Ill in I S University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

Home , Jules Verne Allen, Songs and Instrumentals

H ILL IN I S UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

PRODUCTION NOTE

University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library Large-scale Digitization Project, 2007. lumber 29 m" " March 20, 1967

'or the past year a nasty rumor has been circulating among Campus Folksong Club aembers that Autoharp is dead. But usually reliable sources have relayed to me the facts surrounding Autoharp's mysterious disappearance. Autoharp is not alive and living in Argentina. Autoharp has not dropped out. Autoharp was on sabbatical, and here it is, turned in and truned on. We are back with Club iews and news on the folk scene at large.

It is our purpose to present CFC members with every facet of folk music--old- timey to psychedelic. You may agree or disagree with the opinions of contributors; 3o do we. But Autoharp is traditionally an open forum for fact and opinion on folk music. The editor will exercise no censorship of ideas. And if you do not like something, yell ! After all, what is a demonstration without hecklers, or a nagazine without reader participation?

Between now and June there are a number of duties and activities in store for the membership.

Although still in the works, the Club is busy with a new LP, CFC 401. The fourth in the series of highly successful Club albums will recreate the old-timey string Dand sound of the 1920's and 1930's from selected Paramount recordings of the era.

The first membership concert of the spring semester is tentatively set for May 1. Jimmy Tarlton, who is perhaps the finest traditional (and not so traditional) steel guitar player around will give the Club a generous taste of his music. Mr. Tarlton's virtuosity and musical humor are featured on his LP Steel Guitar Rag, a live recording of his successful run at the Ash Grove in Los Angeles. -erecord is available in limited supply. Interested persons should contact record chairman Dave Samuelson for copies. aood things often come in small packages, and there are many more small pleasures awaiting Club members in the form of the bi-monthly sings. Page Stephens says that one of these may be an International Sing in conjunction with the sundry foreign students organizations at the University of Illinois. Page promises at least one sitar. Seminar chairman Lee Kaufman has at least two more events up his sleeve. Watch future Autoharps for announcements.

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We are back, and we hope to see you around. -- Mimi Rodin, Editor JUmmElU 7DAM LTFW@

-n-fl oI~J

THIS RECORD IS ISSUED IN CONJUNCTION WITH JItvT~~1IE'S 1ST

______COLLEGE CONCERT IN MAY1 IT WILL BE AVAILABLE

IN MID-APRIL THRU THE CAMPUS FOLKSONG CLUB1

I URBANA, ILLINOIS 61801, AT THE PREPUBLICATION . PRICE OF $3.50

7ý_meow ,^ a-.aaS AUTOHARP BACK ISSUES AVAILABLE

As a service to interested collectors and librarians, back issues of this newsletter will be available until the supply is exhausted. Since

Autoharp is not a subscription publication but, rather, a service to members of the Campus Folksong Club, we only ask those who take advantage of this offer to secure a membership ($2.00 in the fall, $1.00 second semester).

In addition to the back issues which cost 25 cents apiece, you will continue to receive the current issues of Autoharp.

In the past many members have contributed their personal back issues to the Club files. As far as we know, only two full sets exist, so to facilitate the filling in of incomplete collections with scarce issues, we are interested in securing more. Thanks to all those who help us in doing so.

Below is a full listing of all issues of Autoharp which have been published to date followed by available back issues and a short synopsis of important features in each:

Volume 1, Number 1 April 7, 1961 Number 2 April 21, 1961 Number 3 May 5, 1961 Number 4 May 19, 1961

Volume 2, Number 1 October 6, 1961 Number 2 November 3, 1961 Number 3 December 1, 1961 Number 4 February 16, 1962 Number 5 April 5, 1962 Number 6 May 4, 1962

Volume 3, Number 1 October 15, 1962 Number 2 November 30, 1962 Number 3 February 8, 1963 Number 4 March 22, 1963 Number 5 May 24, 1963

Volume 4, Number 1 October 7, 1963 Number 2 November 18, 1963 Number 3 February 3, 1964 Number 4 March 16, 1964 Number 5 April 30, 1964 (After Volume 4 the volume number was dropped and substituted by a whole issue number in sequence with the previous twenty issues.)

Whole Issue October 7, 1964 November 21, 1964 February 5, 1965 March 20, 1965 May 1, 1965

October 26, 1965 December 18, 1965 March 4, 1966

(present)

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Available back issues:

Volume 4, Number 3: American Folklore Society Conventipn; Los Angeles scene; Glenn Ohrlin letters; Hedy West; blues reviews.

Number 21: Field collecting; Seamus Ennis and Blue Sky Boys posters; hillbilly and blues reviews.

Number 22: Blue Sky Boys; Seamus Ennis; Dorsey Dixon; blues reviews; Mike Seeger/Dock Boggs poster.

Number 23: Dock Boggs; hillbilly reviews; Robert Pete Williams poster.

Number 24: Robert Pete Williams; British folk scene, part I; Bray Brothers poster; blues reviews.

Number 25: Bagpipes; British folk scene, part II; Japanese bluegrass reviews; Clayton McMichen poster.

Number 26: Ragtime; bluegrass reviews; bagpipe controversy.

Number 27: Working the Hillbilly Ranch (Mike Melford); Irish reviews; Illinois folk performers.

-- Bob Sayers 352-9365 332-0178

332 0167

332-4331

333-6429 352-1668

352-1668

352-0173

367-7301

332-4271 332-4007 332-0617

332-3802

344-5000

332-4352

he committee

Thanks '. A SHORT HISTORY OF SHAPE-NOTES

The United States of America has a peculiar culture, one which is the product of those of England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Africa, Asia, and almost any other country or continent you could name. In the post-Revolutionary War years there was a tremendous influx of immigrants from these lands, and the commingling of their cultures, and particularly their musical heritage, often resulted in more cacophony than harmony, if I may be permitted such a pun. Yet it is obvious to the most casual observer of American folksongs that in this International musical conflict the music of the British Isles finally became dominant.

