You can have your recording studio, give me a field recorder any day of the week. Take the high technology and the complex sounds sculpted by sonic scientists in the hermetically sealed engineer's booth and on the sanitary hard drive, take 'em on down to the river in a burlap bag. If art is a search for the soul of Man, take a Nagra to the field, stick a microphone in some man or woman's face, and see if nine times out of ten you don't find art more penetrating than anything crafted in the big city's big studios.
Such is the guiding principle behind the 40 years of Arhoolie Records, an independent label that's never had nothing like a hit, but has released hundreds of records that hit right in the gut. In honor of their anniversary, the label has compiled a 5-CD box set that rivals the Harry Smith Anthology for depth of American spirit. The nearly 70-page large format book replaces Smith's hoodoo sensibility with a cultural curiosity about America's marginalized masses: those living in the swamps, in the ghetto, in the field, in the barrio, in the cowboy camp, and most anywhere else a good person might find shelter on a bad day.
The musical genres include the following, and also most everything you'd hear if you blended any two or three: acoustic blues, electric blues, bluegrass, country, cowboy (and cowgirl) songs, jazz, soul, ragtime, brass band, cajun, gospel, conjunto and all manner of Hispanic musics, Balkan folk music, klezmer, and plenty more. Each disc -- packed to the limit with music -- is like a musicology course you could dance to.
The subtitle of the box set is The Journey Of Chris Strachwitz. He is the man behind Arhoolie, and the label is not so much a testament to his vision as it is to his enviably open mind and ears. The job of selecting the recordings from Arhoolie's mammoth catalog was so vast that the "limiter" devised was that Strachwitz had to be present at the actual recording session, either operating the machine or smiling quietly. (Arhoolie distributes many more international sounds and ethnic styles that are not represented here.) Oh to be present at the recording of Bongo Joe!
I was on a panel with Strachwitz once, and he made a statement that I've never forgotten and which reveals the kindness at the heart of this record label (there's a music biz anomaly!). We were discussing field recording and blues, and Strachwitz suggested a Miranda Rights statement for bluesmen, something that would be stated aloud to each artist, giving the facts about what might happen to the recording he was about to make, what sort of money he would get up front, and why he would probably not get any money later, or not as much as he'd like. Now that's an idea worth Congress' time.
The recordings progress chronologically, beginning with Jesse Fuller's 1954 "San Francisco Bay Blues" and arriving quickly at Mance Lipscomb's "Shake Shake Mama" from his 1960 debut album -- also the label's debut. Strachwitz "discovered" Lipscomb while visiting Texas folklorist Mack McCormick. They knew the Lightnin' Hopkins protest song "Tom Moore", about an evil plantation owner, followed the song's directions, and interviewed Moore. They asked him if there was a hand on his farm who entertained the others. Moore didn't know the fellow's name, but sent them to the railroad station to find out from Pegleg; Pegleg sent them to Lipscomb, who saw two white men approaching and, whatever panicky thoughts ran through his mind, couldn't possibly have imagined that these guys wanted to pay him money and record him. A label was born. (There are great photos of Lipscomb around his home, and one taken from behind him as he performs to a massive crowd at the Berkeley Folk Festival.)
Lightnin' Hopkins was another longtime Arhoolie artist and is well-represented in song and photos. Seeing him in a Houston juke joint, raggedy amp on a table next to two bottles o' beer, cig dangling from his lips, a woman massaging his shoulders while he plays -- give ME the blues. Arhoolie brought Lightnin's cousin Clifton Chenier to the world's attention, and recorded a whole lot of cajun music -- more than I can use, but if you're unfamiliar with the sound, this is a great sampling.
By the second track of the second disc, Arhoolie steps from the country to the city. It's the mid-1960s, and Strachwitz captures Big Mama Thornton in Europe with backing from Buddy Guy. It's the emergence of the West Side sound, soul music creeping into blues, and it says that the world is changing and Arhoolie is changing with it.
Track seven startled me: deep American jazz, Django filtered through bebop, as performed by the Jerry Hahn Quintet. I knew nothing about them, but liked their aggressiveness; the booklet relates both a brief history of Hahn (he was the guitarist in saxman John Handy's group), a bit about how Strachwitz got interested in this jazz offshoot ("a bridge between older swing and the more far-out stuff"), and a bit about the actual session. 'Em 'ere are some good liner notes. (Boston writer Elijah Wald wrote most of the notes and co-produced the box with Strachwitz; there are several interesting sidebar comments and essays contributed by the likes of Ry Cooder, Peter Guralnick and Flaco Jimenez.)
Hahn's track is followed by Juke Boy Bonner's amplified country blues, a seemingly innocuous revision of classic material, familiarly titled "Going Back To The Country". But then this line jumps out: "If I move back in the sticks/Don't have to worry about being killed by no sniper's fire." It's old music given a new life, topical songs (fired by Strachwitz's interest in Mexican topical ballads, corridos) that keep the blues relevant in contemporary life.
In recent years, Arhoolie has spawned national interest in Sacred Steel music, gospel song led by the lap steel guitar. The music comes from a small region in Florida, and its popularity proves the vitality of both this 40-year old label and its founder. This box set is six hours of engaging, exciting music recorded and performed without the slightest pretension. As track after track plays, the soul of man is revealed.
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