Cover Lay Down

Songsources are ever pouring forth new and unearthed sounds: the forgotten track, the new release, your own wonderful recommendations via email or post comments. Sometimes the perfect folksong pops onto the radar (or hits the blogosphere) and demands to be shared, no matter how after-the-fact.

Today, our third installment of (Re)Covered, a regular feature in which we recover a few songs that dropped through the cracks just a little too late to make it into the posts where they belonged. Better late than never, I say. Thanks to all who share music, that we might revisit, and rejoice.

Ever wake up in the middle of the night feeling like you missed something? These Moxy Fruvous kidsongs truly belonged at the core of last month’s post on silly songs and dancearounds for cool moms and dads. Canadian eco-political folk rockers Moxy Fruvous used to rock the house at Falcon Ridge Folk Festival each year, but they could also play a college student center lounge like nobody’s business; their take on the Talking Heads isn’t technically kids music, but it seemed right for the occasion. Their “cover” of seminal kidlit text Green Eggs and Ham is not just hilarious, it’s quite possibly the best folk rap song you’ll ever hear.

• Moxy Fruvous, Green Eggs and Ham (orig. Dr. Seuss)
• Moxy Fruvous, Spiderman (TV theme song)
• Moxy Fruvous, Psycho Killer (orig. Talking Heads)

Researching those kidfolk posts has brought me new appreciation for the kids CD rack at our local library; here’s a fun little Marley cover I found on Putumayo’s Carribean Playground that would have been perfect for our Subgenre Coverfolk feature on Zydeco music. The first few bars suffer from some cheesy electronic keyboards, but they get swallowed by the great Zydeco sound quick enough. Also included: Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys with a houserockin’ version of traditional proto-Cajun tune La Danse De Mardi Gras. Coming eventually: a full post on folk covers of Bob Marley songs.

• Keith Frank & The Soileau Zydeco Band, Three Little Birds (orig. Bob Marley)
• Steve Riley and The Mamou Playboys, La Danse De Mardi Gras (trad.)

A few bonus Brooks Williams coversongs got stuck in my head after our feature on this incredible singer-songwriting guitar wizard. You probably know Angie as a Simon and Garfunkel tune off Sounds of Silence, though folk-rocker Davey Graham gave it first voice; Brooks Williams and Jim Henry’s deceptively simple instrumental version is crisp and reinvigorating. Their gleeful cover of Stefane Grappelli and Django Reinhardt string-jazz tune Minor Swing was too tempting to leave out.

• Brooks Williams + Jim Henry, Angie (orig. Davey Graham)
• Brooks Williams + Jim Henry, Minor Swing (orig. Grappelli/Reinhardt)

Finally, I’m still kicking myself for not including kidsong I Was Born in last week’s post on Billy Bragg, cover artist. Like his other work with Wilco and Natalie Merchant, the song is a half-cover — lyrics by Guthrie, music by Bragg — but it captures the Guthrie sensibility so well, you’d think they were channeling the old folkie. His Dylan and Tim Hardin covers are similarly authentic; you probably know the latter as a Rod Stewart piece, but this is a thousand times more real.

• Billy Bragg, Positively 4th Street (orig. Bob Dylan)
• Billy Bragg, Reason to Believe (orig. Tim Hardin)
• Bragg/Merchant/Wilco, I Was Born (orig. Guthrie/Bragg)

Don’t forget to come back on Friday, when I’ll be doing double duty: a few choice folk covers of songs by 80s alternative rock band The Smiths here at Cover Lay Down, and a guest post on the Pop Punk movement over at Fong Songs.

It’s been some week here at Cover Lay Down. Features on popular singer-songwriters Billy Bragg and Paul Simon brought us to the top of the charts at musicblog aggregator The Hype Machine and a linkback from New York magazine’s Vulture blog. On Friday, almost 900 of you visited the site, a new record; download tracking shows that many of you came in for one song, but stuck around to try something new. Welcome, kudos, and thanks for validating our goals here at Cover Lay Down.

Today, we return to our roots for the fourth in our very popular Single Song Sunday series with a feature on Child Ballad #243 in the canonical collection of British folk ballads, a song more commonly known as House Carpenter.

