There's a video on the American legacy website of her singing "House of the Rising Sun" in 2005. http://www.americanlegacymag.com/thisissue_summer2008.shtml Odetta found her way into the folk music scene in the early 1950s, singing at the famed Hungry i and the Tin Angel in San Francisco and the Blue Angel in New York City, where her appearances caused Pete Seeger and Harry Belafonte to become champions of her remarkable talent. She recorded her first album, appropriately titled Tin Angel in 1954, and subsequently cut many albums including two vastly influential live LPs in the 1960s, Odetta at Carnegie Hall and Odetta at Town Hall, followed by the studio album Odetta Sings Dylan – the first completely dedicated to his songs. The relationship between Odetta and Dylan dates back to 1960 when it is said she advised the young Minnesotan, even before he reached New York City, that if he stayed with music he would most likely succeed. Her most recent CDs are Blues Everywhere I Go (1999), Looking for a Home (2001), and Gonna Let It Shine (2005).

At White House ceremonies in 1999, President Clinton presented her with the National Medal of Arts & Humanities. In addition, Odetta was among the initial group of select artists to be honored with the first Duke Ellington Fellowship Award from Yale University, she's a recipient of both the International Folk Alliance and World Folk Music Association's Lifetime Achievement Awards and a holder of honorary doctorates from Bennett College, Johnson C. Smith University and Colby College.

"I last saw Odetta in June, when the African American history magazine American Legacy had a party to celebrate their music issue, in which Odetta was featured in an article by Audrey Peterson," says musician and journalist Ned Sublette. "The Carolina Chocolate Drops played a fine unamplified mini-set. there was this beautiful, tiny woman in a wheelchair taking it all in, smiling broadly, loving it, radiating joy, thoroughly happy to be alive. Constance wound up sitting next to her. it took me a while to realize it was Odetta, much different than the last time I'd seen her, years before, on stage with a guitar in her hands. she was skin and bones, but she was beautifully dressed and had a glass of wine in her hands. unlike her body, her mind was completely alive. Odetta and Constance chatted and did the terrorist fist-bump. the last thing i heard about Odetta, from a mutual friend, was what this story confirms, that she knew she was dying but was trying to hang on long enough to sing at Barack Obama's inauguration."
 

Never mind that Coldplay’s new album is the Brit-pop band’s weakest effort yet. Or that rapper Lil Wayne is a better salesman than musician. Or that the Jonas Brothers pen power-pop like third-graders fill in Mad Libs. They are all smart, swaggering and popular, style-over-substance qualities that helped them Wednesday when nominations were announced for the 51st annual Grammy Awards.

Lil Wayne led the pack with eight nominations. His 2008 album, "Tha Carter III," sold more than a million copies its first week of release, a mind-blowing feat considering the crummy state of the music biz. Coldplay, whose "Viva la Vida" platter was another platinum smash, was next with seven noms. The Jonas Brothers scored a chance to be named best new artist.

When music's loftiest, and many might say irrelevant, shindig is held Feb. 8 at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, Coldplay and Lil' Wayne will do battle for album of the year. Other nominees for the night's biggest award are Radiohead's groundbreaking "In Rainbows," Ne-Yo's R&B melange "Year of the Gentleman" and Robert Plant and Alison Krauss' folk-rock stunner "Raising Sand," which was my pick for the best disc of '07. 

In order to juice excitement for "music's biggest night," CBS hosted a live nominations telecast, which did feature a few cool performances, including the Foo Fighters' scrummy take on Carly Simon's "You're So Vain." But ultimately, the pre-show show was laughably optimistic seeing as how no one has watched the actual Grammys for years. If that sounds harsh, well, ratings have been tanking for awhile, and they sure weren't helped by the 50th anniversary show when jazz legend Herbie Hancock beat out Brit soul singer Amy Winehouse and hip-hop king Kanye West for album of the year.

