I was honored to be asked to write some liner notes for a posthumously produced CD by my old friend Dave Van Ronk and Id like to share an excerpt of my remebrances with you in celebration of its release. Its called Four Strong Winds - Dave Van Ronk Live in Monterrey, CA. Dave was in top form for this show and he played many of his best-known songs with his usual showmanship and panache. You can order the CD, here: discogs/Dave-Van-Ronk-Live-In-Monterey/release/5689675. The complete notes by me, and another set of remembrances by Rick Chelew are on the final notes with the CD. I hope you enjoy a piece of my writing about Dave and that it makes you want to get the recording. FOUR STRONG WINDS: DAVE VAN RONK LIVE IN MONTERREY Notes © 2014 by Happy Traum The first time I met Dave Van Ronk was in 1955 or 1956, on what may have been my very first outing to a Sunday folk sing in Washington Square. Emerging from the Sixth Avenue subway station, I was blinded by the sunlight and the thrill of anticipation, and walked one block to the east, guitar in hand, ready and eager to join in the singing and playing. As I approached the fountain, the main gathering place for pickers, strummers, singers and listeners, I heard a sound unlike any I had ever encountered. High-pitched, strident, guttural and raucous, it came from a distant point on the other side of the park. I had to investigate. A tall, lanky young guy sat alone on a park bench hunched over his guitar, a long hank of brown hair cascading over one eye. He was playing and singing “St. James Infirmary” in an uncannily loud voice that echoed off the surrounding buildings. I had heard the song by Josh White, among others, but it had never sounded like this. There was a passion and dedication in this lonely performance that set him apart from the more group-oriented jammers who filled the park. I couldn’t help but be intrigued and slightly dumfounded by what I was seeing and hearing. I got to know Dave in the weeks and months that followed, and for many years we saw one another around the Village at gigs and at parties. One Sunday early on we walked together across Canal Street to a loft he was sharing with a friend in the shadow of the Manhattan Bridge, where he cooked me an ersatz lunch and regaled me with political theory, musical trivia and un-asked-for advice. Dave had a gruff, take-no-prisoners musical attitude, and his deep knowledge of old jazz tunes by Jelly Roll Morton, Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey, employing their more advanced chord changes, transfixed and educated us. He disdained the word “folk,” but he was immersed in the scene, so he reveled in the folk song repertory anyway - along with his blues, ragtime and even Brecht/Weill numbers. Right from the start, his guitar style sounded like no other. His hands were large and he could fret two or even three bass strings with his thumb while contorting his wrist to reach the high notes with his other fingers. (Ten years or so after first meeting him, I transcribed his intricate version of “St. Louis Tickle” for my first book, “Fingerpicking Styles for Guitar.” I don’t know how many people have actually learned to play that tune. I know I tried, with less-than-stellar success.) I can remember, as if it was just a few years rather than six decades ago, Dave in mid-song, peering out from under his brows to slyly gauge the reactions of his gathered listeners as he executed a particularly interesting guitar lick or unearthed an obscure old blues that he knew none of us had heard before. There was always something both coolly calculating and endearingly naive in his desire to be recognized as a legitimate heir to the growing folk/blues genre. Those of us who had a chance to know Dave Van Ronk were treated to a larger-than-life, contradictory, ultimately lovable personality. He was generous, opinionated, sharply intelligent, hypercritical, hospitable, cranky, an unapologetic Trotskyite communist, a sci-fi aficionado, a musical polymath with wide-ranging tastes, a darn good cook and a friend, mentor and teacher to many a young, aspiring guitarist. At one point in his career, Dave would surely have liked to become famous, but he lived his life and made his music on his own terms, and settled reluctantly for being a “legend.” The irony is that none of his peers, no matter how commercially successful they became, were dubbed “The Mayor of MacDougal Street,” had a Greenwich Village street named after them, or are remembered with such affection. (Excerpted from CD notes by Happy Traum You can read them in their entirety in the booklet that accompanies the CD.)
Posted on: Sat, 24 May 2014 06:22:54 +0000
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