Buried Under Those Palmtrees
Yesterday evening I was listening to People Take Warning! Murder Ballads & Songs of Disaster 1913-1938 while dozing on the couch. The lyrics and melodies I caught between strange dreams made me consider how much the larger indie “folk” bands are missing by burying their songs in highly literate metaphor. Bands like The Decemberists and even my favorites, Okkervil River suffer from the tongues of elitism. In doing so, they’re abandoning Charley Patton, Woody Guthrie, and the like. They’re abandoning the everyman. And this abandonment may be the reason the roots music torch has slipped from their grasp. Don’t get me wrong. I still like ‘em. But simplicity, innocence, and raw fidelity own a large chunk of my heart.
Photo licensed under CC courtesy of Miss Lauralee.
I was trying to find a band/songwriter to mention today and the one that jumped out fit (non-coincidentally) the aforementioned mold perfectly (albeit, in a modern way). Her name is Annie Palmer (MySpace). She’s the new front-woman to Those Transatlantics. Banjo-led, Ypsilanti Won’t You Let Me (available on her Virb profile) falls into “must listen” territory.
What you have to say about this is interesting. I completely agree, first off. Secondly, though, it’s curious to me that you say that those acts “…suffer from the tongues of elitism.” In parallel agreement with you, I feel that so many chefs/cooks/foodies suffer from elitism of the taste buds. Cuisines of many types, much like the insurgent indie folk, suffer from the same overblown mindset for the sake of stroking their own genius. I believe purely in simplicity and by letting the food make the magic like allowing lyrical simplicity to be the powerful poetry that it is. We think alike, my friend, even when applied to different arts!