The Grammys want everyone to get excited -- but in the end, they usually wind up frustrating more than thrilling. Governed by the Recording Academy, Grammy voters are dominated by older folks who probably think Kanye West is a discount airline. They're famous for pretending that all is well in the world of music, an industry that, in reality, should have all the confidence of American automakers. Things are bleak -- so sing, sing, sing!

Oh well. Besides album of the year, there were some other eyebrow-raising categories. Best new artist, which went to Winehouse last year (and Milli Vanilli in 1990!) will feature those world-turning Disney scamps the Jonas Brothers, retro-soul singer Duffy, British vocalist Adele, country band Lady Antebellum and R&B singer Jazmine Sullivan. Say what you will about the JoBros, but the Grammys are all about bringing in a younger audience -- in this case, 12-year-old girls who will cry for weeks in the boys don't win.

For record of the year (given to performer and producer), the nominees are Adele's "Chasing Pavements," Coldplay's "Viva la Vida," Leona Lewis' "Bleeding Love," Plant and Krauss' "Please Read the Letter" and Sri Lanka hip-hopper M.I.A.'s sublime "Paper Planes."

The Grammys usually have the year's biggest nominees perform, so it'll be fun to see if Thom Yorke and Radiohead plug in. Krauss and Plant, who scored five noms, could also bring May-December heat to the festivities (not to mention viewers who wouldn't know Lil Wayne if he bit them with his grill).

If you're a polka fan, or a classical nut, or a Hawaiian music aficionado, let it be known that the Grammys feature a whopping 110 categories, a sprawling list that was still being studied long after our deadline. To get the full list of nominees, go to grammy.com.

Having previously released two solo albums to wide-spread critical acclaim Hazel Winter joins forces with familiar Bristol cohort (Adrian Utley, Portishead, who looked after much of the production duties) to pen an album of nourish guitar blues and raucous folk rock.

Alongside Bristol-based fiddler Gina Griffin, banjo player Joff Lowson, and her sister Trish Winter and her band of Northumbrian folksters by the name of Horseplay, Hazel has set about creating a wildly powerful and uncompromising new album.

With Instruments including Northumbrian pipes, mandolin, wooden flute, medieval side drum and that traditional North Eastern heritage instrument, the Didgeridoo, the songs of ‘Situation Normal Then’ were recorded over 2 separate weekends 18 months apart; one was produced by Adrian Utley and the other by Hazel Winter. A lot of female singer songwriters seem to be rocking my world this year, I get shades of PJ Harvey from Hazel. The tracks I have heard so far from the album give me the impression that I’m going to enjoy this album!

http://www.hazelwinter.co.uk/
http://www.myspace.com/hazelwinter

MP3: Hazel Winter - Midwich Sleep On

- Mark

Tomorrow night the Velvet Lounge offers a very special treat: Outsider folk hero Max Ochs will celebrate the release of his new album, Hooray for Another Day, which features all-new instrumental recordings and poetry from the 67-year-old Annapolis native.

Along with John Fahey and Robbie Basho, Ochs was among the East Coast Blues Mafia that ushered in the tradition of “American primitive guitar” in the ’50s and ’60s. Along with his influential recordings on “Contemporary Guitar ‘67″ — the first compilation on Fahey’s Takoma recordings — Ochs also composed a piece entitled “Imaginational Anthem,” released via the Fonotone label in 1969. The recording was unearthed by Tompkins Square label-head Josh Rosenthal, who contacted Ochs and asked him to re-record the track for a compilation honoring the American primitive guitar tradition, which would also bear the name Imaginational Anthem. Now in its third volume (the latest of which was released earlier this year, along with a box set containing all three), Imaginational Anthem offers a fascinating document of guitar music past and present, revealing the links between luminaries like Ochs, and the newer crop of pickers like Jack Rose and Cian Nugent.

I recently caught up with Ochs via phone to talk about the new record, his life in Annapolis, and his musical evolution over the years. You can read more about Ochs via the previous City Paper feature, written by Mike Keefe-Feldman in 2005, or chat with him yourself tomorrow at the Velvet Lounge. Details for the show below, Q&A after the jump.

