lay—you are floating between your body’s past &
what’s to come several inches above a green
upholstered sofa, the molecules

congeal the molecules dissipate—a spiral
notebook covered with doodles of your name &
geometry’s leftovers—a grandfather clock with wooden

gears & lead weight—you are floating between
solid & air like a bright yellow school bus
in November flurries—short of breath in an Astoria

courtyard in March drizzle—an oxygen concentrator’s
lugubrious sigh in murky hours—an
espresso machine huffing between the poem’s

syllables on Valencia Street on an evening pungent as
licorice—you are learning exhaustion’s alphabet
floating gray between your body’s dimensions

The Land of Nod #3

fractured sunlight in a strange
land helter-skeltered in yellow wind:
black umbrella, white paper box kite, a

fistful of goldenrod, an email arriving thru
ether any given Sunday—an array of
things that may in fact be hopeless: a

pink inflatable Easter bunny nodding in yellowish
breeze beneath a pine beside the highway—
where are you going—fractured sunlight

a plate of toast, the the silver-yellow
clouds to the east, the lies you told yourself—
an array of things: a packet of Carter Hall

pipe tobacco—you are always awake—
laundry shaking on a rope clothesline in
yellow gusts & lies you tell yourself a-

mong thin air & fragments—anxious
rib cage, a box kite’s pine frame
snapping when you don’t let it go

Land of Nod #4

a good place to be from—dead
cottonwood the century rose climbs—
are you in a good place now—a

dogwood in traumatic blossom a-
cross the street from the ER—fear as-
cending rhythmic in work boots on stair treads—dead

cottonwood the century rose thorns in-
crementalize—a hospital gurney within gray branches—
a good place to be from—

green-yellow godawful
streetlights buzzing the scale of trauma’s
shining increments—a good place:

gray dead cottonwood treetop—an in-
cremental century rose—a night
without steps climbing up to it

Jack Hayes
© 2011

"Hepatitis"

2011-12-03T04:00:00.000-08:00

[Our somewhat less mysterious Mystery Poet in Residence has kindly agreed to let me post some of her new poems here, & to say the least, I'm jazzed. Brittany Newmark is a stunningly good poet. You will see why I say this here.]

Hepatitis

We all have our own acre of pain
The heat, the bilirubin rising.

Tonight, the feverish body is braille
Under the finger tips
And the swelling smooth and
Warm like a polished stone.

The mystics cure hepatitis by tying live pigeons to the stomach,
After they quiver and die under the leather straps.

You rise
Cured
The world begins again sans jaundiced eye.
The mystics can see to the other end of the world
And everything they see, they know.
While we just diddle around.

The consolation is that we can wait in the ante-
chamber and let Maria Callas pour in from speakers,
and outside the violet sky spreads an ink spill.

In the distance the machines of the world grind glass
and metal conducts particles like musical notes
In some future Opera—of how the world works.

Tonight, nothing extraordinary will happen
not to us at least.
Our lives will be unchanged,
Except the feverish mind can wander
the eyes hot in their sockets see halos around
all the objects in the room, lose their edges and definition and the wall becomes a
Rothko of color.

What if every face you pass on the street
wears the veil of pain, not just a weary countenance,
and every voice hollow at the other
end of the call is asking to be healed?

On their behalf
I could make a tally: the greatest lies ever told?
The check is in the mail
Doing it like this you can’t get pregnant
Arbeit Macht Frei

It’s all conjecture and conjured up
from that remote sad outpost of:
Once there was
like that memory: you were nine and the Goldman’s green Dodge was first base and the sewer grate second and home plate was only imagined
and distant
as the older boys that came racing around the slope and the dogs
began that twilight bark at the ends of their chains.

And when you reach that place, a plateau, you will be free in retrospect,
there, where the river moved slowly through town.

As a student you learned under the electric tube of lights that
hummed like bees,

and sounded the same as the
hive that Samson saw in the lion’s rib cage.
He took something brutal from that image
And then later knew to set the foxes’ tails on fire.
And the fields, they burned.

Tabula rasa.
I can put the two-pronged question out
Is a fable pulled taut
A truth or is it just
another stab at it?

The mystics know tightening the straps
That the pigeons’ honeyed voices and crushed wings cure jaundice

Always,
something else needs to quiver and die for us to be cured.
Recognize that.

What does it matter now?
there are the letters that were never sent
and more that never arrived.

In our dark history guards rolled cigarette from pages of Talmud,
Some of the words could have been worked
into great volumes of the future.
All poems after all are transcribed by
ghost writers and etched into the open palms.
A cataract, a clavicle,
The deep blue endless reality—not giving a shit.

The fabulist realizes: you cannot see what there is not there to see
Like a tattoo on the child’s bones.

Brittany Newmark

Salty Dog Blues (& More!)

2011-12-02T04:00:00.000-08:00

A happy Banjo Friday, folks! There’s some great music today, so let’s get down to business.

Over the past couple of months on Banjo Friday we’ve looked at some less well-known types of banjos & banjo type instruments, & we’ve also looked at the regular 5-string banjo being used to make some types of music not usually associated with the instrument. As a result, we’ve gotten quite far from the type of old-time banjo picking that I like best of all. Fact is, when I sit down to listen to banjo music, it’s most likely to be players (& singers) like Dock Boggs, Clarence Ashely, Bascom Lamar Lunsford & others of that earlier generation.

But let’s face it: although that’s my personal preference, the average person doesn’t hear those weird old modal sounds so much when thinking about banjo music. No—what they hear is bluegrass banjo, an exciting & virtuosic style that wouldn’t exist in its current incarnation without the huge contribution of one man—Earl Scruggs.

With the exception of Bill Monroe (with whom Scruggs played in the 1940s), no one person has done more to create the sound that we call bluegrass music. Others have made huge contributions of course (including Lester Flatt, Earl’s partner both in Monroe’s Blue Grass Boys & later in Flatt & Scruggs)—but Monroe’s singing style & Scruggs’ banjo style were truly formative.

Scruggs Picking or Scruggs Style is a so-called “3-finger” style of banjo playing. While many old-time banjoists would use one finger & the thumb (or one finger’s nail & the thumb) in so-called 2-finger & frailing styles, 3-finger playing uses the thumb, index & middle fingers to pluck the strings. In Scruggs Style, the banjoist always wears fingerpicks & thumbpicks on these digits, while the pinky & ring finger brace against the banjo head for stability. The three fingers then execute “rolls”—arpeggiated patterns that very often feature syncopation, or a shift in accent to the offbeats.

I should note that Scruggs was not the first player by any means to use a 3-finger style. Old-timers like Dock Boggs, Charlie Poole & George Pegram all used 3-fingers frequently in their playing, & the great Uncle Dave Macon would actually switch between clawhammer playing & 3-finger style within a given song! But Scruggs Style differs quite a bit in technique & sound from what these musicians & other early 3-finger style players produced. Those who are interested can find a further explanation & both notated music & banjo tablature here.

“Salty Dog Blues” is simply a great song, & the fact that we get to listen to Scruggs pick a short but sweet version of his “Flint Hill Special” just adds to the enjoyment. I like this video also because it gives a pretty fair view of Scruggs right hand, so you get to not only hear but actually see Scruggs Style playing from the man himself.

This month will be all bluegrass here on Banjo Friday, so if that’s the banjo style you like best, there are some more great tunes to come! In the meantime, I know you’ll enjoy this!

I Feel Like Going Home

2011-12-01T10:15:00.000-08:00

The new Robert Frost's Banjo Central

Hello friends, & welcome to Thursday! Also—especially for those of you who don’t know me thru other forms of social media—welcome to my new home!

Bay window with donated easy chair & rocking chair!

Yes, it’s a bit of a virtual housewarming as today’s post takes you on a tour thru the new Robert Frost’s Banjo Central. If you’ve been following along here, you know that I’ve been looking for a place of my own since moving to Portland on August 5th; as of this past Saturday, that search reached its end when—with much help from various friends!—all of my earthly belongings were transported across town to my new digs in northeast Portland.

Living Room w/beloved Harmony archtop

More guitars, with couch & dining area!

Come on in my kitchen

& what would a party be without music, right? So I picked two different songs that share the same title: “I Feel Like Going Home.” The more upbeat number is the Muddy Waters’ tune, a 1948 recording featuring his slide guitar work on yet another re-working of the Delta classic “My Black Mama/Walking Blues.” But Waters sure makes the setting his own with a beautiful slide part & his soulful vocal.

The eponymous banjo & other musical instruments-Chaplin & Bow prints by blogger artist Kate Gabrielle!

In fact, both of the songs feature truly great singers. The second “I Feel Like Going Home” is by Charlie Rich—& as Tom Waits said in an inspired rhyme, “he sure can sing, that son-of-a-bitch.” The Rich song is sad, resigned—& while finding a place to call home has been a joy for me, I included this song because there’s sadness about this new chapter of my life as well—& a good deal of introspection & considering all the changes of the past several months.

"CARMELLO"

2011-11-29T04:00:00.000-08:00

[L.E. Leone is never afraid to tackle the big questions in short poems—one of the many reasons we love her & her work both! Enjoy!]

