Music, more or less

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

What is Folk?

What is folk? And what does it mean when someone says that "folk is dead in Greenwich Village" as I read recently on the occasion of the closing of one more historic club?

I can think of at least 3 definitions of folk.
The first is: Woody Guthrie, Kingston Trio, Bob Dylan, James Taylor, ie, a certain style of music that involves accoustic instruments and a certain unadorned style that was very popular in the 60's and 70's and kind of petered-out with Carter and died with Reagan, although some have tried to make a comeback, including Bruce Springsteen, Suzanne Vega and others like Tom Russell. This is what you would find if you went to the "folk" section of your record store.

The second is: "Authentic folk". Irish ballads, whaling songs, mining songs, railroad songs, rails, jigs, fiddle tunes, blues--accoustic music that is generally played by "folks"--or at least used to be before radio and TV were invented. This music tends to be appreciated by white upper-middle-class well-educated types such as Pete Seeger and yours truly, for its authenticity and simple charm.

The third definition of folk is: whatever music people who are not professional musicians play when they get together with people they don't know that well. In that sense, any song that we've all heard a million times makes the cut (i.e., LA Woman, Dead Flowers, Me & Bobby McGee, Margaritaville) as well as any song that is so simple that anyone can follow (eg, Jambalaya, My Bucket's Got a Hole in it, Busted). I heard someone say that CCR songs (Proud Mary, Bad Moon Rising) became folk songs as soon as they were released--each one feels oddly familiar and inevitable, even the first time you hear it. And they tend to be pretty easy to play as well. Basically, any song that people can relate to, and possibly play or sing along to if they have some personal musical inclination, is folk. Ideally, folk is music that brings ordinary people together, without pretensions or exclusions.

Anyway, my personal opinion is that the third definition of "folk" is the most true and significant one, and that the first two are either simplifications, subversions or intellectual snobbery.

The first definition is the most pernicious, not because I'm not a huge consumer of Dylan and others (I am). But because it focuses more on a marketing classification than the essence of what the thing is and does not put a premium on the spontaneity and freshness that is the true beauty of folk. And because it makes it possible to say such things as "folk is dead."

Folk music is not dead. There will always be ordinary people getting together to make music--God help us if this kind of activity ever stops. If we're not hearing good folk music it's because we're not listening for it or we're not going out and making it. We know that folk music has served as the inspiration for professional music since the classical composers and before. And we know that it doesn't take much to ignite a popular flame; all it takes is a Guthrie, a Seeger and a Dylan to take something valuable but discarded from the past and present it to the people in a way that they can connect to. Spontaneous music, played by non-professional musicians will never disappear, no matter how technologically advanced we become.

With time, words change and lose their meaning. In Spanish, folk music might be called "popular music", meaning music "of the people" with a distinctly socialist tinge. In English, popular music, or "pop music", means empty, facile, commercial music. And folk is dead. So there is no English word that really succeeds in saying "authentic music of the people". But that doesn't mean that folk music is dead. Folk music will always be around whenever people are willing to get together and play "I've Been Working on the Railroad" or "Oops I did it Again" or "Achey Breaky Heart" and not worry too much if they are playing it exactly the same as on the recording. And eventually, people will prefer it to what they are hearing on the radio or seeing on the tv, then the next Guthrie will come along, followed by the next Dylan, and the next folk revival will be in full bloom.

Anyway, I'm glad to be playing real authentic folk music in historic Washington Square Park, as well as other places. I'm certainly no professional, but music is the opposite of cooking: a song that you make for yourself will always seem better than one that is prepared for you, even by a professional. If your own song sounds even half good it is a joy and a revelation. This is the engine behind all folk music.

4 comments:

Sam said...

I like your definitions of folk. Where does the 80's street hip hop fit in? One guy on a turntable looping a familiar hook and others taking turns making up raps to go along with it. I think in this country, black folk music persisted beyond the 70s. Is white folk more tied to the commercialism of the music industry? The only recent successful folk artist I can think of is Beck.

AZ said...

Hi Sam. Thanks for the comment.

I think the 80's street hip hop definitely counts as folk, especially in the way it recycled elements from existing music and used them in a new way (this is the so-called "folk process").

Commercial folk became so popular in the 60's and 70's that I think the word "folk" got subverted in popular usage. Now many people see it as a deeply uncool genre that no one is interested in anymore.

Is Beck generally recognized as a folk musician? Or is this your assessment?

Sam said...

Yeah, Beck has released some albums that are almost entirely acoustic folk, although that's only some on his albums.

Sam said...

The review of his album "One Foot in the Grave" from allmusic:

"One Foot in the Grave appeared not long after the noisy freak-out of Stereopathetic Soulmanure, and its quiet, folky textures couldn't be more different than those of its predecessor, or the genre-bending Mellow Gold, for that matter. Recorded before Mellow Gold, the record showcases Beck as a postmodern folkie, and the results are revelatory. Stripped of the intoxicating production that dominated Mellow Gold, Beck's songs prove to be wonderful, vibrant tunes, teeming with emotion, haunting wordplay, and simple, memorable melodies. It's alternately haunting and jubilant, and Calvin Johnson's occasional harmonies lend the record an intimate warmth. It's a gentle record, and its collection of small gems are every bit as impressive as the songs on Mellow Gold or its 1996 follow-up, Odelay."

http://allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&token=&sql=10:wifwxqehld6e