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Trouble
in the forest
A child of punk's guide to the fabulous, freaky faerie
sounds of British folk rock.
By Mike McGuirk
WHEN I WAS
a teenager, I played the newly discovered Captain Beefheart
album Trout Mask Replica, for my cousin Peter, with whom
I had shared a love of the Clash, U2, and Minor Threat. I think
my cousin felt betrayed. We had put all this energy into hating
the system and railing against the politics of our country, even
going so far as to rebel against our teenage urges to use drugs
and to engage in premarital sex, and here I was listening to music
that didn't even make sense. In fact, it sounded like garbage. I
believe my cousin's line of thinking was basically, that's not how
you change the world (we were earnest, activist teenagers –
please give us a break). It wasn't until both of us were older that
we saw the subversion inherent in certain types of so-called weird
music. Beefheart's complete rearrangement of the way people view
rock music does as much to fuck with the mainstream, by its existence,
as 10 songs about U.S. soldiers in Central America do. My cousin
didn't understand this at the time (and neither did I) and spat,
"What the hell, dude? You just like music that's weird now."
I couldn't really
deny it, because I do like music that's weird, possibly for the
sake of it being weird as much as anything. In fact, Beefheart had
attracted me for those very reasons. But I don't see that as so
bad, really. Especially since I do distinguish between good weird
and shitty weird. I mean They Might Be Giants is weird – in
a "Why be normal?" way – but is there anything shittier?
The band that inspired this article, the Incredible String Band,
and many of the other groups I plan to touch on here are all weird
as hell. In fact the whole British folk scene of the '60s is downright
goofy. But some of it is goofy in the best way. And, lest
we forget, some of it is shitty – real, real shitty –
but I think it's important that we cover all the bases.
Sometime in
the mid 1960s, budding hippies over in England started experimenting
with various forms of folk music, both British and American, mixing
them with the ubiquitous sounds of rock. Fairport Convention were
the vanguards of the burgeoning folk-rock scene: following a blueprint
laid by the Byrds' psychedelicized Dylan covers and incorporating
elements of traditional British folk, they scored some radio hits.
I'm not real into Fairport Convention myself, although I can certainly
hear the beauty of the group's harmonies and the often astonishing
vocals of Sandy Denny, who pretty much set the benchmark for British
female folk singers.
Like the concurrent
London blues rock scene, the folk scene gave rise to a number of
truly gifted guitar players, the most famous of which were Bert
Jansch and John Renbourn. These two guys got together with totally
awesome female singer Jacqui McShee, bass player Danny Thompson,
and drummer Terry Cox and formed Pentangle. Pentangle explored British
folk, rock music, '50s doo-wop, country gospel, and jazz, finally
landing on an unbelievable, psychedelic sound the likes of which
just doesn't exist anywhere else. The fact is, with British guys
jazzily strumming acoustic guitars and playing flutes, and
a crystalline female voice cutting the air above it all, Pentangle's
music is so close to ridiculous that it just couldn't exist anywhere
else but for the almost ill-advisedly open days of the late '60s.
At their best, Pentangle were progressive and challenging, taking
the ugliness of rock music and making it beautiful. That's an impressive
trick.
The physical
makeup of Fairport Convention and Pentangle appears to have trickled
down into the scene, with almost all the bands forming with a similar
setup of one dominant female vocalist, some dudes adding harmonic
details, and a backing band that played acoustic music rooted in
the Celtic tradition. Eventually bands obsessed with minstrels,
magicians, dragons, and, uh, dungeons sprouted up in the wake of
this little wave.
The danger of
overly pretty singing and skipping-elf whimsy is always present
in this music, and I will leave it up to the listener to draw the
line between fringe-dwelling brilliance and total idiocy. I personally
find that I hate anything that has too many tra-la-la-las
in the chorus, and anytime these people chant. Hopefully you will
find the discography below helpful in doing a little exploring of
this sometimes annoying, often overlooked, and at times quite subversive
subgenre. This is by no means a comprehensive look at the British
folk-rock scene, so calm down.
These are the
records I have heard and I like
Richard and
Linda Thompson, I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight
(Hannibal, 1974) This was the record that got me started on
the Brit folk thing four years ago or so. Something about the bloody
writing on the cover appealed to me, so I bought it for no reason.
I was immediately marching around my room to "When I Get to
the Border" and awed by the downright chilling and beautiful
"Calvary Cross," which is where "Horses" (and
everything else) by Palace Brothers comes from. Also, Peter Laughner
covered it, and that guy knew his shit. This one is pretty mandatory.
Incredible
String Band, The 5000 Spirits or the Layers of the Onion
(Hannibal, 1967) Mike Heron and Robin Williamson work all kinds
of Middle Eastern and Indian touches, Delta blues, and hippie imagery
into a base of folk, and the result is nothing less than totally
excellent. Although it sounds to me like it's played by supertrained
musicians, apparently the ISB were not all that proficient musically,
and their adventurous spirit and unpolished carefreeness may
be the thing that saves this from sounding like a record by the
Frogs. Well, actually it does sound like a Frogs record, except
that you can listen to it in the same room as your mom and she won't
ask you, "Did he just say, 'She's the one with the cock and
the vagina combined?' " But she might ask if he just said,
"O prithee and fate be kind," which sounds just as dirty
if you ask me.