CARMELLO

Apple falls exactly under
the apple tree, rolls a little
Stops.
Bees get into it.

You see a rotten apple, danger
dead dog, and say, “Amen.”
I see the light, a future tree,
and say, “Shit.”

Man, what’s the difference?

L.E. Leone
© 2011

Any Womans Blues #17 – Ruthie Foster

2011-11-27T04:00:00.001-08:00

A happy Monday to you, friends! The Monday Morning Blues are coming down here, so get ready for some great tunes.

Yes, it’s time for the monthly installment of the Any Woman’s Blues series, our own tribute to women blues guitar-slingers, & this month’s featured performer is truly electrifying. Ruthie Foster is probably thought of first & foremost as a singer, but she accompanies herself on guitar, & does so very well indeed. After all, for all that we think of many of the classic bluesmen as guitarists first, blues was historically vocal music—the notion of the blues as a vehicle for guitar pyrotechnics & virtousoic extended solos more or less came into the genre when it hybridized with rock. The genius of the country blues guitarists was not in their solos, but in their ability to accompany themselves in effective ways—the ability to build riffs & call & response that was the basis for so much playing that’s heard on early recordings. Of course, early recordings were restricted to a three minute format, & it’s quite possible that in actual performance there was a lot more soling. Still, when we read accounts of no less a blues personage than Charlie Patton, we learn that often when playing extended pieces for dances he would use the guitar essentially as a drum, beating out a rhythm on the soundboard to stretch out the music.

In any case, Ruthie Foster for my money most definitely belongs in this series. Of course, as a vocalist, she is nonpareil—her singing has been compared to that of both Ella Fitzgerald & Aretha Franklin, & in this case you can believe the hype—except as you will hear, Foster has a passion & power that’s completely her own.

Foster grew up in Texas in a family of gospel singers. She studied music McLennan Community College, did a stint in the Navy, & then in the 1990s began a performing career—including a recording contract with Atlantic—that was put on hold for a few years when she took time to care for her mother in her last illness. However, since the release of Full Circle in 1997, Foster has gone on to win acclaim as a performer, including the Blues Music Award as Best Traditional Blues Female Artist & the Blues Foundation’s Contemporary Blues Female Artist of the Year, both in 2010; Foster has also released at least eight other albums, with the most recent being Live at Antone in 2011 on Blue Corn Music.

Ruthie Foster keeps up a busy touring schedule, & if she’s in your area, make a point to check here out—you can find out her tour dates here. In the meantime, please enjoy these two great numbers—I know you will!

Photo of the Week 11/27/11

2011-11-27T04:00:00.000-08:00

Apartment Interior

Mississippi Neighborhood

Portland, Oregon

Monday 11/21/11

Home!

2011-11-26T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Saturday, friends! For those of you who haven’t yet gotten the news: I’m moving into my new apartment today.

Once things are starting to look home-like inside I’ll post some more interior pictures; in the meantime, here are a few of the unadorned space & environs, along with a big thank all of you who’ve been so encouraging here, on other online venues & in 3-D life! This has been a major adventure, with a number of highs & lows—as adventures are wont to have—& all the support I’ve received from folks in both the cyber & 3-D realms has meant a lot to me.

Given the strain on resources & the social service funding cuts here in the States, I consider myself extremely fortunate to have found housing I can afford in a span of less than four months. Section 8, which allows low income/fixed income renters to get assistance with qualified units on the open market, is closed in Portland & many US cities due to funding cuts; that was a strike against me, because two rental possibilities came up early on that would have worked had Section 8 been available to me. A number of units also are available—theoretically, at least—where the rent is 30% of the person/family’s income. These are designated, of course, for low income people, including seniors & the disabled (I am in low income bracket, & also disabled; & by some definitions also a “senior,” since some properties class anyone 55 & up in that category.) This was the type of housing I wanted most to obtain, since it would have been the most affordable; unfortunately, the waiting lists for most of those units are closed in Portland (& other US cities), due to high demand. When the waiting lists are open, the wait time is typically years, not months.

My new place is for low income residents, tho within the complex itself there is some range in income—units vary in their cost depending on where the person or family’s income falls in relation to the median area income. I was extremely fortunate that one of the lowest priced units was available when my turn on the waiting list came up. Tho things will be tight, it is a rent that I can sustain with a very “no frills” lifestyle.

The complex has a lot going for it—everything’s on the “ground floor,” including the laundry facilities. This is important to me, because with COPD, stairs are not my friend! The apartment itself is very trim & well maintained, & the grounds seem pleasant & well kept (even in the Portland November rain.) I also like the fact that the complex has a mixed population—families & younger people, as well as banged-up old codgers like me!

One practical note in terms of the blog: I wasn’t able to schedule the wireless hook-up until Monday morning. As of this time I don’t anticipate any off-days; I’m expecting that I’ll be able to get the Photo of the Week & Monday Morning Blues features scheduled ahead of time. However, I may not be able to moderate comments using my phone, which will be the only ‘net access I have between Friday evening & Monday morning.

Thanks again, & hope you enjoy your weekend!

Beatles on the Banjo

2011-11-25T04:00:00.000-08:00

A happy Banjo Friday, friends! If you’re one of our Stateside readers, sure hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving day—I can attest that I certainly did, with lots of good food topped off by the best jam of all: a music jam, & one that included some banjo playing by yours truly along with the standard guitar fare.

This month we’ve been listening to the banjo in unusual musical environments, & today’s video is no exception. When I heard Tony Trischka medley “Ticket To Ride,” “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds,” “Drive My Car” & “Lady Madonna,” I knew this would be a fun way to wrap up the month, & a nice light-hearted post to come down off the Thanksgiving holiday.

If you’re not familiar with Tony Trischka’s work, it must be said that he is one of the best five-string banjo players going, & has also been influential as a teacher—Béla Fleck was one of his students!—who has produced a lot of instructional material, in both book & dvd form, & who now heads up the online Tony Trischka School of Banjo. But Trischka also has had a long & successful performing & recording career as a session player, solo artist & performer with bands like Country Cooking, Country Granola & Skyline. He has also been involved as a producer, & in fact was in charge of production of Rounder’s fun & successful 2011 Rare Bird Alert album featuring Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin, who can play some banjo!) & the Steep Canyon Rangers. Coincidentally, you can read an excellent review of Rare Bird Alert by Robert Frost’s Banjo’s Rockstar Poet, Barbie Dockstader Angell, here.

Trischka’s playing style is based on bluegrass techniques, but like Bill Keith & Fleck, he takes these techniques to whole new places. As an aside, I was fascinated to learn that Trischka first became interested in playing the banjo not by listening to Earl Scruggs or Ralph Stanley, but by hearing the Kingston Trio play “Charlie on the MTA!” The song does have a fun banjo part!

OK, folks: it’s late on Thursday evening, & my computer has already crashed once, taking much of the original version of this post with it. So let’s say: hope you enjoy the music—I know you will!

"I Forgot...."

2011-11-22T04:00:00.000-08:00

[I doubt that Barbie Dockstader Angell is ever really at a loss for words, but her persona claims to be here; a lovely, bittersweet poem from our favorite Rockstar-Poet-in-Residence!]

I Forgot….

I forgot who I was for a moment
And what I wanted to say,
But I’m certain that it was important.
The one thing so you’d want to stay.

Just look on the floor all around you.
Just check on the stairs and the ground.
‘Cause I know when you hear all about it,
You’ll be happy that I’m still around.

I remember the feelings you gave me.
They’re safe in my cigarette pack.
They’re the paste that’s holding my dreams.
I’m afraid that I can’t give them back.

I’ve misplaced the words that I wanted.
They’re the reason that I want to smile.
So search out the places around you.
I’m sure that I’ll be worth your while.

I forgot who I was for a moment.
I forgot who I wanted to be.
If you find that one phrase that I’m missing,
Please remember that it was from me.

Barbie Dockstader Angell
© 2009-present

[This will be the last post before Thanksgiving, so a very joyful holiday to all of our U.S. friends. See you on Friday—but please take a moment to say "hey" to Barbie Angell, our favorite Rockstar-Poet-in-Residence, in the comments!]

On the Trail of the Gibson L-1

2011-11-21T04:00:00.000-08:00

It’s the Monday Morning Blues here on Robert Frost’s Banjo—in case you can’t hardly find your Monday morning shoes.

If you’re a regular follower of this series, you know that once a month we check in on one of the renowned guitar models that have helped shape the blues sound we know; & today’s model is a truly beautiful guitar that was played by a number of blues musicians—including one who has attained such a stature that if he’d been the only guitarist to play this instrument, it would still deserve to be included in the series. That one musician is Robert Johnson, & that guitar is the Gibson L-1. See pic below for famous studio portrait with the guitar in question, & pic above for a beautiful if well used 1928 L-1.

I should point out that Johnson was joined in using the Gibson L-1 by other well known blues players, including Scrapper Blackwell & Big Joe Williams, tho in those cases they are much more associated with other guitars (a National Triolian & various deformed Harmonys respectively). & some less well-known blues players used this—like Johnson—as their main instrument; these include John Henry Barbee, Bill Williams & Clifford Gibson (see second video below.)