Even so there was created a musical vacuum; thousands of second and third generation Americans, who found themselves isolated from urban areas, were starved for music. This was coupled with a decline in the quality of sacred music. "Part singing sank to one part, the droned melody which church folk could sing, to their own satisfaction at least, without any musical instruction at all."l1

Into this atmosphere was introduced the typically creative Yankee idea of singing schools, presided over by a head master. The singing master would arrive in a rural town and make his presence known by posters and by stirring up local gossip. He would initiate the singing school by taking up a popular subscription and renting the cheapest possible hall in which to hold meetings. The singing students were required to provide their own candles and benches, which they would usually arrange in a semi-circle two or three rows deep. The master began with the fundamentals of music theory and proceeded to teach a melody which all were required to learn thoroughly before they were ever allowed to sing the words. The singing school term rarely exceeded two dozen afternoons and evenings, and it culminated in a public exhibition. After the singing master left to enlighten other isolated folk, the graduates usually swelled the ranks of the local church choir.2

The very idea of teaching singing in such a way amuses most modern urban people. But one must realize that the inhabitants of a small village, isolated in the Appalachian Mountains, never had the opportunity to see an opera or a concert. Also, since the inventions of mass media such as radio and television lay far in the future, the rural citizen had only two possible sources of music. The first was the relatively small body of folksongs, many of which were variations of the ballads collected in England and Scotland by Francis J. Child. The official clerical view was that these wer all sinful songs, since they often dealt with murder, physical love, or the temptations of the ubiquitous Devil. The second source of music was the then much larger body of sacred songs, the tunes of which were very frequently the same as those of the so-called "Devil's ditties." 3

1. George P. Jackson, White Spirituals in the Southern Uplands, 2nd ed. (New York, 1965), p. 6.

2. Nathaniel D. Gould, History of Sacred Music in America (Boston, 1853), p. 76.

3. Yankee Life by Those Who Lived It, ed. June B. Mussey (New York: A. Knopf,-19h7). Anti-British sentiments in the post-Revolutionary War years led to the swift abandoning of traditional British sacred music and the rapid proliferation of the domestic article. The number of tune books increased almost geometrically, and soon New England and the more accessible areas of the South were flooded with such works as, The Western Harmony, or The Learner's Task Made Easy: containing A Plain and Easy Introduction to the Grounds of Music and a Choice Collection of Tunes for Church Service.

Of course, each publisher wanted his book to be the most popular, and therefore every author strove to make his teaching method and his material easier. The most difficult part of singing (no pun intended) in parts was getting acquainted with the notation. Therefore we find the early invention (early in the history of this country) of "character" or "shape" notes as a crutch for the beginning singer.

I must preface my description of early shape-notes with a brief explanation: our musical scale was not always sung as the more-or-less familiar do-re-mi-fa- sol-la-ti-do. In the times of the first Queen Elizabeth the primeval ut-re-mi- fa-sol-la-si sequence became simplified, among the masses, to the three musical syllables fa, sol, and 1 , with a few mi's "thrown in to serve in a comparatively rare melodic emergency."1 The whole octave was then sung as fa-sol-la-fa-sol- la-mi-fa in Shakespeare's England, and this method carried over into the Southern rural United States, and, in fact, is still used today by a few people living in isolated areas.

Since there were only four possible notes to choose from--fa, sol, la, and mi--and since the duplicate fa's, sol's, and la's were all commonly used musical intervals (i.e., they were either a musical fourth interval or else an octave apart), the logical consequence was to give both fa's the same shape, both sol's a different one, both la's a still different one, and mi a unique one. By this method even the pupils "of meanest capacity'"1 could discern what sort of note they were dealing with, and therefore what pitch they should sing.

The exact date of the appearance of shape-notes is not known for certain, for the question of authorship of this system is moot.

A New England singing-school teacher, Andrew Law, brought out the fourth edition of Law's Music Primer in shape notes during 1803, and some feel that he was the original inventora. Yet in 1802 William Little and William Smith, two Philadelphia songbook compilers published The Easy Instructor; or A New Method of Teaching Sacred Harmony, containing the rudiments of music an an improved plan, wherein the naming and timing of the notes are familiarized to the weakest capacity.6 But it was the opinion of Carl Engel, a former chief of the music division of the Library of Congress that The Easy Instructor was published initially in Philadelphia in 1798. 9

4. Jackson, p. 43. 5. Ibid., p. 4. 6. Gould, p. 78. 7. Frank J. Metcalf, American Writers and Compilers of Sacred Music (New York: Abingdon Press, 1915), p. 68. 8. Alan Lomax, The Folk Songs of North America (New York: Doubleday, 1960), p. 64. 9. Jackson, p. 13, But without becoming too bogged down in authorship claims, let us examine the new creation. In both versions the note mi was assigned a diamond ( < ) shape and sol a round (p:) shape. Little and Smith gave fa a triangular ( p ) shape and made la a square ( p1). 1 0 Andrew Law exactly juxtaposed the shapes of fa and la, making fa square and la triangular.1 1 Law also did away with the musical staff, the traditional "lines and spaces" which comprise the method of notation in modern music. This may have been his downfall, for according to Metcalf "The new notation did not last long, though it may have obtained some " 1 2 vogue. It was also supposed that the method of Little and Smith declined and finally passed out of existence. 1 3

Actually Metcalf was far from being correct; Law's method disappeared, but the "patent notes" of Little and Smith became widely known in the South and in what was then the West, and in fact the four-note shape-note system is still used today by hundreds of people throughout Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Arkansas, and the Carolinas.

