JOAN BAEZ

important work underlined

 

1960: Joan Baez. 1961: Joan Baez, Vol. 2. 1963: In Concert/Part One * In Concert/Part Two. 1964: Joan Baez 5 * Farewell Angelina. 1966: Noel * Portrait. 1967: Joan. 1968: Baptism * Any Day Now (Songs of Bob Dylan). 1969: David's Album. 1970: The First Ten Years * One Day at a Time. 1971: Blessed Are. 1972: Carry it On * Balladbook * Come From the Shadows. 1973: Where Are You Now, My Son? * Hits, Greatest and Others. 1974: Gracias a la Vida. 1975: Diamonds and Rust * Live in Japan. 1976: Lovesong Album * From
Every Stage * Gulf Winds. 1977: Blowing Away. J 1979: Honest Lullaby * Country Music Album * The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down. 1982: Very Early Joan Baez. 1987: Contemporary Ballad Book. 1987: Recently. 1989: Speaking of Dreams * Diamonds and Rust in the Bullring. 1991: Brothers in Arms.


Dave Marsh, the William F. Buckley, Jr. of rock criticism, has characterized Joan Baez as an actress who "played the pacifist radical - committed to civil rights, peace marches and traditional ballad singing - perfectly, partly because she so much looked the part." Marsh claimed "her approach to political music is so sanctimonious it's nearly unbearable." We have to call Marsh on his opinion of Baez's album, Gracias a la Vida as "obnoxious" and a "smug attempt to educate the masses politically;" after all, it's a collection of love songs (did he listen to it?). Robert Christgau's sole remark on Baez's work in his seventies' Consumer Guide is, unfortunately, another one of his incoherent, jocular parley's substituted for evaluation:

"How anyone whose concept of beauty is so well-bred can pretend to visionary politics has always baffled me, but for a start she could write songs in which the object always follows the predicate. I don't know about The People, but just plain people say `scattered upon the four winds," not 'upon the four winds scattered.’ Actually they don't say `scattered upon the four winds' either, but we'll get to that next time."

That well-bred concepts of beauty have often gone hand in hand with visionary politics is something Christgau ignores lest it interferes wth his lighthearted, "of-the-people" snideness. Even so, Baez has never been so distasteful as to claim visionary art for herself. Instead, she provides social consciousness in the liberal religious tradition - a tradition in which words aren't as important as action (the exact opposite of Dylan's and his progeny's armchair broadsides). In fact, to label Baez’s politics as visionary would actually debase them. Let’s call them "actionary" politics.

Joan Baez was a prodigy of sorts whose artistic nature was formed pre-Dylan. As a late-fifties folkster, she wasn't alone in becoming a purveyor of an art form that would be popularly superseded by something so drastically different it threatened to bury everything before it. Perhaps it was an overdue assault on the id by the libido, but Baez's dilemma was one shared equally by Phil Ochs, Tim Rose, Tim Buckley, Dave Van Ronk, Tim Hardin, Buffy Saint Marie, Pete Seegar, Spider John Koerner, Ian and Sylvia, Eric Anderson, Dave Ray, and any number of folkies who found the transition to rock and roll to be a largely insurmountable assault on their artistic inclinations, strengths and weaknesses. As a survivor alone, Baez deserves a lot of credit: surviving has gone hand in hand with little sell-out and a practically saintly sense of the importance of action over mere wordy art. She has ultimately, and rather easily, become a more righteous performer than Dylan himself.

If Dylan's inclinations in the late sixties - hiding out in Woodstock, watching the river flow, reading the Old Testament and the New Testament, raising kids - were reflected in his songwriting, it's only natural that Baez's preoccupation was reflected in her material, as well. She marched with Martin Luther King, Jr. and played concerts at black churches in the Deep South when civil rights violence threatened; she went to jail for supporting draft resistance and later refused to pay a large percentage of her taxes in protest over the Vietnam War and subsequently became a target of IRS "justice;" she started both the Institute for the Study of Non-Violence and the West Coast chapter of Amnesty International; she spent 1972 in Hanoi as Nixon's bombs fell close by, and, after the war, traveled to Cambodian refugee camps to draw attention to their plight in an act not sanctioned by the left; and with her presence, her voice and her money, she's supported prisoner's rights in South America and Italy, as well as dissidents’ rights in Russia, Czechoslovakia and Poland. Baez has lived a distinguished life that has provided a lot of laughs to rock critics with questionable enthusiasms and to whom political interaction begins and ends in proxy rock star fantasies.