As I understand it, Johnson played other guitars as well. His sometime playing & traveling partner Johnny Shines claimed he played a Kalamazoo, which guitar aficionados will know was a less expensive Gibson subsidiary—however, I had the pleasure of playing an old Kalamazoo in a guitar shop here in Portland, & I can tell you they are beautiful playing & sounding guitars! There apparently also is a rumor that he played a 7-string brass-bodied National—the high E string was reputedly doubled to increase volume! By the way, the site at that last link has been a major source in this whole series. I should also point out that—as far as I know—there's no definite proof Johnson used the guitar from the studio portrait when he made his recordings. But the consensus seems to be that the L-1 was his main instrument.

Depending on the condition, a Gibson L-1 from the series manufactured between 1926 & 1937 would cost you anywhere from $4,000 to $4,500 & up on the vintage guitar market. Those figures are based on 2009 estimates, by the way, & th guitars appreciate at about 5% per year! While I can’t readily find an original list price for the L-1, I can tell you that the very similar, if somewhat less fancy L-00 retailed for $25.00 around 1930. If we round that up to $30 for its somewhat more ornate sibling the L-1, we find that such a guitar would have cost the equivalent of $387.95 in 2010 dollars. Now, this is the price of a decent student model guitar these days: you can find some Recording King & Blueridge models in this price range, as well as several other very serviceable brands. Meanwhile, a new Gibson L-1 (Gibson reintroduced the line in ) retails for $2,100 & up—the actual list price is closer to $2,800.

Robert Johnson recorded 29 songs in his short lifetime, so of course there are 29 great choices for a video to illustrate here! I chose “Malted Milk,” which features some characteristic riffs but isn’t one of his better known pieces—I love it myself! & I’ve included Clifford Gibson & his L-1 telling us about “Blues Without a Dime” (recorded for Victor in 1929.)

Enjoy!

Photo of the Week 11/6/11

2011-11-20T04:00:00.000-08:00

Street Art

N. Mississippi Ave

Portland, Oregon

Monday 11/14/11

I’m a Stranger Here

2011-11-19T08:54:00.000-08:00

For those folks who don’t interact with me on other social media sites, & hence to whom this still will be news: I have the apartment. As of Monday, I will be in possession of a place of my own. It’s an exciting prospect.

The actual move won’t happen until after Thanksgiving for logistical reasons, but by this time next week (or a bit later in the day!), I will be living on my own, in my own digs, for the first time since I lived in San Francisco in 1998. That seems like a lifetime ago….

But for all the sense of excitement, I’ve found myself subject to melancholy since yesterday. Part of that is simply exhaustion: I had a long day of medical appointments on Friday, leaving the house at 8:30 & not getting back until close to 5:00—these were all routine by the way, so no worries on that front. But it was draining; & today I meet with my uke student in the town of Milwaukie, which is almost a sort of Planes, Trains & Automobiles venture—actually, just substitute “bus” for planes” & you have it. So no rest for the weary. At least when I have my new place, new students will be coming to me!

In addition, there’s stress associated with finding a place, as potentially liberating as it is. Indeed, my expenses while staying with friends have been limited, & the rent I’ve been paying is itself over $100 less than what I’ll be paying for my own apartment. The only downside of finding the place relatively quickly is that I didn’t have time to build up much of a reserve. But there was no question of not walking into this opportunity, even tho from a financial viewpoint it is going to be difficult.

& it’s difficult too from the perspective that this move brings an even more conclusive finality to the end of my relationship with Eberle as it existed in the past. While we remain friends & friendly, there’s a distance that often seems far greater than 434 miles. But that’s the reality of things.

Finally, I’ve been living in the lap of luxury here in many ways—I have daily friendly companionship, great food, even lovely pets with I can interact. I’ve entered into routines that are integrated with this part of town—the bus routes, the stores, the walks & so forth. These are just now becoming familiar, & are about to change.

So, from the perspective of the blues driving blues away, here’s a little Ramblin’ Jack Elliott with the great old song, “New Stranger Blues.” It does sum up something of what I’m feeling—but don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be back to my usual “sunshine self” soon!

Hope you’re having a great Saturday; if not, hope Ramblin’ Jack lifts your spirits!

“Captain”

2011-11-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Banjo Friday, folks! Things are all a-bustle here around Robert Frost’s Banjo Central, & I have a busy day ahead of me—so apologies in advance in comments aren’t moderated in a timely fashion! More news in the near future, tho I can tell you that today’s specific bustle has to do with more mundane matters than apartments.

Fortunately, I do have another entry in this month’s series on the banjo in unusual musical contexts that I think you’ll enjoy a lot! This features banjoist/composer/singer Abigail Washburn & the other three members of the Sparrow Quartet: Béla Fleck (also on banjo, of course), Casey Driessen (violin), & Ben Sollee (cello). The Sparrow Quartet released one album, a self-titled collection, in 2008 on the Nettwerk label.

Since last week’s post featured Fleck’s work, today I want to focus on Abigail Washburn. While Washburn is not a virtuosic player in the sense that Fleck is, she is a musical force to be reckoned with: a talented composer & someone who has been able in her songwriting & arranging to bring together very disparate elements into an always intriguing sound. & she is a very good banjoist at that. While she is usually thought of as a clawhammer style player (& that is the style she employs in her part on today’s selection, “Captain”), she also plays fingerstyle—not really the 2-finger Scruggs style that Fleck & Bill Keith use as a starting point, but something a bit more like guitar fingerstyle playing.

Washburn first developed an interest in the banjo when living in China during the 1990s—she had a family connection to that country & was considering becoming a lawyer & practicing law there. The banjo apparently served as a bridge for her between the cultures, but despite exploring the banjo—& also some gigging experience in the past as a back-up singer—she didn’t pursue music professionally until later when she was working as an activist in Vermont.

Washburn has brought the banjo into any number of unusual music contexts—the Sparrow Quartet explored Chinese melodies, avant-garde sounds & a fascinating combination of improvisation & “string quartet” settings to create a really singular kind of music. Washburn also spent several years with the old-time band Uncle Earl, & has since gone on to continue her innovation by heading up a recording project that produced City of Refuge on the New Rounder label. Here continues her innovative sound, mixing elements of old-time music, World music, pop & much more to create a unique singer-songwriter song: a singer-songwriter not wielding a 6-string, but playing clawhammer banjo, with various backing configurations.

Hope you enjoy this exciting performer & the formidable Sparrow Quartet!

Home?

2011-11-17T04:00:00.000-08:00

A happy Thursday, friends. I’m writing this on a rather wet & gloomy Portland Wednesday afternoon, but I do have some further news on the possibility of a place to live—I hasten to add, however: nothing definite yet.

But good news all in all. On Monday I traveled across town to the Maya Angelou Apartments in the Northeast/North section of the city, met with the manager of the apartment complex, which takes up an entire city block!—filled out more paperwork, & had the pleasure of hanging out at the local Social Security office to get a copy of a paper I’d misplaced—actually, the latter experience was not that bad: the line wasn’t too long (perhaps a factor of the downpour happening outside!) I think the meeting went well, & the manager told me her process would take a week or less. If all goes well, I should have a place of my own—possibly as early as next week! You can see the complex in the lead-off photo.

N Mississippi Ave - Gumbo Gifts & Gallery

In terms of geography, Portlanders I talk to seem firmly conviced that the address is Northeast, but the streets are actually prefixed with North, so go figure! As I’ve mentioned in the past, Portland is divided into quadrants: northeast/southeast/northwest/southwest, with the east-west dividing line being the Willamette River & the north-south dividing line being Burnside Street. But it's not really quadrants, because there’s also North—still Portland proper, but given its own geographic designation—it’s sometimes called “the fifth quadrant.” As far as I can determine, streets that are west of Williams Avenue are more often than not designated as “North,” but this isn’t a hard & fast rule. Fact is, until you get way up by the Columbia River (which marks the boundary between Oregon & Washington state), much of the “Northeast” section is just as far north as the “North” section, & it’s all on the east side of the river!

Mississippi Studios!

Further complicating this is the fact that, while the streets around that area almost all have the “North” designation, the neighborhood itself—the Boise neighborhood (coincidence indeed for someone moving from Idaho)—is part of the Northeast Coalition of Neighborhoods. Again, go figure!

Food Trucks!

The area has been subject to a good deal of gentrification over the past several years, but in fact a high percentage of Federally subsidized & Federal low-income housing is still found in the Northeast & North parts of town. The two areas that have seen the most gentrification are the Alberta Street area, especially from streets numbered in the teens on up, & the Mississippi Avenue area, & in that case especially between Skidmore & Fremont. Historically, these areas of north & northeast Portland had a predominantly African-American population, but at this point the population would be considered—for lack of a better term—“mixed.” In this sense, it very much resembles the Western Addition of San Francisco where I lived in the 1990s.

Display in the "Light Bulb Store" window - N Mississippi Ave

I’m hopeful, I really am. The apartment is a bit more than I’d hoped to spend, but I am confident I can afford it. Things will be tight, however! Some local folks are chipping in some much needed furniture, & I have a shipment of various household items coming this way Thanksgiving weekend with an Idaho friend who also has a Portland connection & was coming here on her own business anyway. Because I know at least two people who travel from the Council, Idaho area to Portland with some regularity, I should be able to get most of my remaining belongings over here in a piecemeal manner.

