An amazing collection of field recordings made in 1942 by the legendary archivist Alan Lomax, and in 1969-‘71 by Dave and Cheryl Evans, showcasing the relatively unknown folk styles of the region. Unique to here was the heavy emphasis on instrumentation, especially fife and drum, a militaristic style leftover from the revolution/civil war.
While Lomax’s early recordings provide interesting context, and a point in time as a reference, the later recordings have a certain cultural power (and superior recording quality) that demand attention. Recorded in the late ’60s and early ’70s, these songs seem to existed out of time, trespassing in a time they shouldn’t be. It was by now that folk music was being declared dead by white critics. Killed by Dylan’s electric guitar, by the hippies, by pop, yet here were a group of people who had not heard. No one had bothered to notify them that their music was no loner relevant, so they just kept on the same as ever, passing along the traditions of playing and instrument making.
“Soft Black Jersey Cow” is a perfect example of the deeply percussive, call-and-response style of fife and drum. Sung and played on a five finger fife by Napoleon Strickland (the most prolific and talented musician on this record) and two young teenagers on snare and bass drums at a Saturday BBQ in 1970. The fife playing is so hard that you can hear his lungs straining on the louder notes. At first reminiscent of a colonial military march, the beat grows in complexity becoming funkier by the beat, the fife playfully stabbing it up. Hard not to picture Napoleon Strickland as a giant, magnificent bird in the middle of a parade, singing for its life.
“The Devil’s Dream”, or “Old Devil’s Dream”, preformed by Sid Hemphill on quills with backing drums, gives us an earlier, restrained version of the same raucous playing on “Soft Black Jersey”. Recorded twenty-eight years before by Lomax, it’s intrusting to hear how little the style had changed. While other types of music from the ’40s (Jazz, Blues, early Rhythm and Blues) had gone through considerable growth, exchanging essence with one another, eventually birthing Rock and Roll, Hemphill’s performance seems timeless when standing next to it’s child. Even at the time of this recording the music must have seemed dated to outsiders. The quills (think panpipes), traditionally used in both African and European music, had been more or less discarded some years earlier in favor of the harmonica for its versatility and cost. Hemphill literally breaths new life into the pipes, puffing encouragement that can be heard in his vocal effects, giving it its own dance.
The “bow diddley”, also known regionally as the “diddley bow” (and, yes, the namesake of Bo Diddley), is as much a traditional instrument as is is one of necessity. An adaptation the the African musical bow and a makeshift, one string slide guitar rolled into one. It’s made by stringing wire along an outside wall, securing it at each end, and using two bottles to make the wire taunt. The player then plucks the wire with their right while using a slide to control the pitch with their left. It was often considered to be a child’s instrument, the first step to a guitar. Compton Jones never learned to play a guitar, and why would you when you can make one string say more than most can with six. My personal favorite on this compilation. Listen to the sounds of cars on the distant road, the wind. You can hear that it is night. Nothing can sound this alone in the sun.
“Shake ‘Em on Down” is probably one of the most popular, if not recognizable, blues tunes of all time. First recorded by Bukka White in 1937, it is impossible to tell how long before, and in how many variations, it existed. Compton Jones had probably never heard any commercial recordings of it, and he never learned to play guitar, but if he had, then it probably would have sounded closer to Ranie Burnette’s version. Burnette was one of most popular blues men in the area and had at by this time (1970, same year as Jones’ version) switch to an electric, though he plays a more traditional, acoustic style on this recording for David Evans.
Ada Turner’s (wife of Othar Turner, pictured on the album cover) “This Little Light of Mine” takes the cake for the most moving recording on the album. A spiritual/work song sung while washing clothes, you can her deep breathing and the sloshing of the water as she runs clothes along her washboard. As the daughter of a preacher she would have been intimately familiar with this song, hearing it for most of her life. I wonder how she though of this song. Like a tool to help her work? Like a sister to keep her company? Or like an angle who was constantly by her side? In any case, she is not so much singing the song as singing to it. She becomes the songs complementary mirror, making it look good no matter what it does. A best friend you can confide in and share compliments with.
I wish I could give you a good download link for this record, but I could find none. (Oh, wait. Here it is http://www.mediafire.com/?1l1nrotulhrrv2o) It does appear in used record stores and on Ebay from time to time. If you enjoyed these songs, and are one day lucky enough to find it, please do yourself the service of picking it up. I got my copy when the Toronto Reference Library was culling it’s vinyl, but still see copies from time to time floating around town.
I owe much of the information in this piece to the fine, highly detailed liner notes that accompanies this record, written by David Evans who also compiled the compilation and recorded much of it.
