Any compilation that features the song from the maypole scene in The Wicker Man is going to have something going for it.
Strange Folk is a collection of folk songs, some from the 1960s and 1970s, and others more recent, which share a dark or decidedly unusual edge. The 19 tracks hereon range from the eerie, in Beth Gibbons & Rustin Man’s ‘Mysteries’, to the unintentionally terrifying with the Incredible String Band’s masterclass in cat-strangling, tuneless dirgemaking ‘Saturday Maybe’.
But don’t let the inclusion of those enemies of the carried note put you off – skip buttons could well have been invented with these forte-free fiends in mind – as Strange Folk manages to erase any bad Incredible String-based experiences with some shrewdly chosen musical remedies.
Cave of Clear Light from Esoteric Recordings does for Pye Records – and its progressive imprint Dawn – what Spirit of Joy and Breath of Fresh Air do respectively for Polydor, and EMI’s prog label Harvest.
That is, deliver a comprehensive, beautifully packaged three-disc extravaganza complete with extensively detailed booklet.
Once again compiled by Mark Powell, behind both the Polydor and Harvest excursions, Cave of Clear Light shines the fiery torch on the label that’s been dismissed as a poor relation to the more dedicated exponents of the psychedelic and progressive sound. Unfairly so, one might add, as Pye/Dawn had an impressive roster of artists on the books, even if the vast majority never so much as tickled the public conscious.
Obviously, that’s the style of output HFoS thrives on.
How about a wee drop of finest acid-folk from Pentangle, the folk-rock/jazz-folk pioneers formed by legends of the scene, Bert Jansch and John Renbourn?
Thankfully, ‘House Carpenter’ is a jazz-free zone, instead incorporating Renbourn’s sitar and Jansch’s banjo to produce one soothing psychedelic folk ensemble. Singer Jacqui McShee and Jansch share vocal duties on the unique arrangement of this traditional folk song, which, in turn, is based upon ye olde ballad, ‘The Daemon Lover’.
So begins the first review of 2010. And where better to start than with the latest release from those retro vinyl-pushers, Fruits de Mer Records? This time they’ve called upon the services of Swedish anglophiles (musically, at least) Us & Them, and produced a 3-track EP worthy of Venus herself.
Now, before we crack on, it’s worth mentioning that this site was once tagged by someone out there in the sprawling wilderness of the internets as “anti-folk”. This was on the strength of a review of those warbling cat-stranglers The Incredible String Band and their so-bad-it’s-awful album The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth, and to say that Head Full of Snow loves a bit of acid, pastoral or wyrd-folk is a bloody great understatement.
Which is just as well in the case of Us & Them and their brand of gentle, but dark, folk stylings as demonstrated on the Fruits de Mer Volume Eight EP. Now if we’d been tagged “anti-jazz” that would be a different, yet fairer, matter.
2010. It may be January 5th, but the Christmas decorations are still up at HFoS towers, and the festive spirit will not wear off until at least April. But enough of that. The New Year brings a new decade, and inevitably more of my nonsense.
Jethro Tull look forward to another year of HFoS
2010 marks the official first birthday of Head Full of Snow, February 8th last year being the hallowed date when all this started with a wee profile of lost psychedelic popsters and brief Beatles’ protégés, Focal Point.
To celebrate this momentous occasion we’ll be doing absolutely nothing. Should you wish to wear a sparkly hat or release a party-popper into the wild on said date, you’re more than welcome.
Which brings me to the intentions for Head Full of Snow into 2010.
If your idea of a good time is something along the lines of setting light to virgins in wicker effigies, then Comus could be right up your street. Even if you harbour no such homicidal tendencies, they’re still a damn fine listen.
Comus inhabit that most spectral of sub-genres, acid-folk – A blend of the psychedelic and the folkish, underpinned by a progressive foundation. It’s an area of music renowned for its ethereal eeriness, oft-beauty, and mystical meanderings…
… Except nobody seemed to have told Comus that, for their 1971 debut, First Utterance, is, to put it bluntly, quite terrifying.
If you were to head over to AMG and look up their review of Mark Fry’s Dreaming With Alice, you would find the rather iniquitous quote “… reminiscent of Donovan’s forays into that area, though not as interesting.”
How wrong could they be? Dreaming With Alice, released only in Italy in 1972, possesses a certain magic that more than exonerates the cult that has built up around it over the years. As far as obscure acid folk rarities go, this is a stone-cold classic.
In fact, the only fault that can be found in it is the fact it was released in 1972, whereas it sounds as though it were recorded at the tail-end of the 1960s. The fact that music had moved on so much in the intervening years possibly accounts for the fact it could only secure an Italian release. Of course, nearly forty years on, when it was recorded is an irrelevance.
“Man alive! Please make it stop!” Listen very carefully on a crystal clear, dark winter’s night and you may well hear these words carried on a distant breeze, emanating from yours truly as I dream that once again I’m listening to The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter by The Incredible String Band.
Personally I blame Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin. It was following his recommendation that I bought said album in the first place. Word to the wise: Don’t be fooled if Mister Plant tries the same trick with you, tis all lies. Not that he sidled up to me in the bar of my local and out of the blue suggested I should part with some hard-earned in exchange for a ropy, hippy-folk recording. It was, in fact, within the pages of a Mojo magazine Psychedelic special a few years back, so heaven knows how many other unsuspecting record collections have been infected on the strength of his words.
The hirsute Zeppelin frontman had me in. Please don’t let the same happen to you.
Which brings me to the actual album, The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter, which along with Wee Tam and the Big Huge was the first of two releases by The Incredible String Band in 1968. I’ve done my damnedest to put it off, as you may well have suspected, but it’s my duty to listen once again so that you won’t have to. It’s not all peace and love here.
Jethro Tull look forward to another year of HFoS
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