Perhaps Metcalf's notions of the decline in the use of shape-notes were induced by the musical reformation which was occurring in the early nineteenth century in New England. Various new theories on the proper teaching of music were being imported from Europe, and these became very much in vogue in New England. "Among these notions was the do-re-mi solmization which soon arrived to combat the traditional and thus far universal fa-sol-la method of the Yankees. "'' Forced to move on to virgin territory, the singing-school master struck out into the uncharted hinterlands of Kentucky and Ohio. Due to the rapid progress of the musical intruders from Europe and the build-up of such boom towns as Chicago and Cinncinnati, the singing master found that competition was still too severe. The only place which was impregnable to the attacks of the musical reformers was the rural South. Here conditions seemed to be permanently similar to those which had spawned the singing schools in New England; the musical vacuum was present, the accessibility by road was limited (to say the least), and the lack of economic prosperity and great urban centers was repulsive to most of the European influences. The singing master came, saw, conquered, and above all, stayed.

The singin' schools were a great success in the hill country of the Southern Appalachians, but instantly there was a tremendous demand for more tune books of sacred songs. The singing masters, preachers, and local musicians rose to meet the challenge, and of 38 shape-note tune books published between 1798 and 1855, 24 were published during this period of expansion, between 1820 and 1839.15

The last tune book in four-shape notations was McCurry's Social Harp, published in Philadelphia in 18$5. Yet this did not mean the end of four-shape singing, for some books remained popular for decades after that date. The 1844 edition of Sacred Harp is enjoying a very wide popularity even today. I personally have sung from that book and have made the acquaintance of over 50 "Sacred-Harpers" from Berea, Kentucky alone.

Most of the people now using the Sacred Harp have had some instruction in modern or "round-note" music, yet they encounter no difficulties in reading shape- note music. This is because of the retention of lines and spaces by Little and

10. Lomax, p. 64. 12. Metcalf, p. 74. 1l. Jackson, p. 16. 11. Jackson, p. 14. 13. Gould, p. 55. 15. Jackson, p. 25. Smith in 1798. Yet I have made the acquaintance of a woman of about 65 who could not read round notes, and could not really understand how anyone else could either. She told me that since they (round-notes) all looked alike, it was impossible to figure out what pitch to sing. She had been taught shape-notes as a child in Mountain View, Kentucky.

But this woman's case will allow me to lead into a new development which was introduced in 1846. I am speaking of the method of solmization the woman I met used, and that is the seven-shape system.

As the European do-re-mi infiltrated even into the backwoods, its foremost exponents realized that to win over the rural populace they had to retain the shape-note benefits.

Therefore, in 18h6 Jesse B. Aiken of Philadelphia wrote the Christian Minstrel with seven-shape notation. The idea proved to be quite popular; over iY/ editions of Aiken's book were printed.

Aiken wisely retained Little and Smith's shapes for the notes, fa, sol, la, and mi. He had to create three new shapes for do, re, and si (ti). He settled on the following: do (4 ), re ( '? ), mi ( ), fa ( ), sol ( ), la (p ), si (9 ).

He did not patent his notes, for he wan ed to promote their use, but the other authors of his day thought he had, and they quickly adopted their own methods. All of this competition retarded the popularity of seven-shape notation until well into the 1870's. Then in the fall of 1877 a great step was taken when "the most aggressive shape-note publishing house" joined forces with "the one journal of far-reaching influence in the South"--the Musical Million and Fireside Friend.17 From that time forth Aiken's shapes led the field and quickly over- shadowed all competition.

Today the four-shapes of Little and Smith and the seven-shapes of Jesse Aiken can both be found in reprints of some of the old tune-books, although through the urbanization of the country and the ensuing apathy towards all things traditional shape-notes in general are dying out. The invention of radio and television are prime factors in the rapidity of this urbanization, and, as the entertainment of the masses, they are responsible for the change in the status of the rural dweller from a singer to a listener. Concomitant with the decline of shape-notes is the decline of personal singing. Perhaps a future resurgence of interest in "do-it-yourself" sacred music will prolong the life of this unique American creation. --

16. Jackson, p. 337. 17. Ibid., p. 354.

Bibliography

Gould, Nathaniel D. History of Sacred Music in America. Boston, 1853. Jackson, George P. White Spirituals in the Southern Uplands. New Ybrk, 1965. Lomax, Alan. The Folk Songs of North America. New York, 1960. Metcalf, Frank J. American Writers and Compilers of Sacred Music. New York, 1915. Yankee Life by Those who Lived It, ed. June B. Massey. New York, 1947.

SONGBOOK REVIETS

It is hard to speak confidently when you are new in a subject, especially when there are authorities listening to you. Any graduate student giving his first seminar knows this well. A similar situation may arise in folk music, when you are a neophyte performer before expert musicians and folk music scholars. To ease yourself through these situations, you should take another look at folk music. Despite analysis, dissection, literary scrutiny, and possibly hostile audiences, folk music remains a form of personal expression, the same as painting in your spare time, building ham radio sets, and enjoying a tennis match. When you play in front of others, it may also be story-telling and music-making for their pleasure. But remember that you are singing for your own pleasure primarily, and that your audience has chosen to listen to you as you have your fun. No apology is due because you are not singing the version of the song which some- body else wants to hear. If someone knows a different version of your song, try listening. You might find that it is an older version, and you might find it more enjoyable. In sum, listen part of the time, and play part of the time.

