Does Anybody Hear?

I know If A Tree Falls by Bruce Cockburn is a little intense, but it’s good.  Okay, it’s a lot intense, but it’s really good.

Listing, Listing …

I’ve recently been wondering why I don’t write as much about acoustic guitarists as their plugged-in friends, because the music I listen to probably contains as many acoustic guitars as electric.

Maybe it’s the wow factor of the electric guitar.  I dunno.

I don’t even have a Top Ten list.  Maybe it’s just too hard.

I mean, where do you start?  You could fill the list with the influential blues cats like Robert Johnson, Big Bill Broonzy, Son House or John Lee Hooker.  You could fill it with acoustic specialists like James Taylor, Bruce Cockburn, Cat Stevens, Harry Manx, Paul Simon or Donovan.  You could easily fill it with players who also play a mean electric guitar, like Clapton, Page, Knopfler, Bonamassa, Neil Young or Colin James.

Hmmm.  Plenty of wow factor in all those names.

I guess there’s the “defined the instrument/broke new ground” thing that gets applied to musicians on other instruments.  In that case, I suppose my list would be: Leadbelly, Johnson, Broonzy, Taylor, Simon, Donovan, Stevens, Cockburn, Young and Page.

But then I’d be omitting artist I listen to – and wonder, “how did he/she do that?” – a lot.  People like Clapton, Harry Manx, Arlo Guthrie and Bonnie Raitt.

To hell with lists.  I revere all the guitarists mentioned – them, and a lot more.

Like An Overheard Remark

Have a listen to the hauntingly beautiful bit of melancholia called In The Falling Dark, by Bruce Cockburn.

There’s not much else to say, is there?

Zombie Apocalypse Music

Of all the musical genres out there, the one that scares me the most is the one they call singer-songwriter.  Some earnest cat with a guitar telling you about his sad luck, or complaining about what’s wrong with the world.  Downer stuff, man.  Run away and hide.  We’re all doomed.

Wait a minute!  Wikipedia says singer-songwriter just means musicians who write, compose and perform their own music – in the finest folk tradition.  Leadbellly, Woody, Dylan – guys like that.  That’s cool, right?

And anyway, Buzz, don’t you adore James Taylor and Cat Stevens, and didn’t you enjoy and respect some of those hippy-era guys like Tim Hardin and Bruce Cockburn?

And by the way, Buzz, what the heck do you think most of your music should be called?

OK!  Fine!  Then why do I associate the genre with the likes of Harry Chapin and Jim Croce and Dan Hill, guys whose songs – with all due respect – make me lose my will to live?

Maybe it was that bad voodoo going on in the early seventies, the force that codified, stereotyped and exaggerated everything, the thing that pushed metal into silliness and prog rock into pointlessness and soul into disco and goofy hair.  Maybe it’s just that little bit of singer-songwriter that turns me off.

Anyway, it ought to be the most respected genre, ‘cause it’s got to be the oldest.  Troubadours, bards, poets, Homer and all that.

By the way, I’d respectfully suggest the Wikipedia entry needs a major overhaul.  Maybe Frank Zappa did write, compose and play his own songs, but come on!  Is singer-songwriter really the genre that pops to mind when you hear his name?

Then again, as David Knopfler’s thoughtful article points out, it’s a genre that has defied categorization.

Giving the Finger

Now here’s a list that’s close to my heart: Gibson’s 10 All Time Great Finger Pickers.  Why?  Cause that’s mostly how I play.  I may have been weaned on rock ‘n’ roll, but my wanderings into classical and folk made me drop the pick.

Here’s the list: Merle Travis, Davy Graham, John Fahey, Martin Carthy, Jerry Reed, Reverend Gary Davis, Tommy Emmanuel, Jorma Kaukonen, Leo Kottke, Chet Atkins.

I can’t pretend to know all of these guys, but I would have added Mark Knopfler, probably the most successful finger picker in rock.  And Bruce Cockburn, for my money, one of the best acoustic guitarists of all time.  And where is Robert Johnson, the guy with titanic influence over most genres, the guy whose licks we’re still trying to figure out, the cat that made one guitar sound like three?

Anyway, hats off to the finger pickers.  They might not get as much energy into the strings as the plectrum crowd, but they can pull off some tasty licks.