‘Dylan said: teach me that!’ Martin Carthy on six decades of Scarborough Fair – and his new solo album | Martin Carthy

As the folk icon celebrates his 84th birthday, he looks back on falling out with Paul Simon, smashing up pianos with Dylan – and the classic song he’s still not got quite right

By Robin Denselow

Martin Carthy has returned to Scarborough Fair. It’s been 60 years since he first recorded the song on his self-titled debut album, and famously taught it (or tried to teach it) to both Bob Dylan and Paul Simon, when they came to watch the young guitar hero playing in the London folk clubs. Dylan transformed the song into Girl from the North Country, while Simon turned it into Scarborough Fair/Canticle, a hit single for Simon & Garfunkel and the opening track on their 1966 album Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.

Carthy’s new version is on Transform Me Then into a Fish, his first solo album in 21 years, released on his 84th birthday today. It now has sitar backing from Sheema Mukherjee, giving it a mysterious, spooky edge. “That’s the kind of a song it is. Try not to be scared of it,” said Carthy, whose sleeve notes when he first recorded the song provided a reminder that parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme were herbs traditionally associated with death. “It finds a home among the weird, oddball songs. I was interested in what Sheema could do with it, and she responded as a wonderful musician will respond …”

He is sitting at his kitchen table in the house in which he has lived for the past 37 years, in Robin Hood’s Bay on the Yorkshire coast, just half an hour’s drive north of Scarborough. It looks like an over-cluttered museum, with every space on the floor, walls or shelves packed with musical instruments, cassettes, pictures, posters and a street sign from Hull, where his wife, the late Norma Waterson, grew up. He now shares the home with their daughter, the folksinger and fiddle-player Eliza Carthy, her two children, and a cat.

‘I found myself looking into Dylan’s face’ … Martin Carthy performing at the King & Queen, Foley Street.
‘I found myself looking into Dylan’s face’ … Martin Carthy performing at the King & Queen, Foley Street.
Photograph: Brian Shuel/Redferns

He says he has always loved the lyrics of folk songs as much as the melodies, and as he discusses the new album, he delights in telling stories, often illustrated with bursts of song, about the bands and musicians he has played with. Eliza brings in tea, chipping in about lyrics and song titles.

The new album started out as a 60th anniversary tribute to his 1965 solo debut, but didn’t quite work out that way. A handful of songs have been dropped, and three new ones added. But eight originals remain, including Scarborough Fair.

He remembers exactly where he first heard it – at the Troubadour folk club in Earl’s Court, in 1960, where it was sung by Jacqueline McDonald (of the Spinners fame) who told her audience that she had learned it from a new song book, The Singing Island, by Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger. Carthy rushed out to buy it and thought: “That’s a nice tune – and of course it was, because Ewan wrote [this version of] it! He would always improve a tune.”

Carthy composed his own arrangement for the song, and was singing it while playing with the Thamesiders at the King & Queen pub, near Goodge Street, when he “found myself looking into Dylan’s face – I had heard about him from Sing Out magazine”. Dylan was there with his legendary manager Albert Grossman, “a folk fan who loved fishing and whaling songs and could sing the pants off anyone, though he never sang in public”.

Dylan said he loved Scarborough Fair, and begged Carthy to “teach me that, teach me that”. A few days later he came to watch Carthy playing solo at the Troubadour, and began visiting the house where he was living on Haverstock Hill, near Belsize Park tube.

The first visit has become a folk legend. It was during the bitterly cold winter of 1962-3, and one of Carthy’s friends had found an old piano abandoned outside Chalk Farm tube and pushed it up the hill to the house. Carthy started chopping it up with a sword he had been given as a Christmas present, so he could feed it into a wood-burning stove – to Dylan’s fury. “I got the sword and Bob came and stood in front of me and said ‘you can’t do that, man, it’s a musical instrument!’ ‘It’s a piece of junk’, I said, and swung a couple of times. Bob was looking up at me and said ‘could I try?’ – and he battered it … it’s all true!”

Dylan failed to master Scarborough Fair. “He wanted to do it with a flat pick though he’s a perfectly good finger-style player,” says Carthy. “He got the giggles all the time and it made him laugh.” So when Dylan later transformed the song into Girl from the North Country, did he mind? “We just swapped songs all the time,” says Carthy. “That’s what people did.”

