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For those not familiar, Daniel Bachman is a massively talented musician who has made a name for himself in the Fahey-revival of the past 10 years, or so. The style and technique of the music, dubbed "American primitive," is heavily rooted in pre-war 20th century American folk music, draws on classical and American folk strains, and is threaded and fused together through solo guitar interpretations. American primitive has traditionally relied on an acoustic guitar (sometime banjo) fingerpicked in an open tuning, simultaneously fretting strings for melody and percussion. It is at times very improvisational, and pulls equally a shit ton from Indian ragas and Mississippi John Hurt.
A pioneer of the style, John Fahey released dozens of albums between the 1960's and 70's, and became somewhat of a sleeper celebrity known mostly by those in his somewhat niche musical circle (aside from this bizarre 1981 MTV recording). He had a brief stint back in the public eye in the 1990's through the release of instructional music videos, and had passed away by 2001 from heart problems and suffering from a 20-year alcohol abuse problem.
The mid-2000's saw a resurgence of sorts of this music, ushered in by the likes of Philadelphia's own late and great Jack Rose, Glenn Jones, pushed to new theoretical realms by Ben Chasny (Six Organs of Admittance), and brought to a wider eye by musicians like Steve Gunn, Nathan Bowles, and William Tyler -- thanks in part to oddly consistent coverage by news outlets like NPR or even Stereogum.
But I digress.
I suppose the point of all of this is to say that whenever we speak of this music -- Daniel Bachman in particular -- the Fahey comparison's always come first. Yes, giving context is helpful. Yes, Fahey has a mythical status among crate-digging folkiphiles. But this is like comparing every songwriter to Bob Dylan (or Townes van Zandt if you're Steve Earle).
When I listen to John Fahey, I feel like I'm listening to a story teller. The dynamicism along with the lyrical nature of his writings play out like a ballet. No one is saying a word, but you understand the story just by watching (or in this case, listening) and following along. John Fahey wrote fiction. He used to perform as Blind Joe Death, and come out on stage wearing shaded glasses pretending to have lost his sight. He wrote "Night Train to Valhalla" and "Dances of the Inhabitants of the Invisible City of Bladensburg." He was a brilliant musician, but he was a character of his own construction.
Daniel Bachman, to me, feels more like an interpreter. His music is a conveyance of some fact or observation. The night sky, deer antlers rubbing a tree, the sloshing of the Rappahanock River. The music is rustic in a sense, but it's contemporary. It's present. It doesn't take me back to a simpler, less immediate or frantic time, but the music has no less of an impact as a result. It's like I can feel like I'm sitting under a tree in the dead of night on the side of the road in the Poconos on the way to my parents' house, but I still have my cell phone sitting in my truck. Or more realistically, flipped over sitting next to me where I can only focus on trying to not look at it, post some bullshit on Instagram, and just trying to enjoy a quiet moment.
In other words, Daniel Bachman makes music for presence, patience, and observation.
"Scrumpy" song starts off with furious, droning fingerpicking. Daniel digs out a tense, modal melody with his picks scraping the strings at every turn. It eventually, and inconspicuously, melts into repetitive, contemplative, spellbinding slow to resolve chord strums, and finishes out with the night sounds of a steam engine and ambient cricket chirps.
"Scrumpy" is also a funny title for a song. The title is a term for hard cider made from less than prime apples. English moonshine perhaps. Maybe the original Old English. I can imagine sipping some scrumpy between guitar takes, wincing, and getting back to playing under the warm summer night sky. Or maybe glugging scrumpy is the nightly ritual and the song is the result of the right dosage.
Either way, "Scrumpy" is another great song in Daniel Bachman's canon of astute observations.
You can pre-order The Morning Star through Three Lobed Recordings here.
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