Honky Tonk, Hymns and the Blues

Thanks Stumble Upon.

Terrible Tattoos: The Worst Folk Art?

I think a case could be made that tattoos are folk art (arguments about what is or is not "folk" music or art officially constitutes 76/87ths of my life). While the evolution of the form is a history shared by many cultures, there is certainly a particularly American or Western bent that can be found in the form as well.

And this brings me to today's blopic (so if "blog" is an acceptable contraction for web-log, you bet your sweet maple syrup that "blopic" is an acceptable tri-traction of web, log, and topic): Many, many stupid people are practicing this folk art. Exhibit A:
No Caption Necessary.

Of course, there are those well intentioned folks who hope to honor their loved ones in many small ways. If you are one of these good-natured types, let me give you a little folk wisdom: your loved one will not be honored by the bloody creation of their blue-ish mug on your arm, leg, or pec. And in ten years your sagging skin will only add to the distaste they feel for their own sagging skin, making your tattoo the perpetual reminder of physical deterioration.





And, as always with the creation of folk art, drunkenness during the time of conception is a bad idea. Is this regard, ignore Robert Zimmerman- do think twice, it's not alright.

Folk Alliance International 2010

Thanks to Louis Myers and all the good folks at Folk Alliance International I had a splendid time in Memphis, which didn't involve a mobile, being stuck, or the blues (except musically). The Folk Alliance International Conference is a annual assembly of some of the highest quality artists and music biz folks.

Music gives me life. Even after 5 days, as I was claiming to be "all folked out," I was still chatting with Dom from the Carolina Chocolate Drops and feeling psyched for the new music coming from his direction (first major label release out shortly).

Aside from CCD, there were quite a number of artists worth checking out. The Gypsy Hombres, with their high end gypsy jazz (I was met with the realization that I would never play as fast or clean as their blind, lap picking guitarist Rory Hoffman). The Good Lovelies- tight harmonies, great stage presence, and the humor to keep you rolling (quotable quote, "we love her, she makes our hearts barf"). Check out the video for "Lie Down"- I love their interactions with each other. And, of course, there is the Sweetback Sisters, the raucous honky tonk quintet that we helped present at the Philly Opry last week at Johnny Brendas.

All in all, a blast, and well worth the trip to see our Canadian friends at the Sweet Beaver Suite, presenting Morgan O'Kane ("the sound of Appalachia stuck in Brooklyn") and Nudie and the Turks (fresh, guitar-orgasmic country) among others. Check out videos of the former:

Use your highest register to recite The Low Anthem

My dad has met, been roommates, and generally fraternized with renowned musicians for the better part of his life. He took up residence in LA in his youth and hob-knobbed with the California musical elite. While, not a musician himself, he consistently surrounded himself with pretty quality artistic spirits. His small stories that time have swirled in my mind like a kaleidoscope. The ideal social context: music all about, musicians in and out.

The reason I mention this, is that my father became decidedly star-struck upon meeting Jesse Winchester a few years back. Giddy, actually.

Winchester is the quintessential heart-tugging, ex-patriot songwriter. A little-known Canadian perfectly elucidating the even lesser-known Tennessee Waltz that so many tortured souls have tried to put to song: "Oh my, but you have a pretty face/You favor I girl that I knew/I imagine that she's back in Tennessee/And by God, I should be there too/I've a sadness too sad to be true."

I mean Jesse Winchester is pretty amazing- see for yourself. But I should admit that I was quite embarrassed to see my father gushing so plainly over an artist. I mean, this was supposed to be Gene Landis, the bee's knees, the radio station hip cat, my personal rock critic, too cool for school. Time passed, and I pushed my cool judgment of this moment deep into the back of my brain.

Then, this year, I saw The Low Anthem at Johnny Brenda's in Philadelphia. I mean, I dug the recordings that I had heard from them almost a year before. But seeing them that night, going from the raunchy stomp of "Don't Let Nobody Turn You Around," to the hush of "This Damn House," and the final string strum of their Cohen cover "Bird On a Wire," I was taken.

After the show I was chatting about folk music and the Philadelphia Folk Festival with TLA's singer and English-hornsman Ben Knox Miller. I held in my preschoolish adoration for their set, we hit it off, and exchanged cell phone numbers to try and connect later. Safe from embarrassment- I had kept myself together. Or so I thought.

After we had booked TLA for the Folk Fest, and some normal small talk texts back and forth, and I had listened to their EP way too many times on repeat, I had a little too much wine one night and got the perfect idea to text Ben and let him know "I think you are in my favorite band right now..." and so on and so forth. I have worked in the music industry in many forms over the last decade, and you'd think that I know better than to blurt these kinds of things, to become, essentially, my father's son.

But it's true. The Low Anthem is a poignant, scream to whisper folk band. I accept my father's cloak of unabashed, unrelenting admiration for the truest music I can find. Turn off the lights and listen to "Oh My God, Charlie Darwin," and I think you'll join me in writing the next epic Cameron Crowe flick.

I can't wait to see them at the Philly Folk Fest on August 16. I may try to apologize for my shameful text. But I might also paint "I love the Low Anthem" or "Ben Know Miller for president" on my chest.

I still haven't decided.

The flavor of the week.

As we sit and consider our own marketing for the Philadelphia Folk Festival, I was so happy that a friend sent me a link to what has become my new favorite website:

YourLogoMakesMeBarf.com

My personal favorite barf logo:


Continental! Tell me what you think...

The professional

Here at the Philadelphia Folksong Society, we have officially announced two of the toppermost names at the Philadelphia Folk Festival, August 14-16, 2009 at Old Pool Farm in Schwenksville, PA. (banjo head roll please...)

The Decemberists


The Derek Trucks Band


They, along with other new acts West Philadelphia Orchestra and Shannon Lambert-Ryan with RUNA, are joining a pretty unbelievable lineup of acts:

Alela Diane


Del McCoury



and more: Adrien Reju, Boris Garcia, Caravan of Thieves, Chris Kasper, Ellis Paul, Enter The Haggis, Erik Mongrain, Frog Holler, Gene Shay, Joe Pug, Justin Townes Earle, Langhorne Slim, Marissa Nadler, Rebirth Brass Band, Sara Hickman, Slo-Mo featuring Mic Wrecka, Sonny Landreth, The Folk Brothers, Tom Rush, Tony Trischka, Wissahickon Chicken Shack, Women in Docs, Works Progress Administration, Zach Djanikian

Get discounted tickets at folkfest.org now

The personal

While I was camping a few weeks ago, my great friend Spence died. He was humble, friendly, curious, open-minded, and carefree. And he was a dog.

When we adopted him just before Thanksgiving 2007, I thought that for the most part I was chiefly trying on the cloak of kindness. It was a simple move with the purpose of rescuing an animal. Then I get this California surfer dude of a dog with bleach blonde hair and a zenlike perspective on his own sentience. He was only 2, and I will surely miss him.

This is him with a cup on his nose.
It was good ride, boy.













Spence 2007-2009