Miss Delta - a promising eatery - N Mississippi Ave

But first things first! First I need the place itself, & while things look good, it never pays to count on something till you’re sure. So I continue to ask for your good wishes, positive vibes etc! I hope to check in with some definite news within the week!

[Note: Apologies to folks who already saw these pix on Facebook!]

“THE TOAST”

2011-11-15T07:41:00.000-08:00

[Hot off the press, & with best wishes from L.E. Leone to y’all—enjoy!]

THE TOAST

The chicken farmer’s husband, a carpenter, is building her a new coop. People crave chicken and her business is expanding.

But that’s in France, where I left my dirty boots, in a region famous for butter.

Here, in Century City, the word on the street is: “Dentistry.” Yes, the dentists of L.A. can (and will, it is said, for a price) turn you into a Christmas tree. Flash, blink, gleam, you’ll be the belle of the ball, and once a year small children will run to you.

“What happened? Who is he?” your girlfriends will say, while meanwhile in the buffet line lead guitarists and lesbians fight for your hand.

A tin of ziti is overturned, almost without you even noticing.

“My dentist!” you will shout, over the racket and with a twinkle, to your girlfriends. You will put your fingers on their arms, in English.

From now on . . .

Wherever you go, even France, you will be the toast of the party. Nay, you will be the part of the breakfast that toast longs to be dipped into. Only white, instead of yellow.

And gorgeous instead of over, or easy.

Imagine: you don’t need braces, caps, or bridges. Your smile is whole milk, honey; your bite, the best! Everyone says so. You’ll be eating spare ribs at ninety. More to the point, you will be able to sink your teeth, finally, into poems like this.

L.E. Leone
© 2011

"The Sidewalk Blues"

2011-11-14T04:00:00.000-08:00

The Monday Morning Blues is upon us, friends! We’re here with this month’s edition of the Jazz Me Blues feature, which means an exploration of the musically delicious point where blues & jazz intersect.

You really can’t talk about the history of jazz without talking about Jelly Roll Morton—the self-professed “inventor” of the idiom. Jelly Roll’s claim is of course spurious; still, he was a larger than life figure—a combination of musical genius both as a composer & a performer, promoter (mainly of Jelly Roll Morton), pimp, pool shark, hustler, nightclub owner & legend both in his own time & in his own mind. If you are interested in learning more about him, more about early jazz or turn of the 20th century New Orleans culture, or simply reading an amazing story, I highly recommend Alan Lomax’s biography (much of which is in Jelly Roll Morton’s own words) Mister Jelly Roll.

Born Ferdinand Joseph LaMothe in New Orleans in 1885 (or possibly 1884, 1889 or 1890), & didn’t become Jelly Roll Morton until he began work as a brothel piano player in his teens. He continued to work in the fabled New Orleans red-light district known as Storyville, but toured the south with various minstrel shows (& also as a general hustler & pool shark—apparently his pools skills were considerable.) Later in the teens he spent time in Chicago, California & Vancouver, British Columbia, always finding work in nightclubs & in vaudeville shows based on his extraordinary piano playing abilities.

He returned to Chicago in the mid 1920s & he assembled one of the most important bands of the “hot jazz” era, the Red Hot Peppers. The personnel of this band shifted considerably over the years (& was based both in Chicago & later in New York), but among the notable musicians who joined Morton in the Red Hot Peppers were trombonist Kid Ory, clarinetist Johnny Dodds, banjoist Johnny St Cyr & drummer Baby Dodds—of course all of these musicians also played with Louis Armstrong around the same time.

Jelly Roll Morton & the Red Hot Peppers recorded a number of sides between 1926 & 1930. The Chicago sessions of 1926-1927 are especially renowned, & today’s selection, “Sidewalk Blues,” comes from those recordings. “Sidewalk Blues” was recorded for Victor Records on September 21, 1926 in Chicago. According to the Doctor Jazz website, Victor based a large ad campaign around “Sidewalk Blues.” According to the Music Trade Review in November 1926, “Upon its initial release it enjoyed an unprecedented demand for a “blues” number.”

“The Sidewalk Blues” is essentially a 12-bar blues in its bare musical bones, tho there are some interesting harmonies that complicate the basic structure. It’s also a bit of a novelty item, with the opening dialogue & the sound effects—but then, Jelly Roll was always a showman!

Great song here—hope you enjoy it!

Photo of the Week 11/13/11

2011-11-13T04:00:00.000-08:00

Cat & Computer

Robert Frost's Banjo Central

Portland, Oregon

Wednesday 11/9/11

There & Back Again

2011-11-12T04:00:00.000-08:00

Happy Saturday, friends! I’m checking in as usual with a bit of an update on exactly how things are progressing here at Robert Frost’s Banjo Central, & I must say I’m hopeful that some good news is near at hand.

I got a call yesterday afternoon from the management of one of the subsidized housing complexes to which I’ve applied telling me that my name has come up on the waiting list & there is a vacancy. Now, I have to admit a few things to you folks: first, I was entirely flabbergasted, as I didn’t expect such a call until at least some time well into next year; second, I had that heady mix of elation filled with a gnawing dread that somehow, something will go wrong, this will all come crashing down—in fact, I wasn’t going to post this good news feeling that to do so might somehow “jinx” me. Of course, as friends who already have heard the news have pointed out, I am who I purport to be in all senses of the word, & as such am qualified for the housing. & while my past may be undistinguished as far as the public record goes, that also means I have no significant “skeletons in the closet” that should affect this. So I’m taking the advice of a good friend on Facebook & trying to “entertain success.” I meet with the manager on Monday afternoon, & hope to know something certain by the end of next week—I must admit to a good deal of excitement about this prospect!

In other news: I decided a little while back to re-read The Hobbit & the Ring trilogy this winter, & just this past week I began this venture. It really takes me back. I’ve read the entire cycle at least twice before—once when about eleven & then again in my late teens or very early 20s. The fact is, had it not been for the Tolkein books, my life might have taken a much different path, because I was so enthralled with them that I decided at age eleven (not ten as previously reported to a friend) to become a writer & composed an entire novel called The Township Travelers that was based rather closely on the events in Tolkein’s Hobbit—in fact this manuscript still exists, but it will not be posted to a blog near you!

Of course, subsequent reading of the Trilogy made me expand my vision, & throughout my teens—even in the early years of my drug & drinking dissolution which lasted from around 16 to 23—I thought of myself as a fantasy author. I read everything Ballantine Books published along those lines & more besides: from Lord Dunsany to Ursula K. LeGuin, & feverishly composed all sorts of fantastical scenarios. Later I turned my hand to more conventional short stories, & around the time I sobered up, I began writing poetry almost exclusively. Now you really know “the r4est of the story!”

So in addition to being the sub-title to The Hobbit, this excursion really is “There & Back Again” for me. As I re-read the story, sometimes I wonder if I could see myself as a fantasy writer in my golden years. What do you think?

How “there & back again” fits with this news about possibly having a place of my own in the not-too-distant future may be more difficult to express, but there is a feeling of “return” to this—return to a life I’d led earlier as a single person in San Francisco. Of course, I’m significantly older now & much of my life circumstances have changed. At any rate, it promises to be a true adventure.

Please wish me luck, friends!

Prelude from Bach Violin Partita #3

2011-11-11T04:00:00.000-08:00

It’s Banjo Friday again, folks, & we’re here with some banjo music for you that’s both unusual & inspiring! Yes, this month’s selections of the banjo used in uncommon contexts continues with Béla Fleck’s version of Bach’s “Prelude from Violin Partita #3.”

Béla Fleck is a major force in the banjo world both because of his remarkable proficiency & musicianship & also because of his innovative vision. Although Fleck’s playing style in many ways hearkens back to the three-finger bluegrass style of Earl Scruggs—with very large doses of Bill Keith’s melodic style deplyed as well—he has taken the banjo into new realms, especially in his forays into jazz & jazz fusion with his band the Flecktones, & in both live & recorded sessions with Chick Corea, Jean-Luc Ponty & Stanley Clarke. But he also plays bluegrass (& “newgrass”) with the likes of Doc Watson, Sam Bush & Jerry Douglas & has also been active in World Music circles, in part thru his exploration of the banjo’s African roots, which was captured in the documentary Throw Down Your Heart.

With Bach’s "Prelude from his Violin Partita #3," in E MajorFleck is adapting a well-known piece from violin literature to the banjo. Of course, Fleck is far from being the first to bring classical music to the banjo. Popular classics were a big part of the fare of the turn of the 20th century banjo orchestras, & in an example that’s closer to home (involving as it does a solo banjoist), Pete Seeger performed an arrangement of Bach’s “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring,” which was originally released on his Folkways album Goofing Off Suite in 1954 (this was re-released on cd in 1993 by Smithsonian-Folkways.)

In some ways, the banjo seems a very odd choice for playing a violin piece. The violin, because of how the bow produces notes, has a great deal of sustain & is a highly melodic instrument, while the banjo’s notes tend to be crisp, percussive & with little sustain—in that sense, it in some ways resembles the harpsichord.

