Sure, pick apart my analogy! It’s easy. But, did I make any sense, do you think? Slo much style without substance…
I think music has much more in common with language than with ‘art’ (painting, sculpture, a pile of soiled nappies in the Tate Modern etc).
Language does evolve, but slowly. Sometimes a “new generation” attempts to introduce a language that only ‘they’ can understand; keeps us old farts at a distance and gives them an ‘identity’ in their struggle to be ‘different’ (even though of course they all dress the same, talk the same…blah blah). Usually the ‘new’ language is nothing more than the old one with a bunch of made-up words thrown in (or words that are given an entirely new meaning, usually the opposite of the dictionary definition…“That’s wicked!” for example).
But the root language continues on and the new language, like the fashion of the day, fades and is largely forgotten.
The root language, though, continues to evolve too, but much more slowly. Today’s English, for example, would be understood by Victorians, just as we can understand Victorian English, although we no longer speak or write as they did. (Which is something of a shame, I think, because the likes of Dickens could express a world of emotion in a sentence breathtaking in its brevity). The same perhaps can’t be said so readily of Chaucer’s English, though, so far has the language evolved.
The first cassette tape I ever owned was “Switched on Bach”…which in its day was ‘revolutionary’. JS Bach played on the Moog synthesiser…well, it helped introduce me to Bach and allowed me to appreciate much better the organ in the school chapel. For a while back there in the early 70’s, everything had to be played on a Moog. Yet JS Bach continues, and eventually synthesisers learned their place.
Hm, my answer reads as snippy to me, even though I just meant it literally. So I’ll persume you’re not just trying to pick apart my analogy, and give an answer assuming I didn’t make sense earlier.
I feel the best art (paintings, music, whatever) has something to say, it comes from something the artist feels strongly and wants to express. So the “subject” is what you’re trying to express. “Red” (for example), isn’t a feeling or emotion that one feels a burning desire to express (although playing with red for the sake of its redness could be an interesting experiment, as I said earlier). But if part of what you’re trying to express involves anger, or dynamism, or heat, or whatever, then you may need red.
If the best art communicates something, then it follows that you need something to communicate before you start creating the art. Otherwise, it’s like starting to talk (maybe using your favorite words) without having anything to say. Oh no, another analogy. Sorry. But, that’s they way I feel about creating a “style” for no reason other than you want something different or “innovative.” “This is new” or “isn’t this weird” is not a very compelling artistic “subject” to me – it’s not something that comes from the heart, through your depth of life experience, introspection, observation, and honesty.
Was that the Walter/Wendy Carlos album?
If so I think it was actually a milestone in the development of modern instruments and certainly not frivolous in any way. Personally I enjoy seeing (and hearing) musicians experiment even if the results are less than perfect.
Nicely put.
Of course, there’s the opposite problem. One can have something to say that doesn’t fit the medium. Ever seen “Socialist Realism”? I had to read lots of Chinese magazined during the mid-70s, and got really tired of Chinese water colors depicting the proletarian vanguard, marching arm-in-arm through the countryside, with their red flags flying and a huge factory in the background.
I lost interest in Joan Baez when her music became political–not because I disagreed with her politics, but because the music became boring to me. (Of course, a friend of mine who repaired guitars for her benefited greatly when she lost interest in folk music and gave him a large part of her collection of old recordings, including 78s of Blind Lemon Jefferson and Flatt & Scruggs. I even ended up with an LP of Roscoe Holcomb and Wade Ward, with a little note from John Cohen on the cover.)
Otherwise, it’s like starting to talk (maybe using your favorite words) without having anything to say.
It’s good that no one on C&F ever does that. 
This is a really interesting topic. I just have a couple of thoughts on it which might get someone thinking constructively, more questions and observations than answers.
First, I think that we are a little too close to the huge upsurege of interest in ITM that has occurred in the last 20 or 30 years to really have a clear view of what will or won’t last. I’m sure that innovators like Paddy Canny will last, so long as there remains an audience for what we tend to call pure drop, but I think that’s a safe bet. As for playing the ITM repertoire in a band setting, in concerts and so on, I have a feeling that it’s here to stay but will develop parallel with the solo and duo tradition with a lot of musicians making a contribution to both.
