November 21, 2004

The Answer, My Friend, Is . . . Mono?

ob Dylan
Bob Dylan's "Blonde on Blonde" sounds best in its mono, not its stereo mix, says Clinton Heylin (the Dylanologist actually worth reading). Until now, few could agree or disagree. Through the late 1960's, two formats shared space in stores; certain albums still got lovingly mixed in mono, then quickly remixed to attract stereo adopters. By the 1980's, mono mixes had long since disappeared, and even mono-only albums had been enhanced for stereo. This mishmash became the basis for the first CD reissues. Now, thanks to Sundazed Music (www.sundazed.com), you can own classic mono - new vinyl LP's from original masters. And the mono "Blonde on Blonde" does feel magically warm and personal. This mono experience places in an amusing light the recent Columbia/Legacy remastering of Dylan's entire catalog in Super Audio CD format, which is supposed to provide new degrees - now, more plainly than ever, un-Dylanesque - of hyperclarity.

Charlie Louvin
"Charlie Louvin: Greatest Hits" (Collector's Choice) is a first-ever compilation of the 1960's singles of the country singer Charlie Louvin, whose solo career has been eclipsed by that of the great duet of the 1950's of which he had been half. Roots purists may deem Charlie Louvin's solo arrangements cheesy for employing drums, piano and vocal quartets, but the great discovery is Mr. Louvin's vocal richness, which lent soul to his straightforward delivery and uncanny exactness of pitch.

Archeophone Records
Archeophone Records offers digital compilations of American recordings that were cut in wax and shellac. The recent release, "Bert Williams: The Early Years, 1901-1909" has received a lot of attention: Williams was a brilliant African-American comedian, composer and singer who performed in blackface. Yet the catalog reaches even further back and farther out. "The 1890's" may not always be fun to listen to, but tinny marches, soprano parlor numbers, racist songs, overbearing banjo bands, and other styles too numerous to think about give a bewildering glimpse of what pre-jazz-age American record buyers really liked.

Tim Eriksen
The revival of the American hymn is sometimes an underground movement - literally. The other day, on the Fulton Street subway platform, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus," written in 1855, bounced out of a steel drum; it was sung again that evening, wordlessly, by a woman speeding uptown on the No. 4 train. Signs of an aboveground resurgence for Protestant hymnody include "Every Sound Below" (Appleseed), a recent CD by the musician and musicologist Tim Eriksen, featuring his compelling, nasally Appalachian singing, often of 19th-century Protestant hymns. On "John Colby's Hymn" (1810), Mr. Eriksen breaks - perfectly appropriately - into droning central-Asian overtone singing. The ensemble Ollabelle, which released its debut, "Ollabelle," on Sony this year relies on more familiar spirituals and gospel. Yet in its rendition of "All Is Well," Ollabelle too rediscovers an old, four-square tradition of hymns once sung in churches both black and white.

Sacred Harp
At homepage.mac.com/callistc/SacredHarpSingersintro.html, you can download 22 free MP3 performances by some of the best singers of the roof-raising hymn style known as Sacred Harp, recorded in the 1970's in Bremen, Ga. (File names, worth browsing in themselves, include "145 Sweet Affliction" and "Arbacoochee.") Revivalists sometimes can't help crisping up the Sacred Harp sound, but these singers were full of unpretty enthusiasm. And the recordings let you hear the timbers groan and buzz.

Merle Haggard
The election is over. Now will liberals start listening to Merle Haggard? "Haggard, Like Never Before," a late-career CD from the great exponent of redneck authenticity, came and went last year without making a ripple in the hip roots community - even as its anti-Iraq-war single "That's the News" caused consternation on red-state country radio. Unlike many of his fans, Mr. Haggard has redirected his inveterate anti-elitism, long his weapon against the limousine-liberal establishment, and started attacking the triumphalist right. "Yellow Ribbons," Mr. Haggard's weirdest and most haunting political song, along with an overall sense that he is ready to leave this world to its wickedness, made the album elegiac last year; this year it's all the more beautiful for seeming downright hopeless.

William Hogeland, who collects early American recorded music, has written about music for The Atlantic Monthly and Slate.