Quiet Color

by ryan keith (pic by dannette and ivy howland)

For years throughout my developmental stages, which were many and varied in both their length and integrity, I often wondered why there was such a vast gap between the folk resurgence of the late 50s and young Bob Dylan of the early and mid 60s. It seemed almost absurd that the former came from the latter, what with Dylan’s outright irreverence, and in many ways, it didn’t. Still, both bloomed from the mecca of New York’s Greenwich village and both were attended by the same discerning majority, though Dylan was received with some ire by the older segment. The explanation is that both were a hearkening back to a harder more heart-hampered time when folk music was of and by folks in the throes of real, rugged life.

GRANNY’S SONG BY THE OLD BELIEVERS:

Perhaps the Old Believers with their second and more complete record, Eight Golden Greats, are not in line with any of the aforementioned–perhaps they are neither downtrodden dust bowlers nor plucky revivers nor descendant pioneers, however they are a happy accident of an ink stain on this lasting genre. There is nothing irreverent about them, still they’ve found a way to bend the bars and sneak out through the cell of orthodoxy. There is a lightness and levity to their thickly layered brand of honest folk music–something of the embarrassed innocence of Pete Seeger married to the gallantry of Odetta tumbled down the hill with the grit and audacity of Dylan, yet there is obvious modern intention in the arrangements and a sensitivity to the lyrics that set them apart, not only from their fore bearers but from other current achievers of the twangy major key melody format as well. Sure, the “freak” quality lurks, along with the holier than thou symptoms of Joanna Newsome and Vetiver, but something sincere lives in the voices and tune-swilling of Nelson Kempf and Keeley Boyle; perhaps the only modern artist to be compared is Jolie Holland. Kempf and Keeley were very nearly born in the 90s, still the old reverences of song styling lives and thrives on this record.

THAT’S ALL BY THE OLD BELIEVERS:

According to some critics the first track of Eight Golden Greats, “There It Is,” is a departure from the roots music the Old Believers began with and honored so unerringly with their first release, an EP called Some Songs by the Old Believers. Yes, there’s a little synth and some weird horn lines, but in listening to the tune (this is a tune-centric group) you can hear distinct echoes of 40s and 50s Americana. Betcher Ass, another standout, opens with a galloping jazz progression that gives way to Kempf’s gruff but boyish voice, which is dominant throughout the album. Then the clicks and clacks and mid-century sweetness creeps in with an unwavering and standard chord change lathered by a Hank Williams-esque hook and tagged by ooh-ing choral harmonies. “Granny’s Song,” perhaps the brightest star among all the others, begins with a distorted, largo drum beat, a mosey that doesn’t relent. This song really highlights the Old Believer’s ability to break your heart with just a simple melody, a melody you or at least someone else could have written, but hasn’t. That’s All covers specific sentiments regarding patience in love that are generally untouched by most contemporaries. The words are spare and cogent and relay the truth about change in a relationship: “We’re just getting older that’s all.” The measured acoustic guitar is mottled by eerie synth woodblock hits, lots of vocal reverb, muted, scratchy tambourine noise and a tympani effect of similar timbre, as well as other background drones and bass colors.

All in all Eight Golden Greats is enigmatically true Americana; enigmatically because all of its avant-garde contours and true because the songs are just so absolutely steeped in a familiar tradition of craftsmanship. If you have to analyze it, there is nothing “freak” about the folk of the Old Believers. It is unquestionably the sacred stuff of real life, a steamboat gala for the heart.