To better relax and enjoy yourself, learn about the songs you sing. Here are brief reviews of some songbooks which will help you learn, and why you probably will enjoy them.

THE BELLS OF RHYMNEY AND OTHER SONGS AND STORIES FROM THE SINGING OF PETE SEEGER (Oak Publications, $2.95) includes overseas songs, Southern Appalachian songs, hand-me-downs from the British Isles, and some of Seeger's own songs. Seeger tells you something about each song, and often where each song originated. Most importantly, he explains why he came to enjoy each song. You easily get a feeling for the song. Before you realize it, you have read through the words and hummed the tune, to see if it affects you the same as it affected Seeger. A number of the songs are guaranteed to strike you as being particularly beautiful.

FOLKSONGS OF THE SOUTHERN APPLACHIANS AS SUNG BY JEAN RITCHIE (Oak Publications, $2.46) has much the same format as the Seeger songbook, including songs, comments, and historical backgrounds. Again, you get a feeling for each song, and a means to imagine what the people are like who usually sing it. In our urbanized society, this is important, because both the types of people and the ways of living that have generated most American folksongs are disappearing, the result is that you have less chance of exploring the beauty of a song in its own tradition. Those who demand traditional purity in folksong rendition do so because they enjoy the traditional beauty, and because a "modern" rendition obscures or destroys this beauty. In the Jean Ritchie songbook you can explore the Appalachian singing tradition.

Furthermore, the book documents the family tradition in folk music, as nearly all the songs are from the Ritchie family singing. Jean is one of fourteen children; you can imagine that with such a large family, a tradition and culture in music could be incredibly rich and beautiful. The songs include hymns, love songs, ballads, baby-rocking songs, carols, and airs. You will enjoy singing them. Some are familiar, and others are less well known, yet just as enchanting and graceful. THE RAGTIME SONGBOCK, by Ann Charters (Oak Publications, $2.95) is quite different from the above songbooks in the music presented and in the format. Here is your chance to discover the happy music which raced around the United States at the turn of the century. The book includes words, melodies, and in some cases, complete instrumental versions of songs of the ragtime era. Many of the great names are represented--Scott Joplin, Hugie Cannon, Ben Harney, and others. Anyone who has over-emphasized the instrumental aspect of ragtime will be delighted by this book, because it brings out the words to well-known rags, and because with historical notes the rags are related to events of the times. There is an extensive historical introduction at the beginning of the book, which traces ragtime's development before 1850. In some details this introduction includes questionable opinion, and among the tunes themselves there are some errors. These are pointed out in a review of the book in a recent Newsletter by the Ragtime Society (P.O. Box 8, King, Ontario). Ragtime purists will want to read this review, but if you are willing to pass over the objections, you will find Ann Charters' presentation of ragtime songs and music extremely well- rounded and attractively assembled.

In addition to many fine songbooks, Oak Publications has a number of method and guide books. If you enjoy recorded music, you will certainly be interested in THE RECORDED GUIDE by Arthur Nitka and Johanna E. Kulbach (Oak Publications, $3.95), an instruction book for soprano and alto recorder. The instructional materials are divided into several parts. At the beginning, there is a concise outline of the rudiments of music. Then, a short text introduces basic recorder techniques. Finally, the main part of the book contains folk melodies from around the world, together with further instructions. This organization is excellent. Most of us with limited time and energy would not attempt to learn recorder techniques indcpth before trying to enjoy the music, and this book allows us to enjoy the music very soon after we start learning. The techniques needed for the more difficult music are introduced, as needed, in lucid and concise sentences. Thus, the book at first glance seems to be mainly music, but upon examination, it has a great deal of instructional material. Of course, there is enough music included to keep recorder players happy for a long time. THE PENDULUM--A FULL CIRCLE SWING

I was ashamed...really ashamed...to admit that I liked country music. Of course we didn't use the terms "country" or "folk" in those days. It was known in our locality as "hillbilly" or "southern" music. But, by any name, I was ashamed to say publicly that deep down in my heart the sound of plinkin' strings and tear-jerkin' ballads thrilled me clean through to my toes. In fact, anyone who showed a preference for hillbilly music was automatically classed as some kind of clod-hoppin' hick.

Sure, we all listened to the "suppertime Frolic," "The National Barn Dance," Del Rio, Texas, and "The Grand Ole Opry." We just didn't do it when there was company around. When outsiders were present, our radio fare was the "Hit Parade," Kay Kayser or maybe, if we felt a little daring, Burl Ives.

To the old folks the big favorites were Lulu Belle and Scotty, Skeets and Frankie, Arkie the Arkansas Woodchopper, and Uncle Dave Macon. And, uncultured as they were, the old folks admitted it publicly. Some "hicks" even admitted a taste for the music of those two fellows named Dalhart and Rogers.

Most of this is said, of course, with tongue in cheek. But that's the way it was and the result was not too bad. In the process of secretly preferring one kind of music and pretending to like another we acquired an appreciation of both.

Along about the mid-1940's a young fellow with a clear voice and a solid guitar beat stepped out from behind a plow down in Tennessee and proceeded to change a few minds. Since then the name Eddy Arnold has become known in all levels of music. His effect on country music is immeasurable.

Eddy, a true traditional talent in his own right, t-ook his natural ability and backlog of folk music and used it for a base on which to build a career... a career rich with nearly all facets of folk, country ano western music.

In his climb to recognition, Eddy carried with him scores of other country, folk and hillbilly artists. Before this time, the world of country music was popular in many areas but Eddy, and others like him, gave it another asset: national acceptance as a legitimate part of the musical entertainment field. The icebreaker went through and countless other talents began to thaw the hearts of music fans.