Baez is nothing if not a realist. She has admitted that "it was easier for me politically in the 60's than it was musically. Politics came more naturally to me than music." She acknowledges that "I was the right person in the right place at the right time. I could have popped up in the 80's with this voice and nobody would have given it the time of day." Her pure tonality was perfectly suited for the formality of the traditional Appalachian and European ballads she started with. Her first two albums are folk classics, and show a flair for mimicry as she takes on country twangs and British enunciation lifted from her musical influences. She's a natural at singing gospel, and when singing in a foreign language the pure beauty of her voice soars and sparkles. In Concert, Part 2 shares some of the spirit of the first two studio albums.

Then came Dylan and his electric conversion. Forced into the usually easy-to-achieve colloquialisms of populist folk-rock, Baez's voice wasn't suited. She wasn't much of an interpreter; she seemed a bit outside of the material in a way singer's with worse voices didn't. Baptism was a good sidetrip - again her voice found a natural form of beauty around real poetry and old ballad forms. Dave Marsh said Baptism lacked humor; which is the same as saying Monty Python lack seriousness - it misses the point of intention. Any Day Now is perhaps the best Bob Dylan tribute album, Dylan's early writing with it's wordy cataloguing and rigid declamations are well-suited to Baez's strengths. If Baez plays down Dylan's irony, an unnaturally dishonest approach to writing that Baez has little feel for, it allows her to focus on the honesty in Dylan's observations that Dylan with his hip ambiguity chooses to disguise (Dylan gave up his effectiveness to the leftist cause when he gave up poetic realism for poetic irony, or, perhaps we should say when he betrayed "the cause" for a personal world view. Even so, Dylan was canny, and may have realized he would look increasingly hypocritical to continue to proselytize while doing little more than raking in the dough.) Any Day Now also boasts exquisite musicianship by Nashville's finest.

In the sixties and into the seventies, Baez continued to struggle with material unsuited to her talents. It's hard to sympathize with her versions of the Rolling Stone's "No Expectations," and "Salt of the Earth." Irony in the hands of Jagger/Richards was in many ways a repudiation of the stylized iconography of "the working man." Irony in rock and roll is often a common stance of the artful aristocracy; it keeps the plebes at bay; hell, they don't even know you're making fun of them. As such, Baez's continued shuttle diplomacy with the masses may be more of an aesthetic choice for this Quaker than critics have noticed. Even so, the Band's "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" isn't the only tune that, given Baez's intransigence, she's managed to maim and trample.

Her worldview is decisively selective, as if priority itself is the only choice. Her self-written material is heavily and often prosaically auto-biographical. Her writing is never whimsical. She's a journalist of her life, like Joni Mitchell has been, but with less sense of melody and fun, less resources, less imagination. When the songs work - "Sweet Sir Galahad," "A Song for David," "Blessed Are," "Last Lonely and wretched," "Prison Trilogy," "Bangladesh," "Caruso," "Alter Boy and the Thief," "Michael," - they're beautiful and resonate with the sense of a sublimely empathetic life lived immersed in spiritual waters; when they don't work - "Warriors of the Sun," "Three Horses," "Outside the Nashville City Limits," "All the Weary Mothers of the Earth," "Rider, Pass By," etc. - they tend towards the sententious and mundane.

Her records at the end of the seventies and into the eighties have revolved more and more around traditional pop songs that are better suited to her style. If her albums in general always seem a bit weak in totality, none of them have went by without a few gems and this has given her whole career an aesthetic effervescence. After thirty albums this may be an accomplished body of work. The boxed anthology released in 1993 is a disappointment. A careful anthology may do justice to a consciousness that deserves to be esteemed and a voice that deserves to be heard at its angelic best.

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