Jim Page— When You Find the Answers…

When I got to Seattle back in 1978, Jim Page was already walking the streets strumming the guitar, singing to anyone who would listen, mostly about people or situations that he either did or did not know. He had released a couple of albums on his own and his reputation as a resident musical historian was building. Not that he sang about actual history, it was just that you had a hard time separating the actual history from the fake news. He was everything you could ever want in a folkie— modern enough to out-Dylan Dylan on certain songs, old beyond his years in his appreciation of the folk tradition. Nobody realized it, of course. I don’t even think he realized the legacy he was putting together, too busy creating new songs and perfecting others to even care.

A lot of people who were there didn’t understand, but the few who did grabbed onto him and would not let go. I still can see him strolling the streets at street fairs and folk festivals, some people walking a little faster to get out of the way, kids following behind like he was the Pied Piper. He would stroll, head back, talking blues or singing like the band, a smile across his lips and not a care in the world, or so it seemed. He came to be the flip side of Baby Gramps, who also filled the streets with his musical wares. Characters of the folk persuasion. History on the hoof. You probably can’t envision it. You had to be there.

I met Jim not long after I had started working at Peaches Records on 45^th Avenue, originally as a singles buyer. He came in with his brother to check on albums he had consigned to the store and I happened to be in the office as they were completing paperwork. While his brother counted records and signed documents, Jim came up to me and stuck out his hand, much like Otter in Animal House, saying something like “I’m Jim Page. Damn glad to meet you” though I am sure those were not his words. While I did not know it at the time, Jim is not the kind of guy to mimic others. He is too busy mimicking himself.

A lifelong acquaintance developed over those years in Seattle and though we never became close friends, we did develop a liking for one another. I knew enough about records and distribution that he would occasionally look me up for a little info and me, I just liked listening to him. At times he made me laugh out loud, his wit sharp and always on. At others he made me think hard, questions about the European record market and various distribution pools making me scratch my head. He was always welcome, no matter what.

He put an album out on Jerry Dennon’s Music Is Medicine label in 1980 which changed my attitude toward him. He had gone to Stockholm (funny how the Europeans have always had more of an appreciation of American folk music than Americans do), recorded an album and released it. I can’t remember if it was all live or not, but parts of it definitely were. The song “Runaway Shah”, for instance. He started it plucking the guitar while talking about the recording process because they were recording it live and in a very humorous way told them they might not want to burp or fart if they didn’t want the evidence on record. The song, of course, was about the political situation which surrounded the Shah of Iran, a despot who was just then being deposed and was looking for a country to which he might flee. Very topical at the time. Very historical. The song was a masterpiece which today would only be understood by dinosaurs and historians, the shah not even a blip on the radar screen today. Had a hell of an impact on me, though. He recorded “Hiroshima-Nagasaki Russian Roulette” on that album, too. Both songs have haunted me from the first listen.

So he has this new album out, A Hand Full of Songs, which would make… 23 now? 38? I really don’t know but he has released a lot of them, every one of them packed with classic Jim Page songs. He has a style, you see, quite unlike most artists out there. His lyrics are, pn the whole, above the norm and sometimes way above the norm, his music deeply rooted in folk, his topics of a wider variety than you might assume, and his sincerity obvious. He has equal parts Phil Ochs and Bob Dylan and Tom Paxton and Gordon Lightfoot, all developed over years but there from the beginning. He is as much true folkie as some athletes are true athletes.

No real theme on Hand Full, though Jim might argue that. Just leftover songs and when I say “just” I don’t mean it. Whereas I jokingly say that many of my favorite songwriters have a bathtub full of songs, Jim probably has a whole train full. The guy’s life is music and guess what? I am thankful. Not too many around like him anymore.

What can I say? He’s a Seattle boy.

Note: The songs used in this review are not necessarily from the new album. They are presented as examples of what Jim has done over the years. You can check out his music on his bandcamp page. Click here.