country creatures deliver the ewan mccoll song in a distant drone that sounds like the section of american life that is furnished with ambien and mickey's grenades. organs set off a hazy atmosphere agianst pokes of banjo. the vocals are low in the mist but you know the lyrics. i didn't even know that this song was by ewan mccoll or who ewan mccoll was, but i was familiar with the pogues version. i was even more familiar with this song as a four am, drunken exhortation, rasped in ragged volumes. there were other songs, dylans you aint goin nowhere comes to mind. country creatures agrees.
"Too many times, we sat on the porch during the early hours and sang this song. And goddamn it made so much sense, even though sense had nothing to do with us that year."
recorded in the portland winter, this song was used in the throes of heavy times on a street in an old town we all remember. a song to all the things we couldn't quite point at, possibly to all those people we wanted to poke at, i don't know. but we sang it together. an experience made durable through people and technology. a song that is a reference point in life. a means and style of recording that reflects these experiences. the modern folk music of america.
*** the modern folk music of america denies being a "legit folk blog, about actual folk musicians playing real folk songs."***
to see a truly legit blog and hear more transmissions from the country creatures go to the blog and check out this band/collective art group.
i can't help but mention my friend tbor, a frequent and enthusiastic interpreter of this song.