Stumbling and Mumbling

Songs in F

Richard has kicked off a new meme - your top 10 songs beginning with a particular letter of the alphabet. Not for the first time, I got an F. It's surprising how many there are to choose amongst my favourite singers. In no order, here goes:
For the Sake of the Song - Townes van Zandt
Fool About You (the original undubbed version) - The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived.
Faded Coat of Blue - his legitimate heir and successor
Fill Your Heart - David Bowie, off his best album.
Fabiniana - Agustin Barrios, played by David Russell
Foggy Mountain Breakdown - Flatt and Scruggs
Four Strong Winds - Neil Young
Flicker - Kathryn Williams
Fade to Blue - Kate Campbell. Why is Kate Campbell not more widely appreciated?
Flumes d'Enfer - Austin Pitre.

Now hear this, Robert Zimmerman

Bob Dylan, like most people who achieved acclaim in the 1960s, has always struck me as a knobhead. And here's corroboration (via Norm):

"I don't know anybody who's made a record that sounds decent in the past 20 years, really," the 65-year-old rocker said in an interview with Rolling Stone magazine...."You listen to these modern records, they're atrocious, they have sound all over them," he added. "There's no definition of nothing, no vocal, no nothing, just like ... static."

This is surely gibber. Has he forgotten the American Recordings of his old friend Johnny Cash? Or the later work of Emmylou, Bruce Springsteen, John Prine, Townes van Zandt, Richard Thompson or Neil Young?
And what about the newer generation of folkish singer-songwriters? What about Jolie Holland (Catalpa is the greatest album ever recorded), Dar Williams, Josh Ritter, Richard Shindell, Mary Gauthier, Rosie Thomas, Mark Erelli, Kate Campbell, Karine Polwart, Eliza Gilkyson, Catie Curtis, Anais Mitchell, Kathryn Williams, Alana Levandoski, Bonnie Prince Billy and Lucy Kaplansky, to name but 16?
As I say, these are all in the folk tradition, and so shouldn't be too far out of his comfort zone.
What's even closer to Dylan, though, is the over-rated middle-class whining poseur tradition.

Guitars for lefties

In a report on the demise of Ned Flanders' UK operation, the Indy (unwebbed) claims that, for left-handers, "guitars are made the wrong way round."
Surely not. As a corkydobber meself, it's natural to make chord changes with the left-hand. The guitar is one of the few things (along with English manual cars and cricket) which helps the left-hander.
Evidence? Many good guitarists - such as Paul Simon and Mark Knopfler - are left-handed.
Better evidence? Jimi Hendrix, who played guitar the wrong way round, was apparently right-handed.
For sure, I'm rubbish at strumming with any timing, but this is because I've got no sense of rhythm, rather than because the guitar is the wrong way round.
Which raises the question. If the Indy is wrong on this, might it occasionally - heaven forbid - be wrong on other things?

Against rock

Anushka Asthana, having spent £90 on a ticket for Guns N' Roses in the week (my ticket for the goddess cost £14, and I got a seat) asks: "why are rock fans so stupid?"
Simple. It's because they cause unjustified inequalities, retard social mobility, favour charisma over ability, uniformity over diversity, and help sustain capitalism.
In looking for "stars", people to worship, they generate inequalities of  power and income.
For sure, there's nothing wrong with this if the stardom arises from inequalities in ability. But in rock "music" it doesn't. Axl Rose is indistinguishable from thousands of other long-haired shouty men. He's just benefited from Gergaud and Verardi's version (pdf) of "superstar economics", whereby some people get wealth and fame simply through the dumb luck of large groups of people coming to believe, arbitrarily, that they are cultural icons.
Put it this way. I suspect that, given a few weeks of the right training, I could play guitar well enough to appear in a rock band; I'm coming from a running start. I have not the foggiest hope of ever being as good as David Russell or Davy Graham or Martin Simpson or she of whom I am unworthy to speak.
What rock music does is favour superficiality over substance - charisma over genuine ability. It's no coincidence that so many rock stars - Chris Martin, Mick Jagger, Bruce Dickinson, Busted, pretty much any 60s prog-rockers (though some of them could, in fairness, actually play) - went to private school, whereas hardly any folk musicians did so. Private school gives people a confidence disproportionate to their ability. That's what matters in rock.
Worse still, this inequality isn't merely of income. It's of power and prestige. So, Axl Rose thinks he can keep fans waiting two hours, and Bono thinks he can walk round in shades looking like a bell-end and lecturing us all to death. And no-one tells them to feck off.
And then there's the groupthink. Rock music gains much of its power from the communal experience. It needs a crowd.
Put it this way. If Guns N' Roses performed in front of two men in a pub, they'd look ridiculous. If Kate Rusby or the McGarrigle sisters or the sublime being did so, it would be a magical experience.
This groupthink generates conformity, not only as fans look for the same bands, but as wannabe rock stars emulate others: can anyone really be bothered to distinguish between Coldplay and all their imitators? Not only does this lead to a bland conformity, it also makes life easy for the music business.
Rock fans, then, are an offense against all that I hold dear.
I'll leave you with the killer argument. I rest my case.

