Cover Lay Down

I first heard the Infamous Stringdusters in 2006 at the Joe Val Bluegrass Festival, when they were asked to fill in for bluegrass supergroup The Grascals at the last minute — a lucky break for a sextet of relative unknowns who had yet to release a single recording. But my disappointment at missing The Grascals didn’t last long. The Infamous Stringdusters turned out to be my favorite kind of bluegrass band: young folks with high energy, incredible skill, and a tight yet easy newgrass sound, who lean towards fast-paced songs performed gleefully and well.

Since then, I’ve seen the Stringdusters a few times, and played their long-delayed first album Fork in the Road half to death. Songs:Illinois sees it too, calling them “one of the most acclaimed young groups that straddle [the] line between polished bluegrass and down to earth country.” And I’m happy to report that their self-titled sophomore release The Infamous Stringdusters is more than equal to their growing reputation in both the jamband and bluegrass communities.

The Infamous Stringdusters features the strong songwriting and instrumental talents of each bandmember on a plethora of catchy bluegrass tunes; as such, it contains no covers. But it merits mention here because it comes with an tantalizing bonus: if you pre-order The Infamous Stringdusters before the June 10th release date, you get exclusive access to an incredible full-length live concert recording, which includes two strong covers.

My bias against after-the-fact live recordings is well-known; too many suffer from crowd noise, poor mixing, and muddy sound quality. But the tracks from this April 15th show at the Fox in Boulder, Colorado are exceptionally well-mastered, with a high fidelity that manages to capture the feel of an Infamous Stringdusters performance without sacrificing one bit of the instrumental wizardry and genuine pleasure in play that each artist brings to the stage. The crowd noice is there, but it’s light enough to fade into the background. And that occasional hoot or holler? It’s likely from the band, who are in rare form, and know it.

Here’s those two covers from that show, plus a bonus version of Deep Elem Blues from Sound of the Slide Guitar, last year’s solo release from Infamous Stringduster’s guitarist Andy Hall.

• Infamous Stringdusters, Lonesome River (orig. The Stanley Brothers)
• Infamous Stringdusters, Deep Elem Blues (trad; pop. Grateful Dead)

• Andy Hall, Deep Elem Blues (ibid.)

Pre-order The Infamous Stringdusters from Sugar Hill Records today, and you’ll get the rest of this amazing live show as a bonus; pick up Andy Hall’s Sounds of the Slide Guitar while you’re at it. If you just can’t wait, or you’re still on the fence, head over to Songs:Illinois for an album track to whet your whistle.

And just in case you can’t remember who The Stanley Brothers are, here’s today’s bonus coversongs, two familiar takes on tradsong which might serve to jog your memory.

• The Stanley Brothers, Angel Band (trad.)
• The Stanley Brothers, Little Maggie (trad.)

In my other life, I’m a middle school teacher; I spend most of my days surrounded by twelve year olds, trying to balance entertainment with mentorship, and curriculum with life lessons. Before that, I taught in a boarding high school, tutored gifted and talented kids in a tiny rural elementary school, ran a before-school program, and did public demonstrations at a science museum.

And before that, I was a dropout. And before that, I was a goofball, who needed a little good advice now and then, but couldn’t really sit still long enough in the classroom to make any teacher want to defend me.

But Mrs. Carter liked me, though I don’t know why. The way she looked at me – like I had something worth watching for – made up for the fact that I was always the understudy when we were picked for the school play, always the alternate for work with the poet in residence. I learned to rise to the occasion, and to focus on doing things well, instead of doing things best; I gained confidence in my abilities. And though after that year, I turned back into the goofball for a good long time, I never forgot Mrs. Carter. And I never forgot that look.

It’s a well-kept secret in educational circles that it isn’t just the good kids, or the smart kids who get voted “most likely to be a teacher”, who come back to school to sit on the other side of the desk (or in my case, to stand atop the desk and gesticulate wildly to make a point). We come from all the cliques, from the woodshop wannabes to the cheerleading squad, from the lit mag proto-hipsters to the band geeks. But I can’t think of any teacher I have ever spoken with who is not honored and thrilled and genuinely surprised when that rare student comes out of the woodwork to say “you mattered, and now I matter.”

A few years back, at a five year reunion, this kid came up to me, and thanked me. He said I was the one who changed his life; that now he was doing what I had taught him to do, and hardly a week went by where he didn’t think about what I had taught him.

And I looked at him, and smiled, and was secretly joyous. But all I could think about was that this kid was the goofball. The one who was always pushing the envelope. The one who messed around in film class, though he always came through with something pretty cool when the work was due. The one who spliced thirty second of a shower scene from a Penthouse video into his remade music video for Van Halen’s Hot For Teacher. And showed it on the day the Academic Dean came to observe me in my first year of teaching.

And then I remembered Mrs. Carter. And I thought about calling her up, and thanking her. But Mrs. Carter isn’t around anymore.