By the 1950's no one was ashamed to admit he liked country music. In fact, some of us became so enraptured with it that we took the ultimate step: we bought a guitar, or mandolin, or banjo, or fiddle and started learning to play. A stringed instrument became a status symbol.

From the 19.0's until the early 1960's was the Golden Era of country music. The parents of country music (folk and hillbilly) were receiving their share of the spotlight and recognition simultaneously. Then the inevitable happened. The "money boys," recognizing a good thing, moved in. Soon everybody and his hound dog began to climb on the string-band wagon. Gimmicks began to appear. Drums in a country band...electronic bass fiddles...pedal steel guitars...echo chambers...screaming choral groups... electric fiddles...electric banjos (ugh .).

When the gimmicks had worn the public acceptance thin, in stumbled a new kind of madness we refer to as "beatle music." Of course, the American version of rock 'n roll has been developing since the 1950's as an accepted offspring of the crossbreeding of both the "pop" and country scenes. This new sound was something else. It began to have another effect. The pendulum started back.

Hardly had we regained our balance from that punch when another blow struck us squarely on the chin. A dirty element (yes...that's the word I want to use) started creeping into the sacred premises of folk music. A group of "have-nots," looking for an easy tool, began to use it for their own warped desires. They soon recognized that it was accepted by most levels of society. And, finding it an easy form of music to acquire some skill at, they moved in. To the lovers of traditional music the result was catastrophic, comparable to a prostitute setting up shop in a church.

No implication is meant here that long hair, dirty t-shirts, and ragged sneakers constitute a dirty element, Hardly, since dirt cannot tell the difference between t-shirts and overalls. The phrase refers to a state of mind.

The early country musicians, folk singers, and hillbillies had an honest approach to the use of their talents. They won acceptance of their music and entertainment simply because of its beauty and honest appeal. The guitar was a symbol of a type of people anyone could be proud to associate with. Their songs contained many of the fibers of the cord of American unity: God, Mother, The Flag, Love and Home.

Now, the new element began to change this. The guitar was, and is, being made into a symbol of protest, disagreement with governmental policies and ridicule of most things that Americans once held sacred.

Sure, many folks still know the difference between a protest singer and a folk singer but, more do not than do. It definitely bears out the old saying, "The wheel that does the squeaking is the one that gets the grease," even though it might be the smallest, most insignificant wheel on the wagon.

The pendulum has swung back.

I'm ashamed...well, almost, but not quite...to show my face in public, above the strings of my guitar, and admit I like folk (country) music.

-- Lyle Mayfield THE MIKE MELFORD AND TIE SONS OF BLUEGRASS CONCERT

On Friday, February 17, the Campus Folksong Club presented a program of bluegrass at Smith Music Hall.

The band, called Mike Melford and the Sons of Bluegrass, was composed of five musicians well-known to the Champaign-Urbana area. Mike Melford was the mandolinist and leader of the band that included lead singer and guitarist Pat Burton, banjoist Kenny Brown, fiddler Leroy Baker, and bassist Francis Bray of the famous Bray Brothas.

For the most part, the concert was successful, both musically and financially. The material that the band chose was outstanding. They did their best to avoid the trite, overworked songs and instrumentals that are turning bluegrass into a boring, endless stream of dissonance.

The overall sound of the band was not at a high level. Brown, Baker, and Burton have been playing continuously at concerts and folksings during the past school year, and have worked up a slick, professional sound. Melford and Bray, who live too far away to play with the trio, simply joined the band shortly before the concert. This lack of rehearsal was too easily noticed. Whereas Baker, Brown and Burton were as close-knit as usual, Melford and Bray seemed alien to the band. The mandolin was not up to Melford's high standard, and Bray, although he did a fine job, got lost a few times.

Without a doubt, the highlight of the evening was Leroy Baker's version of "The Orange Blossom Special," All traces of his classical violin training disappeared as he tore through the famous fiddle tune. It was no surprise that the audience forced the marvelously stoic Baker to perform the number again.

All in all, the band presented a great show, and the audience, which included people who came from as fa. -xay as Chicago, was totally satisfied with the concert.

-- Dave Samuelson

THE IRREVERENT REVEREND

To the hundred persons gathered at the Wabash College Chapel on the evening of March 6, the Indiana town of Crawfordsville lost some of its Midwestern placidity for two hours. To the cadres from the University of Illinois and Purdue University Folksong Clubs, the evening also witnessed a turning point in the Reverend Gary Davis legend, a dramatic demonstration that biography does not end after seventy.

The first half of the concert included the famous Samson and Goliah and other spiritual blues selections. The tight, bellowing "If I Had My Way" filled the chapel despite inadequate acoustics. The union of voice and "talking" guitar, the bi-dactyl picking phenomenon, the throaty, haunting harmonica--all evoked silent awe followed by excited applause. The second half of the concert was a complete break with the first half--a break with Davis's long-standing vow to give up the "black" blues. "The Girl Who Wouldn't Say Quit" has a moie secular referent than a unconverted sinner. The inter-song narratives, again, concerned with broads and booze, not the Virgin Mary or the Blood of Christ. It will be interesting to wait and see if the Reverend is so irrevent in the future.

