“Sorrow Bound” by Kaia Kater

Kaia Kater
Sorrow Bound
Kingswood Records
5 stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

Toronto, Ontario—hotbed of Appalachian music.

Alongside the recent release of the Slocan Ramblers’ Coffee Creek, one might well have growing evidence that Canada’s most cosmopolitan city has more than a few inhabitants who know their way around the music of the holler.

Originally released a year ago, Sorrow Bound receives wider distribution this summer and deservedly so. Low and mournful are the sounds Kaia Kater, a traditional musician in her early 20s, appears to favour. Playing in the traditional clawhammer style—Art Menius has identified her as “the Ola Belle Reed of the 21st century”—Kater has spent a great deal of time in West Virginia studying the traditions of Appalachian balladry and dance.

Much like Anna & Elizabeth have done, Kater plays with traditional music to gently knit together connections between ancient tones and modern times. Whereas that duo does so largely through their interpretation of traditional songs, Kater takes a more modernist approach, one equally necessary to allow the music to thrive and flourish. “Southern Girl ,” one of several originals contained on this stunning debut, has its foundation in the remnants of another time, but its passionate hopes are well observed in the changes our society is currently undergoing.

The title track is a revelation. Featuring what sounds like bowed bass, this atmospheric song explores dark challenges of previous times and personal yearning through poetic snatches of language, leaving the story open to interpretation; Kater’s frailing banjo flourishes provide percussive punctuation. Another Kater song, “Oh Darlin’,” in lyric, essence, and structure, could easily be a couple of centuries old.

Kater, who knows her way around the old songs like someone raised in the tradition, is nothing if not unconventional. A song borrowed from Anna & Elizabeth, “Sun to Sun,” flows into a French-language old-timey ballad. “Moonshiner,” familiar enough through interpretations from folks as varied as Bob Dylan, Cat Power, Buell Kazee, and the Sweetback Sisters—whose lead Kater follows—and like those sizable talents, Kater makes the song all her own. “Come and Rest” provides a coda of comfort and belief, while “West Virginia Boys” is less volatile than other renditions of the “cornbread, molasses, and sassafras tea” tune.

This album is an ideal balance of then and now, the past and present, of originality and influence.

Kaia Kater, who has performed throughout the eastern United States and Canada, is one of the many youthful performers by whose sure hands the traditions so many of us appreciate and love are being tended.

“Me Oh My” by the Honeycutters

The Honeycutters
Me Oh My
Organic Records

5 stars (out of 5)

By Larry Stephens

“I had a baby but the good Lord took her, she was an angel but her wings were crooked.” I love writing songs and sometimes I hear a lyric that I sorely wish I had written. One of our sons has handicaps (I know, that’s not the politically correct term) and, for me, the lyric nails it: an angel with crooked wings. That’s the opening line of the title song and it does not go downhill from there.

The Honeycutters label their music as country roots (watch lead singer Amanda Anne Platt discuss her music). That’s different than classic country (Jim Ed Brown, George Jones) but it’s a close cousin. Two of country’s enduring stars, Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard, have composed some songs that you’re not likely to hear on a Bill Anderson or Ray Price recording. I can imagine Haggard and Nelson in an intimate setting (a resort bar at Lake Monroe, Indiana, where Nelson likes to stay when he’s in town) with something less than a thousand fans somewhere in the dark at the tables, jamming and drinking a beer or two. Some of those songs could come from this CD. Another surprise with this CD is all the tracks were composed by Platt. It isn’t unusual to see a CD with songs composed by the band or one person in the band, but not many are consistently this good from track to track.

“Lucky” is a quiet song of pathos, a love affair going down hill: “I’ve got the mind of a junkie, you’ve got the heart of a child.” That’s not a recipe for success but falling in love is rarely affected by the probability of success. There would be far fewer divorces if we were all that logical. “Jukebox” is on a different plane, as country as anything you would have heard on the radio back in the day. Rick Cooper’s bass supports the band and Josh Milligan’s percussion is enjoyable, not the thunk, thunk you hear too often on “country” records. Matt Smith adds to the mix with some very good steel guitar. “Not That Simple” includes some fine mandolin from Tal Taylor while Phil Cook appears with piano and organ. You’ll find yourself hoping Platt’s life isn’t as complicated and sad as all her songs. This song tells about a man and woman who love each other but have commitments to others. There are too many good lines in this song to list without just writing the lyrics.