Max Ochs
Skeleton$
Kuschty Rye Ergot
Chris Grier

Thursday, December 4th
Velvet Lounge
9:30pm
8$

What was the recording process like for your new album?

I kept going up to a studio in Baltimore, with this guy Ty Ford, he’s very good. I liked Ty because so many sound guys want you to do the vocal and the sound separately, but I had complete freedom — they’d asked me what I wanted to do next, and you know, I’d put a lot of thought into it. I worked so hard on that record, because he kept saying, do you think you could do it better, and I’d do it again, and then he’d say now listen to both and see which one you’d like. and it was very hard to concentrate on which one was better — they were just different. I listened to that tape so much that I got completely sick of it, I couldn’t stand to hear it. So after I finished recording it, it was like a year and a half before I could even stand to hear it again. So it’s just been in the last month, since Josh said it was coming out, and sent me four copies of the new record, and now I’m playing it, and — I like it. But I got so close to it, and I listened to it so repetitively, that I guess I can’t stand to hear the same thing over and over again, I get bored right away.

How long were you recording for the new record?

I’d say it was a little over a year, because I would go up there and record one or two songs, and I was working at the same time. I was working at the anti-poverty agency, Head Start — I worked with low-income people in Anne Arundel county. I was also the Executive Director of the County Conflict Resolution Center, where we trained mediators. And now I teach community college, I teach conflict resolution to mental health workers, I teach a few guitar lessons, and I do some freelance work. But I’m actually collecting social security now, and I’m no longer working full-time.

Has your music since picked up?

Yeah, it has picked up; I’ve been enjoying my music more and more and getting better and better — I’m playing better than I’ve ever played in my life. Although when I’m listening to older recordings of me, I realize that when I was younger, I played faster. I also played with finger picks, which are slippery, stainless steel, plastic and they slide over the steel strings at a very rapid pace. But somewhere along the line I lost the picks, I decided — especially after learning from Mississippi John Hurt — that it was better to play with your fingers. It’s a much more personal way of playing — it’s just my body and the guitar, without those pieces of plastic or steel getting between me and the guitar. But I lost speed — not to mention aging will also slow you down — but I lost that repetition that you get with finger picks. Once and a while I’ll stick the finger picks on just to see if I can still do it. But I don’t care about showing off now, I just care about bringing out the beauty and the feel of the music.

Well, talking about that emphasis on “feeling”: I actually put on Hooray For Another Day on a drive through the mountains last month, and it seemed cultivate an autumn-like air — everything from the tone of your guitar, to the direct references to November in your poems. Did you have Fall in mind when you were recording the album?

I can’t say that I had a particular season in mind, because if you listen to it in the winter, then you might remind you of winter. Certain ragas, you know there are morning ragas and there are evening ragas, and there are probably autumn ragas and summer ragas too. I can’t just answer yes, I had a feeling of fall, because I don’t really know.

In the poem “Muse Sick” [featured on Hooray For Another Day], you emphasize the inspirational powers of scenery and surroundings, and you paint a vivid picture of Maryland farm life in “An Apple Place in Annapolis” — how has life in Maryland influenced you creatively, and how does it work itself into your art?

Well, “An Apple Place in Annapolis” is definitely a Fall poem. As for the scenery, I just thought it was funny, because I knew this person and they kept saying, “Oh look at that sunset, look at those clouds, look at that water, look at those trees, look at those leaves.” And I started thinking, you know, they’re really getting a lot of meaning from this scenery — why is it that scenery so important to you? But it is, it is to me too. It’s definitely a big part of our life, and if you have a waterfront view, you can definitely charge more for your house. [Laughs] So yea, all that stuff is very biographical, and I did sell fresh local produce for a while. I’ve done so many things … I don’t if it’s typical or not — typical of a hippie.

“An Apple Place in Annapolis”:

Were the poems featured on Hooray For Another Day written recently? Why did you choose those four for the record?

