After the sad passing of Kate McGarrigle, I started unearthing a bunch of my old records by 70s-era singer/songwriter-folkies. And by “unearthing” I mean buying from Amazon. Well, some I owned, some I merely remembered, and some I did just buy off Amazon. (Sorry, independent record shops!)
At any rate, I got on a real freaky, folky, 70’s-y kick. First order of business was to flesh out my McGarrigles collection: their excellent debut album is their most accessible, while their second album, Dancer with Bruised Knees
, veers off into lots of singing-rounds-in-French-accompanied-by-flutes and is a little harder to get into, melodically and otherwise. The songs are reeeeal idiosyncratic. (Maybe a little too idiosyncratic? Probably, yeah.) Dancer (somewhat awkwardly) mixes some great, catchy songs that could easily have fit in on their debut with some other somewhat bizarro tracks, like the aforementioned traditional French folk songs – that are a
little tough to get through. Surprisingly, their mid-to-late career effort, Heartbeats Accelerating, released in 1990, is strong from beginning to end, while also sounding much different from anything I’d heard of theirs – it features a much more highly produced sound that is surprising but not bad by any means. It feels more, for lack of a better word, modern. My mom advocates that the McGarrigles are writing contemporary parlor songs, having been raised on Stephen Foster and traditional family-singalong-around-the-piano-type tunes. Which makes sense to me, but if that’s the case, then Heartbeats Accelerating is a conscious effort to modernize those parlor song, rather than just write parlor songs in the modern day. Underneath the sound, though, the songs are as good as always, and I even prefer the songs on Heartbeats to those on Dancer, truth be told. It’s also great to hear their own, original, versions of songs I knew better by other artists (“Love Is” recorded by Emmylou Harris on her underrated album Bluebird
, and the title track co-opted by Linda Ronstadt for her album Winter Light). Ultimately, if you wanted to get started on the McGarrigles I would suggest their major label debut.
Kate & Anna McGarrigle by dag2007 From there, I purchased Maria Muldaur’s self-titled, solo debut album
. This album knocked my socks off, all you Culturephiles. I 
remember some of the songs from my youth – and everybody has heard the now-oft-and-excellently-parodied “Midnight at the Oasis” – but this album is great, start to finish. A lot of what someone like Ray LaMontagne is doing right now would fit right in with this Muldaur album. She’s generally more upbeat than sadsack LaMontagne, but I bet most of Maria Muldaur would nestle comfortably into Gossip in the Grain without anyone noticing much difference. And yes, I hear you crying foul, sharp-eyed culturephans: while Maria doesn’t technically fit the singer/songwriter label since she doesn’t write her own songs, she does pluck straight from the best of the singer-songwriter tradition – including “The Work Song” by Kate McGarrigle. "The Work Song" manages to pull off being both sharp (plus funny) social satire, and wistful -- all filtered through the lens of traditional (again) music. It’s the rollicking highlight of the album – or at least was for me as I admittedly listened to it as part of my Kate McGarrigle grieving cycle. For my money, it’s worth the price of admission. 
Lastly, I begrudgingly got around to Kate McGarrigle’s bête noir...yes, the one and only Loudon Wainwright III. Ex-husband extraordinaire, father of Rufus and Martha, source of heartbreak and inspiration for some truly great songs. And in fairness (since I don’t know them personally and can’t really speak to their relationship), Kate also inspired more than her fair share of excellent, heartbroken, guilty songs by Loudon. Anyway, Loudon's first two records are still on their way to me in the mail (in actual CD form, can you believe it?). But his record, Unrequited
, recorded in the wake of a fluke radio hit (the novelty tune "Dead Skunk"...beats me...) arrived, as did a burned copy of his 1992 acclaimed album-of-middle-age, History
. Both albums are good -- but I find Unrequited unduly fascinating. (I can't wait to hear those first two albums.) In the days of vinyl, Unrequited's A-side was all studio recordings, while the B-side tracks were recorded live in concert, solo, just LW and his guitar. Nowadays, of course, after the first seven tracks, the album just suddenly shifts to a live recording. No matter. "Side A" is a somewhat uncomfortable collage of mostly snarky pop/rock featuring (both ironically and un-) elements of disco, reggae, country and crazy electric folk randomly intermingled. The songs aren't bad -- he can write like absolute hell -- but they aren't great either, necessarily, and LW seems out of his element with a big sound, a big band, and big production -- a fish singing out of water.But when you flip the record over (in your imagination), side B is a whole different ballgame; LW is relaxed, sly, sharp, totally confident and has his audience in the palm of his solo hand. The songs may or may not be a ton sharper, but they sure SEEM a ton sharper: stripped of encumbering production, the focus is back on the songs themselves, full of great lyrics, funny insights, and cutting observations. It also features just about the raciest, eyebrow-raisingest (homophobiest?) track I could imagine hearing at a club in 1975. You can tell the audience isn't quite sure about it, either. It's certainly fascinating and hilarious, though, and while I actually think it's a whole lot more than the sum of it's seemingly gay-panicked elements, that's a discussion for another day (blog). The Hardy Boys at the Y:
One can see why that song got listed as "The Untitled" on the album jacket instead of what LW calls it in the recording. Yikes. (It's interesting to wonder voyeristically in light of this song just how Rufus Wainwright's homosexuality affected his (strained) relationship with LW.) But, anyway, this kind of dark, provocative, humor runs through many (most?) of LW's oeuvre. The best songs mix that same dark wit with searing personal confessions, guilt, and heart. LW can be nasty and cutting, for certain, but there's also a self-awareness (albeit a morbid one) and a sadness in him that makes his songs compelling and not just snark.
His well-regarded 1992 album, History, is very much in the reflective, confessional vein, exploring age, guilt, mistakes, family, and various combinations of the same. This is a sad, sad record, even when the tempo is up, and the tempo isn't up that often. Listen to:
Hitting You:
So Many Songs:
Yes, those are the McGarrigle sisters -- they never really left! -- singing backup on "So Many Songs." Emotional stuff, personal stuff, still with that tinge of humor and self-awareness. Or should I say "self-lacerating self-awareness"? This is an album I remember not liking as a kid, but perhaps almost a couple decades later I understand it a bit better. It's excellent from beginning to end. I'm also fascinated that someone so able to articulate complex emotions and sing with his heart on his sleeve about such incredibly personal issues could make such an obvious, public wreck of his personal life. How can someone sensitive enough to identify such deep feelings and craft them into clever lyrics be at the same time so utterly incapable of managing a relationship? In fairness, of course, I truly know nothing about the McGarrigle's/Wainwright's personal lives other than what I read, but it seems fairly safe to say the guy has made some messes in his personal life. Good lord, there sure is a lot going on between and among these crazy '70s folkies. Too much for a simple blog, that's for sure. And maybe even too much for a dissertation. I do have to say, though, I love it all.
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