#john renbourne

[radiophd]

john renbourne -- candy man

[jt1674]

[capturing-earths-beauty]

Pentangle - Reflection

from 1972

This recording is one of my favorites, every note is perfection. This song is a true jam! It blends folk, traditional, and jazz with psychedelic rock sounds in such a beautiful way.

The video is also amazing. The camera angles, and use of double exposure from multiple cameras and overall very artsy and surreal look is just captivating. Sorry to sound cheesy, I just love every aspect of this performance and video.

A little technical nerd enthusiasm about the production. This was captured with TV cameras that very likely used a Vidicon camera tube. (Camera tubes are very similar to their CRT TV counterparts but capture images rather than produce them. I won't get into that detail here) These cameras have a characteristic of darkening bright areas of the image or even creating a black circle around a very bright highlight. This results in a very interesting tonality to the image. This video looks like it was transferred from expensive video tape to film for storage which is where the grain and dust comes from which adds another layer of abstraction. When this was produced, there was no such possibility with video, as there is with film and modern cameras, to record multiple camera feeds at once. So every cross-fade, every double exposure, and every cut, was done live during the performance. Editing video in post wasn't an option. It was possible to record multi-tack audio and mix in post, and add that back to the video, but it was likely mixed live as well. I wish I could get my hands on one of these cameras but they are very large, expensive, and rare in working order.

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #18:

Bob Dylan's Dream / Lord Franklin

At some point in 1988 I discovered that there was music in my childhood home.

We'd grew up largely without it. I had an ancient, AM-only, dial radio at the head of my child sized bed, but that was strictly for listening to Vin Scully call Dodger games. At some point around 83 I spun the corroded dial experimentally and heard Borderline followed by Thriller. It was terrifying, and I did not repeat the experiment.

Therefore, as a child, the only song I remember singing along to was this ditty, which always immediately preceded Vinny declaring that it was "time for Dodger Baseball!"

Of course, I heard snatches of music outside our home. When Dolly, Emmylou and Linda put out Trio in 87 my mom bought the tape, shoved it into our red and white Vanagon's deck and kept that thing on repeat for years. And on the fourth of July I'd watch the annual Beach Boys Special at friends' houses while we lay about, sunburnt from head to toe and waiting for rock hard burgers off the grill. And yes, I'd sit in the park every summer and try to figure out how to eat KFC while the US Navy Brass band played. But all that music was around me, not in me.

Then, in 88, my buddy Matt's parents got cable, so MTV happened and we learned all about girls, I guess, from Straight Up Now Tell Me. By that point Buffalo Soldier, Shout, Brass Monkey and Take My Breath Away where spinning at elementary school dances and all the cool kids were bravely listening to Guns and Roses.

But I wasn't cool. I recognize this fact must be a surprise to all of you given the incomparably cool nature of this august blog and the meteoric rise of my Gordon Lightfoot musings among the cognoscenti (I have no doubt that among my legion of 14 followers cheesebot47 is Obama and dannhann is Bruuuuce while bloggin - I see you gentlemen! Thanks for my grand total of two heart emojis!), but I feel that my uninterrupted lifelong run of uncoolness needs to be acknowledged nonetheless. As proof I offer up the following evidence: my initial attempt at getting into music in 88 was buying the cassette single for Chicago's Look Away:

Yeah, definitely not cool. Even my father thought the song spewd chunks and the only song he ever sang to us as kids was Home on the Range. Baby! Look away!

So I did hear music at age 12. But my home had none to offer, and I'd yet to hear anything that really spoke to me, that shouted its way into my soul.

Then, somehow, furniture got rearranged or I opened my eyes a little wider and found a hitherto unknown cabinet in our living room. There weren't fur coats inside, or mothballs; nor did it take me straight to Mr. Tumnus. No, it was better than that. Instead, when I looked inside, I found The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan.