Whether it’s a quiet song like “Little Bird,” an ode to wanting to break away from the life you’re living (“Hearts of Men”) or a critique (“Well, look at you, you’re like a pony with a broken leg, You’re always scared ’cause you can’t run away” from “All You Ever”) Platt consistently hits the mark musically and lyrically.

I suppose, if you live a Pollyanna life, if it’s all sunshine and roses, then this CD might puzzle you, you won’t get what she’s telling. On the other hand, if your life’s ups and downs look like the pulse line on a heart monitor, if you’ve ever felt the blues sucking at your soul, cursed and laughed at love, there are fourteen messages on this CD that you’re going to really enjoy. Me? I’m going to look for their first two CDs.

TheHoneyCuttersMeOhMyBigCov

 

 

Notable releases: Rodney DeCroo, Gordie Tentrees, and Brock Zeman

Brock Zeman
Pulling Your Sword Out of the Devil’s Back
Busted Flat Records

Gordie Tentrees
Less is More
Self-released

Rodney DeCroo
Campfires on the Moon
Tonic Records

By Donald Teplyske

Canadian singer-songwriters of the male, troubadour variety are as distinct as Guy Clark is from Greg Brown and Hayes Carll is from Joseph Lemay. Each one is different, but there are also tendrils binding them to a common foundation.

Reaching back four and more decades, there was Gordon Lightfoot, Ian Tyson, Bruce Cockburn, Murray McLauchlan, and Willie Dunn (among others), all of whom had long, vibrant, and diverse careers; all but Dunn, who died in 2013, are still active. Much later, the likes of Fred Eaglesmith, Leeroy Stagger, James Keelaghan, and Corb Lund found some favour stateside, while other exceptional writers and performers—among them John Wort Hannam, Al Tuck, Steve Coffey, Mike Plume, and Craig Moreau—have received less obvious international notice.

We grow them like dandelions up here. Unfortunately, we also sometimes give them just as much attention.

In recent months, three Canadian troubadours have released albums of great intensity, each as individual as one could hope, bound by common and elemental darkness comprised of isolation, pain, and exploration.

For more than a dozen years, Ontario’s Brock Zeman has been playing music wherever they’ll have him. His albums have grown in intensity, his writing has become more comprehensive and dynamic, and he has continually delved into shadows where the greatest insights are discovered. On his eleventh release, this ‘bastard son of Lucinda Williams and Steve Earle, with a gravelly Tom Waits voice,’ as one writer described him, has created a demanding, listenable collection of songs.

With long-time collaborators Blair Hogan (guitar, piano, organ, mandolin, noise) and Dylan Roberts (drums and percussion), Zeman has created a roots variety show that bashes into the margins of rock ‘n’ roll (“Dead Man’s Shoes,” “Drop Your Bucket,” and “Sweat”) while flirting with reflections of multi-dimensional folks encountered in memory (“10 Year Flight” and “Walking in the Dark”) and imagination (the eerie, spoken-word title track that kicks off the album.) The lyrical gifts are many: “I saw your old man at the store today, and if he saw me he sure didn’t wave…it got me in the guts to see him limp his way to his truck…” and “I live in a house of ghosts that just won’t let me be; I let them in myself, but now I can’t get them to leave.”

If Ray Wylie Hubbard and Blackie & the Rodeo Kings crank your motor, Brock Zeman’s Pulling Your Sword Out of the Devil’s Back might just become a new favourite.

Gordie Tentrees comes from Whitehorse, Yukon, and while previous albums were entrenched in and inspired by his environment, Less is More is more universally focused. Not that it is any less powerful: Tentrees is writing more poetically, perhaps less tangibly connected to his reality than to the contours of his imagination. It is progression that doesn’t signal abandonment of artistic values.

The title track—with its references (via borrowed lyrics) to Townes Van Zandt and Mary Gauthier—will garner attention, as it should: it is a spectacular hurdy-gurdy of originality and inspiration. But equally impressive are slices of motivation and determination borne of strength (“Broken Hero”), frustration (“Deadbeat Dad”), and concern (“Somebody’s Child”). A reading of Gauthier’s “Camelot Hotel,” with its “cheaters, liars, outlaws, and fallen angels,” provides a framework for that which Tentrees explores through his deeply personal, original songs. References to Maurice Richard, Gordie Howe, Lanny McDonald, and “pull up your pants, lace up the skates” provide nostalgic Canadiana references, but Less is More transcends lyrical touchstones.