Which bands get to be regarded as ITM and which pop or rock or fusion is another matter. If I’m right, bands will innovate in ways that might not have any influence on solo performance but will on other bands. People often talk as though Moving Hearts were a failed experiment who developed a style of fusion that died with them. I regard them as a successful experiment (in places) but not really as being in the tradition so much as an offshoot. I actually think, far from being dead, they actually have an indirect influence on contemporary bands that might never have heard of them—Kila for example. I don’t see this stuff as any threat at all to the pure drop or band styles of ITM.
How do you tell when something that incorporates outside elements is part of the tradition and when it is not? I simply don’t know. The field recordings Bartok made ar clearly part of the Hungarian folk tradition. So are the modern versions of those tunes by the band Musikas. But Bartok’s own reworking of folk themes in his own compositions seem to me to be fusion and not at all part of the Hungarian folk tradition, even though I regard that stuff as marvellous art music. Having a good ear for folk traditions is something I look for in a concert music composer. But take blues compositions by, say, Duke Ellington, to be played by his orchestra—say ‘Black and Tan Fantasy’ and ‘Ko Ko.’ The Ellington band recordings seem to be clearly art music and clearly blues, ie part of the blues tradition, even though it would seem a bit odd to call them folk music. I don’t know what to make of this.
Obviously, music will survive if it has something that seems to reach out beyond the conventions of the time. Even the best music can have elements that remind us of its historical location. My early joke about Bridie Lafferty is that she sounds to a lot of us to be a bit out of place on an otherwise timeless record, but someone at the time must of thought she belonged. From classical music and jazz we know that music from the past will go in and out of fashion and I would expect that to happen with old recordings of ITM.
It appears that the urge is not so much to be different from from the preceding generation as it is to increase social cohesion with the group that really matters–their peers.
That may sound like a subtle difference, but it’s not limited to generational differences. William Labov’s study of accents on Martha’s Vineyard is quite famous, and demonstrated that such changes can be largely-unconscious reflections of changing social stratification. (A good summary is in Historical Linguistics, by R.L.Trask.)
Usually the ‘new’ language is nothing more than the old one with a bunch of made-up words thrown in (or words that are given an entirely new meaning, usually the opposite of the dictionary definition…“That’s wicked!” for example).
But the root language continues on and the new language, like the fashion of the day, fades and is largely forgotten.
And yet “dork” is still going strong, 44 years after I first heard it. “Cool” is still current, while “real gone” is really gone.
One thing that shocked me many years ago was how many terms that I thought of as “modern” and “trendy” showed up in Shakespeare’s plays. I wonder if they were new to him.
‘Cool’ is really funny. Sometimes it’s hot to be cool. Sometimes it’s cool to be hot. But it’s never hot to be uncool. And it’s never cool to be not too hot.
Isn’t it?
How do you tell when something that incorporates outside elements is part of the tradition and when it is not? I simply don’t know. The field recordings Bartok made ar clearly part of the Hungarian folk tradition. So are the modern versions of those tunes by the band Musikas. But Bartok’s own reworking of folk themes in his own compositions seem to me to be fusion and not at all part of the Hungarian folk tradition, even though I regard that stuff as marvellous art music. Having a good ear for folk traditions is something I look for in a concert music composer.
I have an LP called Swedish Folk Fiddle, consisting of two players, one playing a set melody, and the other improvising against it. When I listen to it, I often imagine that the “classical” composers must have been immersed in this kind of music, because the sounds seem so familiar.
But take blues compositions by, say, Duke Ellington, to be played by his orchestra—say ‘Black and Tan Fantasy’ and ‘Ko Ko.’ The Ellington band recordings seem to be clearly art music and clearly blues, ie part of the blues tradition, even though it would seem a bit odd to call them folk music. I don’t know what to make of this.
Just before I read this, I was thinking of the transition from Robert Johnson to Muddy Waters or, more extremely, from Bukka White to BB King. These seem to be clear examples of organic growth involving significant changes in the music.