I chose about 10, and Josh [Rosenthal] pulled out those four. I keep working on my poems over and over again. I guess now that they’re on the record, I have to leave them alone, because it’s like they’re published. I think I’ve already changed “Crows.” They just go through these incarnations, they evolve. But rather than keep on re-writing old poems, I write new stuff all the time, I’m constantly writing. I’m putting together a book now called “Caws,” because I think of my poems as like sounds — sound is very important being a musician, and sometimes I write more for the ear.

Do most of your poems involve Annapolis?

I like to bring in the place a lot; I like to bring the world into my poems. I like to have things be a story that you can hear, and understand, and be understandable. I’m trying more and more to be accessible. I think in the ’60s and ’70s, a lot of my poems got way out there, maybe like “Take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind” — they got a little too obscure, and the symbolism was like personal symbolism, and you couldn’t really expect someone to understand what you’re talking about. Then again, we give people permission just to make these sounds, and call it music, and nobody has a problem with that. But when it comes to words, it’s like numbers, you know? You want to solve the problem and have it come out right, you want it to make sense … It’s like logic, you know? You want to say, “if this, then that.” So with words, you kind of have this expectation that you’re going to come out understanding something, and maybe take you from here to there in your mind. So I’ve tried to be more understandable, more accessible, honest and not just go off on some jibberish of jabberwokky … although I can do that too, just a pure ear poem that makes no sense whatever. I can get into pure sound, without caring at all about “sense,” but I like to balance it. That’s what poetry is — words trying to become music.

“In Christ There Is No East or West” was originally arranged by Fahey, and even “Imaginational Anthem” was a tribute of sorts to Fahey. Can you tell me about your relationship to Fahey?

Yeah, I knew John, and I admired him — I was a little younger than he was. When I lived on the farm in Annapolis, he would come down to our house and sit in the chair, and we would just sit on the floor and watch him, and ask him to show us how he did stuff. He had already put out Blind Joe Death, the first album. He was a haunted man. There was something — a deep sorrow that … you know, he was very friendly, and very nice — a really sweet guy. But I had a feeling that I would never know how to get really close to him. There was some kind of sadness that … and he drank a lot; the few times I was around him he was gulping down lots of bourbon, or he usually had a bottle of whiskey of some kind that he liked. And that just came with the territory, that came with John Fahey.

But I would shyly, hesitatingly come up and show him my progress on the guitar, though I was mainly adulatory, and just would tell him how much I loved “Transcendental Waterfall,” or “Some Summer Day” or just how much I loved his music and how moved I was by it. It was very, very influential on me, and I just drilled my thumb for thousands of hours so that it could be like a Fahey thumb.

“In Christ There Is No East Or West”:

Like Fahey, your music is drawn particularly from the blues, old hymns and spirituals, and even on your new album you have an interpretation of a Fahey arrangement that’s more of an African American spiritual. How did that come to get into your playing, and how has it effected your music over the years?

I’m not very good at keeping things separated into categories or genres. I like what Duke Ellington said, “If it sounds good, it is good.”

I grew up in Annapolis, and there was a lot of music coming out of the black churches which were very close to my house. One night I heard this incredible sound of singing, shouting and tambourines in the summer, I was probably 14, and I started walking to it and it was getting louder and louder and then I was standing in front of it — the Mount Moriah African Methodist Episcopal church. The music was like this magnet that drew me upstairs, so I went upstairs and there was all this really high volume gospel singing with a choir, tambourines and it was really hot — ladies had fans and were fanning themselves. I was the only white guy there, and I had the audacity to sit down in the back, thinking maybe they wouldn’t notice, and the preacher just went “It’s okay, you’re a white guy sitting back there, and it’s OK, you are welcome, this is God’s house, we love everybody,” and he basically just shouted me in, and it was beautiful. There was something so direct and honest about that music, and the feeling that everyone had — they were not ashamed to show their feelings, and not ashamed to clap, or laugh, or shout “Amen,” and I thought it was the most wonderful thing — I was completely happy to participate in it.