They’re building one of those Habitat for Humanity houses in our town, just along the main road, out past the edge of what counts for downtown in these rural one-bar parts. A few weeks ago our local church helped make lunch for the crew — chili and cornbread, the kind of early winter comfort food that can be soaked up quickly, and keeps the fires going for hours. I wasn’t there, but the story goes that they had plenty of leftovers, primarily due to the fact that the workforce that day was a group of local college girls, doing their community service. The girls ate all the clementines, though. I guess we made the food with heartier carpenters in mind.

The 18th Century folk ballad House Carpenter, officially titled either James Harris or Demon Lover, isn’t about hope, or new beginnings. Quite the opposite. It’s a morality play, in which a woman is tempted by a finer life with an old flame, gives in, leaves her new little babe in the care of her carpenter husband, regrets it too late, and drowns for her sins. It’s about the perils of choosing style over substance; it’s about the consequences of valuing speed and beauty over community and commitment. Like our Habitat for Humanity project, it’s not about house carpenters: it’s about the girls who showed up to be house carpenters, and the church making lunch; a reminder of the value of all who help make a house, a home, a community.

That authenticity is hard to come by in the world today is an oft-repeated trope in folk music; it is the universality of the sentiment, as much as the plaintive beauty of House Carpenter’s simple tune, which explains why the song continues to find voice in each new generation of folksinger. In some ways, it’s frustrating to find that the message is still needed, hundreds of years after it was first found necessary. But the house goes up, nonetheless. Looks like it’s going to be a cosy place, too.

Work on our local Habitat house seems to have been put on pause for the winter. The girls who came that day to help have gone back to their lives with a new entry for their graduate school applications and, hopefully, a true sense of having participated in something selfless and pride-worthy. May their lots and ours be better than the lot of our alternate-verse narrator, who sinks and goes to hell for one bad decision. If their work on the house is any indication, they’re already headed for a better life.

Unlike Rain and Snow, the emotion of this oft-covered song is set in the lyrics; as such, most interpretations aim for a melancholic delivery. But as today’s featured artists demonstrate, there’s a wide potential for instrumentation and tone, even within a limited emotional range.

The fast-paced storyteller’s banjo on Pete Seeger and Clarence Ashley’s ancient versions creates a tension which serves the piece equally, if differently, from the languid brushstrokes, etherial harmonies and skeletal bass of The Tami Show’s haunted cover, the sweet, rich mysticism of Mick McAuley’s celtic ballad, or the fuller instrumentation and nuanced tonal ebb and flow of Tim O’Brien’s moody, celtic-flavored bluegrass.

The sparse, cracked doublevoiced tones of Roger McGuinn are a world away from the mournful, driving blues Natalie Merchant brings to the piece. And interpretations by folkfave youngsters The Mammals and Nickel Creek provide a study in contrast, two new-folkgrass bands taking the song through vastly distinct but equally powerful paces.

Try ‘em all. Find your favorite. It is, after all, the personal connection that makes us folk.

• Clarence Ashley, House Carpenter
  (1930 field recording, from the Folkways Anthology of American Folk Music, available at Folktunes)

• Tim O’Brien, Demon Lover
  (from Two Journeys)

• Natalie Merchant, House Carpenter
  (from The House Carpenter’s Daughter)

• Nickel Creek, House Carpenter
  (from This Side)

• Mick McAuley, The House Carpenter
  (from Putumayo’s Celtic Crossroads collection)

• Pete Seeger, The House Carpenter
  (from A Pete Seeger Concert; originally recorded 1953)

• Roger McGuinn, House Carpenter
  (via McGuinn blog Folk Den)

• The Tami Show, House Carpenter
  (from Hinah’s ongoing, web-based Tribute To The Anthology of American Folk Music)

• The Mammals, House Carpenter/Pipeline
  (from Evolver)

As always, all album and label links above take you direct to the source for your musical purchase. Buy local, support community: it’s that simple.

The coversongs of Brit-folker Billy Bragg have been hovering on the edge of my consciousness for decades. His lovely, raw cover of She’s Leaving Home was the earworm on 1988’s alternative UK-band coveralbum Sgt. Pepper Knew My Father. His folk-pop work interpreting the lost works of Woody Guthrie in the late nineties reminded me of the genius of both Bragg and genre-defining alt-country musician Jeff Tweedy even as the albums brought the musicians themselves from fringe fandom to full-blown mass market appeal.

Then today, as I crested the mountain in the frigid New England winter air, our local early-morning folkshow played Bragg’s now-seminal, pained 2002 version of Smokey Robinson and the Miracles’ Tracks of My Tears. And I knew it was time to pay tribute to the collected covers of a man who’s made the journey from punk to folk, and come out smiling, without losing his radical political heart.