Carthy was less pleased when Paul Simon did not credit him for his arrangement on Simon and Garfunkel’s version, Scarborough Fair/Canticle. But all is now forgiven, with Carthy saying: “It was grossly unfair [of me] because it wasn’t a pinch in any way … it was written as a tribute because he is clever enough to do that.’” They made up by singing the song together on stage at Hammersmith Apollo in October 2000: “He was doing a tour. He said, ‘Really – you want to do that?’ It was important, so I could lay it to rest and never have to sing that song again!”

He eventually changed his mind about returning to the song, he said, because “I was gifted a lovely version!” In 2014 he was invited to sing on a TV drama, Remember Me, set in Scarborough and starring Michael Palin. When he went to the recording, he was presented with a very different version of Scarborough Fair, “collected by Cecil Sharpe, from Goathland – a village near here on the moors”. That’s the one he recorded for the new album and now sings live “but I haven’t got it quite right yet …”

Other songs of course have stories attached, too. He tells how he sang High Germany back in 1963 and thought he had remembered the words correctly until he checked the English Folk Music Journal and found that for some verses “the words were nothing like mine – I was highly impressed I had invented this stuff”. He still sings his version. As for his own original version of the Ewan MacColl song Springhill Mine Disaster, The Ballad of Springhill, he says that MacColl, a folk purist, “hated what I did, because I was playing guitar – a foreign body!” On the new version, Carthy is backed only by Eliza’s fiddle and demonstrates his new singing voice. “I lost a lot in the lower registers and found something else – and I like it.”

Eliza’s fiddle also provides the new setting for Ye Mariners All, “one of those lovely nonsense songs.” The suitably surreal album cover for Transform Me Then into a Fish shows Martin at the breakfast table in the middle of the ocean, holding his fork like a crazed Neptune.

Carthy has always been adventurous. After recording that landmark album in 1965 he worked with fiddler Dave Swarbrick. When Swarbrick joined Fairport Convention in 1969 – an invitation also extended to Carthy, “twice!” – Carthy joined Steeleye Span instead, playing electric guitar, very loudly, saying “do you want me to turn it down to ‘lounge’ – it’s supposed to be loud!”

‘I thought eventually someone would teach me to sing, and Norma did’ … l to r, Carthy, Norma Waterson, Lal Waterson, Mike Waterson.
‘I thought eventually someone would teach me to sing, and Norma did’ … l to r, Carthy, Norma Waterson, Lal Waterson, Mike Waterson. Photograph: Estate of Keith Morris/Redferns

After marrying Norma in 1972 he joined the glorious vocal group the Watersons. “I thought eventually someone would teach me to sing, and Norma did,” he says. He went on to be involved in many different projects, including solo work, playing in duos with Swarbrick and with John Kirkpatrick and Eliza, and in groups including Waterson: Carthy (in which he was joined by Norma and Eliza), the brass-backed Brass Monkey, and the gloriously experimental the Imagined Village, which reworked traditional songs for a multicultural Britain, and featured a large cast that included Simon Emmerson, Billy Bragg, Benjamin Zephaniah and Mukherjee.

“I loved it,” says Carthy. “That huge band was so exciting. Sheema seized everything we tossed at her and she encouraged me to take risks.” With the Imagined Village, he recorded a powerful new treatment of the traditional My Son John in 2010, with sitar backing and updated to the Afghan war era with Carthy’s new lyrics: “Up come John and he’s got no legs, he’s got carbon fibre blades instead.” He startled his followers even more by re-working Slade’s Cum on Feel the Noize: “Because I’m a big fan of Noddy [Holder]. What a singer!”

He’s just home from a US tour with Eliza, with shows to celebrate the new album involving both Eliza and Sheema starting on 12 June – while next year promises the return of a new version of the Imagined Village. Carthy may be 84, but he’s not slowing down.

 Transform Me Then into a Fish is out today on Hem Hem Records

Source: ‘Dylan said: teach me that!’ Martin Carthy on six decades of Scarborough Fair – and his new solo album | Martin Carthy | The Guardian

10 More Essential British 1970s folk-rock albums

This is a follow-up to the very popular post on 12 Essential British 1970s Folk-Rock albums.

The genre was not as big and popular as it should be, so with a couple of these, I may be stretching the “essential” label. But if you are heavily into collecting this stuff, you are going to want them all. I can’t just list Steeleye Span albums and nothing else, can I?

Shirley Collins and the Albion Country Band – No Roses (1971)

This is considered by some to be the album that really defined British electric folk — sure, Fairport Convention’s Liege and Lief got the ball rolling, and The Pentangle played a role, but this album sounds more “authentic” and true to the vibe of British country music. Not only is the massive cast of musicians a who’s-who of the British folk world (you name ’em, they’re probably here), but the super-authentic village-bred voice of Shirley Collins dominates the proceedings.

