Leadbelly (Archive of Folk Music)

There's something 'problematic' about Leadbelly, right? I mean, he did kill a guy, and John Lomax basically turned him into a star and got his sentence commuted (or something). Or was the relationship between Lomax and Leadbelly what was problematic - Lomax took all the cash, exploiting him, or something like that? I definitely read something somewhere about this being problematic once, but I prefer to write these posts just from my memory instead of actually looking up the facts, or the prevailing opinions in this case, so I'll just assume that somewhere in this story is some controversy. None of which affects my enjoyment of listening to it. This anthology was released about two decades after his death and there isn't any info about how its culled. Most of these recordings sound pretty 'field', even when they are clearly in rooms, almost like he's been recording in the prison cell. My copy of this is filthy and beat to hell, so it's perfect, like a 78rpm only at 33 (and that's what these are sourced from, 78s, I assume). This is the stereo edition, so audiophiles will probably grumble, but they wouldn't enjoy a record as battered as this anyway; beyond the dirt and scratches on the vinyl, the cover has some water damage. I think I got this from my father, or maybe a garage sale. So, the music – I daresay that Leadbelly might be a bit underrated, actually. For while he's been established and canonised plenty, in recent times he doesn't seem to get talked about as much as other folk/blues guitarists from the 20s and 30s, at least not in the texts that turned me onto this music in zines and online publications in the early 00s when the indie/experimental kids like me all went searching for some roots. His guitar style, while not the most dazzling in terms of fingerpicking complexity, is really rapid, to the point of being frantic, and it's usually a 12-string so it sounds extra crazed. 'Green Corn' and 'The Gallis Pole' have some zigzag chording that's really propulsive, driving his manic yelps. Vocally, Leadbelly sounds more earnest than mysterious, and there's a spirit of fun in the more fast songs, like 'Looky Looky Yonder Black Betty'. Opening cut 'The Bourgeois Blues' drops a few n-bombs and lays down a socioeconomic commentary that's still powerful, and a bold choice to open this collection. No doubt his recordings have been packaged and repackaged numerous times and this is far from being representative, but something about the weariness of the beat-up record itself (and the water damage on the cover, even) makes this feel like the right (correct) way to listen.

Art Ensemble of Chicago - 'Certain Blacks' (Inner City)

This used to occupy the spot of "least favorite Art Ensemble record worth keeping", for I perceived it as only pseudo-AEoC. The lineup contains Chicago Beau, Julio Finn, and William A. Howell, and none of the three compositions are by the "actual", "real" Art Ensemble members. This record is copyrighted 1976 and I saw this as the beginning of their downfall, but I couldn't deny some pretty killer grooves here so I kept it in the collection. Now I read that it was actually recorded in 1970, in Paris (which is not owned up to on the sleeve) so now it's recontextualised - some Chicago friends came over to visit, perhaps, and they had a recording session where they decided to let loose a bit. The visitors led things, and they decided to rock out with their cock(s) out, for once, right? And now if I think of this as fun and stop worrying about it being a great artistic statement against the already mighty pantheon of Art Ensemble releases, I can really enjoy it. The first side is "Certain Blacks" with a goofball chant that comes and goes around a total American-style loft jam. There is a more gutbucket approach here - maybe it's Finn's harmonica but it just feels ballsy and bluesy, melodic and dissonant at the same time. Howell's drumming is propulsive if not particularly distinct and it keeps things going. I guess if I was more of a student of the reeds I could hear the tonal aspects that identify the Art Ensemble's signature, but it all gets lost a bit through the new veil of, gasp, accessibility. Side two is even more "inside" - it opens with "One For Jarman", a clean, open descension around Beau's piano riff. It recalls some of the bouncier bits of side 2 of Chris McGregor's Brotherhood of Breath record, though with somewhat more translucent intervals. The last piece, a Sonny Boy Williamson jam, is like a bar room brawl magnified by a muddy trench, and it ends with the most bombastic, direct groove ever released under the Art Ensemble moniker. (Well, at least out of what I've heard). It's cool to embrace your roots and around the time this record was actually released I think they were starting to head in that direction.