This is life and love, death and fear, punches and loving, lost guitars, batteries connected to radios, waking in the wrong bed, “wall tent whoopee with no underwear,” where “even Bill Monroe can swing.” Should strike a chord with Slaid Cleaves and Chuck Brodsky types.

Back from a self-imposed recording exile, Vancouver’s multi-dimensional Rodney DeCroo has created an album that stands with his finest, and that is no small thing. Poet, playwright, singer, and occasional lost soul, DeCroo has—over the course of his five previous recordings—firmly established himself as Western Canada’s most challenging barstool romantic, a Ron Sexsmith for the down-and-outers.

Five years ago, DeCroo released Queen Mary Trash. That double album wasn’t an easy listen—much like the artist creating the sprawling opus, it was brutal and at times terrifyingly raw. A product of his environment—for good and bad—DeCroo is the raven seeking salvation in the detritus of emotional upheaval, both his own and in those he has impacted.

Campfires on the Moon is intimate and sparse, just three instruments—acoustic guitar, double bass (from Mark Haney), and piano (Ida Nilsen, of Great Aunt Ida)—two voices—harmonies courtesy Nilsen—and one focus—redemption.

“To be young is to be reckless,” he sings in “To Be Young,” one of the album’s genuine and heartfelt compositions; but even within such a graceful reflection of a relationship, DeCroo can’t help himself: with bowed bass adding emotional heft, DeCroo admits that he still hasn’t found the meaning of his existence. Ditto, “Baby, You Ain’t Wild.”

Each song has emotional heft. We’ve all been the “Stupid Boy in an Ugly Town,” and most have us have survived the experience relatively intact. Visiting a familiar haunt in “Ashes After Fire,” DeCroo possibly finds himself in the faces he sees reflected in mugs of amber sustenance. Facing life’s debts, “Out on the Backstretch” reflects on that which one has wrought. Comparisons to Springsteen are not unjust, simply misdirected.

Rodney DeCroo has never allowed himself to hide from who he is. While his songs are not necessarily entirely autobiographical, they are shaped from his experiences and perceptions. Good thing he has an outlet.
Recommended if Jason Isbell and Vic Chesnutt do it for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Orthophonic Joy: The 1927 Bristol Sessions Revisited” produced by Carl Jackson

Various artists
Orthophonic Joy: The 1927 Bristol Sessions Revisited
Legacy Recordings
4 stars (out of 5)

By Aaron Keith Harris

Country music is obsessed about the past. The same technological changes that enabled it to be captured on record and broadcast on radio also helped hasten the urbanization of America, and country people used their music to help them make sense of the ways they chose to meet those changes—nostalgia as therapy.

Organized by Ralph Peer of the Victor Talking Machine Company, the 1927 Bristol Sessions were the crucible in which a centuries-old Anglo-American folk music tradition that found expression in barn dances, church choirs, fiddle contests at market day, minstrel shows, tent revivals, and families picking on the front porch became a business that would enrich the lives of millions with music and enable gifted musicians to make a living making music rather than in the coal mines, the field, the fox hole, or the whorehouse—it’s amazing what freedom of expression and free markets can accomplish.

Many of the 76 tracks from 19 different acts recorded by Peer were commercially successful, and two superstar careers were launched: those of Jimmie Rodgers—one of the first modern American celebrities and the prototype for songsters like Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, and even, I would argue, Bob Dylan—and the Carter Family, who are perhaps responsible for collecting, preserving, and popularizing more pre-modern American music than anyone else. (See also the story of Lead Belly.)

Orthophonic Joy: The 1927 Bristol Sessions Revisited—a two-disc tribute to those sessions, made under the aegis of the Birthplace of Country Music Museum in Bristol—should be the starting point for anyone who wants to learn about country music—especially those with little previous exposure to Southern music or culture outside of Luke Bryan, Carrie Underwood, or a television episode of Nashville.