Ladies and gentlemen, Billy Bragg: folksinger, cover artist, and man of the people.

Billy Bragg’s bio describes his early work as that of a one-man Clash, an electrified punker with singer-songwriter style. More generally, he is often categorized as anti-folk, though his early work is punk folk, an umbrella that includes such smashingly loud, mosh-pit bands as Flogging Molly and The Pogues. His politically charged lyrics and angry street-broken voice are known for how they speak to the plight of the working class, while making explicit reference to a political arena which is both resonant with and alien to the American ear.

Perhaps because of this tendency to ground himself in the styles and politics of the United Kingdom, for most of his career, Bragg’s work didn’t show much on this side of the Atlantic. I first heard that Beatles cover, for example, on imported vinyl brought into our home by my younger brother, who was primarily in it for the much weirder stuff.

But while it’s true that Bragg still shares an anarchist’s sensibility with his fellow folk punk luminaries, in his later years, like fellow countryman Elvis Costello, Bragg has mellowed out musically, joining forces with Wilco to pay tribute to one of the seminal authors of the great American songbook, and turning his voice, already torn from the anger of his early punkfolk days, to an almost Americana sensibility.

The combination of new sound and old credibility, of socially aware soul and mellow mature interpreter, fits perfectly into the modern post-folk world of Grammy recognition and blog cred. It says what it needs to that when no less an authority than Woody Guthrie’s daughter Nora was looking for someone to write music for two albums worth of unset Woody Guthrie lyrics, she considered Bragg enough of an inheritor of the Guthrie voice-of-the-people, politically and musically, to ask him to do it.

This is Bragg’s quieter work, to be sure, though I’ve planted some of Bragg’s harder stuff in the bonus section below. The lush fiddle and plainsong treatment of Pete Seeger is more churchmusic than mosh pit; his version of When the Roses Bloom Again falls towards the country ballad side of alt-country. But listen for the yearning, the core of that politicized soul, and you just can’t miss it. Today’s set even begins with that Beatles cover, a harbinger of the softer artist to come: beautiful, broken-voiced, and unequivocally Bragg.

• Billy Bragg w/ Cara Tivey, She’s Leaving Home (orig. The Beatles)
• Billy Bragg, Jeane (orig. The Smiths)
• Billy Bragg, My Father’s Mansions (orig. Pete Seeger)
• Billy Bragg, Tracks of My Tears (orig. Smokey Robinson and the Miracles)
• Billy Bragg, When Will I See You Again (orig. The Three Degrees)
• Billy Bragg and Wilco, When the Roses Bloom Again (orig. A. P. Carter)
• Billy Bragg and Wilco, Stetson Kennedy (orig. Woody Guthrie/Bragg)
• Billy Bragg and Wilco, Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key (ibid.)

Most of Billy Bragg’s work has been rereleased since his turn-of-the-century Grammy nominations; his back catalog is an incredible journey, if you’re up for the boxset collections and compilations. But no matter whether you choose his old work or his new, buy Billy Bragg’s work direct from the source, not the megastores. It just wouldn’t be cricket, otherwise.

Today’s bonus coversongs:

• Kirsty MacColl covers Bragg’s folkpunk anthem A New England popstyle
• Jonah Matranga and Frank Turner’s indiefolk approach to A New England.
• Billy Bragg in full-on folk punk mode…
  • Covers psych-folkers Love’s Seven and Seven Is in style
  • Does an electrified version of The Smiths’ Jeane, live from The Peel Sessions

Previously on Cover Lay Down:
Billy Bragg and Wilco, My Flying Saucer (orig. Guthrie)

The ninth post in our very popular Covered In Folk series addresses the solo output of Paul Simon. This is unusual — with the exception of our ongoing Beatles series (part 1, part 2), previous posts have covered the total output of a given artist; see, for example, posts on the songs of Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground and Tim and Neil Finn. It’s also backwards, since Simon’s solo career is really his second wave of fame, after his first incarnation as a folk icon with partner Art Garfunkel.

So stay tuned in the coming weeks for the songs of Simon and Garfunkel, including folkcovers by the Indigo Girls, Jonatha Brooke, Johnny Cash, and Emiliana Torrini. And for those of you that don’t otherwise follow the hippest darlings of the blogworld, enjoy today’s introduction to a branch of folk music so new, its artists don’t even use the term.