Bach, however, himself arranged the partita for lute, which is of course much closer to the banjo, tho it also has greater sustain, & in addition a lower bass range than either the violin or the banjo. As is common with Bach’s lute literature, this arrangement has been frequently adapted for classical guitar as well. If anyone is interested in listening to other versions, here is a link for Jascha Heifetz playing the Prelude on the violin, as well as a classical guitar version & a lute version. It’s interesting to me that the violin versions on YouTube all clock in at around three & a half minutes or slightly less, while Fleck’s & the guitarist's version each extends to around four. In part these tempo differences are caused by the exigencies of the instruments.

As commentors on YouTube have noted (leave it to YouTube commentors to find anything negative), Fleck’s version loses much of the counterpoint & other nuances of the original. Still, Fleck displays much more musicality than if this were merely a tour de force, & he brings a fine spirit to his rendition to go along with his amazing banjo chops.

Enjoy!

“On Raglan Road”

2011-11-10T09:34:00.000-08:00

A happy Thursday to you friends! Last week I discussed some urges I’ve been having toward composing my own songs—thanks for all the great feedback & encouragement. While I haven’t yet made a foray into this project, the fine poet Mairi Graham directed me to a heartbreakingly lovely example of a poem set to music, & it impressed me so deeply I thought I’d share it here today. By the way, if you are interested in poetry in any way, you really should be reading Mairi Graham’s poems on her Secret Poems from the Times Literary Supplement; they are poems of the first order.

“On Raglan Road” is a poem composed by Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh. The poem itself is a beautiful lyric about lost love that was first published in 1946 as “Dark Haired Miriam Ran Away.” It’s just the sort of purely romantic poem one might aspire to write—clear in its emotion as a mountain stream, but still refracting what’s below the surface—but I’m perhaps too much of a post-modern at heart to compose anything quite so unabashedly & unselfconsciously romantic as this.

At Kavanagh’s urging, “On Raglan Road” was set to music by Luke Kelly, who performed with The Dubliners from the 1960s thru his death in 1984. The tune is that of a traditional Irish air, "The Dawning of the Day" (“Fáinne Geal an Lae” in Gaelic). There are several versions of this setting available, as it has been covered by a number of artists, including Kelly, Roger Daltry (backed by the Chieftains), Sinéad O’Connor, Van Morrison, Billy Bragg, Loreena McKennitt & others. But I was particularly captivated by Mark Knopfler’s version. The backing, with fiddle, bouzouki & uilleann pipes is beautiful, & the whole treatment is understated, which to my mind gives the lyrics that much more power. The fact that Knopfler comes from the “talk-singing” school of vocalists appeals to me not only because I believe it helps the lyrics come to the fore, but also because I myself am of that school!

For those who are inclined to read the poem &/or follow along, I’ve presented the text of “On Raglan Road” after the video. & for the musically inclined, the tune itself (with chords) is in the lead-off pic—the tablature is for mandolin. Enjoy!

On Raglan Road

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day

Patrick Kavanagh

“i measure my depth in centimeters….”

2011-11-08T04:00:00.000-08:00

[I love this poem by Barbie Angell, with a persona who's a latter day female Chaplin, forlorn & funny & surreal. Please remember to leave a laugh in payment!]

i measure my depth in centimeters….

sometimes i’m as deep as a puddle
and can’t fathom the fathoms you feel.
i’m the wittiest one in the huddle
but none of the ad-libs are real.

the names are all changed to protect me
from the youth that i gave up for lent.
and while it’s designed to deflect you,
the laughs that you pay are not spent.

they’re saved up for when i am lonely.
they’re stored up in brown, paper sacks.
and until i am my “one and only,”
i can barely afford the steep tax.

so i go out to bars in the evenings
and i banter with wit and small puns
’cause i know that the laughs you are leaving
will help when i get low on funds.

Barbie Dockstader Angell
© 2010-present

Poor Boy Long Way From Home #6 – Howlin’ Wolf

2011-11-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

Hey, folks, it’s Monday, & we’re coming at you with a rocking version of the Monday Morning Blues!

It’s time for our monthly installment in the Poor Boy Blues series. Last month we gave a listen to Booker T. White’s version from a Parchman Farm Prison redording made in 1935. This month we jump even further ahead to the later 1950s (& in case you’re getting lightheaded from all this rapid time travel, I can assure you we’ll be staying in the 1950s for the next few installments.) Today’s artist is no less than the great Howlin’ Wolf (AKA Chester Burnett), one of the pioneers of the electric Chicago blues sound & a man who really lets you know why R&B stands for rhythm & blues! His version of “Poor Boy” was released on Chess Records in 1957, with “Sittin’ On Top of the World” as the B side.

Chester Burnett was born in White Station, Mississippi in 1910—odd to think of Howlin’ Wolf as a year old than Robert Johnson, since Wolf is so assoicated with electric Chicago blues & Johnson so much associated with the earlier Delta styles—& claims that the first guitar piece he learned was Charlie Patton’s “Pony Blues”—taught to him by Patton himself. Wolf had deep roots in the old-time Delta blues & despite the electric sound he was so instrumental in developing, these roots are constantly on display in his music. For instance, his version of “Poor Boy” is most similar to the very “rootsy” version of the tune recorded by RL Burnside a number of years later.

Of course, in Howlin’ Wolf’s edition, we have a full-on Chicago style blues band: Howlin’ Wolf on vocals & harmonica, the great Hubert Sumlin on guitar (Sumlin was integral to Howlin’ Wolf’s sound), Hosea Lee Kennard on piano, Alfred Elkins on bass & Earl Phillips on drums. A lot of writers talk about Howlin’ Wolf as a sort of primordial force, & at 6 feet 6 inches tall & “300 pounds of heavenly joy” (as he himself sang), he was unquestionably a formidable presence, with one of the most dynamic & forceful vocal styles among all blues singers; but celebrating this sort of “primitivism” may cause us to overlook the fact that Howlin’ Wolf was a talented composer who was able to synthesize the old Delta styles into a new sound, & also that he was great showman—in fact, in hearkening back to what he learned from Patton, he talked about the great Delta musician’s showmanship (what Son House called Patton’s “clowning”), & there is no doubt that this can bring a lot of dynamism to a performance. It should also remind those of who play the blues nowadays—& especially those of us who come from a much different cultural background—that this music is fun: it’s party music. Which reminds me of a great anecdote told by Elijah Wald in his book Escaping the Delta. He tells how his friend, the great blues & folksinger Dave Van Ronk was once performing at a festival & gave a rendition of “Hootchie Cootchie Man” that was “full of aggressive macho bluster.” To Van Ronk’s surprise, he was greeted by Muddy Waters when he came off stage—Waters, of course, had popularized this tune. As Wald writes:

Waters, always the gentleman, hastened to put him at ease. “That was very good son,” he said, putting his hand on Dave’s shoulder. Then he added, “But you know, that’s supposed to be a funny song.”

With that in mind—enjoy!

Photo of the Week 11/6/11

2011-11-06T04:00:00.000-08:00

Squirrel & Autumn Leaves

Kenilworth Park, Portland, Oregon

Saturday 11/5/11

Singer-Songwriter?

2011-11-05T04:00:00.000-07:00

This is not the post I’d planned for today. No, I was going to go in a much different direction indeed. Then two things happened on Facebook.

First, a friend posted a link to this story detailing how a small Rhode Island café was bullied by ASCAP (the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers) & SESAC (the Society of European Stage Authors & Composers) into stopping a long-running tradition of performances by local musicians. I’ve heard such stories before: in fact, I know of cases much closer to what-used-to-be home involving venues in McCall, Idaho.

Now as anyone who reads this blog at all knows, I’m a performing musician. I’m certainly not a big-time musician & I’m not a professional in any real sense of that word, tho over the years between performing & teaching I have certainly supplemented my income a fair amount. I am just another of these “local musicians.” It used to be that “local musicians” who played both traditional songs & the “hits of the day” provided much of the music for people’s lives. The music industry has changed this.

As a solo performer, I play cover songs, mostly old blues that were recorded in the the 1920s & 1930s. Although by any sane definition, most of these songs are “traditional,” in fact most of them are under copyright. The great irony is that many traditional musicians, & in particular African-American blues performers, sold their rights to these songs to recording companies because they were promised ready money for doing so—& the music industry folks wanted the copyrights because they knew they were getting a deal. So much for the notion that ASCAP et al. are “only looking out for the artists.”

I’ve thought about these issues for some time, & for some time I’ve thought about how it would be best for me to address them in terms of my own performing ventures, modest as they may be. & for quite some time I’ve played with the idea of writing my own songs. After all, I have composed a fair amount of music (all instrumental, & all designed for duet-playing in a very specific context) & I have written lots of poetry. Given that, I should be a natural songwriter, correct?

Actually, no. I’ve never had any success writing songs. & this week on a late evening whim, I posted this fact as a Facebook status update.

