52fs: Indigo

Indigo, the second virtual album documenting the 52fs project, is now available.

On this album, unlike its predecessor, I haven’t limited myself to unaccompanied singing; about half of the songs are accompanied, on flute, melodica, bongoes and computer, among other things.

The Indigo album contains the following songs:

1. Dayspring mishandled (Kipling / Bellamy)
2. Lord Allenwater
3. Derwentwater’s farewell
4. Danny Deever (Kipling / Bellamy)
5. Hughie the Graeme
6. Serenity (Joss Whedon)
7. Grand conversation on Napoleon
8. Plains of Waterloo
9. The bonny bunch of roses
10. Boney’s lamentation
11. St Helena lullaby (Kipling / Bellamy)
12. The death of Nelson
13. The unborn Byron (Peter Blegvad)
14. Two sisters
15. The wind and the rain
16. Percy’s song (Bob Dylan)
17. Sam Hall
18. Young Waters
19. The House of the Rising Sun (part 1)
20. The House of the Rising Sun (part 2)

The last two tracks are album exclusives, which can be heard nowhere else except as part of this album. When you’ve heard them, you’ll know why.

This ‘album’ can be downloaded from Bandcamp for a token payment of 52p (you see what I did there). This gets you 70 minutes of singing (most of which is in tune) and musical accompaniment (some of which is played quite competently). You also get a PDF file containing full lyrics plus assorted pictures, comments, musings and afterthoughts. (And album exclusives, don’t forget.)

Alternatively you can download the tracks individually and pay nothing at all, or just listen online (but remember the album exclusives). Or you could listen to something else instead. But you might as well give this a go.

52 Folk Songs: Indigo is here.

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Indigo extras: The House of the Rising Sun (parts 1 and 2)

Two versions of this well-known song appear as hidden ‘bonus tracks’ on the 52 Folk Songs – Indigo virtual album.

The House of the Rising Sun (part 1) takes off from Dave Van Ronk’s uniquely chilling version of the song. It’s interesting to check out older recordings of this song; they often seem positively cheerful, jaunty even. Not Dave Van Ronk’s rendition, which vividly evokes the dying girl’s last gasps over an ominous descending bassline. It’s really quite good. This version started as a straightish take on that version of the song, but then grew: it features quite a lot of melodica and some double-tracked vocals, and begins with a drum solo (I like to think of this track as my “Moving away from the pulsebeat”). Augustus Pablo and the Burundi drummers jamming with Faust would probably sound nothing like this.

As for The House of the Rising Sun (part 2), this is my take on a version of the song that John Otway did when I saw him live some years ago. The great man had spotted that the leisurely pace of the song (in its post-Animals form) left large gaps between successive lines – gaps that seemed designed to permit feeds from the audience:

There is a house in New Orleans
What’s it called?
It’s called the Rising Sun…

I don’t think I’ve seen anything funnier in my life. (Perhaps you had to be there.)

On this version, I played no instruments and didn’t sing all the vocals.

These two tracks are not now available for listening online; they can only be heard as part of a download of the 52 Folk Songs – Indigo album.

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Filed under Dave Van Ronk, folk song, Indigo, John Otway, traditional

Week 13: Young Waters, Dayspring Mishandled

We end the Indigo album (almost) with two thoroughly nasty stories.

Child 94, Young Waters, is a chilling tale of the danger of excessive frankness in long-term relationships, particularly in cases where one’s partner has the power of life and death. I went to town a bit on the accompaniment, and I think the results are quite good (listen out for the recorder).

Dayspring Mishandled is another Bellamy/Kipling production, and not the last; perhaps the most unusual, though, as it’s written in fake Middle English. The message is horribly bleak (appropriately enough for the horribly bleak story in which it features): miss or abuse your first chance – mishandle your one and only dayspring (i.e. dawn) – and you can forget about anything going well for you ever again. Vocal harmony here, and a third part on recorder.

And there are extras – but more on that tomorrow.

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FS13: Young Waters

Child 94. One of the more laconic of the big ballads, and beautifully constructed. In the very first verse

The queen looked over the castle wall and beheld both dale and down
And then she saw Young Waters come riding into town

and from that moment everybody’s doomed, more or less. I particularly like the way that Young Waters’s marital status – a fairly crucial variable, in the circumstances – is withheld almost until the last line of the last verse: poor old Lady Waters only comes in when she’s being haled off to the heading hill.

This version is, of course, heavily indebted to June Tabor’s version on her first album, complete with the eldritch drone of the Rocksichord. I have no Rocksichord (does anyone?) but I managed quite a decent chordal accompaniment on the melodica (which was played straight through, without any looping). Plus drumming (a pair of bongoes bought in my teens and never played in public), and recorder – when you play the track, do hang on for the recorder. First percussion in 52fs; also the first use of harmony. There were six tracks in all, and it took bloody ages to fit them all together; I think it was worth it, though.

