An Sagairtín

"An Sagairtín" ("The Little Priest"), is a traditional Irish ballad, sung here unaccompanied in sean-nós style by Bríd Ní Mhaoilchiaráin. The lyrics and translations available at Mudcat are well worth a read.

Fiddler on the Minivan Roof

My last few posts have been devoid of any modern context, so...

The Carnyx Unveiled

Image source: The carnyx howl by svantewit

Forget fifes and drums--Iron Age Celts charged into battle to the clamor of the carnyx, an enormous bronze war horn with a boar-shaped mouth. We may never know for certain what it sounded like, or how it was played, but some researchers and artists have ventured to try and recreate it. Working off the Deskford Carnyx, one such team unveiled their reconstructed carnyx at the National Museum of Scotland in April of 1993. Below, trombonist John Kenny delivers an intriguing performance from Carnyx & Co's Deskford clone. Imagine a gaggle of these things trumpeting across a broad field in Ireland, Britain, or France. Who needs armor when you've got that on your side?

Authentic to the Bone

I must apologize for my lack of specificity in discussing the "authentic" in my last post. Rather than blathering, I thought I'd simply illustrate it with a Civil War geekout dose of fantastic, minstrel-style, Civil War era tunes. On video. Complete with seriously kickass bones a-clickety clackin'. Shit just got real.







For more 19th century minstrel bliss, check out Tim Twiss's Banjo Clubhouse and the YouTube channels of minstrelbanjo, giggletoot, and oldcremona.

Indian War Whoop

Just stumbled across this brilliant psychedelic stop motion video by Carter Baldwin for Hoyt Ming and His Pep Steppers' classic "Indian War Whoop." I don't know about Ming, but Harry Smith and the Holy Modal Rounders would certainly be proud.

For more information on the song and its original performers, The Old Weird, America has a fantastic, comprehensive post with a brief history of the band, 14 variations of the song, 3 videos, and all 6 of the Pep Steppers' recordings. If you're still not sated, here's a wafer thin R. Crumb portrait to top it off. Don't worry, the cleaning lady's on her way with a bucket:

Mary Don't You Weep

Georgia field hands performing "Mary Don't You Weep," circa late 1920s-early '30s.

Jeffrey Lewis - The Complete History of Punk Rock

While we're on the subject of lineage, here's Jeffrey Lewis's musical history of the early development of punk out of New York City's folk/poetry scene of the 1950s and '60s. This really doesn't need an introduction.

If you enjoyed this, be sure to check out Lewis's homepage and his original music and comic books.

McAlpine's Fusiliers

Across the pond to Ireland. The Ronnie Drew Group (later the Dubliners) perform Dominic Behan's "McAlpine's Fusiliers." You can see the fire in Drew's eyes as he sings about the hardships faced by Irish laborers in England. I think it's worth noting that this was in 1963, right before the Beatles took America by storm performing "I Want to Hold Your Hand" on the Ed Sullivan Show. Though rock 'n' roll is an obvious direct ancestor of punk rock, it's easy here to see the vital role folk music traditions played in that and a number of other significant lineages. More on this later. In the meantime, enjoy:


Oh, and for the hell of it, here are the lyrics to "McAlpine's Fusiliers" and "I Want to Hold Your Hand:"

McAlpine's Fusiliers

As down the glen came McAlpine's men with their shovels slung behind them
It was in the pub they drank the sub and up in the spike you'll find them
They sweated blood and they washed down mud with pints and quarts of beer
And now we're on the road again with McAlpine's Fusiliers

I stripped to the skin with Darky Flynn way down upon the Isle of Grain
With Horseface Toole I knew the rule, no money if you stop for rain
When McAlpine's god was a well filled hod with your shoulders cut to bits and seared
And woe to he who looks for tea with McAlpine's Fusiliers

I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea fell into a concrete stairs
What the Horseface said, when he saw him dead, well it wasn't what the rich call prayers
I'm a navvy short was the one retort that reached unto my ears
When the going is rough, well you must be tough with McAlpine's Fusiliers

I've worked till the sweat near had me bet with Russian, Czech and Pole
On shuddering jams up in the hydro dams or underneath the Thames in a hole
I grafted hard and I've got me cards and many a gangers fist across me ears
If you pride your life, don't join, by Christ, with McAlpine's Fusiliers

I Want To Hold Your Hand

Oh yeah, I'll tell you something,
I think you'll understand.
When I'll say that something
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.

Oh please, say to me
You'll let me be your man
And please, say to me
You'll let me hold your hand.
Now let me hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.

And when I touch you I feel happy inside.
It's such a feeling that my love
I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide.

Yeah, you've got that something,
I think you'll understand.
When I'll say that something
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.

And when I touch you I feel happy inside.
It's such a feeling that my love
I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide.

Yeh, you've got that something,
I think you'll understand.
When I'll feel that something
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.

Hicks' Farewell

Nothing like some stirring, 185-year-old music to bridge the gap.

"Hicks' Farewell," performed by Tim Eriksen.

Far, Far Beneath

I've always been fascinated by sea monsters. The giant squid in particular is a creature that represents the intersection of myth and reality, where the tall tales of sailors proved based in truth. The image of a tentacled behemoth--a kraken--has fascinated artists and writers for millennia, but not until recent times have scientists finally been able to begin to illuminate this entity previously consigned the deepest depths of fantasy, science fiction and cryptozoological speculation. Even as we begin to understand the great beast as a living, breathing creature, it still maintains its allure as a manifestation of the darkest reaches of the human psyche.


Illustration source: Somefield.



"The Kraken" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

Pretty Saro

"Pretty Saro" is an old ballad first documented in 1911 in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina by folk music collector John Lomax. It is likely much older, though its exact provenance is up for speculation. Here are two versions. The first is a modern rendition by Sam Amidon (video by Jeremy Blatter). The second is a great example of the traditional unaccompanied ballad style. Cass Wallin performs it on a porch in the Burton Cove, Sodom Laurel, North Carolina in 1982.

Let Me Fall

"If I get drunk, if I get drunk,
just let me fall, little darling, on the ground..."

"Let Me Fall," performed by Tommy Jarrell and company at the Peach Pie Festival, Mount Airy, North Carolina. Recorded by Alan Lomax and crew, July 1983. More videos from the American Patchwork fieldwork and info about Alan Lomax and his collections at http://research.culturalequity.org.

Pretty Polly

A little creepiness for Halloween. An animated video by Jonas Tarestad based on Dock Boggs awesomely unsettling (unsettlingly awesome?) 1927 rendition of the old murder ballad "Pretty Polly." Before the true crime novel--and long before Law & Order--America got its murder fix from ballads. Weird.