That's right: there was a record player in my home that I'd never noticed before, and records sat underneath it. No one had touched anything in there for a decade or more. But I knelt down and figured out what to do with it somehow and the next thing I knew I was listening to Blowin' in the Wind.

Picture me on my 12 year old knees, all 80 pounds of me watching the record spin, holding my breath. What was this noise? Why did it sound so glorious? And why, oh why, wouldn't it play smoothly?

You see, from the first moment Dylan began slapping at his 6 string and asking how many roads a man must walk down, the filthy, bruised record and the turntable's utterly battered needle refused to meld. I could hear only snatches of Blowing in the Wind before the whole thing popped and bolted and before you knew it there was a broken harmonica blast and Dylan was already telling me that he'd learned the next song somewhere down in the U-nited States. Then everything erupted again and it wasn't long before the needle leapt and dragged into full skid before thudding to a stop.

And yet somehow, one song on my parents' long forgotten and utterly ravaged copy of the Dylan's first masterpiece was largely intact and skip-free: at age 12 I joined Dylan on a train going west; I too dreamed a dream and weathered many a first storm. But Bob Dylan's Dream did not make me sad. Rather, it took my breath away.

And it still does.

I suspect each of us has a specific, elemental melody that insistently tugs at us; like an invisible tether, there's a combination of notes and pacing out there that's ineffably linked with our individual soul. Somehow, wonderfully, the borrowed melody Dylan used for his Dream is that tether for me.

Of course at that point I couldn't put any words together to describe what was happening to me when I listened. I was just fired up. What's more, I found that each time I replayed the record a bit more of it would emerge intact: the tortured needle harvested bits of dirt and debris from the grooves each time it passed through. Sure, I had to bully the record through several skips, but eventually I could track most of the record.

Next, somehow, probably at my friend Eric's, I found a blank tape and a turntable connected to a tape deck and was able to transfer my chopped up record into something I could carry around in my pocket like a talisman. There was a world of music out there, just for me. I had not found it yet, but I had a map.

And so I did what came naturally: I took the world's worst version of the The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan to my next Dungeons and Dragons game. Doing so made total sense to me. I was clearly 12 years old.

I emailed my personal dungeon lord, Jon, this week and asked him to recall what happened next. But Jon remembers nothing, which is surprising, because something definitely happened. The moment I pressed play on my brutalized copy of Freewheelin' in the middle of Jon's personally scripted orcfest he freaked the hell out, unplugged the stereo and carried my character sheet out to his dad's Weber, ranting all the while about how if I ever brought such crazed and unbearable sounds to one of his games again my character (I think he was named Illure...) would get doused in lighter fluid and would serve as a fitting holocaust to every god one could name. And Jon was true to his precociously literate 12 year old word: a few months later, when I brought not Bob Dylan but instead swiped cans of beer to D&D, Illure did indeed taste Jon's threatened flames and I was altogether banned from D&D henceforth. My buddy Jon: always totally awesome.

It's too bad about Illure. But I wouldn't change a thing.

So let's talk about Lord Franklin. Dylan openly acknowledged that he borrowed the tune for his Dream from Martin Carthy's version of the original. Let's drop the needle on the song's gold standard: Pentangle's version from their wrongly maligned Dollar Bin treasure, Cruel Sister.

Listen to John Renbourn, just above a whisper, recall his sighing dream. Bert Jansch's weary concertina trembles and pulses and Jacqui McShee's accompanying voice arches above and beyond until Renbourn finally produces the world's smallest and gnarliest electric guitar. Wow. What a song; what a version. That's my personal pulse friends; that's my tether.

Who knows how far back this melody actually goes; its primary known source, the Irish song Cailín Óg a Stór, is least 400 years old, but surely people were humming this thing under their breath long before any peer of Shakespeare thought about claiming ownership of it in print. Maybe my ever so great grandmother had some hand in its creation; or maybe yours did. I'll bet people all over the world have been warbling this melody in their own tongues for time out of mind.