I received some amazing feedback, in particular from Scott Houston (whose songwriting talents were on display here a while back in the Homegrown Radio series) as well as blog friends Dominic Rivron & Dick Jones. All three of these fellows are talented musicians & composers, & Dominic & Dick are also gifted poets. I found their suggestions most inspiring—& also practical. Dominic, for instance, talked about the different approaches to language songwriters & poets each take, while Dick talked about how words can grow out of the chords themselves & even defined how he hears different chords in terms of overall mood. Scott also wrote about how the disciplines of poetry & songwriting differ in a very clear & thoughtful way. Thanks, friends (thanks Michael, too!)

Now last year at around this time I pledged to make a good quality recording of my repertoire over the winter, & in fact I was able to do that. Now I see this winter’s project: songwriting!

I’m excited. It will enable me to market myself more online & probably also make me a more attractive performer to local venues. Will it involve a lot of work? Absolutely, but I’ve been feeling the need of a new creative challenge & I strongly suspect this is it!

Of course, as Dominic Rivron pointed out, sometimes poetry of the highest caliber also works as song lyrics, & he referred to a specific YouTube video—in fact, the very one which follows which by some strange coincidence or serendipity I’d already slated for the post I’d originally planned for today—Irish songster Christy Moore’s take on a beautiful setting of W.B. Yeats’ “The Song of the Wandering Aengus.”

I clearly have a very long way to go!

Pic of yours truly performing at the Bare Bones Café on SE Belmont for the October First Friday Art Walk is by artist/photographer Mark Crummett—thanks, Mark!

“Night in Tunisia”

2011-11-04T04:00:00.000-07:00

A happy Banjo Friday to you, one & all! We’ve got an interesting line-up for Banjo Friday posts this month & a great one to kick it off!

In October, the Banjo Friday posts focused on some out-of-the-ordinary banjos, hybrid instruments that combined banjo sound & features with the features of other instruments. This month we’re back to the regular old 5-string banjo—but we’re going to be considering how this instrument can be used to play types of music not normally considered banjoistic at all!

Let’s face it: when most people think banjo, they hear something like “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” or “The Beverly Hillbillies Theme.” People who are more familiar with bluegrass & even old-time music will of course have more diverse sounds echoing in their minds, but on the whole, we’re talking about the mixture of African-American & Appalachian sounds that developed into these types of music.

The fact is, the 5-string banjo is a quirky instrument. Not only does it have re-entrant tuning (a 50-cent word for the fact that the string closest to your nose is high-pitched, as opposed to being a bass string as on the majority of stringed instruments)—that string is also short, which means if you’re left hand is playing in open position or even up to the fifth fret, it’s not possible to fret the 5-string & it will remain a “drone,” (standard procedure) or need to be avoided so you won’t produce a discord (as for instance when fingering on open E chord in regular G major tuning.) Now there’s an old time saying: “there’s no money above the fifth fret,” which indicated that in many instances, the old time players like to stay mostly in open position & rely on lots of open strings & various techniques involving those open strings.

This is a generalization, of course. Some old-time players played “up the neck.” But as a rule, open positions were favored, which meant that the banjo was not suited for more harmonically complex music—the big reason why types of the banjo without a drone string were used in hot jazz: the banjo-guitar, the tenor banjo & the plectrum banjo.

However in the late 1950s & early 1960s a real innovator came along: Bill Keith had an interest in playing fiddle tune melodies & he found that existing styles simply couldn’t provide the flexibility he wanted, not even the then relatively new & exciting development of Scruggs picking, which remains the basis of most bluegrass playing. Keith (along with Bobby Thompson, who played with bluegrass stalwarts Jim & Jesse Reynolds) pioneered the so-called “melodic” or “chromatic” or simply “Keith style” manner of playing. Here’s a pithy definition from Wikipedia:

It centers on playing scales in a linear fashion. This contrasts with "3-Finger" or Scruggs style, which is centered around arpeggios, or chord tones played in rapid succession. Generally speaking, in the Keith style the fingers of the picking hand alternate between strings, rarely picking the same string twice.

Bill Keith became a member of Bill Monroe’s Bluegrass Boys for a period in the 1960s, & then made the rather unlikely jump to the Jim Kweskin Jug Band! He went on to stints in the Blue Velvet Band, a major force in the development of “Newgrass” music, & generally has left an indelible mark on banjo playing both in the Bluegrass & Newgrass fields & far beyond.

Speaking of far beyond: here we have Keith taking his banjo for a spin on the Dizzy Gillespie standard “Night in Tunisia”—& what a delightful spin it is! Just banjo & an off camera bass take us on a delightful jaunt thru this bebop classic. What would Charlie Parker say?

Enjoy!

Nightingales in a Stateside Zoo

2011-11-03T04:00:00.000-07:00

At some point last week I promised an announcement about Jack Hayes’ poetry—Jack Hayes equals yours truly, at least in the poeticizing world in case you didn’t know. In any case, the announcement never materialized.

A transporter accident, as on one of the Star Trek shows? Not exactly: in fact, I’m here with the announcement today, & that’s to let you all know that there is a new blog in the little Robert Frost’s Banjo solar system, & it’s called Nightingales in a Stateside Zoo. Regular readers know that I self-published three books of poetry in 2010: The Spring Ghazals (poems from 2008-2010 written in Idaho), The Days of Wine & Roses (poems from 1990-1996 written in San Francisco) & Nightingales in a Stateside Zoo (poems written from 1984-1989 written in Charlottesville, Virginia.) All three of the books are available at lulu.com here.

Both The Spring Ghazals & The Days of Wine & Roses have been provided with dedicated blogs where all the content has been reproduced gratis. For some time I’ve debated whether or not to do the same for Nightingales in a Stateside Zoo, & have finally decided the answer is “yes.” While I believe the poems in the later books are more accomplished, I also believe the Charlottesville poems have their own strengths, & a number of people still like them. I hope some of you will enjoy them too!

Poems will post on Nightingales in a Stateside Zoo each Wednesday & Saturday morning until all 36 poems in the book have appeared (today's post is the exception that proves the rule, or something to that effect) , at which point the blog will become archival, as is the case with my other two poetry blogs—still available for reading, but with no further scheduled content. There are two poems in the collection that are quite long, but I’m not getting into the business of serializing poetry. They’ll post as complete poems & folks can wade in or not as their fancy takes them.

The first poem is titled "Aubade," & was written in 1987. You can read it & also read a brief introduction to the blog at this link.

Have a happy Thursday, & hope you enjoy Nightingales in a Stateside Zoo.

Adams County Makes the News - Adams County Leader #43

2011-11-02T04:00:00.023-07:00

Adams County Leader
Council, Adams County, Idaho
C. H. Wines, Lessee-Editor-Proprietor
Wm. Lemon, Owner

November 5, 1937
STREETS WITHOUT NAMES

The streets of Council are unadorned with names to guide the stranger about town, and to a stranger this is a disadvantage. While it is true that Council is not so large that one would be in any danger of getting lost and needing the police to get oriented again, yet it is a disadvantage to tell a stranger, or even some not so strange, the way about town. To try and describe where So-and So lives, so many blocks south and so many blocks east of such-and-such a place is a poor way of telling one coming to inquire where another is to be found.

It seems that the main streets, at least, are named, and we have heard their names a time or two, but they are as strange to the ears of Council residents as they are to strangers. Why would it not be possible for the village to have small signs painted and placed to designate the principle streets at least? The cost would not be too great and the benefits certainly would be great.

January 28, 1938
NO SIGNS ON THE STREETS

Miss Trumbo in her talk at the dinner Saturday night, stressed some of the needs of the village and suggested that some of the civic and fraternal organizations might help. Her suggestion that the streets of Council have signs placed on them was entirely in harmony with our ideas on the subject. Some time ago, this paper mentioned the subject in an editorial, but to date, nothing has been done about it. Again we urge this improvement. Of course, there is no danger of losing oneself in Council, we all know that it is too small for that. But what a convenience it would be to be able to describe where someone lives by giving the name of the street. Besides, it would give strangers to our town a much better impression. If the village board will not do this, why not some or all of our organizations get together and do it? This improvement would not be expensive. The streets are already named, but it is doubtful if there are many who know the name of the very street on which they live. Let's have some action on this matter.

LOCAL ITEMS, 1930s

Fruitvale: Mrs. Caseman had a birthday, so last Thursday, in spite of the cold wind which held sway that day, a few of her friends gathered to help her celebrate. Anna Kathrine McGinly brought her Aunt Jo a large platter of popcorn balls, which the whole crowd helped to dispose of. They were delicious. After singing, playing, telling stories and jokes, and doing a little sewing and tatting, a table was laid with good things to eat and twelve gathered around to eat in a merry mood. About four thirty, the guests departed for home, voting a good time and the determination to have another surprise party some day.

Council to The Dalles, Oregon - By Telephone, $1.20

Wrestling Match at the Legion Hall: L. L. Noregaard of Willowa, Oregon, “Kid” Farrens of Mesa, Idaho. Dance after the match.

Reports have gone the rounds the past couple of weeks that the children of the Fred Schultz family have had infantile paralysis. This rumor is all a hoax as they have been under the doctor’s care for some time and have been pronounced physically OK. The paralysis scare has frightened a good many people but as far as any one knows, there are no cases in the valley.