The songs are, interestingly, mostly a bit spooky — there are two long, melancholy murder ballads, “The Murder of Maria Marten” and “Poor Murdered Woman”, played with medieval solemnity; the songs rock, but in a very dignified fashion. There are some lighter moments, such as  “The Little Gypsy Girl”, “Just as the Tide Was Flowing”, and “Hal-an-Tow”, later rocked up by The Oyster Band. Overall, there’s a sense of history and mystery hanging over this album, which may well be the finest that impresario bassist Ashley Hutchings (founder of Fairport, Steeleye Span, and the various incarnations of this band) ever put together. It’s a statement of intent and a manifesto for a musical movement that unfortunately had less impact than it deserved.

Dransfield – The Fiddler’s Dream (1976)

The Dransfield brothers, Robin and Barry, turn up on a number of classic British folk and folk-rock albums such as Morris On, some Sandy Denny albums, and so on. This one-off rock band album is quite good and seems to represent part of the effort to move away from just doing electric versions of folk songs, but instead writing, like Richard Thompson and later John Tams, contemporary songs with roots in the traditional to create a new British electric sound not dependent on US influences. As such, it’s quite successful and received a reissue on the revived Transatlantic Records on CD. The bros’ reedy voices and Barry’s energetic fiddling create a joyous mood, even when the material is more serious and topical, like the socialistic “Up to Now” and “What Will We Tell Them.” There are also some great fiddle tunes, as would be expected, and some updated takes on traditional ballad styles such as “The Alchemist and the Peddlar“. And not one trace of bluesiness to be found elsewhere, which is good. The genre had to distinguish itself by sounding … British!

Five Hand Reel – Earl O’Moray (1978)

Five Hand Reel was basically the Scottish Fairport, creating a Scots-based folk-rock sound; Scottish traditional music has a sound and rhythm all its own characterized by the rhythm of the “Scottish snap”. Other bands ploughed the same fields, such as Runrig and the JSD Band, but this lot sound the most “electric-folk” authentic — despite being partially composed of Englishmen! This album is considered their best, produced by Simon Nicol of Fairport Convention. Revered Scots singer-songwriter Dick Gaughan was the singer at this time, and he dominates these proceedings. This album is rich n’ redolent with the mid-tempo, minor-key majesty of Scottish balladry, as in Gaughan’s definitive rendition of “My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose“. Hell, even the danceable tunes have that thumpiness and riffiness that makes Scottish music so appealing. There’s also some really atmospheric acoustic work, though, too, on the reverby, almost acid-folk “Earl O’Moray”. Fiddles and mandolins add the trad to the sound (no pipes here). It’s a pity more folk-rock fans aren’t familiar with this wonderful album.

Mike and Lal Waterson – Bright Phoebus (1972)

This album was and is still considered something of a curiosity. Mike and Lal are sibling members of the famous a cappella singing family that did so much to revive unaccompanied British group singing. However, hanging about with folk-rock stars gave these two the idea of writing their own material. And what strange material it is! There’s almost an outsider-art feeling to this album, like the two are trying to master the idioms of rock song but failing — gloriously! They sing in those rough, nasal, wavering, unaffected country voices atmospheric, quite surrealistic, and often creepy material like “The Scarecrow”, “Fine Horseman” and “Child Among the Reeds”. There’s also some not so successful music-hall type material such as “Rubber Band” and “Danny Rose”, but that can be overlooked because of the rest of the rough, windswept beauty to be found here. The backing is of course drawn from Brit folk-rock royalty, Hutchings, Thompson, Martin Carthy, etc. This album is more than just a curiosity; it’s possibly one of the purest expressions of British culture I’ve ever heard. It might not be for everyone, but you can’t say it sounds like anything else.

