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Last of the Blacksmiths
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Last of the Blacksmiths
Description: There are so many wonderful things that can be said about the Blacksmiths' self-released first album, but for me, the most interesting is their contribution to oral tradition. The album documents the lives of these four gentlemen. It's folk music, both traditionally and categorically and their songs are traditional in that they serve people. The Blacksmiths not only tell stories of their own time and culture, but they preserve stories of their forefathers--quite literally. Three of the songs on their album were written as poems in the late '60s by Rufus Wanta, grandfather of Blacksmith Nathan Wanta. The poems sat collecting dust for the last thirty years, but the band not only made them part of living history, but asked Rufus to play harmonica on the album, too. The fact that Rufus' songs don't seem "old" next to the Blacksmith originals is a testament to their endurance, but also to the importance of passing down stories from one generation to the next. Or, as Rufus wrote, "Knowing me will take much longer than one life." It must be rare in this day and age that a grandfather and his grandson (not to mention his grandson's friends) can see eye-to-eye on music. Generations make it a point to diverge from their predecessors; in this respect, the Blacksmiths are no exception. The band members all cut their individual musical teeth within the punk idiom. Nathan, Bert, and Nigel were in various distorted guitar-driven bands before forming the Blacksmiths. Likewise, Jake started plucking on his father's dusty bass in the family basement, teaching himself how to play Rage Against the Machine tunes. For as different as they sound, the fundamental tenets of punk and folk aren't that dissimilar. Folk music was born as a way of story telling: handing down tales by word of mouth from the elder to the young. Music was a form of communication in rural societies. In the early 1900s, the music transformed from communication to art, from process to performance, and the music became the dispatch for a general class of people, the laborers, rail-riders, cowboys, ranchers...the lower class. In fact, musicologists say the term "folk music" was an invention of the bourgeois. The music was the voice of the people in Appalachia, the Delta, the Dust Bowl, and the Great Plains, and the songs were the accounts of daily life. The topics reflected the people, labor, the union, family, fascism, communism, and the embrace of (or resistance to) the American dream. The '60s birthed the new breed of folkies that most people now are familiar with, the "protest singer." There is much debate on folk music and how to define it--a task further complicated by the myriad sub-genres: traditional folk, electric folk, alt country, rural, No Depression, Americana, old timey, indie folk, etc. There is a similar confusion about punk rock. For lack of what it is, we can be clear that punk is not a participant in mainstream culture. This is where the paradigm of folk and punk intersect: to carry your experience to others without an outside influence. It is with this in mind that I consider Last of the Blacksmiths to be the ideal punk rock band and the ideal folk band: completely self-reliant. Anyone who has studied folk music knows that it thrives best in societies not yet affected by mass communication and the commercialization of culture. That's fantastic for those who live in the proverbial backwoods. But what about the millions of us who live in cities and towns and--God forbid--suburbs? Is it not our job to preserve this culture, however hideous it may seem? Last of the Blacksmiths do just that. Their songs address the events that shape their lives: living in tract homes; deforestation; working on a tomato farm; rearing children; spending in excess. It's noble to practice tradition, but the real challenge lies in preserving that tradition in the face of cultural "advancements." What I admire about Last of the Blacksmiths is their enthusiasm for their music. By the amount of time they spend writing and playing together, it's obvious that they love what they do. They enjoy playing together because they enjoy the genuine, if sometimes startling, prospect of following their creations. Having something to say leaves one vulnerable to criticism. The Blacksmiths are sincere to the point of being raw, yet this attribute is often criticized as pretension. If that's the case, I'd much rather listen to pretension than sit through a painfully predictable band full of formulaic show business and feigned detachment. The Blacksmiths have a beautiful ability to modernize. As a band, they are mindful of all that came before, which is obvious from listening to their music. They find the delicate balance of innovation and reverence-without-imitation, making their album familiar in a way that's likely to remind you of old favorites without making you wish you were listening to said favorites. Each band member brings his own personal experiences to life in song. The four members work collectively writing songs, making singular interpretations into a mutual expression. The end results have a sincerity that leaves me (the listener) genuinely engaged in their ideas. The subject matter, much like the folk music of the early 1900s, deals with their surroundings. Contemporary life has so heavily cross-pollinated "surroundings" though, that it leaves the Blacksmiths' songs in a limbo between modernized age-old questions and dilemmas that are all new to this age. For example, "Grass Blade," the last song on the album, says, "I'm so glad you were born/ twenty-six years ago/ before televisions were in cars/ when it was good enough/ to stare outside your window at the moving stuff." "Russian River" is a tale of the adventure of two boys learning why it's important not to horseplay near water. The song would easily be relative to any era if it weren't for the admission of what the boys were listening to on their way to the river: "School had just finished, another term had passed/ Right now's what were looking forward to/ He brought a few of his favorite tapes/ One of the band's names was Wham." The subject matter of the album, while "topical" lacks the reproach or moralistic attitude often associated with "issue" songs. Instead, the Blacksmiths present these topics as moments in their everyday lives. The listener is left with a tale of personal experience rather than a lesson on how to live life. Vanguard Squad was honored to release the second recorded effort by Last of the Blacksmiths, a two song single (on seven-inch 45rpm single and CD). Continuing with tradition, the band has adapted another poem from Nathan's granddad as one of the songs for the 45. The band is currently writing songs for their second full-length album.
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