John Hoover says the worms are out and ready for a mass attack on orchards. He is making ready for a vigorous fight against them with all the weapons of modern insect warfare.

Dale Donnelly has visualized spring just around the corner and in a spirit of preparedness has stocked up on a big supply of garden seeds.

Three cents a week. That is all the Leader costs. Surely you can’t afford to get along without it at that price. Don’t borrow it. Subscribe. Do It Now!

Mrs. Jennie Braden, who owns the farm about three miles west of Council where Ben Gulliford farmed for the past several years, brought in two big ears of the corn raised on the farm. The ears are about eleven inches long and well-filled.

On the Silver Screen at the People’s Theatre: “Park Avenue Logger,” a thrilling outdoor drama set against New York City and the rugged background of a gigantic lumber camp in the Northwest.

Some County Expenses, 1938:
County Health, contagious diseases, etc.: $549.81
Rodent Control: $504.22
Grasshopper Control: $80.00
Brand Inspector: $16.25
Sheriff, wages: $1,497.00
Superintendent of Schools, salary: $1,100.00
Road and Bridge: $13,411.63
Charities (aid, medical, burial, temporary, children, etc.: $7,172.46

February 26, 1937

Leader Readers:
If Anyone
--Elopes
--Dies
--Gets Married
--Has Guests
--Goes Away
-- Has a Party
--Has a Baby
--Has a Fire
--Is Ill
--Has an Operation
--Has an Accident
--Buys a Home
--Wins a Prize
--Receives an Award
--Builds a House
--Makes a Speech
--Holds a Meeting
--Or Takes Part in Any Other Unusual Event

That’s News

We Want It

PHONE 25
compiled by Eberle Umbach

Thus concludes the series, Adams County Makes the News. A big Robert Frost's Banjo thanks to Eberle for making this available to us!

“BROWN RECLUSE”

2011-11-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

[Hi friends! A new month brings the return of a dear old friend, L.E. Leone, who herein contemplates love, sleep, spiders & light—enjoy!]

BROWN RECLUSE

Spider on a lamp
next to my sleeping lover’s head
so big you could hear it
almost
breathing. Shhh. Keep sleeping
dear heart, I said, unplugging
the lamp, lifting it like
a torch. There is too much
light in this world
as it is

L.E. Leone
© 2011

Any Womans Blues #16 – Joanna Connor

2011-10-31T10:31:00.000-07:00

A happy Monday morning to you! If it’s not morning where you are, at least you know it is here in sunny Portland. It’s time for another edition of the Monday Morning Blues, & as our monthly Any Woman’s Blues Feature for October we’re showcasing the work of an extraordinary guitarist & singer.

First it must be said: Joanna Connor is nowhere near as well known as she should be based on the talent she brings to her playing. In fact, in terms of electric blues & blues rock, I would completely agree with the statement on her website that she presents “the complete electric guitar package,” who “covers the range of modern blues, slide guitar and blues rock.” The old-timers used to compliment blues guitar players by saying they could “make the guitar talk”—that absolutely applies to Connor’s playing. To top it off, she also is a vocalist of extraordinary range & feeling.

Joanna Connor began playing guitar when she was seven, & began playing in bands in the Worcester, Massachusetts area while in her teens. She moved to Chicago in the mid 80s while in her early 20s, & was soon sitting in with the likes of Buddy Guy, James Cotton & Junior Wells. In the later 80s she assembled her own band & recorded Believe It! for the renowned blues label, Blind Pig. She has released at least eight albums since, with the most recent being Live & Raw #1 & 2 (I believe the dates on these are 2008.)

Although I chose two cover tunes for the videos, Joanna Connor also is talented composer in her own right, & her repertoire contains a number of original songs. Still, she brings her formidable talent & chops to blues standards as well, & has recorded noteworthy covers of songs ranging from Robert Johnson’s “Walking Blues” to the old Percy Sledge number “The Dark End of the Street.” Connor certainly is able to synthesize a number of styles, from the rawest Delta sounds to smooth R&B & make them her own.

Joanna Connor has collaborated with a number of noteworthy artists; in addition to the blues greats I mentioned earlier, she also toured with tenor saxaphone great A.C. Reed & has appeared on albums by Deborah Coleman (last month’s Any Woman’s Blues feature artist!) & Luther Allison. The Joanna Connor Band tours & can also be heard as the house band at Kingston Mines in Chicago—in fact, if you’re in the Windy City this weekend, you can catch them at Kingston Mines Thursday thru Saturday!

When Cashbox Magazine reviewed Believe It, the reviewer noted Connor’s “razor-sharp tone.” She achieves that on her Gibson Les Paul. Her versions of “Statesboro Blues” & “People Get Ready” are simply outstanding—there’s a bit of distortion on the recording to “People Get Ready,” but I liked the guitar solo so much I had to include it.

Great music, people—enjoy!

Photo of the Week* 10/30/11

2011-10-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

Seasonal Yard Art at Little Baja

E. Burnside St, Portland, Oregon

Monday 10/17/11

* As you can see, this isn't a photo from "this week," but I had a slow week camera-wise, & this seemed appropriate for Halloween Eve.

Magwaza & Other Saturday Thoughts

2011-10-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

A belated happy Saturday to you all. A meditative post this afternoon—probably short, tho with a long song appended!

The sun is shining in Portland after a gray morning & a rainy night. As for me, I’m experiencing the odd tiredness that often sets in on me this time of year: a sometimes uncomfortable mixture of wishing to hibernate combined with restlessness about the short days & the onset of the cold.

In addition it’s a weekend for ghosts, & I’ve reached the age & point in my life’s circumstances where I experience such things only too literally, tho not in the paranormal sense of the word. The ghosts I know come from a note of music; a sentence in a book; a “certain slant of light;” the odor of dinner on the stove.

Here’s a ghost, & I don’t know what to make of it. One time in San Francisco back in the 90s I found myself in the Mission District for the Día de los Muertes parade. In a back alley, there were several costumed musicians wearing various death masks playing & singing “Magwaza,” a traditional South African tune that was covered gloriously by the great Johnny Dyani & his band on his album Witchdoctor’s Son. Witnessing that scene has always stayed with me—as if I’d stumbled briefly thru some veil like a character in one of the psychedelic 1960s thrillers.

Perhaps something in this season that speaks to the loneliness at our shoulders. Or is thaqt just my own obsession? One time I was asked how my early poems differed from the ones I wrote over the past few years. I said the early stuff was all about sex; the later stuff all about loneliness. Is this true? Sometimes I wonder that we even separate the two….

Thoughts as the music streams & the sunlight appears at the window—the sunlight itself seems a bit reluctant today—a bit reserved.

I’m going to venture out into that sunlight tho & find something on Portland’s streets this afternoon. What? A photograph, a meal, a book, a memory, a glimpse into another day….

Hope you each find something meaningful today.

“Row, Row, Row”

2011-10-28T09:26:00.000-07:00

Happy Banjo Friday, folks! We’re running a bit behind schedule, but we’ve got an interesting instrument to talk about & listen to, so climb on board!

Lately I’ve been writing about various banjo hybrids: the banjo-ukulele, the banjo-guitar & the banjo-mandolin. It’s a testimony to the banjo’s unique sound that its “banjoness” has been incorporated into so many other instruments—& in fact there are even more that I’m not going to discuss like the Dojo (a 5-string banjo neck on a resonator guitar body) & the banjola (a 5-string banjo neck on a mandola body.) But before moving on to other banjo topics, I did want to write about a fascinating hybrid: the bass banjo!

As I understand it, S.S. Stewart first introduced an instrument that was referred to as both a cello banjo & a bass banjo in 1889; this was a 5-string instrument & would be more comparable to the current cello banjos manufactured by Gold Tone than to an actual bass instrument. Cello banjos were also manufactured in both four & five string forms by A.C. Fairbanks & Gibson in the early 20th century.

However, the first true bass banjo made its way onto the scene in 1930 as an instrument manufactured by Gibson. It was tuned EADG, the same as an upright bass or a bass guitar, & was played upright on a stand that substituted for the spike found on an upright bass. The Gibson bass banjo was discontinued in 1933.

These days the bass banjo is again available, & as is the case with so many banjo hybrids (not to mention some fine conventional banjos), the Gold Tone Company is one of the leading manufacturers of such instruments. But I want to introduce you today to a very special form of the bass banjo: the Heftone!
I’ve been a fan of the musical duo of Brian Hefferen & Lynn Hershberger, that is, the Fabulous Heftones, for some time. The Fabulous Heftones bring an ebullient musicality to their repertoire of early 20th century Tin Pan Alley tunes, & the joy & good spirit they project in their music is positively infectious! Both Brian Hefferen & Lynn Hershberger sing, & sing well, with lovely harmonies—& Brian’s rambunctious scatting! Brian Hefferen plays a mean ukulele, while Lynn Hershberger plays the wonderful bass banjo called a Heftone. This was designed by Lawrence Hefferen, who has made the instruments in both fretless & fretted models, & with both a bass viol style neck & a bass guitar style neck. Lynn Hershberger plays the deluxe Heftone—fretless, with the bass viol style neck. One of the amazing features of this instrument is the 22” frame drum body! That’s a lot of banjo, folks!

