Sam Amidon - "I See The Sign"
Do grade school children still get pulled away from their classrooms a couple of times a week for music appreciation? If they do, I have a feeling it isn't exactly the same as it was 35 years ago when I was in the second grade. I remember the lyric sheets on mimeograph paper: typewriter copy reproduced in chemical blue. Songs of Leadbelly, Woody Guthrie: cotton fields and union workers chanting. Songs of Scottish miners working all day for a lump of sugar. Kumbaya! Really, did we know what we were singing about? And yet, I still remember those songs and I'm glad their poetry was written into my psyche. In the liner notes of I See The Sign, Sam Amidon talks of Bessie Jones who learned the slave songs of her grandfather and the songs of the Georgia Sea Islands and passed them on to the children of the American South on up to Harlem. Like Amidon's previous album, All is Well, almost every song on I See The Sign are taken from the public domain. They're ancient American folk songs: products of poverty and war. And simple enough for a child to learn.
Amidon has a great voice for these songs. It's a raspy and raw tenor - earnest and honest. Plaintively singing these songs, he lets us discover their broken heart. The songs tell stories of murder, sin, redemption, repentance, spiritual journeys, and lost love; yet the album feels sweet and hopeful. A casual listener might dismiss it all as something pleasant they can play in the background while sweeping the floor. (Completely appropriate for work songs.) And yet, most of the offerings take us to that place on a weekend afternoon where a person can find their regrets pass before them on the wind. Take the young woman in ‘Pretty Fair Maiden’ (aka ‘The Maiden in the Garden’) whose lover has left to join the army (the Union army?) and has vaporized into her memory without a word:
If he's drowned, I hope he's happy
Or if he's in a battlefield slain
Or if he's to some fair girl married
I love the girl who married him.
I think that may be the saddest quatrain I've ever heard. Equally disturbing, but strangely comforting ,is the hymn Kedron with its romantic adoration of the suffering Jesus. "Look how patiently he hangs. Jesus, our Lord is crucified" is repeated continuously, almost as a life lesson to accept trials and take our pain with Christ's patience.
This is all played out with the easy comfort of a sing-along on a front porch, which is no mean feat considering the amount of firepower on the album. Beth Orton guests on many tracks providing an echo to Amidon in songs like the Georgia Sea Island childrens' song ‘Way On, Lily’ and an aggressive counter to him in the forceful ‘You Better Mind’. There is an entire string, brass and woodwind section conducted by Nico Muhly who also plays piano and various traditional keyboards. There's Shahzad Ismaily, the New York multi-instrumentalist who seems to show up in every album that interests me these days. Here he plays bass and acoustic guitar and drums, usually all three on one track. And there is the Icelandic record producer Valgeir Sigurðsson (Björk, Coco Rosie) who also lends instrumental support behind Amidon's own banjo and lead guitar. The lead five players accomplish something remarkable here. There are layers of interacting ideas, and yet it feels spare and appropriate. There isn't a false note or a rogue sound. And while that must have taken a lot of planning, nothing about the record feels pedantic. It's a jam session, rolling easily.
The pure honesty and silent joy of the album hits its apex at a medley near the very end. ‘Climbing High Mountains’ tells the story of one person's wearying journey home. Chorus by chorus in familiar gospel style, the protagonist repeats one trial after another "climbing high mountains," "bearing my burdens" all for the purpose of "trying to get home.” This is followed by ‘Relief’ - a song that repeats the same themes but shows the end of the road. "
What a relief to know that the war is over.
What a relief to know that there's an angel in the sky.
What a relief to know that love is still alive."
When I first heard the juxtaposed songs, I thought the second one must refer to the Civil War. Then I looked at the liner notes. It's R. Kelly. Further research told me that it was recorded after he'd gone through his own "hard trials" involving some cringe-worthy incidents. But it works so well. It’s the sun at the end of the storm, beautifully rendered; at home with songs one hundred years older or more.
The whole experience makes me grateful for the idea of the public domain; something I'm afraid we're in danger of losing with changing regulations. The very existence of a public domain allows someone like Sam Amidon to come around and weave songs according to his own vision. Plus they need to be continuously passed along to each generation. So maybe, 100 years from now, there will be a classroom of kids preparing to sing a lyrically beautiful R Kelly song for their parents, with everyone blithely unaware of what “that” was all about in our time.