How have you seen Fahey’s American primitive style represented in today’s generation of acoustic guitarists like those featured on the Imaginational Anthem compilations?

Well I thought it had kind of faded away, and that I was one of the few people still around that liked it, and kept it alive. I didn’t know aboutl the Jack Roses and the other people that were still doing it. What I did was take a cue from John Fahey — he was like a bridge to these old Charlie Pattons and Mississpi John Hurts and all these people. And I thought, “I’m gonna do what John Fahey did — I’m going back to the source.” The source being all those old records. So I just immersed myself in the old tapes and ’78s, and tried to learn directly from them. Because Fahey was really an interpreter and a golden bridge to that; what he did was teach us how to hear that, how to listen to that. And from there we could step over the bridge into the very territory that he got it from and listen to it ourselves.

In your playing, you also do a lot of ragas and use different tunings. What led you to experiment with incorporating Indian classical music into your sound?

Being the son of a doctor in America, 1955 — here I am, a teenager with an allowance, I had a paper route, I could earn money to go down to the record store and buy these records. I bought Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar Kahn, and just played those records over and over, I must have had about 9 or 10 Indian music LPs. I was just listened to them incessantly, along with E. Power Biggs playing organ. I was having a music orgy or something, just rolling around and wrapping myself in all this great music, loving it and letting it form my brain cells, it was going in my ears and changing the shape of my brain or something. I just loved it so much.

Touching on the access that recorded music allowed to the other genres that influenced you back in the ’50s, what do you think of the current state of digital music, and the unprecedented access that the Internet has allowed?

I think it’s wonderful, and I think it should be free. I have lots of cassettes of myself playing at a coffee house, of me playing at somebody’s house or at a gig, or at bar, or just sitting in the living room with a bunch of guys and somebody turns on the tape recorder and made a copy for me. And I have a ton of homemade music that I would love to post to a Web site and be like Radiohead, you know, what they did with their last album where they said to download and pay us whatever you think it’s worth. If you wanna take it for free, if you wanna give me a dollar, fifty cents, whatever, it’s fine. And I would really be quite content to do that.

“Cryin’ Sometime” (home recording, previously unreleased):


As far as musicians making a living off of selling a record is concerned, do you think that particular model of digital distribution is a good direction for music to be taking?

People are going to get their music one way or another — they have a hunger, an appetite for it. They’re gonna find music and there’s so much of it now. I mean, the Beatles are never gonna disappear — Beethoven, Bach, Blind Willie Johnson, John Fahey — they’re never gonna disappear, they’re here for the rest of civilization’s existence. So it’s a cumulative thing, new musicians will come up and find ways to get their stuff on iTunes that can be downloaded.

But people say, “Don’t you wanna get money for your CD’s?” Well actually, I would be happy if people were listening to my music, at least to the extent that people would invite me to come play at a concert. But even when I wasn’t playing at gigs or at venues, I was still sitting in my kitchen playing for my dog, or on my back steps — I just love to play. I’m not worried about the music industry, it will find a way, it will sort itself out. There will be ways for musicians to make money, you’ll get played for playing when you go to a gig, and the musicians will sell their records at the gigs, and maybe musicians will adopt that Radiohead mode where they put it on the internet and if people want their music, they can download it and pay what they think is fair to pay, what they think it’s worth.

But here’s the other thing: You’re talking to a non-typical musician. Most of the time when you interview a musician, they’re doing it for a living, they’ve committed themselves full-time and they’re really brave leaping into that experience where they’re going to try to see if they can make it as a musician. I never had that much faith in myself, that I could be that competitive in the market. I play just because it brings me great joy, and I’m just grateful that people like to listen. I worked in the anti-poverty agency at a steady job and when I could find the time I would practice my music and write a song, and if I was lucky, I would get a gig. That’s how I bumbled through decades, and all this that’s going on now is wonderful and interesting. It’s like now I’ve been validated to the extent that it seems people enjoy listening to me, and it’s amazing, and great, and I’m so happy that they do.