The almost single-handed invention of Bluegrass by Bill Monroe is another example. He didn’t combine blues, swing, and Old-Timey music just to be doing it–he did it because he had them all in his head, and he couldn’t help himself. He did try some conscious innovations, too–including electric guitar, accordian, and electric organ(!)–but discarded those that didn’t fit his vision.
And how about Jimmie Rodgers, combining blues, Swiss yodeling, and Hawaiian slide guitar? What a mish-mash of unrelated elements! The yodeling seems to have pretty much dropped away (though you can hear some aftereffects in Chris Isaaks and Jewel), but the other two are still staples of C&W.
I find it very interesting how somethings evolve and become popular and others evolve and die. I used to be a real fan of old time music(american). Bluegrass developed and it is my second favorite music. Modern “country” music evolved and I can’t even listen to it. I can not believe that modern country is even related to old time music.
I like the more traditional Irish music. Some of the new forms I can listen to but do not enjoy. I listened to the school children from Clare that Peter posted last fall. It sounds like they are learning and playing the same way people have been learning and playing in Clare for generations. It was great to hear.
I lose all interest in folk music when electronics are introduced as a vital element of the music. Perhaps this is because my entire career was in electronics.
Unfortunately I think the motivation for much of the music produced today is money. If it doesn’t sell find a new way to do it. If the teens buy it it must be good.
Ron
I think that’s a symptom of trying to be too “conscious” with your message, and neglecting the emotional aspects, what really touches your heart. I see the visual and audible arts to be more about what you can’t say with words, the ineffible experience of being human, an unconscious distillation of your truest and deepest feelings. And yes, “let’s forget our problems, dance and have fun!” is a valid feeling in my book, even if it’s not the deepest.
By the way, I’m enjoying this whole thread…language, slang and group identification, blues, classical “art” music, old-time bluegrass and country…excellent points that stretch my brain nicely and give me different points of view…thanks all.
Is it unfortunate? I guess. Unfortunate that livings must be made. Here I will again delve into my psyche, fraught with existential angst as it is, as a writer trying to justify time spent writing, without hope of compensation.
What is someone who wishes to be a “professional musician” to do? If there is no profit (financially) in sitting in a session at The Stinky Boot pub, then how is the musician to pay the rent other than by experimenting, and, if lucky, hitting on a funky new sound that may be short on longevity, but high in short-term profit?
Oh boy, here’s a topic we could flog to death forever…
I do however agree with the assertion that we’re living too close to the “revival” period in Irish/traditional music to see what the impact of some contemporary players’ innovations will ultimately be. Check back in 100 years…
There are so many things that sound flashy and innovative the first time you hear them and then gradually (or not so gradually) go stale. I remeber the first time I heard a recording of the Afro Celt Sound System, I really, really liked it. A few months later, when I was over in the UK, I saw them on “Later With Jools Holland” and they blew me away again…totally outdid every other band on the show (which I seem to recall included Bjork and several Britpop bands that have since withered away). Then, a couple of years ago, I went to one of their live shows and found the music so boring and unpalatable that I left after about 20 minutes.
Then again, I still absolutely love everything that Martyn Bennett does, even though some would pigeonhole him in the same category as the Afro Schmaltz gang.
Most serious listeners of traditional music (i.e. players) tend to start off listening to some kind of entry-level-sorta-trying-too-hard-to-sound-“modern” stuff and then slowly gravitate towards purchasing solo/duet recordings with little or no accompaniment. They then scoff at newbies gesticulating wildly about the new flavor of the month group, trying to conceal their own Afro Celt/ Horslips/ Wolfstone/ Great Big Sea/ -entangled past.
Personally, I think if anyone’s getting the innovation “dynamism” thing remotely close to “right”, it’s the Bretons. There are some fantastic fest noz bands out there that employ all kinds of crazy instrumentation and yet you can still dance to them just as well as you could dance to a traditional sonneurs a couple or kan ha diskan duo. Then again, the Bretons did a much better job keeping their traditional music and their tradtional dance linked together as opposed to the Irish…
I’m really not sure how that happened. You might blame the ‘western’ as opposed to the ‘country’ strand but that wouldn’t be fair. For one thing, there is plenty of life in western swing music. At the time bluegrass was developing, you also had hillbilly boogie and the beginnings of honky tonk. Hank Williams moves me as much as any country singer. Also, on the debit side, there always was a slightly sentimental side to old timey music, balanced nicely by all the other sides of course.