The solo songs of Paul Simon have enjoyed a sort of renaissance in the ears of the indie world recently, due in no small part to three bootlegs floating around the blogs: Swedish indie-pop artist Jens Lekman’s radio-station cover of You Can Call Me Al, and two versions of Graceland, one from indie remix experimentalists Hot Chip, the other from Dan Rossen of psychfolk indiedarlings Grizzly Bear.

I’ve mentioned my bias towards good sound quality here before; though I know that the swamp of sound is deliberate in the case of the Rossen cover (in the other covers, it’s a result of off-the-radio taping), the genuinely hissy, fuzzy quality of all three of these recordings keeps me from passing these songs on without caveat. That said, these songs are worth serious consideration, so they’re here today, if you want ‘em. Fans of the abovementioned artists either already have these, or need them badly; if you’ve never heard these artists of the new indie almost-folk movement, these covers provide a decent entry into their core sound, but I highly recommend tracking down more of their work before you decide whether you’re a fan or not.

But though I’m fond of these interpretations, and respect them for the love they clearly show towards the originals, I also think there’s better Simoncovers out there, both in and out of the indiefolkworld.

There’s plenty to pick from; Simon’s songs address universal themes, and they are eminently singable. There are as many acoustic Paul Simon covers as there are streetcorner buskers. But most merely sandpaper these songs, stripping the instrumentation away to deliver them with broken voice and road guitar. Only a few bring new life to songs which have forever been marked as an emotional mirror for a generation of baby boomers. Now that takes talent, forethought, and perspiration.

Today, we bring our usual full plate brimming with covers of the post-Simon and Garfunkel work of Paul Simon. Not all manage to surpass the originals, it’s true. Like the newest batch, some are imperfect, albeit spectacularly so. But there’s something special and wonderful and new in each one. And the best ones, like the best covers of anything once-and-forever-loved, remind you of how wonderful the originals were without sacrificing the power of their interpretation.

As always, today’s songs are a pretty diverse set, though they tend to cluster around the solo acoustic approach. Some are earnestly, almost delicately reinterpreted, others are lo-fi, almost all are live. Very few come from artists that consider themselves folk, but each has just enough folk sensibility to be welcomed into the fold. I’ll leave it to each of you to find your own favorites. Just remember: there’s more to a great cover than who’s doing the covering.

• Jens Lekman, You Can Call Me Al
• Dan Rossen (of Grizzly Bear), Graceland
• Hot Chip, Graceland
  As above; flawed but powerful recordings of covers with real possibility. The recorded output of Jens Lenkman, Grizzly Bear, and Hot Chip aren’t always folk music, but they always make my ears happy; see today’s bonus section for further evidence that these folks are worth a second listen.

• Julie Doiron, Me and Julio Down By The Schoolyard
• Peter Bjorn and John, Me and Julio Down By The Schoolyard
  Two of the post-folk indie movement’s newest, coolest musical phenomena boil down what was once a jumpin’ streetfolk tune into a folk lullaby (Julie Doiron) and an oldtimey backalley strut (Peter Bjorn and John).

• Peter Mulvey, Stranded In A Limousine
  Plucky all-out solo singer-songwriter fare from Peter Mulvey’s all-covers subway session Ten Thousand Mornings, previously featured here.

• Eva Cassidy, American Tune
• Eva Cassidy, Kathy’s Song
  Two of Paul Simon’s most wistful, etherial tunes set to perfection by the mistress of dark resophonic strings and clear-voiced longing. Eva, your songs live on without you.

Follow the links above to artist homepages. Buy compilations, songs, and albums direct from the source. Support labels, stores, and artists. It’s just that simple.

Today’s bonus coversongs provide a deeper glimpse into the coverwork of Hot Chip and Grizzly Bear, key players from opposite ends of the new folk-tinged indie movement:

• Hot Chip, Sexual Healing (orig. Marvin Gaye)
• Grizzly Bear, He Hit Me (It Felt Like A Kiss) (orig. The Crystals)
• Grizzly Bear, Owner of a Lonely Heart (orig. Yes)

We’ll have a full set of stellar folk covers of Simon and Garfunkel songs soon enough. In the meanwhile, stay tuned for a post on the coverwork of folk punk artist Billy Bragg, yet another Single Song Sunday, and the third installment in our very popular (Re)Covered series, all in the next week or so.