Purple State of John

2010-03-24 11:44:26

PETER BLACKSTOCK: My Apology To Steve Forbert

Filed under: Featured, Music, Peter Blackstock, Steve Forbert
Posted by: John

forbert

This past weekend I went to go see Steve Forbert, probably the fifth or sixth time I’ve heard him play over the years. If you’re reading this, almost surely you know his name, and perhaps you’re a devoted fan; at the very least, you probably remember hearing “Romeo’s Tune” on the radio in your younger days. That was a terrific hit single, but it’s far from the only first-rate song Forbert has penned in the past three decades. Indeed, whenever I revisit his catalogue — which is large enough to contain hundreds of songs at this point — I’m struck by just how finely crafted, universally appealing, and easily adaptable so many of his tunes are.

It seems to me that Forbert should rank not that far behind the likes of, say, John Hiatt or Randy Newman or John Prine, in terms of having songs frequently covered by other established artists. Check out the “Songs Composed By” category on allmusic.com for those three artists, and you’ll find several pages’ worth of renditions recorded by a broad range of acts. Do the same with Steve Forbert, and you get about a dozen tracks altogether.

Which is better than none, certainly, and more than the vast majority of songwriters will ever enjoy. There have been some big ones, too, most notably Keith Urban’s recent blockbuster revival of “Romeo’s Tune”, and Rosanne Cash’s genre-swapped version of “What Kinda Girl?” (originally “What Kinda Guy?”) from her 1981 breakthrough album Seven Year Ache. Country star Marty Stuart actually included two Forbert tracks (”Honky Tonker” and “All Because Of You”) on one of his first albums, a self-titled effort released in 1986.

Digging around a bit through my own record collection and supplementing with a couple of online purchases, I assembled a modest ten-song “Forbert Covers” playlist, including the likes of “Samson And Delilah’s Beauty Shop” by Webb Wilder, “I Blinked Once” by British folkie Nick Keir, and two versions of Forbert’s achingly beautiful early-career gem “It Isn’t Gonna Be That Way”. (The easier one to find is fellow Mississippian Garrison Starr’s exemplary rendition recorded for Vol. 2 of the I-10 Chronicles compilation released in 2001; yet the one I found most fascinating was a late-’70s version by Paul Shuttleworth, leader of a British band I’d previously never heard of called the Kursaal Flyers.)

But Forbert’s oeuvre is simply far too rich, and deep, for so little of his material to have been recorded by his fellow artists. Many years ago, shortly after I’d assembled (with considerable assistance from the Walkabouts’ Chris Eckman) a tribute record to the great Mickey Newbury, I toyed with the notion of tackling a Forbert tribute project. As I recall, it was spurred by the 2001 release of Young, Guitar Days, a collection of old recordings that had not previously seen the light of day.

I was dumbfounded by how good some of these “forgotten” songs were, and I started hearing other artists doing them in my head. (Austin singer Toni Price seemed a natural for “No Use Running From The Blues”, and echoes of Arlo Guthrie singing the down-and-out anthem “Thirty Thousand Men” resonated in my imagination.) I made a few other notes, tucked the file away, and didn’t revisit it again until recently, when a fellow fan with whom I’d discussed the possibility of a Forbert tribute mentioned taht she’d heard something about such a project perhaps being in the works. An inquiry with someone in Forbert’s inner circle turned up no news about any tribute endeavors, but the wheels began turning in my mind again, and even more so after I saw him play this weekend.

It didn’t take me long to realize what a huge obstacle such an undertaking now faces, though. When I put together the Newbury tribute Frisco Mabel Joy Revisited in 2000, the notion of such an album was more realistic from a practical standpoint, for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, folks still tended to buy records then; the devaluation of all things digital was only just starting to take shape, and so even a modest project like what I had in mind with the Newbury disc had a chance of selling at least a little bit. An audio track still had monetary value at that point. And I just don’t see that being the case anymore.

Nowadays, an audio recording is generally not much more than a business-card or loss-leader that artists put out there in order to try to get folks to buy tickets to their live performances (where they might also buy something from the merch table). Much as this has short-shrifted the artists — essentially drying up what used to be a significant revenue stream — they do still have the chance to make money on the road, and through selling T-shirts and posters and the like. But what of a multi-artist compilation? It can’t go on tour. The best that could be managed is a single show featuring several of the participating artists, and even that is logistically far-fetched, very unlikely to be fiscally feasible.

In 2000, it made a certain amount of sense for a small label to assume a small risk with the Newbury project I did, and I was fortunate enough to have two companies — Appleseed in the U.S., Glitterhouse overseas — take Frisco Mabel Joy Revisited under their wing. While I doubt either of them made much (if any) money on the album, they also didn’t have to spend much. All I asked was enough to reimburse my out-of-pocket costs, which consisted almost entirely of paying each of the dozen or so participating artists $500 for the time and trouble they took to record their track. So I had an outlay of a few thousand bucks, got that few thousand back from licensing it to the two labels, sent the $1,000 that ended up being leftover to the good folks at Sweet Relief (an esteemed organization that helps provide musicians with health insurance), and called it a day.

