Got a CD in the mail from Matt the other day. I put it in and the sound of a hammered dulcimer started up, went on for a long time before a tenor sang these words:
"You should build yourself a windmill, Move your friends in there"...
The Boys of Blue Hill dominated my Greensboro in 1991. If you didn't see them, you wouldn't understand. They were a strange group playing a strange mix of Celtic folk, American Byrds-jangle and great covers ("I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight" "Celtic Way" "Raggle-Taggle Gypsy" "Atlantic City" "Down Where the Drunkards Roll").
Mike played guitar, Larry played dulcimer, Rob played stand-up bass. There were tambourines, a bhodrum. Alice Muson played rhythm and sang. Sean Hayes played mandolin and sang. Gary McCracken played his tin-whistle and sang. Three singer-songwriters creates a strange dynamic. Alice was The Crush who sang gorgeous Linda Thompson harmony and had her own songs as well. Sean was the handsome dreaded Jesus-sexy hippie who could write a chorus that would never leave your head ("Mary Magdalene" "Cool Cool Morning"). Gary was almost mystical. His voice, on CD, is not as good as it sounded when you watched him. He would sing slow versions of Yeats poems. I took a friend to a show once (at the space that had been the Nightshade Cafe) and he said Gary looked like an angel in a basement. He wrote this chorus:
"You should braid your hair with fire You should braid your hair with air. Whether or not you made a promise You're standing there"
I know, I know - but you've got to hear it sung.
It wasn't just me either, though I had a particular affection for the band having hung out at practices at Gary or Alice's house. Everyone in town was all over them. There was one show at New York Pizza that spilled out into the Tate Street summer. Hippies, skinheads, middle-aged proud parents of the band; everyone seemed to show up and everyone knew the songs.
Long long ago and still I get this CD and I listen to those songs (about an hour's worth) and each and every one is deeply familiar and resonates in a way that makes me wish you were there that winter, at the Somewhere Else Tavern, dancing next to the patchouli girl. Honest. You missed it. You really did.