Come on, Paraguay

Here are 10 things you might not have known about Paraguay. Here's 20.
What neither mentions is Paraguay's greatest gift to the world - Agustin Barrios, the best composer for the classical guitar ever. Here's an article on him. Some brave souls have transcribed some of his music. And here, with clips, is my favourite album of his.
Come on Paraguay!

Jolie Holland and the rediscovery of tradition

The Groan's lack of brains has often been remarked upon. But the rag also lacks ears, judging by this review of Jolie Holland. David Peschek says:

Whatever it is that Jolie Holland is doing, it is certainly very odd. At some hazy point where country and torch singing bleed into each other, she seems to warm melodies until they melt a little, singing in a strange, half-swallowed half-gurgle that makes it very hard to discern what she's singing about.

This contrives to miss the entire point.
The "oddness" arises because Mr Peschek's mind has been fuzzed by the last 80 years. Jolie's music represents a return to that period, sometime in the 1920s, before jazz, blues and country went their separate ways. And she's not reviving old country blues as a quaint historic artefact, but rather as a living tradition to be built upon. Last night, songs written a week ago were combined seamlessly with ones 300 years old.
It's amazing that Mr Peschek can have missed this. In London, Jolie mentioned Blind Willie McTell several times, and covered a Washington Phillips song. And her first album Catalpa is obviously influenced by the Carter Family.
The complaint that her singing is "half gurgle" is just plain nonsense; listen for yourself here.
Mr Peshek is suffering from culture shock. He gives this away when he complains that "when suddenly she speaks to the crowd, it's a shock that she realises we're here."
He probably pitched up expecting some cute poppette showing off her half-octave vocal range singing ditties that were immediately accessible, and just as quickly forgotten. What he got was someone doing something rather profounder. Someone who's songs take time to appreciate, who's interested in music, not her own ego.
And this is why this post matters. Jolie reminds us that popular music isn't just an industry propped up by PR puffery. It's a living tradition that belongs to us all.
Did I mention that she's a genius?

Against ego-intrusion

Last night, I saw Roberto Aussel at the Wigmore Hall. One feature of his performance was an apparent embarrassment at the applause of the audience. It was as if he was uncomfortable to be in front of it.

I found this charming and admirable. He was performing not for acclaim, but for the sake of the music. What mattered to him was not gratification of his ego, but the pursuit of excellence and the extension of musical traditions (baroque in the first half, contemporary south American in the second.)

This distinction – which echoes MacIntyre’s distinction between the goods of excellence and effectiveness - is important and ubiquitous. Josh Ritter, a very different great contemporary musician was aware of it when he sang:

I’m singing for the love of it—have mercy on the man who sings to be adored

It’s in this context that Elvis has had a terrible influence upon popular music. Before him, musicians generally thought themselves less important than the song. After him, popular music became a vehicle for the promotion of ego.

But it’s not just music where there’s a distinction between ego-intrusion and the pursuit of excellence. It happens in financial markets too. There are those who ask: what is the market saying here? What imperfections are there, and why do they arise? They are pursuing excellence. And then there are those – who get the publicity – who just impose their egos, and tell us where prices are going in their “judgment.”

But it’s in politics, even more than in popular music, that ego-intrusion swamped the pursuit of established traditions and practices.

I’m thinking of two opposed traditions here.

The conservative one, expressed by Michael Oakeshott, sees government as a limited activity, intended to allow free individuals to live in peace:

The image of the ruler is the umpire whose business is to administer the rules of the game, or the chairman who governs the debate according to known rules but does not himself participate in it…The office [the Conservative] attributes to government is to resolve some of the collisions which this variety of beliefs and activities generates; to preserve peace, not by placing an interdict upon choice and upon the diversity that springs from the exercise of preference, not by imposing substantive uniformity, but by enforcing general rules of procedure upon all subjects alike.

The radical tradition asks: what ideals should we aim for, and what institutions can best pursue them?

But contemporary politics erases both traditions, in favour of ego-intrusion – the belief that, if only the right ego were in charge (Cameron’s, Brown’s, whatever), all would be well.

The tragedy is – no-one seems to realize things could be different.

Inspired States

Norm wants the names of your favourite US states. I’m not sure why. Here are my five, based on the criterion that they are in song titles by six great singers who are unjustly neglected. You might not learn much about economics here at S&M, but your musical horizons should expand. In no order:

1. Iowa – Dar Williams. I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep saying it until it sinks in – Dar Williams is a genius. Here are the first lines of Iowa:

I've never had a way with women

But the hills of Iowa make me wish that I could

And I've never found a way to say I love you

But if the chance came by, oh I, I would

But way back where I come from, we never mean to bother

We never make our passions other people's concern

2. (South to) Louisiana – Johnnie Allan. Not merely a wrongly neglected singer, but a forgotten genre – swamp pop, a mix of Cajun, rock n’ roll and blue-eyed soul. Get this album, and if you can keep still during the first track, declare yourself deaf and claim disability benefit.