--Warren R. DeBoer CFC FINANCIAL STATEMENT AUGUST 1, 1966 - MARCH 1, 1967

I. Income

A. Cash on hand, August 1, 1966 $1,546.48

B. Income, August 1, 1966 - March 1, 1967

Concert $345.00 Membership 111.00 Records 115.60 Workshops 59.50 631.10 Total $2,177.58

II. Expenses

1. Autoharp 15.00 2. Concerts 316.88 3. Equipment (Tape machine, labels, statement pad) 14.35 4. John Edwards Memorial Foundation, Inc., Univ. of s. California 100.00 5. Physical Plant- PA System 57.65 6. Publicity 76.55 7. Record Production 336.47 - 916.90

C. Net Cash on Hand $1,260.68 THE IRISH AGAIN

The pursuit of Irish music has taken me to many strange places and placed me in some strange surroundings (if only Ireland itself were one of them I), but no place I've visited so far was an ideal for hearing Irish music (and making it) as the bungalow on west 76th Street in Chicago where I spent a memorable evening on the 7th of October, 1966.

The occasion was a small party hosted by Kevin and Pauline Henry--natives of County Sligo and residents of Chicago for many years. Kevin is by trade an iron- worker (not a steelworker, now; he makes his living putting up buildings with steel skeletons), and his fitness for his profession is betrayed by his size (over six feet), his stolidity and his enormous, almost ham-like hands and fingers.

Indeed, when you first get a look at his hands, each of which is about the size of a telephone when rolled into a fist, and about the size of a dinner plate when extended, you understand why he's effective in rigging steel and grappling his way around the bones of a half-finished building. But the size of those hands never ceases to amaze me when I see them pick up a concert flute, or even more-- a tiny penny-whistle.

Kevin is an accomplished piper; he plays the uillean pipes--the Irish bagpipe operated by small bellows at the elbows--the concert flute and the penny- whistle, an eight-inch pipe of cheap rolled tin that's played by half the school- boys in the British Isles.

I like Kevin's performances on the penny-whistle best of all. The little pipe is totally unassuming, but a good piper can get some tremendous effect out of it, especially when playing a jig or reel with a lot of grace notes. It compares, I think, with the American five-string banjo: its sound is delicate, far-away and back-woodsy. It can give an impression of being primitive, even as the artist works it for difficult, complex effects. Its range of expression is enormously large for an instrument of such small size. Though hardly a "one-man band", the penny-whistle ranks high among the solo instruments. It lacks only loudness, but in a living-room concert it does its job very well.

The most amazing thing about Kevin Henry's penny-whistle is that he manages to play it at all. His hands are so large and so powerful that it looks like the poor pipe is going to get crushed instead of played. Somehow, those enormous fingers dance up and down the little tin tube and make beautiful music.

Anyway, we got up to the Henry house about 9:30 in the evening. As we walked up the front steps we could already hear the strains of the fiddle and the pipe. Irish hospitality descended upon us as soon as we got inside. No sooner had Pauline taken our coats and Kevin made introductions than Pauline was back with drinks for everyone--in some cases putting aside a guest's reluctance by simply shoving a glass of whisky into his hand and letting him decide later if he really wanted it. Since Irish music is unthinkable without its natural solvent, the guest usually takes the whisky and finds that he not only can hold it, but that he enjoys it. Sitting on Kevin's left was John Reavey the fiddler. He had just finished playing a reel and was chuckling over his success with Kevin and with George Armstrong--another old friend--the only non-native-Irishman in the room. George is that handsome fellow who always opens the University of Chicago Folk Festival by blowing the bagpipes. Tonight he was just accompanying the fiddle and flute with his guitar. Armstrong's two young daughers sat against the wall on Kevin's right, and throughout the rest of the room sat the wives of these gentlemen-- along with a white-haired little leprechaun named Patrick Henley, a retired carpenter who may just be the only man in the United States who knows how to make a set of uillean pipes--and will do just that for 500 dollars.

It goes without saying that all of these people were ebulliently friendly in a way that few people are these days. They like to talk, they like to drink, they like to listen to music and dance and eat and tell stories and laugh--and they don't care who knows it. There's only one thing they don't like--strangers, so they avoid trouble by turning you into an old and long-lost friend as soon as you walk into the place, even if they never saw a hair on your head before. I was known only to Kevin, his wife, Mr. Henley and George Armstrong. The three other couples in the room never saw me before. The couple with me had just come in from Boston and did not know any one in Chicago. Inside of two minutes we had all forgotten these details and settled down to the serious business of having a party together. The speed with which this rapport was established is one of Ireland's chief gifts to Western culture, and I ernestly advise all followers of culture to go swallow a dose as soon as possible: It's good for the soul and helps build character. It's also a lot of fun,

I joined Kevin, George and Mr. Reavey on a jig and a reel, and then was surprised to see George's two daughters take fiddles into their hands and play a duet, with their father backing them up on the guitar. The girls appear to be about 10 and 12 years old, respectively, but they are already becoming accomplished at Scottish and Irish fiddling.

It grew warm in the room, and I took off my sweater. This proved to be the signal for a general murmur among the women, for the sweater I was removing is one of those lumpy, off--whiteAran Islands fisherman's sweaters--fast becoming a hit in this country with those who can afford them. Mine came cheap because my mother knitted it. As soon as I took it off the women demanded to inspect it.

"Oh, I tried to knit like that, but I just couldn't learn," said one woman, in a thick brogue.

"Did ye get it in Ireland?" another demanded.

"No," I answered. "It was knitted for me by me dear old Jewish mother."

"Go on! They only knit like that in Ireland f"

All the ladies were quite properly amazed at the nearly two pounds of Irish sweater my mother had turned out, and all swore they had tried to master the difficult Irish stitches and failed. When they refused to believe that my mother made it, I showed them the label. It's a special one my father had made up for her, and it established beyond doubt that the sweater did not come from Ireland. The ladies went back to their muttering, getting up occasionally to dance a few steps to the jigs that began unrolling from Kevin's pipes. Another carpenter dropped in--this time a young one named Frank Keane. The group demanded he sing, and in a rich Irish tenor he gave us "The Patriot Game". Kevin sang a few, and so did I after Pauline had handed me another glass of whisky. The talk and the music came thick and fast--all of it in brogues so thick that I remembered the first time I ever heard Kevin and actually had trouble understanding him.

