It’s got even more autumnal since my last post. So let’s get back to it.
After she joined up with the thitherto rather wet Fairport Convention, Sandy Denny helped perfect a sound that blended traditional English and Scottish folk song, contemporary electric instrumentation and self-composed songs, an achievement that did for British music something similar to what the Band did for North American music. But as the other members of Fairport, and particularly bassist Ashley Hutchings, became more interested in updating the English folk canon, Denny grew more excited by the artistic self-expression afforded by honing her craft as singer-songwriter. She and the band therefore parted ways. Hutchings would soon leave too, to found Steeleye Span. He’d later move on again to form the Albion Band.
Joe Boyd, Fairport’s producer, wanted Denny to put out a solo record and perform, front and centre, under her own name. But she was in a relationship with an Australian guitarist and singer called Trevor Lucas and wanted to cast him as her bandleader and creative foil in a democratic group, despite the vast artistic gulf between them. The resulting group was Fotheringay. The rest of the band, including the magnificent American country guitarist Jerry Donahue, was stellar, but as a result of Denny’s backing of Trevor Lucas, they spent half their time backing a singer and songwriter who had no business performing anywhere but provincial folk clubs. That this was a waste of their time and talents is revealed whenever Denny steps back up to the microphone. When she gave them a good song to work with, they could be jaw-dropping.
Fotheringay made one album before Denny went properly solo, partly a response to group tensions, partly due to Joe Boyd leaving England to take a job at Warner Brothers movie studio. From the abandoned sessions for the group’s second album came this track, in which the finest interpreter of folk songs that Britain’s ever produced tackles a country standard flawlessly. Her vocal is a completely authentic country performance, without ever softening her southern English accent.
On Silver Threads, while Jerry Donahue plays some of the most spine-tingling guitar solos ever committed to tape, the track’s unsung hero is drummer Gerry Conway. Formerly a member of Cat Stevens’s band, Conway’s placement of the snare on the last beat of the bar rather than the fourth (he occasionally slips and plays a conventional 6/8 backbeat, hitting the snare on ‘four’) is an inventive, masterly piece of timekeeping. He’s in similarly great form on Denny’s Late November, which ended up on her first solo record The North Star Grassman and the Ravens.
Fotheringay, publicity shot