The album is launched by a brief fade in, into one of Michael Pinder's most lushly depressive movements, "Lost in a Lost World". While lacking the range and degree of experimentation of "My Song" and the clarity of expression of "Melancholy Man", it remains a powerful opening. New Horizons is one of Hayward's most enduring melodies, a near perfect ballad with a touching chorus and a gripping solo, all awash in mellotron(Chamberlain). Ray Thomas is probably my least favourite vocalist and composer from the Moodys, but "For My Lady" is a pretty folk song without some of the trifling embellishments that characterize many of his contributions. The accordion and the imaginative backing vocals at the finish are among the highlights. The two hits on the album are both written by John Lodge and feature real strings, but are otherwise dramatically different. "Isn't Life Strange" is a slightly twee gently orchestrated tune that is highlighted by the band's trademark harmonies in the chorus, while "I'm Just a Singer in a Rock and Roll Band" is an incessant rocker that hints at some of the pressures and disillusionment that Lodge and his bandmates may have been experiencing. It seems clear to me that Electric Light Orchestra, for all their Beatle-esque pretensions, were heavily influenced by this song, but let's not hold that against the Moodys.

Elsewhere, Hayward and Edge combine for a more melodic uptempo number, "You and Me", which bests similar tunes like It's Up to You that had appeared earlier, while "Land of Make Believe" pushes beyond it's sing songy verses into a variety of exercises that would seem to have formed the blueprint for the Bluejays (Hayward and Lodge) album. "When You're a Free Man" is another morose Pinder song that aches with longing and nearly abandoned hope.

While "Seventh Sojourn" clearly represents the end of the road of sorts, in adversity the Moodys produced one of their finest and most cohesive soundscapes, even if this seems less of a concept album than any of the prior six. It could be argued that the band's legacy would have been better served if this album had remained the group's final resting place.

by kenethlevine


MOODY BLUES, THE Music Online:
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Looking for a Platform is the first of three epic length tracks on the album clocking in at 15+ minutes. It starts off with a really nice keyboard melody and leads into some cool (almost Fish-like, without being too derivative) vocals from the bass-player and mainman Carter. Some awesome symphonic keyboard work, including a great piano solo in the middle, from Montgomery and Carter make this song an instant classic prog track.

So Far is the long song on the album at over 23 minutes with Alan Reed taking over the vocals and what a fantastic job he does on this. His voice is a lot mellower here than on his work with Pallas, but at the same time, it is just as emotional and powerful as it is with his other band. Very nice classical and accoustic guitar work on this song too and again some great keyboard work, topped off with some pretty cool lead guitar work by Magenta's Chris Fry. Not to mention some violin, recorder, mandolin and banjo. Overall, this is one of my favorite 20-minute plus songs from the last several years.

Sheepish is a bit more agressive than the previous two epics, but this still isn't heavy by any stretch. But the guitars are a bit more crunchy, the drums a bit more agressive, and even at times a bit more agression in the vocals (from Carter again). On the other hand, at times it also has a floating/ethereal quality to the music. Both sides capture the best of a great progressive rock song.

Ventura is listed as a 14 minute song, but in fact it is two songs divided by a few minutes of silence. The first song is Ventura which continues in the folkish guitar meets symphonic keyboard vein. Vocals here are from Mick McFarlane and really bring out the folkishness in this album as he wouldn't sound too out of place as a member of Jefferson Airplane or CSN. Nice keyboard and then lead guitar outro here. The second song is untitled. And almost sounds like a lullaby in its dreaminess, with Carter back on vocals for a mellow, spacey excursion that wouldn't be too bad to listen to as you fall asleep (and I don't mean that in a bad way at all).

These guys really made a strong comeback and I'm eager to hear their other works. It's powerful and emotional music and I know it will get many more plays in my cd player over many years to come. This is highly recommended for any fan of classic prog. 4.5 stars really!

by The Doctor


ABEL GANZ Music Online:
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