Showing posts with label Ron Dann. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ron Dann. Show all posts

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Jesse Winchester – Seems Like Only Yesterday: Live in Montreal 1976



JESSE WINCHESTER
Seems Like Only Yesterday: Live in Montreal 1976
Real Gone Music

Exactly one year ago today, Jesse Winchester, my friend of more than 40 years, and one of the greatest singer-songwriters ever, passed away following a battle with cancer. A year ago – “seems like only yesterday.”

Looking back, the memories – “everyone’s got him a few” – are vivid. It “seems like only yesterday” that I was struck by Jesse and his songs the first time I heard him play when I was 14 or 15 in 1968 or ’69 (Tom Paxton was sitting beside me at the time, but that’s another story) or when I started booking Jesse to play at some of the early concert series I was running in Montreal, circa 1972-’74.

And it “seems like only yesterday” – it was 1974 – that I took over the Golem, a year-old Montreal folk coffeehouse, and started booking Jesse for three-night gigs, two or three times a year.

In those days, Jesse’s gigs at the Golem were as a solo artist – just him and his nylon-string guitar (although I do remember other musicians occasionally sitting in with him). But, at some point around that time, he also started working with a band. I remember seeing Jesse with the band at venues like the Hotel Nelson in Old Montreal and Norm Silver’s Mustache behind the Montreal Forum.

On October 13, 1976, Jesse and the band – lead guitarist Bobby Cohen, bassist Marty Harris, drummer Dave Lewis, and the late, great pedal steel virtuoso Ron Dann – played a radio concert at Studio Six in Montreal that was broadcast both locally and across the border on FM stations in Boston, New York, Hartford, Providence, Philadelphia and Baltimore-Washington. In those days, before the 1977 amnesty for Vietnam War-era draft evaders like Jesse, he was unable to perform in the United States so this radio concert was the first time that people in the U.S. got to hear him play live. (It was also, apparently, the first time that a state-of-the-art FM radio concert had been broadcast live across international borders.)

That radio concert, unheard and unreleased for almost 39 years, has now been released as Seems Like Only Yesterday: Live in Montreal 1976. And unlike several other live sets from the ‘70s that were released without Jesse’s authorization – and much to his chagrin – Seems Like Only Yesterday has been authorized by Jesse’s family.

Although it’s probably been 35 or so years since I heard this band play live, the familiarity of the songs and the arrangements do make it seem “like only yesterday.” The songs were mostly drawn from the four albums Jesse had released to date – Jesse Winchester; Third Down, 110 to Go; Learn to Love It; and the then-current Let the Rough Side Drag – with a few more that would be on 1977’s Nothing but a Breeze.

Although I always preferred hearing Jesse solo – maybe because that was the context for most of his concerts I was directly involved with – I also always enjoyed his work with this particular set of musicians. Excellent players all, they fleshed out the songs on stage without ever getting in their way.

While some of the numbers – including the classics “Brand New Tennessee Waltz,” “Mississippi You’re On My Mind” and “Yankee Lady,” as well as Martha Carson’s “I Can’t Stand Up Alone”– remained standards of Jesse’s concert repertoire throughout his career, I was particularly thrilled to hear some of the more obscure songs like the beautiful “All of Your Stories,” always one of my very favorite of Jesse’s songs, the dark “Black Dog,” and “Midnight Bus,” which I don’t think I heard Jesse perform in more recent decades. “All of Your Stories,” with an arrangement that is very different from the solo recording on Third Down, 110 to Go, is, perhaps, the most re-imagined song of the set.

Mike Regenstreif & Jesse Winchester (2009)
It was also a treat to hear this particular version of “Tell My Why You Like Roosevelt,” Jesse’s rewrite of Otis Jackson’s song from the 1940s, with its last verse reference to Jean Drapeau, then the highly authoritarian mayor of Montreal. I’d forgotten about that verse which was not included in Jesse’s officially released version on Learn to Love It – and which really could only be understood by those of us who lived in Montreal in those days.

Chuck Gray’s Studio Six was one of Montreal’s top recording facilities in the 1970s and was a familiar spot for Jesse – he had recorded Let the Rough Side Drag there – so the sound quality was unusually high for a live radio concert. Jesse and the band seemed relaxed and comfortable and turned in a set I take great pleasure in revisiting after all these years. Yeah, it does seem “like only yesterday.”

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--Mike Regenstreif

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Chris Rawlings – Northern Spirits



CHRIS RAWLINGS
Northern Spirits
Cooking Fat Music

As I noted in my review of Autumn Gold in 2012, “Chris Rawlings was one of my favourite local singer-songwriters when I first started hanging out on the Montreal folk scene back around 1969. He was then in the early stages of his solo career after spending a few years as part of a band called Rings and Things.” In 1972, “when I started my first concert series at Dawson College in Montreal, Chris headlined my second concert presentation. And when I started running the Golem Coffee House in 1974, Chris was one of my frequently-presented artists.”

A new CD from Chris is always welcome and Northern Spirits, which includes both new and vintage material (some of which I’d never heard before), is arguably his strongest release since the early LPs Pearl River Turnaround and Soupe du Jour.

The album starts strongly with one of the new songs, “Song of the Bush Pilot,” inspired by stories Chris heard from bush pilot Chick Bidgood. Sung from the old bush pilot’s perspective, his reminiscences come vividly to life.

Other new songs include a couple written with Lynn Heath, Chris’ wife. “Heavy Lifting” is a topical piece that touches on concerns about the environment and world conflicts while “Ezekiel’s Bones,” thoughtfully recounts and comments on the biblical legend.

My favourite new song is “The Lancashire Lass,” which recounts the life story of Chris’ late mother.

Among the older recordings I particularly like “Louis Riel,” Chis’ ballad about the legendary Métis leader who was tried – many believe unjustly – for treason and hung in 1885. I’m not sure when it was recorded but one of the musicians on the track is the master pedal steel player Ron Dann, who passed away about 25 years ago. Chris pairs the song with “La Chanson de Louis Riel,” which combines Riel’s own words with a traditional melody. Chris' newly recorded vocal is paired here with an arrangement of “La Chanson de Louis Riel” taken from an LP of traditional tunes adapted for a recorder quartet that Chris recorded in the 1970s (or, perhaps, early-‘80s).

Another older song (although I’m not sure if the recording is old or new) that I was happy to hear
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again for the first time in years was “English Band in Le Studio,” which recounts a 1970s-era incident at a recording studio in Morin Heights, Quebec. I wasn’t there at the time but I remember hearing the story from Chris and others who were shortly after it occurred.

Wish list: I hope someday Chris will release a recording of his (and Paul Lauzon’s) masterful setting of “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s epic 19th century poem. I still clearly recall several of Chris’ stunning performances of the piece from three and four or more decades ago.

Pictured: Chris Rawlings and Mike Regenstreif at the 2007 Branches & Roots Festival in Ormstown, Quebec.

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--Mike Regenstreif