Eddie Stubbs, whose resonant tones are familiar to Grand Ole Opry fans and WSM-AM 650 listeners everywhere—guides the listener through 18 contemporary takes on classic Bristol material, with ambient clips of the rough-and-ready original recordings to provide contrast to the modern, clean recordings and arrangements we’re more used to. The script, written by Cindy Lovell, concisely retells the story of the Bristol Sessions with telling biographical detail and historical context that even knowledgeable country fans will find enriching.

As a consummate Nashville professional on both sides of the studio glass, Carl Jackson is a perfect choice to produce this record. His choices arranging this well-known material, and manning the sound board, all pay off, and he even plays and sings on several cuts—including a bluesy duet on “In the Pines” with Brad Paisley and a wild run through “Pretty Polly” as lead singer and banjo picker.

Jackson expertly pairs artist to song throughout, including country music royalty (Dolly Parton on “When They Ring Those Golden Bells,” Emmylou Harris on “Bury Me Beneath the Willow,” Marty Stuart on “Black Eyed Susie,” and Vince Gill on “The Soldier’s Sweetheart”), A-listers from other genres (Steve Martin & the Steep Canyon Rangers on “Sweet Heaven When I Die,”
Sheryl Crow on “The Wandering Boy,” Keb’ Mo’ on “To the Work”), and bluegrass veterans (Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver on “I’m Redeemed” and Larry Cordle & Lonesome Standard Time on “Train on the Island”).

Ashley Monroe (“The Storms are on the Ocean”), the Shotgun Rubies (“I Am Resolved”), and the Church Sisters (“Where We’ll Never Grow Old”), and Ashley & Shannon (children of Glen) Campbell (“The Wreck of the Old Virginian”) add a touch of youth, as does Corbin Hayslett, who won a contest to be on this record with his thrilling take on “Darling Cora,” the standout track from this project.

And though the Bristol Sessions seem like ancient history, a couple of tracks show just how young country music still is. Eighty-five-year-old Jesse McReynolds—a hall-of-famer in both country and bluegrass music—scrapes out “Johnny Goodwin/The Girl I Left Behind” on the very same fiddle that his grandfather Charles McReynolds used when he recorded the same song with the Bull Mountain Moonshiners. And the Chuck Wagon Gang, a Southern Gospel quartet that’s been working continously since 1935—with a revolving roster of members, of course—lead a choir comprised of all the Orthophonic Joy artists on a valedictory “Shall We Gather at the River,” one of their biggest hits, which they recorded in 1949 based on the Bristol recording by the Tennessee Mountaineers (actually a church choir from Bluff City, Tenn. given that soubriquet by Peer).

Though the current state of popular country music is worse than ever, thanks to commercialism, there is more opportunity for today’s listener than ever before to experience the joy of good music—of every variety, especially country—than ever before, also thanks to commercialism. Think of this record as good whiskey cut with water—not quite the pure stuff, but plenty good enough to give you a thirst for the real thing.

“Powerlines” by Mustered Courage

Mustered Courage
Powerlines
Travianna Records
4 stars (out of 5)

By Larry Stephens

This CD is a mixture of some good bluegrass that segues into a combination of what you might call indie-newgrass-roots. It’s full of good instrumental work with all the instruments found in a traditional bluegrass band, and a little harmonica thrown in.

“Standing By Your Side” makes a good bluegrass number. I don’t hear the Stanley Brothers in it but Nothin’ Fancy might do it. “Cruel Alibis” starts off with some minor chords, slow, bluesy, then kicks into high gear with good breaks by the instrumentalists. “Old Steam Train” has a strong drive, a story about love gone bad. If you want a good, hard driving instrumental, “Allegheny” will fill the bill and it does an excellent job of showcasing the skill of the pickers on this CD.

The band is made up of people most of the bluegrass world won’t recognize. One factor in the lack of name recognition is they hail from Melbourne, Australia, where they are described as “the link between Bill Monroe and Mumford & Sons.” They are stars in the Austrlian folk and roots scene. The band includes Julian Abrahams (guitar, vocals), Paddy Montgomery (mandolin), Texas native Nick Keeling (banjo, lead vocals) and Joshua Bridges (bass and vocals). CD guests include Kasey Chambers (vocals), Yen Nguyen (bass vocals), Kat Mear (fiddle), Peter Fidler (Dobro) and Christi Hodgkins (harmonica). Lack of name recognition has nothing to do with ability and these folks can pick the strings off their instruments.