Take a listen to the Carthy version that first inspired Dylan:

You can hear the song's racing pulse in Carthy's fleet picking beneath the swaying, stately melody. Maybe that tension of paces is part of the song's allure for me. I love slowly sung songs that still contain lurching threats of violence, terror or despair. Think Danger Bird or This Monkey's Gone to Heaven; think Mr. Bojangles.

Sure, Jerry's telling us his story with a smile. But he's not okay. He's grieving deeply as he sings, channeling his old prison mates' terrible loss for his dog.

Cailín Óg a Stór is a root stock that's been grafted beyond Franklin's tale and Dylan's dream. Happily, Stephen Stills' own take, a reworking entitled I Suck, remains unreleased. But check out Fairport Convention's A Sailor's Life. Hear the incomparable Sandy Denny spin that glorious melody in a new direction.

It takes some real guts to completely reconsider a song this elemental, but people are forever doing just that. Check out Renbourn's own masterful and hilarious version from the 90's. Just look at the guy sweat as he giggles then dives deeply in.

All of these examples help make Dylan's Dream particularly audacious. Forget telling timeless tails of terror on the deep; Dylan instead takes us to a scene from his own childhood: there they are, gathered about an old wooden stove, the first few friends he had. They never much thought they could get very old; but they have, they are all aged now, just like me and Jon, and all our long ago friends from 88.

Only art is timeless, Lord Franklin reminds us. Only art can never die.

Rest in Peace Sinead.

[musicwithoutborders]

John Renbourn, Scarborough Fair I The Lady and The Unicorn, 1970

[gayamulet]

Not to be dramatic but I deserve this place for free

[hastioexquisito]

Bert Jansch & John Renbourn (Rare footage from 1966)

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

John Renbourn and Jacqui McShee - Grenoble University, Grenoble, France, January 23, 1974

Somehow missed this crucial, previously unheard tape of John Renbourn and Jacqui McShee when it was uploaded earlier this year — uploaded by none other than McShee herself, in fact. Thank you, Jacqui.

By this point, Pentangle had called it quits and Renbourn and McShee had gone back to doing the duo thing. And they sound great, naturally. Quietly dazzling guitar work, perfect harmonies and a repertoire that spans centuries, from William Byrd to Furry Lewis. A friendly, laid-back vibe — though there are a few rowdy audience members. The peak for me is the pair's duet on "Watch The Stars" featuring a gorgeous vocal blend for the ages.

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[amoebasareverysmall]

study the masters

[radiophd]

john renbourn -- motherless children

[dacianfalx]

In what, I'm certain, is a fairly telling instance of my life/brain...as I read this I heard it sung in my head, by live concert-edition John Renbourn. Of course.

There were three men came out of the West Three kings both great and high And they have sworn a solemn oath John Mastodon must die.

They took a tank and ran him down With bullets in his head And they have sworn a solemn oath John Mastodon was dead

But when the Spring came kindly on And showers began to fall John Mastodon got up again And did surprise them all...

[jt1674]

[capturing-earths-beauty]

Another favorite video of the stunning group Pentangle. From 1970, this includes several amazing songs including "Sally Go Round The Roses", and "Light Flight".

I've seen this one on the tubes before but it was just released on the official channel 2 weeks ago.

[kckatie]

Tonight's Folk Friday earworm is an Archie Fisher cover: The John Renbourn Group - Lindsay

[sorcjapan]

【今日のレコード】BERT JANSCH & JOHN RENBOURN/Bert And John

【今日のレコード】BERT JANSCH & JOHN RENBOURN/Bert And John 将棋の王将戦の行方も気になるところですが、今日は囲碁で！？ こんなレコードはAIには無理じゃないかな、って思うアルバムです😉 https://sorc.theshop.jp/items/71302713

【今日のレコード】BERT JANSCH & JOHN RENBOURN/Bert And…

[spilladabalia]

Pentangle - Hunting Song