21 f Ranting & Reeling I
t’s proving harder and harder to find a singer or band who isn’t consid- ered folk by the mainstream media, these days. Tom Jones? He’s dab- bling in it. Recent number one hit-maker Gotye? Undoubtedly folk-tinged. All these new young girls with funny names and songs without a chorus? None more folky. And just last month we learned that the Brit Award-winning, loop pedal-abuser Ed Sheeran had been inducted into the EFDSS Hall of Folk Fame. Better luck next year, Adele.
But with the f-word being bandied about with such scant regard for how cross it makes those of us who keep a copy of Marrow Bones by the bed, it’s hearten- ing, and not a little astonishing that a group from the indie side of the tracks has taken it to the next level and gone trad.
Step forward The Futureheads, a band more commonly associated with the likes of Maximo Park, Kaiser Chiefs and other post-Britpop anthemists who no longer have hits. On their new album Rant, they’ve reinvented themselves as a regional folk club singaround, shouting their way through such pint-swilling favourites as The Old Dun Cow, Hanging Johnny and Beeswing (from the singing of Mr R Thompson of Muswell Hill).
Be assured that the band is entirely sincere in these a capella endeavours, with vocalist Ross Millard insisting that their take on the Cecil Sharp collected The Keeper is “a modernist version”. Though it would seem ‘modernist’ is now a synonym for what The Young ‘Uns sound like when they can’t hear them- selves in the monitors, we genuinely applaud The Futureheads’ tentative steps into floor-singing and look forward to hearing what they make of the latest Voice Of The People CD that was furtive- ly stuffed into their hands by this maga- zine’s editor at a recent gig.
While The Futureheads cite Alan Lomax compilations and Sunderland singer Keith Gregson as their folk-spira- tion, the opera star Lesley Garrett claims it was the music of Kate Rusby that sent her back to the songs of her South York- shire childhood for her latest album.
A North Country Lass contains 16 arrangements of actual proper traditional songs, such as The Bold Grenadier, The Raggle Taggle Gypsies and All Around My Hat (which we think was a hit for The Wombles). In Lesley’s case, returning to her roots means a tribute to the gruesome gentrifications inflicted on folk by the late Kathleen Ferrier (whose memorial award
launched Gar- rett’s career as one of the nation’s best- loved sopranos and residents of Dictionary Corner on Countdown).
As you
might reason- ably assume from the title, A North Country Lass is as subtle as a brick with the words “I am a brick” written on it. Producer James Fitzpatrick has the pastoral knob turned up to 11, with treacly orchestrations, a token appearance by the Black Dyke Band (the day we stop sniggering at that is the day we die) and the Crouch End Festival Chorus giving On Ilkley Moor Baht’at the Rogers & Hammerstein treatment you never knew it needed.
Lesley’s heart is clearly in the right place; however ours is now on the carpet after her ‘comical northerner’ voice on The Collier Lad caused us to vomit up our own organs. The noise we made sounded a bit like “fooooooolk!”
Tim Chipping
The Elusive Ethnomusicologist I
’m not entirely sure why this col- umn’s got ‘elusive’ in the title unless it’s to do with the fact that I’m extremely hard to get hold of if any- one wants me to do anything useful/ helpful or I’ve just missed another dead- line, but I like the air of mystery it sug- gests. So elusive it is. As for ethnomusic - ologist, well once upon a time I com- pleted a Masters in the subject – the study of music in different cultures – and it was fascinating, compelling and revealing. It inspired a love of sounds from far-flung places which were just dots on a world map and brought to life societies whose ‘otherness’ could become as familiar as my own.
It’s easy to forget in the West where music is so heavily mediated and com- modified how intrinsic it is to the smooth running of daily life in societies across the world; how it’s inextricably linked with place, a personal sense of identity and a collective history. In some cultures there is no concept of music, so no word for it. In these places what we would identify as music is not considered sepa- rate from daily life.
Music is something that identifies us as human, it connects us with each other and is used across the world to
connect with concepts of the divine, which is why I have a problem with the thought processes of those who would (and do) ban it. Music can be good for us. It has a positive impact on the body, resonating beneficially in our cells. Par- ticipating in music has a positive psycho- logical impact, which is why it’s success- ful as a therapy and, intertwined with identity as it is, is a useful conduit in conflict resolution.
I asked Radio 3’s Lucy Duran recently, when I interviewed her for this magazine, where was the most alien place she’d vis- ited. I expected her to answer with the name of some isolated, virtually inaccessi- ble penguin-filled islet, with perhaps a few inbred human inhabitants singing songs in praise of guano, but without skipping a beat she said “China”.
This was because – unusually for Lucy who admirably speaks about 792 languages fluently – she felt she had absolutely no means of communicating. She said. “In China the body language is dramatically different. Also, everybody spits in China every two seconds as a matter of course. It‘s just what you do and there are spittoons in hotels and restaurants. It’s culturally accepted. And I hate spitting.”
Given that China is on the fast track to global domi- nance it’s prob- ably a good idea that we get a handle on the culture, and we don’t have to start gobbing in the street. We can just sit back
and listen to its music. The more we hear the more we might want to find out about it, like teenagers gobbling up information about their favourite band. Then the more we’ll understand about the people and their mind-set.
It doesn’t matter if, when we listen,
we don’t comprehend the words. Meaning is not just conveyed in the lyric. Although obviously a translation lends a deeper insight, even if it’s that everyone everywhere sings about a bro- ken heart. Just by listening to the songs of other people and other places, we can better understand both our unique- ness and our common humanity.
Elizabeth Kinder
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