[FM] Jack Hardy's "Bandolier"

[Christian Bauman]

A mini-review

Jack Hardy needs little introduction to most readers
on this list. Artistically, he is one of the finest
American folk songwriters in the last quarter of the
Twentieth Century (and onward). He is a master lyrical
poet, as well as a superb and creative crafter of
melody. And his importance to the broader folk world
- as inspiration, teacher, editor - cannot be
overstated. Professionally, his founding of Fast Folk
Magazine and - more important - his hosting of the
Songwriters Exchange (or Jacks Crows) at his New
York apartment for well over twenty years now are two
of the small but necessary flames that have kept the
fire of folk music burning.

Jack comes to us now with a new album, "Bandolier."
Hardy has been known primarily as a writer whose work
often feels more European than American (The New York
Times once said of him, "Its hard to believe hes
homegrown"). But his work has been shifting the last
few years, and over the last few albums, as Hardy
seems to draw more inspiration from (and perhaps find
some comfort with) his own homegrown roots. On
"Bandolier" he brings this shift to completeness. The
album is Western themed, Texas almost to a T, spare
and lean. As Jack once sang of Celtic myths he now
wraps his muse around tales from the Southwest. The
ballads "Bandolier" and "The Roan" come from the same
heart as Jacks earliest writings, but with a
decidedly Mexican flavor.

Kerrville Folk Festival regulars will be thrilled to
see Jacks tribute to them has finally been recorded.
Known in the past as "Death in Texas" and "Did I
Mention the Margaritas?" here its called
"Everythings Bigger in Texas." It contains the
classic line: "Drink too much Corona you get lime
disease." The song was written as a tribute to Camp
Coho/Villa Vino (the finest of all Kerrville camps)
and their world-famous blue margaritas.

Another beauty on this collection is "Autumn" - about
a woman and the season, and the leaving behind of
both. "Dig your fingernails into the naugahyde / let
the countryside slide / into another time, another
town, another season."

What is especially remarkable about this collection,
besides its almost-complete Western slant, is its
unusual barefaced introspection. Not that Jack hasnt
looked inward before, or frequently: the man doesnt
need a map to a find a mirror. But frequently Hardys
wrestling in words with his own life are so obscured
in the depth of his lyrics and mythic tales that only
the closest of his friends might suspect what it is
hes reflecting on. There are obvious exceptions to
this, of course, but it can be argued that frequently
on previous recordings Jack hasnt so much held his
cards close to the chest as try to convince the
listener that he holds no cards at all.

Most obvious to this new public introspection, and
unquestionably the albums two finest moments, are the
songs "Andale" and "Singers Lament." And they are
remarkable not just for their autobiographical
flavors, but from where in Jacks life they spring
from: his life and legacy as an artist. This from a
man who will tell you it is the song, not the singer;
it is the final art, not the artist.

"Singers Lament" wistfully tracks the traveling
songwriter returning to the same place as he does
every year. "All the leaves have gone / since I last
was here / Dont sing the same songs / that we did
last year." Theres a companionship with the audience
that comes through in this song, a relationship. But
this is no rosy, glamorized love affair between artist
and audience. Rather, a long-time love, alive but as
tired as old age, over twenty or thirty years; theres
as much resignation as excitement, as much wariness as
trust. There is a sense of duty here, but more a sense
of true place in the world, and of inevitability.

"Andale" - one of the most beautiful ballads Hardy
has crafted in a long time - flies on a similar path,
but is much more deadly in the accuracy of its arrow.
The song was devastating on first listen, and
subsequent listenings didnt lessen the impact. Like
John Gorkas "Campaign Trail" was a reflection on fame
and the traveling musician thinly veiled as a
politicians lament, "Andale" hides the folksinger in
the loose disguise of cowpoke. You dont have to look
hard, though. The song shows brief glimpses of the
lonely parts of a traveling musicians day and night,
and frankly that skin can be filled by the busy and
successful almost as well as the obscure and
half-broke. Jack confirms here something Ive often
thought: that we are all alone when we first pick up
our guitar, and no matter what measure of success or
wind of fortune comes in between, we are again all
alone with our guitar at the end of the day, end of
the week, end of the tour, end of our lives. And, if
late at night in the car, down the road somewhere, icy
rain washing over the windshield as two in the morning
becomes three, you wonder about your eventual legacy,
your eventual impact on the world, Jack answers with
this chorus: "You will leave no trace at all / if you
go or if you stay."

But those are two-in-the-morning fears. In the bright
of day, it is clear (whether he knows it or not) Jack
Hardys own legacy is quite secure. For more
information on Jack, and to order "Bandolier," go
here: http://www.jackhardy.com.

-Chris

Christian Bauman
http://www.christianbauman.com
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