A review of the John McCutcheon CD "22 Days"

The sense that creativity wanes with the turning of the calendar page is absolutely turned on its head by John McCutcheon's new release "22 Days." The birth father to 36 creations in his musical lineage, the latest demonstrates that age certainly hasn't diminished his imagination.

What was the genesis for this offering? Paying homage to friend and musical comrade Vedran Smailovic who faced down death in war torn Sarajevo during the Balkan War by publicly playing a classical music piece for 22 straight days in honor of that number of civilian deaths there due to a mortar attack.

So in late May 2012, McCutcheon spent 22 consecutive days writing and composing. Covering topics illuminating a wide spectrum of emotions and traits, his worldly collection depicts love, hate, fear, courage, humor and tragedy and more as he sets his words amidst celtic, shanty, Appalachian and general folk tunes.

With smooth vocals that neither shout nor scold, McCutcheon sings of recent sordid history in Pakistan, peace substituted for war, aging gracefully, southern cuisine (apparently not an oxymoron), the void due to the absence of a longtime mate, mushroom hunting (of which it would be wonderful if Stan Rogers were still alive to take on this song -- maybe Garnet will do so), the work left for the backs, arms and shoulders of immigrants, a pub patron's dream/nightmare, the war loss of a lover, mining destruction, the infinite beauty of song and and the vagaries of viewing those who weave in and out of our lives.

Every listener will emerge from listening with his and her own favorites. For this reviewer "Of an Age," stands out but possibly you have to be more than a few decades into your life to truly appreciate it.

Add in "Heaven's Kitchen" whose title should somehow have included the word fried, the tierra firma shanty "Dry Land Fish," and the celestial love song "Orion's Belt."

"Tonight" reeks of Harlan County due to both lyrics and very effective banjo but the genesis for the song is unfortunately far more widespread.

In the broadest of statements and employing an ample brush, McCutcheon has never penned a song even verging on the why-did-he-record-that territory. His musical ear remains keen as well as consistent.

On that aspect, why isn't McCutcheon a Kennedy Center honoree? There may not have been millions earned or entertained but, of the quality, proficiency and deservedness, there can be no doubt.

Play List

Forgotten (4:58)
Fitzgerald (2:48)
Of an Age (3:28)
Heaven's Kitchen (3:18)
Morning (3:40)
Dry Land Fish (2:39
Nothing Like You (5:46)
The Night That Dan Ryan Got Locked in the Pub (5:00)
Orion's Belt (4:16)
Tonight (4:46)
She Sings ((3:33)
The Man Walking His Dog (2:41)
Adagio in Am (3:15)

Learn about John Gorka

Bill Craig writes of an impending John Gorka concert, with a good amount of background on how Gorka came to the world of folk music.

Geoff Bartley's "Who Killed JFK?"

Here's Geoff Bartley performing his song "Who Killed JFK?"

A Bob Dylan - Dave Carter song theme comparison

This is probably too much of a reach but here goes anyway.

Below is a You Tube video plus the lyrics to Bob Dylan's song “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)”



Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child’s balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool’s gold mouthpiece the hollow horn
Plays wasted words, proves to warn
That he not busy being born is busy dying

Temptation’s page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover that you’d just be one more
Person crying

So don’t fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It’s alright, Ma, I’m only sighing

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don’t hate nothing at all
Except hatred

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It’s easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacred

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have to stand naked

An’ though the rules of the road have been lodged
It’s only people’s games that you got to dodge
And it’s alright, Ma, I can make it

Advertising signs they con
You into thinking you’re the one
That can do what’s never been done
That can win what’s never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit
To satisfy, insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something they invest in

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society’s pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he’s in

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it’s alright, Ma, if I can’t please him

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn’t talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer’s pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death’s honesty
Won’t fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes must get lonely

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed
Graveyards, false gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough, what else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They’d probably put my head in a guillotine
But it’s alright, Ma, it’s life, and life only


Now more of the above lyrics actually apply but look at these in particular:

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
 It’s easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacred 

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have to stand naked

Then listen to the late Dave Carter's song "Hey Ho" performed by his musical partner Tracy Grammer (the lyrics are also below):

 

tv's on, the favorite son is
watchin how the west was won
daddy, please, a plastic gun
get brother one for twice the fun

little camo helmet-heads
makin brave and playin dead
missiles made of gingerbread
and dollars on the dime

hey ho, so it goes, the point of sale, the puppet show
the merchant kings of war and woe have turned their hands to labor
sound out the trumpet noise, the cannons bark and jump for joy
someone's dread and darlin boy has fallen on his saber

another world across the sea
home for little busy bees
sweatin in some factory
hurry please, more of these

action dolls with laser sights
robot planes that shoot at night
faster kid, and get it right
they're rollin down the line

hey ho, so it goes ...

these days the spin machine
is always on the silver screen
secret plots and submarines
foreign fiends and magazines

wave the flag, watch the news
tell us we can count on you
mom and dad are marchin too
children, step in time

hey ho, so it goes ...

bring your kids and coddled pets
bouncin babes in bassinets
we'll play a game with tanks and jets
better yet, bayonets

marchin bands and color guards
funerals in your own backyard
don't forget your credit card
johnny, hold the line

hey ho, so it goes ... 

Notice some of the similar themes?

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