Nothing shows off singing skill like an a cappella number and they nail it with “Towin’ the Chain.” “Go To Hell” goes off into the indie field (doubt you’d ever hear this at a typical bluegrass concert), an unhappy lover who is telling his mate where to go. “Behind the Bullet” is close to Grateful Dead rock and you’ll have to work a bit to figure out the lyrics, while “My Hometown” is softer while still sounding like a close cousin to a rock song.

If I was booking bands for a show and snagged Old Crow Medicine Show, Mustered Courage would make a good addition to the show. If I had Doyle Lawson, not so much. If you’re into roots and indie with a touch of bluegrass, this is your ticket.

“The Music of the Stanley Brothers” by Gary B. Reid

Gary B. Reid
The Music of the Stanley Brothers
University of Illinois Press (2015)

4½ stars (out of 5)

By Larry Stephens

At Bean Blossom you sit on a gentle upslope from the stage. To your right is the entry road that goes down to the tail of the pond and the back of the stage before going back up to the Hippie Hill section of camping. The regulars all know when Dr. Ralph Stanley arrives or leaves, his long, white tour bus sliding along, all within hidden behind its windows. Soon after he arrives, someone will erect his pop-up shelter where he holds court to sign autographs and say hello to his fans. It wasn’t always like this.

When Carter Stanley was alive it was the Stanley Brothers show. Still today, a half century after Carter Stanley’s death, there are many songs sung on stage and around campfires that bear the Stanley Brothers name. Travel during the twenty years the brothers were active was by car or station wagon. The pace was often hectic, the financial rewards meager. Band members came and went frequently, as is still the case with many bluegrass bands. Bluegrass music, generally speaking, isn’t a lucrative endeavor unless you’re a breakout star, and many professional bluegrass musicians have another job to make ends meet. The Stanley Brothers stayed the course, putting their names into the bluegrass history books.

Remember when the brothers were doing that Rich-R-Tone session (#480700) back in 1948? When Art Wooten joined them? You don’t remember that?

Truth is, there are probably no more than a pickup-load of people who can remember all the band members through the years, let alone anything about the recording sessions or what was recorded when. But Gary B. Reid knows. In 1976 he sent a letter to Neil Rosenberg, a name known to many bluegrassers and author of Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys: An Illustrated Discography (1974), that started, “For the past several years I have been trying to compile a combination biography/discography on the Stanley Brothers and the Clinch Mountain Boys.” Reid was nineteen and it would be another thirty-nine years before that book was published. That is dedication. He did other things along the way, including starting Copper Creek Records.

The book covers the two decades the brothers were a professional act. Both served during World War II. Carter was discharged in February 1946 and joined up with Roy Sykes for a while. Ralph’s discharge was in October 1946 and by November they were making appearances along with mandolinist Darrell “Pee Wee” Lambert and fiddler Bobby Sumner. Their last full concert was at Bill Monroe’s Bean Blossom facility. Carter died December 1, 1966, the victim of alcoholism.

This book is rich with information about their professional lives from one recording session to the next, where they were working and who was in the band. The data on the recording sessions is extensive. A typical entry is:

501103 Columbia session; producers: Art Satherly and Don LawCastle Studio, Tulane Hotel, 206 8th Ave., Nashville, TennesseeNovember 3, 1950

Carter Stanley: g|Ralph Stanley: b|Pee Wee Lamber: m

Lester Woodie: f|Ernie Newton: sb

4311 The Lonesome River (Carter Stanley)C. Stanley-L, R. Stanley-T, PW Lambert-HB 20816 HL-7291,HS-11177,ROU-SS-10,BCD-15564,CK-53798,B0007883-02

Neither the uncertainty surrounding song titles or the “borrowing” of songs are a focus of the book, but both are mentioned many times in these pages and this provides an interesting insight into the music business. Sometimes it’s using the same (or very similar) melody with more than one set of lyrics.