Incredible
String Band, The Incredible String Band (Elektra,
1966) This is their first record, and it's a bit tamer than
5000 Spirits, or any of the records that followed, but not
much. Not tamer, really, just more traditional, but man, does anybody
enjoy listening to songs that can only be described as "jigs"?
The song in question is only a minute long, though, so you'll live.
Thin Lizzy's "Roisin Dubh," however, is a different story
altogether, but I digress. The ISB's opening cut, "Maybe Someday,"
is great and incorporates some of the elements of Middle Eastern
styles, which they later became known for.
Pentangle,
The Pentangle (Reprise, 1968), Besides spectacular
guitar magic between Jansch and Renbourn, this has the way-British
opening cut, "Let No Man Steal Your Thyme." The choice
to spell "time" that way is a little annoying, but Pentangle
nail the old spiritual "Hear My Call" with such weirdo
jazz-psych brilliance that all is forgiven. And the guitars. Did
I mention the guitars?
Pentangle,
Basket of Light (Edsel, 1969) The first song, "Light
Flight," jumps with the similar jazz feel of "8 Miles
High," but here the acoustic guitars are rich and warm, and
the psychedelic angle is less ragged burnout and more floating on
a cloud of eiderdown, only at a high rate of speed. The vocals float
in and out around each other and the guitars panned in either ear
are enough to keep you busy on their own.
There is at
least one good song on each of these records
Trees,
On the Shore (Beat Goes On, 1970) OK, we're getting
into the freako territory here, and I start to have a little trouble
with the Renaissance Faire feel of the rhythms, but really, that's
the whole point. Also, I don't think people were dressing up like
they're going to a joust match too often in 1970, so you can bet
the four guys and one gal that made up Trees were fried, to say
the least – a major selling point with these bands, for me
anyway. Lots of acoustic guitars giving way to epic, galloping progressions
that would be metal if there was any distortion. Rhythms are strictly
of the twirl-dance variety.
The Sun Also
Rises, The Sun Also Rises (Village Thing, 1970)
The Sun Also Rises were male-female duo Graham and Anne Hemingway,
who followed in the footsteps of their main influence, the Incredible
String Band, only they brought along a kazoo (those crazy hippies'll
try anything!) and they sang about dragons and magicians a whole
lot more. There are a lot of la-las on this record, and the
first time I heard it I almost threw it out the window. But the
centerpiece song, "Until I Do," is fantastic, with a series
of freaky tempo changes and characteristically great harmonies.
Also, "Green Lane" is beautiful; it beckons me to my bed,
where I will dream mystical, magical dreams.
Forest,
Forest/Full Circle (Harvest, 1969/1970) This double
CD compiles the first two and arguably most essential records of
this somewhat forgotten little treasure's career. Among the bands
discussed here, Forest lean toward straight-up country rock more
than the rest. It's kind of like what would have happened if the
Flying Burrito Brothers had identified themselves as merry minstrel
pranksters instead of pothead cowboys. I think that means they're
the first incarnation of the Strapping Fieldhands. Don't believe
me? Listen to "The Midnight Hanging of a Runaway Serf."
Clive's Original
Band, Spirit of Love (Lady Eleanor, 1971) When the Incredible
String Band put out their first record in 1966, founding member
Clive Palmer took the money the label gave him and moved to India.
He returned in 1970 and formed Clive's Original Band. Good parts,
which resemble early Floyd, combine sitar with Scottish folk melodies
("Music of Ages"), and even better parts sound like psychedelic
country music ("Spirit of Love").
Not the best
record ever, but they get an E for effort
Tony Caro
and John, All on the First Day (Normal, 1972)
This exuberantly unprofessional record has a bunch of stinkers on
it and some of the worst harmonies I have ever heard, but "The
Snowdon Song," which opens the album, sounds like a great lost
Pete Hamm song, minus a huge hook in the chorus. After a couple
of listens, the feebleness of the playing and the just barely off
vocals can actually be pretty charming.
Bulb Records
plug
Elvish Presley,
Black Elf Speaks (Bulb, 2003) Recorded by Tom Hohmann, who
plays drums for van-bound math-noise band USA Is a Monster, Black
Elf Speaks is a modern-day version of fucked-up hippy minstrel
music, with some heavy metal thrown in. Creepy chanting, percussive
hypnosis, and song titles like "Water Troll" round out
the proceedings. This is the most important record in the acid folk
pantheon since the ISB guys went Scientologist in the mid '70s.
Epilogue
In the weeks
after The Two Towers came out, Gavin Toler and Chad Peterson,
members of local faerie folk rock band Winter Flowers were denied
entrance and eventually escorted off the premises of a local movie
theater when Toler, who was wearing a cloak, tried to get into a
showing of the movie carrying a giant staff. Whether or not this
staff was indeed a "staff of power" is unclear, but it
didn't matter, because the ticket guys got all freaked out when
they saw it. According to reports, the usher said, "You can't
come in here with that!" to which Peterson responded, "You
would deny a man his walking stick?" The manager was called,
and following a heated argument, the pair were muscled out of the
building. These folk rockers just refuse to be kept down.
John Renbourn
and Jacqui McShee perform May 29, 8 p.m., Freight and Salvage
Coffee House, 1111 Addison, Berk. $17.50-$18.50. (510) 548-1761.
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