We older folks weaned and reared on the popular music of the 1950s, ‘60s and ‘70s – and even someone like myself whose fanaticism for the stuff begat a music journalism and business career – frequently reach a point where the contemporary music scene no longer compels us to near-obsessively seek out the newest big or hip or engaging musical thing. And that’s OK.
One factor that makes it so is that among the music we grew up and came of age with and cherished as young adults was such a fecund vein of riches that there remains gems we have yet to fully savor (a good place to keep your finger in that pot as well as on the pulse of cool new stuff that will pique our taste remains England’s Mojo magazine). And even artists whose highlights we may know offer long careers with consistently satisfying and nutritious musical offerings to enjoy that we might have missed out on.
Prime among them is Steve Forbert, one of the many 1970s singer-songwriters that got tagged as “new Dylans,” He’s likely the last major one of those from that decade, and with his acoustic guitar, harp on a rack and sandpapered yet sweet voice, he’s the most Dylanesque of the lot to boot … if also very much his own quantity (if also very much, like me, in eternal awe of Dylan’s Nobel Prize-deserving preeminence).
Full disclosure: I did publicity for Steve on his 1988 album “Streets of This Town,” his superb “comeback” LP after being put on the back burner by CBS Records, the company that kick-started him out of a resurgent late-’70s Greenwich Village folk scene into the big mainstream with his debut album, “Alive on Arrival,” and then the 1979 hit song, “Romeo’s Tune.”
It was only natural we became friendly, being about the same age (I arrived into this mortal coil at the dawn of 1954 and Steve followed at the tail end of the year), grew up enthralled with the popular music boom of our younger years, and arrived in New York City within a year or so of each other at a time when its musicality was in astonishing full flourish across a spectrum of styles and genres. We are indeed kindred fellow travelers.
Our friendship impelled me, whenever he came through town after I moved to Austin, Texas, at the end of the 1980s, to catch his shows, played solo, but with a dynamism that hardly needed a band to deliver full and brisk listening pleasures. He’d mastered the art of being what’s called a “songster” in the tradition forged by the likes of Leadbelly and Mance Lipscomb, able to summon up the magical grooves with just a guitar and voice – and in Steve’s case gloriously colored by skilled and canny harmonica accents. On those counts, he is not merely as skilled as most anyone out there but like a fine wine matured into fullness.
On a recent visit in which his show was enhanced by the keen and empathetic accompaniment of electric six-stringer George Naha, Steve noted that his latest release, “Moving Through America,” is his 21st album. It’s a catalog of consistent excellence sure to provide much listening pleasure to anyone who wishes to take a deep dive, including his tribute to country music founding father and fellow Meridian, Miss, native Jimmie Rodgers, “Any Old Time,” and 2020’s “Early Morning Rain,” a collection of evocatively-rendered folk, rock, pop and country cover songs. He also boasts an honest and warm-hearted memoir, “Big City Cat: My Life in Folk-Rock.” Add to all that his many official live albums as well as self-released “bootlegs” of his shows and demo recordings. It all sums up to offer years worth of winning entertainment and truly fine songwriting, plus the rewards of his consistently charming shows as he regularly tours.
Though not as overtly political as some folkies, Forbert has addressed such issues as Occupy Wall Street and Hurricane Sandy recovery in song. The title tracks of his new album is one of a number of tunes in which he has sagaciously reflected on our nation and being a part of it. He wittily addresses climate change issues on the niftily-titled song, “Good Planets Are Hard to Find,”
Few among Forbert’s peers write about romance in a way in which the swoon is so palpable as he manages to evoke, and I am hard pressed to come up with a line by any songwriter as glowing with sweet desire as “Let me smell the moon in your perfume.” Over the course of the last four decades or so, Forbert has without fanfare or artistic hubris woven an oeuvre that marks him as a national treasure. Dig in to his work and find yourself charmed for life.
Album: “Dropout Boogie” by The Black Keys – Since 2019, the blues-rock innovators have now issued a stunning hat trick of sharp, smart and assured albums that dig back into their rock radio and delta blues inspirations to deliver music that feels right on time yet also eternally relevant. The latest is a masterwork of deft, assured and smart rock music that proves how the genre has much life remaining in it.
Book: “Run Towards the Danger: Confrontations With a Body of Memory” by Sarah Polley – Something of a star since her youth (and a committed Leftist), gifted Canadian actor later turned director Polley might at first blush appear to have a blessed existence. Truth told she’s had her share and then some of struggles, challenges and pain. And in this engaging rumination about facing and overcoming such shows herself to be a soul who truly learns from life and faces the toughest moments with pluck, wisdom. and a strong and deep heart.
Rob Patterson is a music and entertainment writer in Austin, Texas. Email orca@prismnet.com.
From The Progressive Populist, June 15, 2022
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