Three hours of almost uninterrupted music and talk could hardly be expected to pass without leaving their mark. At midnight sharp Pauline announced a little supper, and everyone filed into the dining room and walked around the table, picking up ham sandwiches, chicken sandwiches, plum pudding, soda bread, coffee and tea. I loaded my plate with goodies, grabbed a cup of tea and began to move out of the dining room and back into the parlor. As I did so another guest walked up with a fifth of Irish whisky and said, "Here--have a bit of this." Whereupon he poured into my teacup a slug of whicky big enough to stun a St. Bernard into insensibility. There seemed to be no end to the Irish liberality with drink and provender.

As a matter of fact, the only way I managed to get out at all was to plead (quite legitimately, in fact) that I had to work the next morning. The party was still rollicking as I left, and the music was still beguiling my ears as the host and hostess bid me a long good-bye. Even as I left Pauline thrust another drink into my hand, saying I needed one for the road.

Perhaps other recipients of Irish hospitality can augment my narrative with their own impressions. My opinion is, quite frankly, that nobody can entertain like the Irish. Their hospitality reminds me, of course, of the graciousness I've received in the Ozarks and the Cumberlands, but there seems to be a little something more... Perhaps they just presume you're Irish until you're proved otherwise.

^-*"J- m Tr .... T1F if

N THE SIXTH ANNIVERSARY FOLKSING

Piping up the aisle in his kilt CFC president Tom Adler began the Sixth Anniversary Folksing with a bagpipe seranade. Tom was followed by the Messengers of Light, formerly the Vic Lukas Blues Band. The Messergers are Vic's latest and most succesful performing group. Taking songs from the Paul Butterfield Blues Band tradition Vic altered that style to form what may be called music to blow your mind by. When I had heard the band on several other occasions, I had not been particularly turned on by Vic's harp playing. This time Vic put on a veritable battle with guitarist Jim Siemens for high wailing notes. Vic's voice was far from beautiful but it was thorough adequate for mind blowing. The sound of the Messangers was wild and deafening, drowning out any thinking going on in the audience (as had been its intention.) Unfortunately some people in the audience did not want to have their minds blown and preferred to listen from the hallway. The performance lost some of its effect when the houselights began acting up. It was obvious that Vic intended the lights to be off during his performance; some technician backstage must have been having trouble finding the proper switches.

The Messengers of Light were followed by three string bands. The bluegrass band was composed of two members of the Sons of Bluegrass assisted by Vic Lukas on the guitar. Kenny Brown our prize-winning banjo player in residence, was in extremely good form and gave forth with some great pickin' in Shenandoah Break- down, and Bending the Strings. LeRoy Baker, our favorite fiddler, treated the audience to his version of Orange Blossom Special, the song that brought the house down at the bluegrass concert last February.

Doctor Flath and the Norton Street Gang, a jug band, created a sensation instrumentally, but the singers did not get close enough to the microphone. As a result most of the words they sang were unclear. Their "humor" was uncalled for, as were many of the asides made by banjoist Dave Samuelson.

The third band was a stringband with Dave Samuelson on banjo and guitar, Snaker Lee Kaufmann on guitar and banjo, and Pawnee Bob Sayers on fiddle. This band played mostly old-timey music but due once again to a lack of familiarity with the microphone, words were unclear.

The other performers at the sing were soloists. John Rutherford, our British Pete Seeger, got a great response when he did Bells of Rhymney. Halleck Brendan added the gospel element to the sing when he sang "Just a Closer Walk with Thee." No one can beat his tremendous voice. This was the first time I had ever seen the following two performers. One was a boy from Barbados who sang songs from his homeland in a nice voice and accompanied himself rather poorly on the guitar. The last performer this reviewer will mention played Dave Van Ronk blues. He was adequate but Andy Cohen, who was not present, can do so much better.

On the whole the sing was a success but this reviewer thinks it could have been improved with a change of program. First, Vic's band had an unfair advantage in being amplified and should have been placed last on the bill. Also Kenny Brown's bluegrass band should have been next to last because it was a more professional group and tended to dwarf all others in comparison. It also would have been nice if some of the performers from the Greenfields of Illinois album could have come as they have in the past. Unfortunately this could not be arranged.

-- Suzie Paulausky

JOHN WHITE CONCERT MAY 1h, 1966

John I. White, the Lonesome Cowboy of Death Valley Days, was a guest of the Campus Folksong Club one year ago. Obviously, very few members prior to the concert knew the man or could but envision their performer as much more (or less) than the archtypal curiosity of the restless Panhandle--circa 1910--who fortunately had his voice shellaced on a few scarce 78's in the mythical nineteen-twenties. Neither we nor friend, Harlan Daniel, who ferretted out our star had ever seen him. Cow- boys were not unfamiliar to the Club, however. Many of us had seen, smelled, and touched Glenn Ohrlin of Mountain View, Arkansas, a real living working cowboy. Thus, imagination and fancy spilled over somewhat with the promise of great things.

Came the showdown and expectations fell around the quiet, unobtrusive man in a business suit whose one concession to the Old West was his big hat which he doffed and set down beside himself while he played. I might mention here that among the "cowboy's" tangible accomplishments are a degree from the University of Maryland, graduate study at Columbia, and the eventual ascendency to the vice presidency of a commercial business concern. Perhaps the Lonesome Cowboy sensed at first the discomfort among the small audience in Gregory Hall. Fortunately, though, his voice was smooth and sure and his sounds were good.