When rural blues singers went to the city, we got hard-edged city blues like Muddy Waters and Howling Wolf, but eventually the blues died as a living, vibrant, culturally relevant music. When southern white folk went to the city in search of a better life than sharecropping, we got ..er .. .Nashville. And it’s still the soundtrack to the lives of their children and grandchildren; well, some of them anyway.
Here’s a wild guess as to how that happened. When ‘race’ and ‘hillbilly’ records became R&B and C&W in the '40s, most of the vibrant new music was on independent labels. What everybody wanted, black and white, was a crossover record—one that sold to the pop market and made serious money. Country found a formula for doing that …take the most maudlin and sentimental bits of old timey and brother duet music, add pop crooner smoothness to smooth out the rough bits, sweeten even more with strings, have just enough tame telecaster twang to make country folks feel nostalgic and you have a brew fit to sell by the tankfull to city folks. Seems to have worked.
When people start with a reflection like Peter’s and then go on to express fears for the future of the music, I’m often in the mood to discount the concerns. Jazz supposedly ‘died’ with every change but you have a music developing beautifully as an organic whole. But then I think of the two styles we are thinking of. What if ITM simply got swept aside and replaced by an Irish version of Nashville—hugely successful but utterly soulless, or, rather, expressing a lost soul sensibility. That’s exhibit A. Exhibit B is the blues, now selling more records of great artists than ever but dead as a living breathing tradition. The young black kids who now play blues learn the same way white kids did in the 60s, from the records sitting in their middle class bedrooms feeling cool because they are arty and different. They are cool of course, but this isn’t the way I’d want ITM to go.
On the other side, you have all those young people all over the world learning and playing in something resembling the traditional style of their ancestors simply because the world music vogue has made it once more acceptable to be yourself.
I’m not drawing conclusions; I think we’re too close to it all to process it, but I’m very optimistic about the future. New styles and people playing well in old styles has always been something documented by independent labels and enthusiastic amateurs like the Lomaxes and accidental professionals like Chris Strachwitz. There might be nobody like a John Hammond to steer the majors towards great roots music any more, but what the price and storage difficulties associated with stocking CDs did to music in the early '90s is now being counteracted by internet advertising and selling and high quality digital home-recording units. (I now make recordings of myself and friends at home of much higher quality than anything I did in a professional studio 20 or 30 years ago.) If you see less interesting music in shops, you now have more available than ever before through internet mail order outlets.
Recently I put out a request for information on the ITM board regarding the economics of releasing old music and new music in uncommercial styles. I didn’t get a lot of new information, but I did sense a willingness to help and a certain enthusiasm. I don’t think the idea is dead. Whenever I learn something new I’ll bump the thread and encourage others to do the same. If Chris Strachwitz had asked someone about the commercial viability of Arhoolie he’d have been laughed at. But he was right—lots of us do want to hear that music.
Yes! That’s the very one. And I wasn’t suggesting it was frivolous (I worshipped their rendition of the Brandenburg No.3).
I think my point was that, at that time, the Moog had to be everywhere, or so it seemed, until the novelty factor wore off and the instrument found its place. One can argue that the Moog spawned such devices as the Stylophone and portable Casio keyboards, devices designed and marketed along the lines of ‘bringing music to the people’, and later, of course, the digital sampler (which is the tool of the devil). I can still see The Petshop Boys standing alone on a stage with a PC playing their music…it’s an image that discomforts me on many levels.
Aye and there’s the rub. As a writer myself, I can sympathise. But em, you should be writing for the love of it, just as the muso at The Stinky Boot should be playing for the love of it. I’ve done my time starving in a garret; all the money I’ve ever earned from my book sales just about paid for the wristwatch I’m wearing (about £200) and thus am I minded of the folly of the pursuit of wealth - whenever someone asks me the time. I still write, and occasionally I’ll sub to an agent or publisher and wait for the paper boomerang to return. When I play whistle or flute, it is alone in my flat, with no audience. Very few are The Few Big Names who enjoy a life of celebrity luxury from their art, and few enough of those are the result of talent. Most celebrities these days are, imho, created by artificial insemination between a corporation’s Sales and Marketing departments.