Hedgehog Pie – The Green Lady (1975)

I suppose Hedgehog Pie is very much a second-tier band that few people would heard of unless they are aficionados of this genre. But the band actually released several albums, which are quite good, very much in the Fairport ouevre, but with more of a Celtic feel at times. Hedgehog Pie’s leading lights on this album were singer Margi Luckley, who has a commanding and powerful voice, and multi-instrumentalist Martin Jenkins (also of Dando Shaft). Michael Doonan’s flute isn’t a sound heard often found on British bands’ albums, though it was an important part of Horslips’ sound. The sound quality isn’t the best but the playing, singing, and songwriting are quite good, if not at the Richard Thompson or Maddy Prior level. “The Gardener” is a pleasant mid-tempo number, and there’s some almost psychedelic action in several places, such as on the trippy “Camlaan Battle” and “Forest Child”; that adds a certain distinct edge to the proceedings and not that different to the sound of another second-tier band, Spriguns. I wouldn’t say there’s anything really special about this album in terms of being radical or groundbreaking, but the genre was so small and contained that the discovery of any smaller treasures from that era should be welcome to listeners.

witchwStrawbs – From the Witchwood (1971)

Strawbs became best known as a prog band with classic albums like Hero and Heroine and Ghosts, but they started off in bluegrass and then did a sort of psychedelic/mysticism-influenced folk-rock (Grave New World is probably their finest classic album) for a while. Dave Cousins is one of the most gifted songwriters the UK has ever produced. This album contains no traditional music, but I include it here because, importantly, the imagery and the feel of the album are VERY English, and that was unusual enough. Cousins lets his idealism and his imagination soar on songs like the viciously honest animal rights diatribe “Sheep” and the equally viciously anti-war/sectarian violence condemnation, “The Hangman and the Papist”, but there’s also the spooky “Witchwood“, gently nostalgic “In Amongst the Roses” and idealistic pastoral Christian, Blake-ean imagery of “A Glimpse of Heaven”. Ably supported by second singer/guitarist Tony Hooper, future famous prog keyboardist Rick Wakeman and future Hudson-Ford on bass and drums, Cousins presents a tapestry of English poetic imagery that is unflinching in its commentary but also celebrates the beauty of the land and its history. This is a true classic.

Steeleye Span – Below the Salt (1972)

I did a long review of this, so I will paraphrase some of it here: Steeleye Span and Fairport Convention were the most successful folk-rock bands, and Steeleye probably made the most dough. This album is their finest. It spawned a “novelty” hit, “Gaudete“, very likely the only time an example of medieval a capella music has hit the charts! They somehow made a time machine from the grooves of this record that transports you back to the epoch of the songs in a way that I just haven’t heard before. “Spotted Cow” is a jaunty tale of a sexy meeting in the fields. A grand example of Watersons-style polyphony, “Rosebud in June” is a pagan-style evocation of the summer with just the right amount of reverb behind the vocals. The complex horror ballad “King Henry” is a monumental achievement. The band wrenches every drop of drama from it, from the spooky a capella opening to the hard rock chords underneath the verses. After all this greatness, the majestic “Saucy Sailor” wraps things up. The song is a carefree evocation of the freedom of a wandering life and is great fun. This is THE album and definitely the album on which Maddy Prior establishes herself as the UK’s finest female folk singer (well, June Tabor can make that claim too).

The Pentangle – Solomon’s Seal (1972)

There wasn’t much “rock” in The Pentangle’s sound; the band was comprised of two blues-jazz acoustic players, a famous jazz bassist, and a session drummer, in addition to a crystalline singer who switched between jazz and trad folk. But they did very well, and really helped introduce traditional songs to the pop-consuming public. And they did add some electric instruments, gradually, over the course of a few albums. This was their last before their first break-up, and it’s a typically assured mixture of British and American material. I’ve chosen this because there balance is a little more heavily weighted in favour of the UK. John Renbourn and Bert Jansch’s magical guitar interplay has never sounded better than on “The Cherry Tree Carol“, and Renbourn’s sitar adds a mystic element to “The Snows”. The band also does beautiful renditions of “Willy O’Winsbury” and “High Germany” amongst their low n’ lazy renditions of bluesy American standards and Jansch’s original compositions. Jacqui McShee’s high-pitched scatting in the background is something of an acquired taste, but on the whole The Pentangle plays every kind of music with class and skill, so I did feel obliged to include them on this list, despite the lack of “rock” in their sound.

Fairport Convention – “Babbacombe” Lee (1971)

As the best known folk-rock band, Fairport has the best-known discography, too — but few of their albums are unflawed. Some are classics, some are frankly quite awful. And then there’s this rather interesting piece of work. After the departure of Richard Thompson, the band’s primary songwriter and guitarist, Fairport got to its feet with the middling Angel Delight, which is a pretty good album. Then they got ambitious! It was the era of the concept album, and bassist Dave Pegg and fiddler Dave Swarbrick conceived of this bizarre based-on-a-true story tale about a nineteenth-century man (possibly innocent) who escaped hanging by sheer luck and mechanical failure. And that’s the story! So it traces his early life, the accusations, sentencing, and then freedom. It’s something of a commentary on the class system. And quite affectingly, I must say. There’s traditional stuff (“The Sailor’s Alphabet”) but also psychedelia (“Dream Song”), energetic rock n roll (“John Lee”), and sorrow (“The Time Is Near”), all delivered quite confidently by Messrs Pegg, Swarbrick, Mattacks, and Nicol. You’d think the weird concept might not work over the course of an entire album, but it actually perfectly fits the band’s aesthetic. And the LP came with some really snazzy booklet packaging.