There are surprisingly few songs about the teaching profession which portray it in a positive light (though there are a couple of other memorable songs out there about teachers as sex objects, such as Police classic Don’t Stand So Close To Me and Rufus Wainwright’s The Art Teacher); of these, fewer still have been covered by folk artists. More common are songs about school as a part of adolescent or childhood experience — songs where the teachers are there, unmentioned, just hovering in the background. But as a teacher myself, I know that no classroom feels safe unless the teacher has set a tone that makes it safe. Even without mention, as long as curriculum and classroom exist, a teacher is always there.

Today, then, in celebration of National Teacher Appreciation Week (USA), we bring you a set of quirky covers of teachersongs, and some schoolsongs which touch lightly and broadly on our experience of the classroom, that childhood stew of fear and freedom where our personalities were transformed.

Together, the songs make a perfect soundtrack to a google search for that one special teacher who reached out and changed your life. Write the letter, send the email, make the call: let them know they made a difference today. You don’t even have to say thanks — just letting them know that you remember them, and that you turned out okay, is a rare and precious reward.

• Petty Booka, Teacher’s Pet (orig. Doris Day)
  (from Ukelele Lady; more Petty Booka here)

• Matt Nathanson, Starfish and Coffee (orig. Prince)
  (from For The Kids, Too; more Matt Nathanson here)
• Fionn Regan, Getting Better (orig. Beatles)
  (live on BBC Radio 1; more Fionn Regan here)
• Mark Erelli, Lonestar (orig. Lori McKenna)
  (Mp3 of the Month web release; more Mark Erelli here)
• David Wilcox, The Kid (orig. Buddy Mondlock)
  (from How Did You Find Me Here; more David Wilcox here)
• Cry Cry Cry, The Kid (ibid.)
  (from Cry Cry Cry; more here here here)
• Bree Sharp, We’re Going To Be Friends (orig. White Stripes)
  (website release; more Bree Sharp here)
• Jack Johnson, We’re Going To Be Friends (ibid.)
  (from the Curious George soundtrack; more Jack Johnson here)
• Art Garfunkel w/ Paul Simon and James Taylor, (What A) Wonderful World (orig. Sam Cooke)
  (from Watermark; more Art Garfunkel here)
• Luther Wright and the Wrongs, Another Brick in the Wall (orig. Pink Floyd)
  (from Rebuild the Wall; more Luther Wright here)

See also: Kate and Anna McGarrigle cover Loudon Wainwright III’s Schooldays

News, new releases, and new discoveries leave us no choice but to bring you yet another long-overdue installment of our popular (Re)Covered series, wherein we recover songs that dropped through the cracks too late to make it into the posts where they belonged.

A huge news trifecta this week from Cover Lay Down inaugural-post favorite Richard Shindell: he’s started a blog, he’s decided to reopen sales of his recent live album as a digital download, and he’s decided to try financing his next record by offering every single one of us the chance to become a producer.

Shindell’s blog is already proving to be a vibrant space for thoughtful, well-written treatises on the world and how it is changing, though we’d expect nothing less from this articulate singer-songwriter’s singer-songwriter; the first two entries offer a short journalistic report from his adopted homeland of Argentina, and an artist’s-eye reflection on how changes in the music industry have altered the relationship between musicians and fans, primarily for the better. And the news that others will soon be able to order his well-produced and wonderfully organic live album, which I wrote about in our six-month anniversary post, is just plain great.

But I’m especially excited to see Shindell join the growing ranks of folk artists who are not only embracing the new, digital world, but tapping into its fullest potential. Album microfinancing through the fanbase is a gutsy move, but it is a viable one, as singer-songwriters Kris Delmhorst and Jill Sobule have successfully demonstrated; the multi-tiered approach Shindell is using to finance his new work seems creative, and offers real return for investors: at the entry level, you’re basically buying the album in advance; from there, investment return climbs all the way up to house concerts and housepainting.

As Richard points out in his most recent blog entry, working with “big music” and the RIAA has its costs, and often require that artists work in ways which are not consistent with their own value systems. But the file-sharing landscape offers new opportunities which greatly improve the potential for the relationship between artists and fans. Fan financing is just one example of this; a second is Shindell’s creation of an open guitar case, where those who have downloaded his work for free, or just appreciate it, can choose to stop by and support Shindell directly. Here’s hoping that this is only the tip of a very big iceberg.

Please join me in supporting the creation of Richard’s new album, and celebrating yet one more musician who has decided to leave behind the crumbling, artist-unfriendly industry. Even if you aren’t interested in purchasing a full album, or participating in microfinancing at this time, if you like the songs I’ve included here, or enjoyed previously-posted covers from Richard Shindell, including songs by Springsteen and Ritter, Leonard Cohen, and Jeffrey Foucault and Dar Williams, please consider donating to Shindell via his open guitar case.