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Filed under Child ballad, folk song, June Tabor, O my name is, traditional

NS12: Dayspring mishandled

This song is a setting by Peter Bellamy (who else) of a poem by Rudyard Kipling (who else). The reason why the diction is so archaic is that it’s a fake Chaucer poem (actual title “Gertrude’s Prayer”), which was printed alongside a story in which it plays a prominent part. The plot of the story (Dayspring Mishandled) is too complex to summarise here; suffice to say that the forbidding moral of the poem (That which is marred at birth, time shall not mend) seems to apply to one of the main characters, but ends up applying to several of them – including the most sympathetic. Perhaps not one to read last thing at night.

I worked out the parts from Peter Bellamy’s recording, on which his voice was accompanied by the voices of Anthea Bellamy and Chris Birch. I sang the lead and Chris Birch’s low harmony; this marks the first appearance of vocal harmony in 52fs. Anthea Bellamy’s part is pitched an octave above Peter’s; this was beyond me, so I played it on recorder (recorded in the bathroom for the harmonics).

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Week 12: Two sisters, The wind and the rain, Percy’s song

Child 10, the Two Sisters, survived in a number of different variants. Here are two of them, which have nothing in common except their origins; in effect, they tell the first and second halves of the story.

Two sisters is an unusually brief and laconic telling of the story, or part of it; it ends quite suddenly. The recording features nothing but voices.

The wind and the rain is a highly untypical variant of an American version of the ballad; it has the end of the story, combined with a different first half. The recording features melodeon – a new instrument for me.

Percy’s Song, lastly, is the work of a 22-year-old Bob Dylan: clearly a man who knew his folksongs, including The wind and the rain. The recording features quite a variety of stuff.

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FS12: The two sisters

Or rather, the Two Sisters part 1. (The miller is present and correct, but his treatment of the corpse is mercenary rather than ghoulish.)

This is a simplified version of Jim Moray’s arrangement of this version of Child 10, with two extra verses which I don’t think I made up, although I couldn’t say where they’re from. (There are things I don’t like about Jim Moray’s album Sweet England, but the texts and the melodies aren’t among them.) When you first hear this song, the repeats seem to take up so much time that you think it’s going to go on for hours, but in fact it fairly whips along – and ends rather abruptly.

There are quite a lot of vocal tracks on here; by the last verse I think the total is up to eight. It’s all in unison or at most in octaves; harmonising is still an undiscovered country to me, although I’m hoping to remedy that quite soon.

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Filed under Child ballad, folk song, Jim Moray, traditional

AS07: The wind and the rain

Or: the Two Sisters, part 2.

This song has an interesting history. The American folksinger Kilby Snow reconstructed it from memory, having heard it sung by his late father. It seems likely that what his father was singing was closer to the Two Sisters as we know it, and that it was Kilby Snow himself who effectively turned it into a murder ballad – but a murder ballad with a miller and a one-tune fiddle.

As far as the recording goes, check it out: live accompaniment! Taking my cue from Johnny Collins’s version of this song, I back the refrain with three chords on a B/C melodeon (thanks to my friend Ged for the loan). This rudimentary musical backing is a first not only for 52fs but for me – I’ve literally never played anything to accompany myself before. I’m not keen on the whole business of playing different notes on push and pull – I think it either clicks with you or it doesn’t – but I’ve got to admit it works well for these chords.

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NS11: Percy’s song

This is a curiosity: a Dylan song from 1963, showing very clearly how immersed he was in American traditional song at that stage of his career. The song in this case is ‘The wind and the rain’; Dylan borrows its framework for a song telling a completely different story, albeit one that doesn’t really go anywhere.

The recording features whistle, melodica and several different vocal tracks; among other things, it’s an experiment in location recording, with different verses recorded in different parts of the house (beginning in a bedroom, appropriately enough, and finishing in the open air). To be brutally honest I think it’s more interesting than successful. The trouble was, after a certain point I’d got so embroiled in editing that re-recording anything seemed impossible. So the melodica has been edited to shreds, and the main result is that it seems to be in the wrong time signature; as for the main vocal, it progresses over the song from is that a bit on the flat side or is it just me? to quite definitely flat (although, to be fair, you should never try to hit a high note while wrenching open a jammed kitchen door). I should probably have scrapped the whole thing and re-done it a semitone down, but I’d done all that editing… The ambient directional recording effect I was hoping for doesn’t really come off, either – it just sounds like I’m going off-mike.

Not really selling this one, am I? It was fun recording it, I will say that. That’s the great thing about this home recording lark – even the recordings that make you wince afterwards are fun at the time.

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Filed under Bob Dylan, not a folk song

Week 10: The death of Nelson, St Helena lullaby

We’re in the early 19th century for another week, with another Napoleon song (although not a traditional one) and one about Nelson. We’re also sitting at the feet of the great Peter Bellamy, not for the first time or the last.

The death of Nelson is either the whole of a traditional song or three-fifths of it – depending who you listen to – plus one verse from another song. (It all fits, anyway.) I learned it from Bellamy’s wonderful Maritime England Suite; I defy anyone to listen to Bellamy’s rendition of this song and not learn it.

St Helena Lullaby revisits Napoleon for the last time (at least for now); it seems fitting that we leave the Emperor with an overview of his entire life. By Kipling, arranged by Bellamy, recorded on Merlin’s Isle of Gramarye (which has recently been re-released). Doesn’t feature Nic Jones (or anyone else) on fiddle, although you can hear me on a cheap high G whistle.

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