“The first song is ‘A Life of Sorrow.’ Carter and Ralph Stanley wrote it with an assist from George Shuffler. The melody is strikingly similar to a tune the Stanley Brothers had recorded earlier on Columbia, ‘I’m a Man of Constant Sorrow,’ and is a good example of how the Stanleys recycled old tunes to create ‘new’ material.” [p. 32, Columbia #4 (Session 520411)]

and

“… used it as an opportunity to recycle the melody to one of their earlier recordings, ‘Little Glass of Wine.’ Known by a number of titles, ‘Tragic Love’ is most commonly called ‘Silver Dagger.'”

There are other examples of songs known by a variety of titles, as well as songs with disputed ownership, songs sold by their composer then the buyer taking songwriting credits, and the practice of claiming credit before agreeing to record the song.

While information about their travels is provided as part of their story, it also becomes a story of its own. Their nomadic lifestyle wasn’t (and isn’t) unusual in the bluegrass world, nor for most other musicians. You have to wonder how families survived and that’s one place the book will leave you wanting. Other than a few mentions of Ralph Stanleys ex-wife, Peggy, and the tidbit that Carter Stanley wrote “Baby Girl” in honor of his year-old daughter, Doris, you won’t get a peek into their family life. There is no mention of how Carter’s bouts with the bottle affected their music. Given the amount of information contained in the book, it’s easy to believe Reid might have another book in him to let us better know Ralph and Carter Stanley as people.

This is an excellent reference for anyone interested in the Stanley Brothers years (but understand it stops with Carter Stanley’s death). I found it an interesting read with my only caution that you may find yourself getting bogged down trying to follow and remember all the histories of people and changes in the band. Don’t get lost in the detail, just keep the book handy when you need to look up something.

 

“A Wanderer I’ll Stay” by Pharis and Jason Romero

Pharis and Jason Romero
A Wanderer I’ll Stay
Lula Records
4½ stars (out of 5)

By Donald Teplyske

One of the most respected old-time duos currently recording, Pharis and Jason Romero create acoustic music in a vein not dissimilar to Gillian Welch and David Rawlings.

Without drifting toward mimicry of that more renowned duo, this couple from Horsefly, British Columbia likewise captures within their finely crafted songs the richness that exists within seemingly uncomplicated songs and arrangements. A Wanderer I’ll Stay is their third album as a duo and their fifth together, and the result is a mature artistic vision, one that encompasses a range of original inspiration into a cohesive, intriguing set.

Jason Romero is a wonderfully interesting guitarist and banjo player. I’m not able to expound about the creative tunings he uses or the intricacies of his fingering technique because such is well outside my capabilities. I can attest that everything I hear within this album is flat-out faultless. Within “Backstep Indi,” Romero coaxes the gourd banjo to travel from southern traditions to East Indian experimentation, while the instrumental backing for “The Dying Soldier” is as beautifully mournful as anything I’ve recently heard.

Pharis Romero is an expressive, generous vocalist and impressive songwriter. Three of these songs are credited to her alone, while she shares songwriting credit with her husband on three others. She has a strong voice that more than holds its own within the aural environment created by the duo and their co-producer David Travers-Smith. Like Welch, she asks universal questions (“Why do girls go steady, when their hearts are not inclined”) and makes stark declarations (“Your father he’s a merchant and a thief”) that immediately establishes perspective while sketching stories and characters that engage listeners’ imaginations. When she sings, “There’s no time, honey there’s no time,” you accept her declaration.

Like Rawlings and Welch, the Romeros have the ability to create new songs that sound generations old. The forlorn drifter of “Ballad of Old Bill” could have ridden old Dan in a Civil War-era song, while “Poor Boy” is seemingly crafted from remnants of Child Ballads.

Their original material is very strong, but so are their interpretations of songs from the days of 78s; the Romeros playfully and yet still reverently reinvent familiar sounds. Jason’s mournful “Goodbye Old Paint” is from the Lomax tradition, while their influences  for interpreting “Cocaine Blues” and “The Dying Soldier” go back to the 1920s.

This time featuring Josh Rabie (fiddle), John Hurd (bass), Marc Jenkins (pedal steel), and Brent Morton (drums) on select tracks, A Wanderer I’ll Stay has a full sound although not significantly different from their previous Long Gone Out West Blues; the same intimacy is present and certainly their attention to detail has not wavered. As with that release, the packaging is beautifully executed with all practical considerations accounted.

This is a stunning acoustic folk recording.