• Richard Shindell, Mercy Street (orig. Peter Gabriel)
• Richard Shindell, Waist Deep in the Big Muddy (orig. Pete Seeger)
• Richard Shindell, I’ll Be Here In The Morning / Sing Me Back Home (origs. Townes Van Zandt / Merle Haggard)

In other (Re)Covered-worthy news, I just recieved my review copy of Heart Walk, the new album from the trio of Cindy Kallet, Ellen Epstein, and Michael Cicone. As expected, it’s a beautful work, full of robust harmony and sincere emotion, primarily comprised of coversongs of underappreciated folk artists who share the same social and ecological sensibilities of Kallet and co. Like the trio’s previous two albums, which I wrote about in our previous feature on Cindy Kallet, Heart Walk is both an especially powerful musical experience, and a great and loving introduction to the work of other folk musicians you may not have heard of, but should. Kudos, all around.

Order Heart Walk and hear samples here; if you live in the Boston area, come join me at First Parish Church in Watertown on May 17th for the Kallet, Epstein, and Cicone CD release party, a rare opportunity to see the trio (and friends) perform live. In the meantime, these two covertracks from the new album — a cover of an old Judy Collins tune, and an absolutely stunning cover of Peter Mayer’s Holy Now featuring Michael’s warm, clear lead vocals — are a great way to whet the appetite.

• Kallet, Epstein, Cicone, Holy Now (orig. Peter Mayer)
• Kallet, Epstein, Cicone, Since You Asked (orig. Judy Collins)

Our recent vacation to North Carolina was lots of fun, but being without the bulk of my music collection meant a relative dearth of music availability for the posts I produced while on the road. Happily, since my return, my continued search for songs from fathers to daughters and more old folk song covers from Doc Watson led me to Daddies Sing Good Night, a decade-old compilation from bluegrass label Sugar Hill records. This great coveralbum, which turned up in my daughter’s vanity, was the source for the Seldom Scene cover of Sweet Baby James I included in our recent James Taylor coversongs megapost; it also includes these two great father-to-son cuts from Doc Watson.

• Doc Watson, Prairie Lullaby (orig. Billy Hill)
• Doc Watson, My Little Buckaroo (pop. Eddie Arnold)

And finally, speaking of ol’ JT: thanks to all my readers, especially long-time reader and fan Carol, for the many songs and suggestions that poured in after the aforementioned James Taylor megapost. Though I’m saving most of my newly-embiggened collection of Taylor covers ever-hopefully for a future post on other members of the mightily talented Taylor Family, here’s that Alison Krauss and James Taylor cover of the Louvin Brothers I’d been looking for — it’s even better than I hoped it would be.

• James Taylor and Alison Krauss, How’s The World Treating You (orig. Louvin Brothers)

A short one-shot occasional today, as part of our New Artists, Old Songs series — a feature in which I have the rare privilege of introducing some artists so far under the radar that most of them haven’t even hit the rest of the blogosphere, so new that they haven’t yet recorded more than a single cover or two, and so incredible I just couldn’t wait until their next album to write about them.

Today’s featured artist: Arrica Rose and the…s

There’s been plenty of buzz in the blogworld as we near the May 20 release date for the new Tom Waits cover album by Scarlett Johansson (yes, that Scarlett Johansson). Indie coverblog Blowin’ Your Cover seems to like it; Muruch is reserving judgement, though she offers Holly Cole’s cover album Temptation as the gold standard for Tom Waits cover albums.

I’m curious enough about the full monty here; both genre and premise seem up our alley, though it’s hard to hear Scarlett in the samples I’ve heard. And it’s no secret that I like Tom Waits covers — I posted two covers of I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With You recently, and both were worth a second listen. But like Muruch, I have a high standard in mind when it comes to Tom Waits covers. And in my case, the bar was raised that much higher just last week, when the best damn Tom Waits cover I’ve heard in a long, long while — Arrica Rose and the …s cover of I Hope That I Don’t Fall — dropped out of the sky into my mailbox.

Rose is a relative newcomer whose second album La La Lost is getting decent radioplay but not much blogpress after a mid-April release. Her version of I Hope… is the sole cover on an album which moves fluidly from lo-fi yet popgrungy singer-songwriter tunes that call to Juliana Hatfield or Mary Lou Lord to reasonably powerful indiefolk originals reminiscent of early Ani DiFranco. The sound is good, if a bit too diverse. But the big appeal here is singer-songwriter and indierock pin-up girl Arrica Rose’s beautiful but broken voice: unusually hoarse and strangled, as if on the verge of tears, with a subtle and gentle delivery that gets lost in a bigger sound. And when the production steps back and lets that beautiful, broken instrument come forward, the songs really shine.

Today’s coversong is one of the most intimate and most successful cuts on the album. Here, the abovementioned elements combine with the lyrical longing of the original to create a breathtaking transformation of what was already an unusually powerful song. Where Waits’ original is as broken as his voice, Rose brings us a narrator who is immeasurably fragile, as if she could break any second. The stakes of the narrative dilemma are raised accordingly. The result is a stunningly beautiful, bittersweet cover which both transcends and revitalizes the original.

It’s hard to imagine a better Waits cover coming at us this year. But don’t take my word for it. Listen for yourself, and then pick up La La Lost for the originals: