Bert Jansch - 'Jack Orion' (Vanguard)

Renbourn has moved up to full collaborator here, getting a subtitle credit on this, though he doesn't play on every track; the music is a touch more polished too, as the opener 'The Waggoner's Lad' indicates. Here, Jansch's banjo playing pushes against Renbourn's sharp guitar and it's a traditional rendered in a flashy, aggressive style, but I like it; the recording on the banjo is way closer, or maybe it's just a nicer sounding instrument than the one on '900 Miles'. It's the same version from the previous album - here, re-included, a difference between this Vanguard issue of the record and the original UK release. The cover is not the most flattering photograph of Mr. Jansch but it clearly indicates a break from the Village-aspiring folk hipster look on the previous records; I'd say the presence of all traditional material here (well, all but one, but that one is a short instrumental by Ewan McColl, so it's effectively "traditional" in intent) also indicates this turn. It kinda reminds me how the Incredible String Band were total karma hippies on their second album but by Hangman's they were going for something, well, earthier. I've heard a few versions of 'Black Water Side' over the years but this one has a punchy guitar and confident delivery; maybe it's the male vocals as compared to Sandy Denny or Anne Briggs's takes, but it feels distinct and fresh, and I like it. The title track is the big sell, almost ten minutes long, telling the epic story of Jack Orion, a horny fiddler/lover who gets involved in some intrigue with another guy's wife, or something like that. There's a strange, scratchy line drawing of Mr. Orion on the back cover, and I guess it's another cautionary tale, like 'Needle of Death', though not preachy or pushy. Or maybe not; while it's a great track in its monotony, accented by Renbourn's second guitar which drives things forward and building in intensity as it goes along, I must confess that I find the story hard to follow by the end. It's not that I often listen to traditional British music hoping for a good yarn, and in particular I'd say these re-booted versions from the late 60s are even more enjoyable when letting go of the myth. Or maybe it's just my attention span, shot through with holes from a generation's worth on online gratification, YouTube culture, and general meda-overstimulus. Or maybe just from this self-imposed quest to listen to eight Bert Jansch records in sequence.

Bert Jansch - 'Lucky Thirteen' (Vanguard)

I don't have Jansch's first, self-titled album; only this American issued compilation of selections from the first two. Being that I just took It Don't Bother Me off the turntable there's going to be a feeling of repetition/overlap here, so I'll announce here that I will happily swap this copy of Lucky Thirteen for any decent-condition pressing of Bert Jansch. Cause that's one I'd like to have - it contains Jansch's most notable song, 'Needle of Death' on it, which is thankfully also represented here at the end of side one. I don't think it's even the cautionary tale of heroin that I'm moved by, because really, who cares, but the catchy ascending melody, ripped off by Neil Young on 'Ambulance Blues'. It's a classic for a reason, a timeless anthem that's fun to sing despite the macabre tone. There's other great stuff from the first album here, like 'I Have No Time' and 'Courting Blues'; Instrumentally this is a strong collection, as Vanguard chose about half instrumentals, no doubt wanting to push this to their traditional folkie crowd. Jansch's fingerpicking has a way of actually being catchy without having lyrics of hooks; 'Angie' is positively infectious and hummable, and a nice way to open the set. 'The Wheel', though I just heard it, is placed at the end and it winds down a (let's face it) decent compilation, feeling reflective of the cycles of life and existence and reality, or maybe that's a lot to read into a guitar instrumental. This compilation is named after a track that Renbourn wrote and played lead on, yet Vanguard failed to credit him here; poor guy, he really makes that cut scream. And thanks for another peek into your flat!

Bert Jansch - 'It Don't Bother Me' (Transatlantic)

One of Glasgow's finest exports (better than Tennent's), Jansch's second album is a classic example of 60s folk, delivered in a straightforward fashion and with adorably awkward liner notes. ("In this song the meaning is maybe too deep for me to describe.") His fingerpicking is stunning as always and if he's trying to create the Bohemian image of a sexy late 60s folk star, he's done a great job. Beyond the cover photo, the essence of cool, Jansch isn't afraid to flex his vocal chops (on 'My Lover', he essentially delegates the guitar shredding to Renbourn and spends his energy crooning) and to emote with a genuine honesty. The title track is a great one, where he also draws on the phrasing and adds a level of honesty to lyrics would could come off as escapist or snotty if sung by someone else; here, it feels like a statement of purpose and a worthy claim to the album title. The liner notes offer 'no comment' on 'Anti Apartheid', I guess letting the song speak for itself; 'To separate the colours and break the rainbow sign / To ask the finest painter to draw a crooked line / would only slow the journey to here another time' is a beautiful lyric, one that can be completely removed from the context of political protest, and tick the box for social consciousness, even though being against apartheid wasn't exactly a gutsy position to take. Renbourn appears again on 'Lucky Thirteen', also writing it, and the ending rendition of '900 Miles' is done on a scratchy banjo, the tonality of which works beautifully with his voice. There's no presence of rock music's influence here, at least not that I can tell, though maybe I'm not great at separating folk scene 'tude from rocker style. It's not until Pentangle that Jansch really experiments with genre-melting and that's a long ways away, alphabetically. In the meantime we got a glut of these to get through, and while all are enjoyable, it's going to be tough to keep writing something unique about each one.

The Holy Modal Rounders - 'Stampfel & Weber' (Fantasy)

This is a mid-70s issue of the first two Holy Modal Rounders albums, originally recorded for Prestige in 1963-64. I was glad to find it because I like this early material of theirs; it's goofy but still relatively sane, at least compared to the later releases, and sometimes it's just nice to listen to. Unfortunately Prestige sequenced these backwards, with record 1 being the less memorable Holy Modal Rounders 2, but that's not the biggest crime, and it's easily solvable. The liner notes here are a gas - Ed Ward writes about the halcyon days of the early 60s NYC folk scene and how these two jokesters came around upsetting the apple cart, but nonetheless with a discipline and understanding of traditional musics that allowed them to break such rules. I don't know Mr Ward or what he looked like but I can't help but think of F. Murray Abraham in Inside Llewyn Davis, a blowhard reminiscing about some mythical era of which he's largely responsible for the myth. Or maybe I'm just sore cause he calls Indian War Whoop and Moray Eels 'close to unlistenable' - hey man, your liner notes are close to unreadable! Even the uncredited/technical notes to this reissue says that 'none of the albums recorded since these ... have been nearly as successful'. Maybe they're just speaking of commercial success but it feels like a cheap shot at the esteemed ESP and Elektra labels. Anyway. The second Rounders album, coming first in this sequence, has some lovely moments - Stampfel's banjo playing on 'I Wish I Was a Mole in the Ground' is precise and ragged, and 'Junko Partner', written with Michael Hurley, is one of the only originals and a nice goof. But it is record #2, album #1 that I like more, maybe as it contains a few more original compositions, and the performances sound more fresh. 'Euphoria' could be the Modals raison d'être, capturing the simplicity and spirit of their early approach. 'Reuben's Train' is fierce and the fiddle cuts like a knife. 'Blues in the Bottle' is a great opener, and when Stampfel starts to play after each verse it revs up like a jet engine. 'Better Things for You' is maybe the best original composition on either record. This is only a decade or so after Harry Smith's anthology but these two clearly studied it like a bible. Clarence 'Tom' Ashley's 'The Cuckoo' never sounded so raw, and it's brilliant how the Rounders celebrate American music so joyously, tying it directly to the underculture which birthed it. This is music that takes itself seriously while also being able to laugh at itself; they realised the need to preserve these songs before they became enshrined in the same glass towers that ruined American jazz culture. Music has to live, and Stampfel & Weber found a humour, inherent in even the most serious subject matter, and also injected it with a streak of rebelliousness. I think actually the Rounders sound more radical today, as their quest was unsuccessful; folk music has become sanitised and its conservative tendencies emphasised. Harry Smith surely turns in his grave now, but maybe if enough people play Holy Modal Rounders records simultaneously, he'll stop, or at least pause.

Fotheringay (A&M)

My copy of this is so beat-to-shit that it's buried in surface noise, and skips a good it bit too. I actually fear for the safety of my stylus and thus rarely listen to it. Also, despite being a pretty solid record, I never get any craving to hear it. This picks up where you'd expect it to - taking the Fairport sound but bringing in a stronger Dylan/Band influence, most obvious in the cover of 'Too Much of Nothing but also on 'Winter Winds', a less languid but otherwise derivative take on the 'You Ain't Goin' Nowhere' vibe. Co-lead vocalist (and Denny's husband) Trevor Lucas sounds pretty good against Denny; the timbre of his voice isn't a million kilometres away from Richard Thompson's, though, so this feels precisely like the second act it is. Additionally, naming your band after one of your iconic songs from your last band can't help but cast a cloud over whatever you do next. Through all the static I can hear how nicely this is produced; a good drum sound, lots of reverb on the guitar lines, and the voices soaring above it all. I think they only ever made this one record; Denny went solo with the excellent The North Star Grassman and the Ravens and I don't know whatever happened to Lucas. It's all what one might expect from a Fairport Convention spinoff, and that's perfectly OK. Denny's perfect touch is why this is remarkable; the Lucas-led songs barely stand out. There's some nice electric guitar leads, but it's the wispy, rolling Fairport sound that I like the most; Denny's 'The Pond and the Stream' being a great example of this. The cover art is pretty bonkers when you stop to actually look at it; on my beaten, faded copy it feels strangely, I dunno, authoritative.

Sandy Bull - 'E Pluribus Unum' (Vanguard)

This document of mid-sixties idiomatic string mastery was something I was originally a bit disappointed with, as half of the record follows a 32-bar blues progression. It took me many years to embrace this progression, as I had an aversion to anything that traditionally rooted. Funny thing too, cause my Dad loves the blues, country, delta, proto-rock and otherwise, so I surely felt a ton of these vibrations when I was in the womb. 'No Deposit, No Return' blues is a multitracked composition by Bull, building up on a boom-chick drum part that actually might have been recorded with bass drum and hi-hat on separate takes. The bass drives the blues melody and Bull improvises on electric guitar and oud. The tone on the electric guitar is amazing; it has one of the most shimmering, earthy sounds I've ever heard and overall the whole track buzzes with an incarnate static energy. By the end, the main melody is driven by the oud but he's extemporisin' up a storm in the background on the 'lectric axe, and even the cowbell has come out. Though the instrumental workout here is beautiful, it's really the overall structural arc that is so great about this track. It moves slowly and loops back in on itself, like a dancing flame. It's totally lovely, but side two's "electric blend" frees itself from the blues convention, beginning around a bold electric oud improvisation. It takes awhile to flex its muscles, painting the walls with ringing overtones while it does. Once the familiar boom-chick creeps in, it feels a bit more focused. Over 21 minutes, 'Electric Blend' starts and stops a few times, creating a whirlwind of eastern-tinged echo and tremelo. The bass solos a bit, getting jiggy over a shuddering electric guitar, in one of the piece's more subtle moments. Like side 1, the background starts to get a bit crazy with noisy, low-mixed freakouts. It has that ringing tambura effect but close listen reveals it to sound more like Thurston Moore. Bull, on the back cover, looks like a guy who owns a midwestern gas station, but from listening to this you'd think he was a swami with long white robes and some dog-eared yoga books. Maybe that's part of what appeals to me so much about E Pluribus Unum - two sides, two moods, east meets west and all of that. The fidelity on this record is top-notch as well - a mid 60's pressing, this somehow remained absolutely mint until it ended up in my hands, and almost no surface noise is present. An advertisement for the wonders of vinyl records, this is!