mooccd012Horslips – The Book of Invasions (1976)

Horslips created Irish folk-r0ck and to some degree can be credited with launching rock n’ roll as a business in the country as a whole. The Tain is Horslips’ best-known folk-rock album (they also did fairly straightforward rock, and later, new wave), but this may actually be the superior album; The Tain had lots of interesting ideas and rocked pretty hard at times, but this later album has better songs, and it’s a more polished production overall. The band tackled another Irish myth cycle for source material, the Leabhar Gabhála Éireann, and retells the stories through such barn-burners as the classic “Trouble With a Capital T” and “The Power and the Glory”, but this album contains some of band’s most beautiful and melodic mid-tempo stuff as well, such as the majestic “Rocks Remain” and “Sideways to the Sun”, as well as the anthemic “Warm Sweet Breath of Love“. Like The Tain, this album feels more like a statement of pride for a whole culture rather than just a set of fun rock songs. Additionally, lead guitarist Johnny Fean is a hell of a bluesy player, and each band member that takes lead vocals has never sounded better. An excellent intro to the band for newbies.

Source: 10 More Essential British 1970s folk-rock albums | Make Your Own Taste

The Watersons’ “Frost And Fire”

As The Watersons’ 1965 classic Frost And Fire receives a new reissue, Jude Rogers examines the band’s unabashed and unpretentious approach to folk music

By Jude Rogers Nov 2022

When I think of seasonal songs, I don’t think about The Watersons’ Frost And Fire straightaway. I think of ‘The Scarecrow’, a song from the extraordinary album they released seven years later, Bright Phoebus. It was originally written by youngest sister Lal, and sung on the LP by her older brother Mike, who made small alterations to the lyrics and added the last verse. Richard Thompson and Martin Carthy accompany him on delicate, dextrous guitars.

I think of ‘The Scarecrow’ straight away because it is my favourite song by any of the Watersons (among tough competition). I also mention it because this Autumn marks the fiftieth anniversary of Bright Phoebus’ release and because this wildly imaginative, macabre, playful and affecting collection of songs needs to be constantly revisited and replayed. Getting a copy through conventional channels is trickier.

Four years ago, Yorkshire label Celtic Music successfully sued Domino Records for copyright infringement, removing from sale a 2017 remastered reissue of the album. On a press release after that hearing, Celtic explained that they had purchased the rights to the album, and many other albums on the folk label, Leader, in 1990 (which had gone bust several years earlier, and bought by other companies in the interim). Celtic added their 2000 CD release had “been available ever since”.

I own one of these, a CD-R release with a photocopied cover and low sound quality, bought many years ago. On the date of submitting this feature, there is one copy of it available on Amazon via a site called Buy British for £73, and another on Discogs for £45. Celtic Music also has a one-page website, with an e-mail address and phone number. Approaches to both by friends to try and buy the CD in recent weeks have not yet received a reply.

Two tracks from Bright Phoebus were also licensed to Honest Jons Records’ Mark Ainley and John Williams in 2006 for only ten years. One of them gave its name to Never The Same: Leave-Taking From The British Folk Revival 1970-77, an anthology put together by Ainley and Williams. This collection is where I – and I assume many other fans who came to folk music in the 2000s – first heard them. People newly interested today can only hear ‘Red Wine Promises’ on Spotify, another track licensed for the 2006 anthology Anthems In Eden, or trawl YouTube.

In their post-court hearing press release, Celtic Music also promised a “programme of re-releases to cast new light on valuable folk music performances from the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s” in 2018. It remains eagerly awaited.

I also mention ‘The Scarecrow’ to show how well The Watersons understood the primal pull of the mystery of the turning of the seasons. The song begins one summer’s morn with a person roving out, seeing a scarecrow tied to a pole in a field of corn. It is an unsettling vision, his coat black, his head bare. Instantly, it sparks the darker realms of the imagination. Then comes the melancholy. “You’re only a bag of rags,” Waterson sings, with startling tenderness, “in an overall”.

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