The Fabulous Heftones have two cds, both of which I recommend highly—these are In the Garden & Moon June Spoon; their cds are available thru Elderly Instruments. In addition, Brian Hefferen has five cds (also all available thru Elderly) that feature his ukulele & banjo playing.

This video clip features them singing an old tune called “Row, Row, Row.” The clip not only showcases their overall sound, but it gives you both a good look at & listen to the Heftone bass. Enjoy—I know you will!

“Distant Fingers”

2011-10-27T09:02:00.000-07:00

A happy Thursday to you, friends! I hope you are having a lovely day.

Not too much to report from my corner of the world since I last checked in. However, I have found a new source of subsidized housing information, so over the next several days I’ll be identifying more possible rentals, visiting neighborhoods with which I’m not yet familiar & filling out more applications. No one said this would be easy, but as long as there are tangible steps to be taken the waiting game moves more quickly.

I’m anticipating another influx of belongings from Idaho at the end of the weekend: my electric guitar, my plectrum banjo, my Fluke brand tenor scale uke & my mandolin, as well various & sundry other items. My Peavey amp will probably be arriving as well, tho I expect I’ll sell this. Although I’d hoped to replace this with a Fender Pro Junior amp, that’s not in the budget; but I do have my eye on a small Fender tube amp that would probably fit my current circumstances much better than the large Peavey.

Other thoughts:

I need to get out & do some performing, & this probably means open mics for awhile. Portland has no shortage of these!
Sometimes I think I’d like to be playing in a band again as well as performing as a soloist.
Poetry—still not writing—still having only the vaguest urges to do so. But stay tuned to this space on Saturday for an upcoming Jack Hayes poetry-related announcement!
I’m thinking very much today of an online friend who’s been going thru some hard times, & hoping that some events in a far distant land will clear those up soon.
The gray & rainy season is starting. As November & December are always difficult months for me I’m thinking of ways to keep my spirits up. One thing to focus on: while this may not be true yet, by December the weather here should be a big improvement on what I’d be experiencing in Indian Valley. Although they are rainy, Portland’s winters are relatively mild, while Indian Valley’s are quite harsh—cold & prone to inversions.

Otherwise: thinking about the past & the future & trying to connect with the emotions of the now—these are complex enough! In that spirit, a song about longing that takes me back to a past time, & that also helps me to connect with these emotions: “Distant Fingers” by the Patti Smith Group. Patti Smith has been an inspiration to me musically, poetically & otherwise since I first heard her perform “Gloria” on Saturday Night Live in the mid 1970s. “Distant Fingers” is from her second album, Radio Ethiopia, & was co-written with Allen Lanier, also of Blue Oyster Cult fame.

Enjoy your Thursday & enjoy the music!

"Life as a Girl"

2011-10-25T04:00:00.000-07:00

[The righteous rant is an oft-neglected poetic genre in the contemporary poetry scene, but Barbie Angell positively owns it here! Funny, sad & right-on throughout—enjoy!]
Life as a Girl

Lately I’ve been breaking off all over the room,
so if you’re going to visit, you’ll want to bring a broom.
And I guess that I should let you know, I’m a little bit confused,
but I’m sure you won’t be bothered, most people seem amused.

See, sometimes I still see myself as this brilliant, sweet young girl,
until somebody mentions how I look upon the world.
Yeah, jaded is my color now, I must look great in green.
But I’m afraid I’m being bitter, and I’m scared I’m being mean.

So bring a good strong vacuum with when you want to come on by,
so you can suck up where I’ve broken off while I drink and smoke and cry.
Yeah, it’s fun for everybody, a smashing good old time.
Did I mention that I smash things while I scream and yell and whine?

I can tell just what you’re thinking. How did I end up like this?
And really, more importantly, are you, yourself at risk?
Well I know just how it started. I can pinpoint that sad day
when a stranger sauntered up to me and I didn’t know what to say.

So I started to get worried, and I pondered and I thought.
I used to know just who I was, but I guess I just forgot.
So I looked for help from others, you know, girls about my age,
I guess I wanted references. Some sort of “woman” gauge.

And I watched all of their TV shows and I read all of their books,
and I started to get worried about the way I really looked.
From that point on I lost it. And I tried so fucking hard,
but I’m too poor to be a woman, for new clothes and a perky car.

That’s when I succumbed to all the Pretty People lies,
like I’ll never be truly confident unless I have thinner thighs.
And I questioned what my value was without the perfect dress,
and would I ever get that far with these preteen, tiny breasts?

And who do I go asking then? And why would they ever care?
‘Cause my bible’s name was Cosmo and no one heard my prayers.
I soon tired of the life I led, and the low-cal, fat-free food.
I was sick of my appearance and my weary-broken mood.

I couldn’t listen anymore about why my wardrobe’s wrong,
or that some fantastic makeup will make me beautiful and strong.
Now I’m boycotting the companies who can’t do ads without nude chicks,
do they think that I won’t buy their shoes unless I see a little tit?

I don’t want another sleazy ad by Hardee’s and Diet Coke.
All I’m offered is body work when it’s my engine that is broke.
Why does society do this to their women and their girls?
And what do you do as a rag doll when you live in a Barbie doll world?

Barbie Dockstader Angell
© 2009-present

National Blues: Duolians & Triolians

2011-10-24T04:00:00.000-07:00

1931 Duolian

1930s Triolian

The Monday Morning Blues is here—& to say we’re going to talk about & hear some beautiful guitars today is an understatement!

As regular readers know, each month we’ve looked at a different guitar that’s closely associated with the “blues sound.” Now it would be difficult to say that one specific brand or model of guitar typifies “the blues”—there are simply too many different sounds & styles within that broad term to pin things down. & besides, if we’re talking about the blues that’s been recorded after World War II, we’d almost certainly be discussing some famous electric guitars; when talking about pre-War blues, the acoustics of course ruled the scene.

Of course, one has to acknowledge right up front that in any list of great acoustic blues guitars, there’d be a few listed that might have an asterix next to their name because they are in fact amplified—by ingenious construction, rather than by electric charges & magnets: the resophonic guitars. & while there have been competing brands, the archetypal blues resonator guitar is a National single-cone guitar, either a duolian model or the slightly more expensive triolian. For the purposes of this post, I’m including both models simply because some well-known performers used them somewhat interchangeably, & one would need a very fine ear (& actually, even a careful eye in some cases) to tell them apart. Here’s a quick description from the National site:

Duolian was a lower priced National w steel body, mahogany neck, ebony fingerboard w no binding, stamped Duolian headstock, and the crystalline Duco paint finish. It's seen in catalogs for $32.50.

The Triolian came in several flavors, and was more expensive than the Duolian at $45. It had a steel body w maple neck, died maple fingerboard w binding, nickel plated engraved tuners, and a Triolian decal on the headstock.

As you can see, the main difference is appointments & the wood used for the neck & fingerboard. Also, given that new Nationals retail for anywhere from $2,000 to $3,000 & up, what would that $32.50 early 1930s Duolian cost in today’s dollars? Actually, $513.74, which is about the cost of a Recording King or a Regal now; $45 in 1932 would have equalled $711.34, which would bump that guitar up one level in today’s market to something like a Republic.

The list of musicians who used these instruments is impressive to say the least (& this excludes those who used National Tricones or other models—this is just players of Duolians & Triolians!)

The brittle but loud sound of the single cone National is closely associated with blues from the Mississippi Delta region especially, & so for your listening pleasure I have video clips featuring two great Delta performers, Booker White playing “Aberdeen Mississippi Blues” & Son House playing “Levee Camp Blues.” Although both performers were past their primes when these recordings were made in the 1960s, they were still masterful musicians.

Enjoy—this is the blues, folks!

Both pics link back to their source

Photo of the Week 10/23/11

2011-10-23T04:00:00.000-07:00

Bicycle Fence with Recycling Bins

E Burnside Street, Portland, Oregon

Monday 10/17/11

Platypuss in Boots Bids Us Fond Au Revoir

2011-10-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

Happy Saturday, folks. Well, actually a bit of a sad Saturday here.

As you may know, I’ve been re-posting material from Eberle’s wonderful but dormant blog Platypuss-in-Boots on alternate Saturdays, & in the normal course of blog events, today we’d feature one of these posts. But, as you also know if you’re a regular reader, Eberle & I have now gone our separate ways in life; I’m making a new life in Portland, Oregon, while she’s transforming her life back in Idaho. & the fact is, posting the Platypuss-in-Boots material was just becoming too sad for me. I discussed this with Eberle, & she understood where I was coming from & was in full support of me stopping the posts. Needless to say, it is great to be able to have friendly talks about things with her, despite the fact that we’ve taken these separate paths.

Now in practical terms, don’t forget: these posts all exist on the interwebs already & will continue to do so: you can read all the material on the original Platypuss-in-Boots blog that Eberle created at this very link. It’s great stuff: funny, enchanting & wildly imaginative.

I’m not sure what will be taking the place of these posts yet—but stayed tuned, because there are a lot more fun features to come in the days ahead!