3. Mississippi (and Me) – Kate Campbell. The thinking man’s Emmylou Harris. This track comes from this album. But no post about songs containing states’ names would be adequate without mention of Bud’s Sea-Mint Boat, on Moonpie Dreams. It’s about a concrete boat.

4. (Goodbye) California – Jolie Holland. The ex-Be Good Tanya has been likened to Billie Holliday; that’s the sort of superlative she inspires. Goodbye California is unrepresentative of her work – too much electric guitar and drums – and it’s on the lesser of her two albums. But it’s the most cheerful song about suicide I know.

5. Kentucky – The Blue Sky Boys. One of the great losses in western culture is the decline of the male brother duet; no, Journey South do not count. The best of them were Bill and Earl Bolick, who recorded in the 1930s but got together again in the 60s. You can sample a bit of Kentucky from their later period here. Listen also to Are You From Dixie? Conversion guaranteed. Be warned though - there are a lot of songs about murder and religion, and the comedy skits haven't aged well.

Here’s what they wrote in the liner notes to a long-deleted album in the 1950s:

We wouldn’t care to express our views on present folk artists or Country & Western artists as they’re now called. Probably the reader would think we were practicing the doctrine of sour grapes or being eccentric. However, as far as we’re concerned, true folk music is a thing of the past. The simplicity that made folk music great is no longer there: the distinctive styles of singing and instrumentation are a lost art. Individualism has been replaced by conformity.

Now, what was I saying about deskilling?

Folk music and property rights

Russell Roberts asks the musical question:

Where is the song that captures some inspiring aspect of economics from a Hayekian perspective?

There are plenty of them, Russell. One aspect of Hayekian economics is the emphasis upon the importance of property rights. And lots of folk songs express this view, by lamenting the violation of such rights.

For example, there’s Johnny Cash’s Ballad of Ira Hayes (all proper country music is folk music):

Down the ditches for a thousand years

The water grew Ira's peoples' crops

'Till the white man stole the water rights

And the sparklin' water stopped…

Then Ira started drinkin' hard

Jail was often his home

This is perfectly Hayekian; the destruction of property rights has bad but unforeseeable consequences.

Similarly, in English folk music there are songs supporting property owners against theft, in the form of Enclosure Acts. Here’s Gerrard Winstanley’s Digger Song:

The gentrye are all round, on each side they are found,

Theire wisdom's so profound, to cheat us of our ground

Stand up now, stand up now.

Water and land are not the only property rights defended by folk music; there’s also the right to one’s free labour. In English folk, many songs support this principle against the depredations of navy pressgangs. Kate Rusby’s Cruel is probably the best known of these. One of my favourites is The Victory, as recorded The Halliard:

Thirteen of that cursed gang did my true love surround

And one of the pressing crew lay bleeding on the ground.

My love was overpower’d though he fought most manfully

Til he was obliged to yield and go on the Victory…

In the battle of Trafalgar, the Victory cleared the way,

And my love was slain with Nelson upon that day.

I’m only scratching the surface here. But the point’s made. Many folk songs do celebrate a key aspect of Hayekian economics.

Why don’t Hayekians appreciate this? Here’s my theory. Many so-called Hayekians – and I exclude Russell here – aren’t really interested in free markets and property rights at all. They just use these as ideological figleafs with which to defend existing privileges. They don’t want to be reminded that those privileges rest upon the theft and violence of primitive accumulation.

And I haven’t mentioned slavery…

Commemorating Elvis

I was thinking last night about Elvis, what with today being his 71^st birthday. Is there any person in history (other than Jesus) to have inspired so many songs – and good ones too?

This site reckons there are 232 about Elvis. Some are very good indeed; my favourites are:

Gillian Welch – Elvis Presley Blues

Kate Campbell – Tupelo’s Too Far

Emmylou Harris – Boy From Tupelo

Cowboy Junkies – Blue Moon Revisited

Neil Young – He Was The King

I don’t think the Beatles could boast so many songs of such quality about them. Nor could Frank Sinatra or Robert Johnson or even Hank Williams – whom I guess was a bigger influence than Elvis upon the singers I’ve mentioned. Nor, I reckon, can any non-musical historic figure match Elvis – though Martin Luther King looms reasonably large.

Why is this? What is it about Elvis that inspires not just so many songs, but many good ones by great songwriters? It can’t be his early death, or his mystique – Robert Johnson and Hank had them. And nor – though this is close to blasphemy – is it merely the quality of his voice. So what is it? Is this an example of superstar economics, whereby one person who stands out maybe only slightly from others scoops the pool?