None of this is practical anymore. Frankly I just don’t think I’d feel comfortable asking a small label to take a flyer of even a few thousand dollars to acquire the rights to a compilation album that can’t be supported with a tour, and whose tracks would probably end up getting passed around the internet as freely as a screengrab of album-cover art. And beyond that, I’m hardly in a position myself anymore to pay the participating artists $500 each. I’d actually want to pay them at least $1,000 each — particularly given some of the higher-profile folks I’d like to pursue for the Forbert tribute disc I hear in my head — but as a journalist whose income-streams have dried up just like those of musicians amid the digitized-is-devalued landscape, I count myself lucky to just be able to pay my bills now. The days of being able to put up a few thousand bucks to help realize a creative musical endeavor are long gone for me, in the current state of affairs.

And so I must apologize to Mr. Forbert, for not being able to help right this wrong in regard to his songs. In my head, I’ll still hear all these would-be covers rolling along on shuffle-play: John Hiatt kicking and grinning his way through “Sure Was Better Back Then”; Greg Brown mulling over the thrums and strums of “Thinkin’”; Bruce Springsteen and band kicking out the jams of “Don’t Tell Me, I Know” (perhaps not that much of a stretch to make happen, seeing as how E Street bassist Garry Tallent produced Forbert’s recording of the track); Jackson Browne or maybe Dave Alvin looking back wistfully with “I Blinked Once”; Buddy Miller affirming the revelation that he’s “Runnin’ On Love”; some sort of male-female team (perhaps the Swell Season?) tackling “Search Your Heart”, the man’s voice delivering the broken-down verses before the woman’s voice sweeps in to carry it all home on the resplendent, cathartic bridge; subway-singer nonpareil Mary Lou Lord voicing the signature sentiment of “Grand Central Station, March 18, 1977″: “All ears may listen for free.”

And yes, there is irony in that last line; all ears listening for free is the reason this project is destined not to happen. I can’t reconcile that, so I won’t try. But I’m sure sorry that I’m unable to pursue such an avenue for shedding more light and love on this man’s songs. They definitely deserve it.

Peter Blackstock was co-founder and co-editor of No Depression magazine from 1995-2008, worked many years as a copy editor for daily newspapers in Seattle and Austin, and served as archivist for the SXSW music festival from 1989-1997. Today he begins a new journey as a member of what’s purported to be the most highly educated new crop of U.S. Census hires in the bureau’s history. Which may or may not be a positive observation, but he’s just glad to have a job, for now.

Comments (6)

6 Comments »

Wow! As a fan of No Depression, I’m really glad to see Peter have a forum here .

Hello, Peter. Welcome to the neighborhood.

Comment by Joe — March 24, 2010 @ 2:13 pm
Great read. My buddy and I had a discussion about the lack of cover versions as we drove back to Greensboro after Steve’s show last Saturday. The songs are just so good it is hard to believe there are so few covers.

Comment by David — March 25, 2010 @ 12:17 pm
That was a beautiful tribute itself. No apology needed. (Not to speak for Mr. Forbert) I thrilled to my imagination’s being triggered by your listing of the fantasy tracklist. Send this article, with the original track to each artist. I’d be damned if they aren’t inspired by your love for this music and moved to record their versions on their own and send them to you out of the bonds of their own love for music. Worth a try…

Thanks at least, for the imaginary comp. really, I can almost hear the whole thing and it’s beautiful.
Chris

Comment by Chris Standish — March 25, 2010 @ 12:58 pm
Would love to hear Jackson Browne doing “I Blinked Once!” I wrote a little appreciation of Mr. Forbert awhile back here http://johnsoncityslim.wordpress.com/2010/01/12/steve-forbert/

Comment by Rob — March 26, 2010 @ 6:09 am
Very well-written article, Peter. I also have seen my income streams as a writer and photographer dry up in the digital age. I sure could use a dose of “No Depression” right about now!

I first saw Steve Forbert in 1980 at San Diego State, and I’ve since seen him at a bar in Phoenix and McCabe’s Guitar Shop in Santa Monica. He’s great every show, because he’s real and honest and a wonderful guitarist and singer.

Good luck with the Census! What’s going to replace all the jobs that have been lost? :

Richard

Comment by Richard — May 3, 2010 @ 3:30 pm
A terrific piece of writing about a great songwriter. A pity we cannot hear the tribute album you envisaged.

Comment by John Woods — June 9, 2010 @ 3:12 am

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