Mr. White, it might be suggested, is a cowboy historian and scholar first, and a performer second, using his material as a vehicle for his message. Carl Sandburg comes to mind immediately here. Acquaintances of John White in his collecting days (long before the folkies thought of gleening the hills for verbal gold) had been honest legends like Romaine Householder Lowdermilk and D. J. O'Malley. As one might expect then, his stories were an important part of the evening. Club members, Halleck and Sally Brenden, whooped when he touched upon places familiar to them in Montana. Just as interesting to record collectors and old-timey buffs were his anecdotes concerning pioneer writers and recording artists, Frank Luther and Vernon Dalhart.

Unknown to Mr. White, Harlan Daniel was able to produce copies of several of his old recordings including "Calamity Jane" and "Eleven More Months and Ten More Days I'll be out of the County Jail." Although sung in the humorous, banal vein deemed marketable in the nineteen-thirties, they provided a rare opportunity to set the performer in his own proper historical -perspective with relation to the folk movement of today. He and persons like Frank Luther are, indeed, among the first genuine folk interpreters, and concrete documents such as these old discs are the archeological Rosetta Stones of the folk scene, more particularly, the Old West as it then existed through song.

In sum, perhaps John White was not a John Wayne (or even a Vic Lukas), but he was a thoroughly enjoyable lecturer/performer dedicated to preserving the memories and songs of a hundred Powder River Jack's and Jules Verne Allen's. May he continue to spin his tales in lecture halls across the country.

-- Bob Sayers THE NEW SOUND Getting High on Bluegrass

Archie Green recently told me that he was disappointed at finding all the old folk-song buffs have turned to psychedelic culture, abandoning Flatt and Scruggs for the Fugs, Andy Cohen for Andy Warhol. This is to be expected because psychedelic culture is a better substitute for pot.

That is to day, people, consciously or unconsciously, have been using music to turn on for thousands of years. Music presents a new reality, a new dimension, which takes us places, motivates us in a sense, moves us. Also, music is an escape--it separates us from our car, our mix-master, or our typewriter. It takes us somewhere else.

Of course, people did not always have WLS and the good guys to move them; they had to depend on their friends and themselves. And, naturally, since they were isolated from surfboards and GTO's and very often were not into the action in Boston or Warsaw, their music took on very definite local characteristics.

The reason we are so interested in what the residents of 16th century Corn- wall had to sing about Jack Rung who got hanged for picking the constable's pocket is that we are trying to trip out to the England of Good Queen Bess. We are trying to expand the dimensions of our minds to feel the pathos, the gladness, the agony of agony, the agony and frustration of boundless joy in the fifteen hundreds. We are evading Lyndon Johnson, our Psych hourly, and our roommate.

But now we have new instruments for escape and expansion, instruments which not only assault our minds through our ears, but also through our eyes. We can go to a movie or tube out and not only hear about poor Jack but actually see him hung.

And now, after thoudands of years of beating around the bush (with the exception of the Indians who have been turning on to the Sitar for a long time), people are realizing that the whole pcint of all this is to get high. And they are making movies and music which are expressly designed to turn us on. Thus, instead of trying to turn our minds around with coal mines and big spades, they are making movies which go into our heads through our eyes and ears and try to suck our minds right out. Leadbelly is out, LSD in.

--Dean Borak REVILWi OF RUTHERLFORD LECTURE

The first of a new series of seminars was held on Monday, March 7, at

8:00 p.m. in Room 426 of Mumford Hall. The seminar was presented by Mr. John

Rutherford who spoke on "Folk Music in England."

Rutherford, an Englishman from London, is currently a graduate student in anthropology here at the University of Illinois. The seminar consisted mainly of tape recordings of folk artists from England, Scotland, and Ireland.

Rutherford began by giving examples of various types of Scottish music from slow ballads to nonsense songs. He then showed the differences between

Scotch and Irish music by playing several Irish pieces.

English music occupied the bulk of the program. Rutherford split this type of music into two basic categories; ancient folk songs, especially ballads, and mode modern songs written as a result of the coming of industriali- zation and growth of large cities. Included in the second category were sea songs, work songs, industrial protest songs, and mining songs. Several examples of humorous songs were presented, to the amusement of those present.

The program lasted approximately one and a half hours and ended with a question and answer session.

The 2nd seminar in the series, originally announced for March 21, will be postponed until late April or early May due to conflicts in obtaining a speaker. The third and fourth seminars will be held as scheduled.

»* *( *» *» a

See following page for forthcoming seminars. CAMPUS F®LKS6NG CLUB SPRESENTS F OUR SE INA i A

1. "FOLKMUSIC IN ENGLAND"

d t RUTHERFORD h tiwJOHN P ga&Ma e -- 4i 4 T d- a .&..OUULlU IA 4 U.LL AM IJ. V AJ~JAV.lILA,,V -

2. "TO BE ANNOUNCED"

-- could be the best. Watch for later bulletins.

3. PROFESSOR BRUNO NETTL will speak on ethnomusicology.

More information soon.

h. "FOLK MUSIC: FROM HILLBILLY TO NASHVILLE"

with Professor ARCHIE GREEN. Refreshments and a chance to meet our faculty advisor.

The first seminar will be held on MARCH 7, 1967. The remainder

will be on MARCH 21, APRIL 11, and APRIL 25, respectively. They are all

on TUESDAYS at 7:30 p.m. and will all be held in RM. 426 of MUMFORD HALL.

THERE IS NO CHARGE AND ALL WILL BE BOTH INTERESTING AND INFORMATIVE i