Let’s start with a quote from a eighty-two year old folk singer, right before she was sent to jail for selling marijuana:

“That jury’ll never convict me. I’ve sold moonshine to half of ‘em and fucked the rest”

Hot Damn!

That came from a fabulous New Yorker piece on folk music archivists by Burkhard Bilger. I’ve been searching around for it online, and although the magazine offers most of it’s stories free online, this particular one, “The Last Verse”, has been removed. (If you can find a print copy of the April 28 issue, grab it—it’s a good read.)

The story centers around old field recordings, tracking them down, making new ones, and a reportedly fabulous six-CD box set compiled by Lance Ledbetter. It’s called Goodbye, Babylon and the goddamn thing, which comes in a cedar box, looks fucking amazing. I want it, and will have it—just as soon as I scrape up an extra $100.

Back to the Bilger’s story—while I haven’t been able to find a copy online, there is a decent audio interview with clips available here. Nestled in the clip there’s a field recording of blues man, singing on what must be his porch. A dog howls and something like a heavy stick or an axe whooshes and thumps an absolutely fearful, haunting beat. It’s thrilling.