Ever wonder why the Old Masters of the art world didn’t become rich and famous until after they were dead?
The musicianer in The Stinky Boot should, if he or she loved the music enough, get a job to pay the rent, leaving him or her free to play every time the pub opened its doors in the evening. Millions do.
Nah…let’s just beat it till it bleeds a little.
Most serious listeners of traditional music (i.e. players) tend to start off listening to some kind of entry-level-sorta-trying-too-hard-to-sound-“modern” stuff and then slowly gravitate towards purchasing solo/duet recordings with little or no accompaniment. They then scoff at newbies gesticulating wildly about the new flavor of the month group, trying to conceal their own Afro Celt/ Horslips/ Wolfstone/ Great Big Sea/ -entangled past.
For me, it was the Kingston Trio, leading to the New Lost City Ramblers, and then on their sources. Without the Great Folk Scare of 1959-65, how many of my generation would have even discovered the existence of folk and Old-Timey music, much less have been attracted to it?
Certainly the world of flatpicking guitar would be very different if Ralph Rinzler hadn’t stumbled on Doc Watson while looking for Clarence Ashely.
Not for a while. A genius who’s dead is fine. A genius in the same room or who lives next door makes people decidedly uncomfortable. And what goes for genius goes too for mere talent.
Society largely rewards ordinariness and luck, in combination. Being ordinary is the qualification for the lottery; after that it’s luck. It’s not threatening. And, who knows, next time round it might be you. In a democratic world pretending to be meritocratic, why should we expect anything different.
There are exceptions. Sometimes talented people get around the system. And sometimes talent just can’t or won’t be denied. And there are underground groups of people who love and reward talent; it would be a mistake to underestimate how many such groups there are, although they usually aren’t large enough to present rewards that pay the bills.
This isn’t bitterness (I hope.) I’ve personally been lucky to make a living doing things I love doing—writing, teaching, playing music—and with only a few compromises. Obviously I’d like more recognition; wouldn’t we all? But I’m basing my remarks on observation of the friends who ‘made it’ and those who failed. Even in the areas where talent isn’t a liability, temperament seems to be more important and luck plays a very big role.
Indubitably. For temperament, I read ‘passion and commitment’.
Oddly enough I wrote a novel in which the basic premise is “luck and fear”; it’s luck that’ll get you the breaks or not, but fear that’ll stop you taking the chances and making the sacrifices/changes needed to do what you really want to do. But I fear this is straying OT and shall desist.
Well, even if it is OT, I can’t resist. I certainly agree. But I think it’s very hard to predict how things will work out. I’ve taken some big risks and some have come off and others haven’t. You do have to be prepared for life if they don’t work out. Since enough worked out for me, I have no idea whether the risk-taking is guts, recklessness or pigheadedness.
There’s also the matter of artistic (or intellectual) and economic risk taking. I’ve been lucky enough to make not just a bare living but quite a good living, eventually and after a long time of not doing so and who knows for how long. But, despite the risk taking, I often see young friends I think of as talented and I can see that they aren’t going to make it. It often isn’t a lack of courage or integrity. It’s just a gut feeling that when the chance comes, they’ll take the wrong turn in the road. Of course, I would never say this unless I had practical advice I thought they’d take, or at least not resent, and I love it when they prove me wrong.
Not all of them…Rembrandt did pretty well for himself, and had a fair amount of fame in his lifetime. But I see your point, most didn’t, and even Rembrandt’s fame was magnified with the luxury of hindsight.
Ah, but you have to be ordinary in an attractive (although homogenized) way. Like being born with a great figure. Or learning to suppress your inhibitions so much that you can make a spectacle of yourself enough that people want to watch. Nothing threatening there. Then there’s your luck (since there are so many people with those qualifications). People will also pay to see measurable skill – if you’re the fastest or best thrower or jumper or whatever, you can be famous even without attractive looks or lots of luck (although those help). But that’s mostly genetics and an overdeveloped sense of competition.
It’s been said if you truly love music, do anything you can to avoid becoming a professional musician. Here’s some interesting Music Industry Commentary.