Old, weird, and American

Everyone’s quoting Nineteen Eighty-Four these days, so try this sentence on for size: “The obvious, the silly, and the true had got to be defended.”

The obvious, the silly, and the true define The Harry Smith B-Sides (Dust-to-Digital) and Peter Stampfel’s 20th Century (Louisiana Red Hot), two box sets (four and three discs respectively) that accidentally and on purpose mine the rich musical veins of what the critic Greil Marcus has called the “old, weird America.”

The Harry Smith B-Sides was released in August. It presents the flip sides of the 84 country, blues, folk, and gospel 78s that the ethnomusicologist Harry Smith convinced Folkway Records to release in 1952 as the Anthology of American Folk Music, a compilation generally regarded as the roots-music Rosetta Stone.

The silliest B-side is probably Jim Jackson’s “I Heard the Voice of a Pork Chop,” although Cannon’s Jug Stompers’ “Riley’s Wagon” (is that a kazoo-harmonica duet?) comes close. While many are obvious, the gospel songs dominating Disc 3 guarantee that even more are true. Bascom Lamar Lunsford’s “Mountain Dew,” to cite just one, is all three.

Peter Stampfel’s 20th Century hit the streets in January. Recorded between 2001 and 2019, its title refers to the Holy Modal Rounders co-founder Peter Stampfel and features him singing his favorite song from each year of the 20th century. Not every selection is old, weird, or American, but most, along with the no-frills playing of the backing musicians, is at least two of the three.

The silliest? Stampfel’s cover of Johnny Preston’s “Running Bear” (1960), enhanced with “ooga-chakas” on loan from Blue Swede. The most obvious? “They Say It’s Wonderful” (1939, the “it” being “falling in love” in case you’d forgotten). The truest? Leonard Cohen’s “Everybody Knows” (1988) hands down. The only other performer who might have even considered such a project is Tiny Tim, who died in 1996.

Harry Smith died in 1991 at age 68. An obsessive collector of old records and other exotic bric-a-brac, he was also a genuine countercultural eccentric, a one-man Beat Generation. Drugs, nutty spirituality, experimental art—nothing offbeat or arcane was beyond him.

Peter Stampfel, who turned 82 last October and contributed to The Harry Smith B-Sides’ 144-page book of essays, is a lot like Smith, especially where recreational drug use—a recurring theme in his own collection’s song-by-song notes—is concerned. But as those who’ve followed his decades of musical mischief-making can attest, his love for great songs extends far beyond folk.

And his voice! It was cracker-barrel kooky with a strained relationship to pitch before dysphonia rendered it whispery and hoarse in 2019. But anyone who has ever “gotten” Jonathan Richman or Tiny Tim will find Stampfel’s go-for-broke singing endearing.

Anyone who gets the old, weird American voices populating The Harry Smith B-Sides will too.