|
|
|
Vol XIII Academic
Archive: Clothesline Revival’s View of a Century
Aldo Leopold’s proto-environmental text A Sand County Almanac (originally published in 1949 by Oxford University Press) is a month by month account of his Wisconsin homestead. In the second essay “February – A Good Oak,” Leopold writes of the felling of a 80-year-old oak tree by hand. The essay follows the strokes of the saw, narrating a collaged history, ring by ring, year by year, all the way back to1865. He concludes the deceptively straightforward allegory by stating: The saw works only across the years, which it must deal with one by one, in sequence. From each year the raker teeth pull little chips of fact, which accumulate in little piles, called sawdust by woodsmen and archives by historians; both judge the character of what lies within by the character and the samples thus made visible without. (16) He continues, “It is not until the transect is completed that the tree falls, and the stump yields a collective view of a century. By its fall the tree attests the unity of the hodge-podge called history.” Regular readers of this column know I often return to old-time music to re-orient myself in the history of 20th Century American music, but only recently did an album provide the kind of perspective Leopold attains. The album is Clothesline Revival’s second release, Long Gone (released in 2005 by Paleo Music). Producer/arranger and former archeologist Conrad Praetzel and multi-instrumentalist Robert Powell are the architects. Their first album, Of My Native Land (Paleo Music 2002), featured contemporary singers Tom Armstrong and Wendy Allen covering songs by Hank Williams, Bill Monroe, and other traditional songs. It also includes a few unusual a cappellas from the Smithsonian Folkways archive or the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress. With both newly recorded vocals and sampled a cappellas, Praetzel and Powell construct a sonic terrain of off-kilter samples, rough-hewn beats, old-time atmospherics, and live instrumentation. For Long Gone, Praetzel worked solely with found a cappellas from the same two archives. While the originals might have been recorded by Alan Lomax in the 1930s or 40s, the songs could have been floating around Appalachia or the South for decades. It is uncanny how such old songs can be seamlessly recontextualized with 21st century sampling techniques. On any highway drive with my family chanting the call and response of “Satisfied” or “Shortenin’ Bread,” there is no doubt that these songs have clearly been revived. Praetzel has gone deeper into the American archive of recorded music than anyone, and his startling juxtapositions reveal a collective view of a century of American music. Long Gone’s own naturalistic epigram seemed like the appropriate place to begin when I spoke to Conrad. Why
did you include the quote, "They said that music grew like a grapevine that is
never pruned, that each year it puts on a little more" at the end of the Long
Gone liner notes?
Licensing of the Lomax recordings was much more involved. What complicated
things was that I didn’t get the full picture when I researched permissions for
the first Clothesline Revival CD, Of My Native Land, the John Lomax
recordings of “Calling Trains” and “Pullin the Skiff”. I contacted the Library
of Congress and they said they had no objections. They suggested I contact
Rounder Records, and they also had no objections. So I thought I was in the
clear. Where did you first get the idea to reuse such archival material? My Life in the Bush of Ghosts by Brian Eno was the first use of archival material I heard and still a favorite album of mine. The first vocal sample I used on an album was from a sermon by Prophet Omega, a radio evangelist who preached from his apartment in Nashville back in the 60s. He’s sort of legendary cult figure now. The sermon was called “I Am What I Am.” and I was working on the CD Receive back in 1996. I found it on a very eclectic mix cassette a friend had given me. I remembered playing a cassette a friend had given me of the sermon in the front room, and at the same time playing an instrumental I was working on in the studio. I'm standing in the hall to see how they'd sound together, and it was absolute magic. The next archival recording I worked with was Leadbelly singing "Cow Cow Yicky Yicky Yea" and that led to doing the Clothesline Revival CDs. It took over a year to get the rights to use that recording. How do you know when you find an a cappella can be revived? There
are several things I look for when selecting a cappella recordings to work with.
I'll usually end up listening to a song hundreds of times before I'm done, so I
need to feel a real strong pull from the singer and song to stay inspired. I
also need to feel I can build something new around these recordings. That's
really the whole point. It's best to start out with an open mind as to where
they could go, if there was an obvious direction I figured it was probably a
poor choice. Other things I would look for were strong character performances,
songs that work on different levels emotionally and ones that stayed pretty
close to pitch throughout. How would you
characterize the relation between your songs and the original tracks?
|