The "F" Word
What do Joanna Newsom, James Yorkston, Devendra Banhart, Tunng, Adem, King Creosote, Bat For Lashes and Vashti Bunyan have in common? The answer, of course, is shag all. Except that all at one time or another all have been amusingly referred to as something called "nu folk". Or "acid folk", "folktronica" or "wyrd folk" depending on the day of week.
All of which is shorthand for pony-tailed execs in marketing meetings wondering how the hell they're going to sell their latest fey, shoe-gazing minstrel to the hungry masses and lumping them into an imaginary genre that sounds vaguely young, sexy and interesting. A snatch of a couple of wistfully "mysterious" tracks on TV ads and hey, we've got a movement! Cue journalists compiling their "nu folk" guides and record companies darting around in search of the nu "nu folk" phenomenon and suddenly everywhere you look people are strumming dreamily with a faraway look in their eyes singing about purple dandelions and cuddly dolphins.
Well, here's an idea--stick them all on a bonfire and put a match to it. Well maybe not Tunng - they're good. And Bat For Lashes has something about her. And James Yorkston's done some decent stuff. And King Creosote and... okay, forget the bonfire, but maybe a correction centre for anyone peddling "nu folk." As any unreconstituted old folkie will tell you, there's more passion, musicality, danger and relevance in Dick Gaughan's little finger than any self-consciously ethereal Joanna Newsom warble.
All good folk music has a sense of roots and there are so many brilliant young musicians with fire in their bellies who've fully absorbed this we really shouldn't be diverted by vacuous sideshows taking its name in vain. Rachel Unthank & the Winterset. Lisa Knapp. Tim Van Eyken. Bella Hardy. Mawkin. The Gloworms. These are a few of my favourite things. Inventive, passionate artists who completely understand the nature of their music.
Naturally I blame Nick Drake, godfather of the fey, sensitive and disaffected. He wrote good songs, so they tell me. But I've heard the records, read the books and sat through various tribute concerts and only have Becky Unthank's jaw-dropping version of "Riverman" to offer good reason why he's so revered three decades later. Fragile, angsty singer songwriters were ten a penny back in the day, so why Drake and not Tim Hardin or David Ackles or David McWilliams or Judee Sill?
If we need an iconic songwriter to worship then let it be Lal Waterson, whose mysterious melancholia knocks Nick Drake--and most everyone else--into a cocked hat. She wrote poetically of nature, childhood and mundane pleasures with no discernible influence from anybody or anything beyond her beloved Yorkshire countryside. Any tweeness or naivety in her simple themes was swamped by enchanting tunes, eccentric analogies and the evocative richness of an impossibly alluring voice. It's nine years since she died of cancer at the age of 55 and there's a concert and a couple of tribute albums due soon to honour her memory. Nu folk, old folk... Lal Waterson's songs were for all seasons.
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