Showing posts with label Kidfolk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kidfolk. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Covered in Kidfolk, Vol. 5:
Barnyard Tunes and Critter Songs for Cool Moms and Dads



I grew up in the suburbs, where wildlife was scarce, though we had our share of squirrels and birds, and the occasional rabbit sighting in the backyard. When we wanted to see larger animals, we generally headed out to Drumlin Farm, a working farm run by the Audubon Society, where caged birds of prey lined the path to the chick hatchery, the pigs and sheep gave birth every spring, and you could always spot the queen in the glass-lined, thin-sliced beehive, if you looked long enough. There was a pond, too, for crawdad spotting. Well worth the membership, and the half hour drive.

These days, we live in the country, where turkeys congregate around corners year round, and the neighborhood dogs roam aimlessly throughout our lives. Round these rural parts, Spring brings a whole mess of animals into the yard, from the new baby robins that nest in our holly bush to the frogs, toads, and salamanders that scatter when the kids run through the tall grass and hollows. On weekends, it's a five minute jaunt through the woods to the dam and its shady, overgrown waterways, where turtles, ducks, and beavers play in the water, and the fish practically jump on the hooks the moment we throw our lines in.

On hot days, we head up the hill to Westview Farm, where the new baby goats skitter up and down the concrete barriers, butting heads and bleating; in the evenings, the mother cow in the grazing field across from our driveway lows to her new calf. This year, the neighborhood has even been graced by a family of foxes; we haven't seen the mother and her kits yet, but the father runs past our windows and down into the growing darkness just about every day towards suppertime.


The world of kidsong is chock full of songs about animals, and for obvious reasons. A healthy child's life is full of nature, and nature is full of life. Too, the developing awareness of what it means to be alive, and be part of a world full of other things that are alive, is an important part of child development; songs which portray the various relationships we have with animals -- both wild and domesticated -- help prepare us to think deliberately about our world, and our place in it, as we grow up to become parents of our own.

Today, in service to this aspect of development, we present a sprawling collection of animal coversongs from my growing kidfolk cache. Most predate the phenomenon of song authorship. And with artists such as Tim O'Brien, Nickel Creek, Garcia/Grisman, and Seldom Scene lead singer Phil Rosenthal on the list, the set skews towards the bluegrass, but I make no apologies for this; it is only very recently, with the advent of the NYC indie bluegrass scene, that bluegrass has begun to leave behind it's associations with rural community and farmlife, and this makes it good solid folk music in my book.

But regardless of origin, as with all previous entries in our Covered in Kidfolk series, the point here is to provide a respite from the cheesy, cloying pap that passes for mainstream children's music, that we might -- as cool moms and dads -- stay true to ourselves while providing our children with music that befits their age, and their emotional and developmental needs. I think this particular set hits the mark admirably. Whether these songs speak of the swamp or the barnyard, the woods or the stream, each is wonderful, in both the usual sense and in the older sense of the word: full of the wonder which we should nurture in every child, and in ourselves.



As always, folks, links above go to label- and artist-preferred sources for purchase, not some faceless and inorganic megastore. If you like what you hear, buy, and buy local, to help preserve the little spaces, for the little people you love.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Covered in Kidfolk, Part 4: Daddy's Little Girl
Coversongs for Fathers and Daughters



My younger daughter turns three tomorrow, and we've spent the weekend celebrating with extended family: a trip to the circus yesterday, brunch and a slightly damp walkaround at 19th century "living museum" Old Sturbridge Village today. It's been exhausting, to be honest -- putting the girls in their spring dresses, driving back and forth the length of Massachusetts, and advocating for the kids sanity among the best intentions of so many family members is a lot of work.

But I'm grateful for the distraction. Because if I had a chance to really sit and think about how big my little girl is getting, I'd probably just end up crying.

I remember, from her older sister: three is the turning point, where a child begins to turn from a state of constant parental need to wanting space and freedom, a room of her own. Sure enough, when we asked the wee one what she wanted for her birthday, she asked for a bunk bed -- which was, for her older sister, the moment we could no longer lie in bed together, late at night in the darkness, and do what daddies and their children do: share stories, snuggle close, and, finally, listen for those sweet deep sighs, the ones that mean sleep has finally come to take my child from me one more time.

The elderchild read her first book all the way through this week -- just us and Sam I Am on the couch past her bedtime, struggling with would nots and could nots until the triumphant end. I was proud, and it seemed right. But my mind and heart play tricks. While milestones seem perfectly natural for the older child, and always have, there's a part of my heart that rails against change when it comes to her younger sister. I want so much for her to be little forever, it hurts like hell.

She's getting big without me, more than her big sister did. We get so little time, just her and me, and she is still adjusting to Mama as a working girl -- she clings to Mama when she comes home, and will not talk to me for the rest of the evening. This tiny towhead who once insisted on her Daddy, and only her Daddy, in the middle of the crying night is losing her lisp, and gaining her independence, and fighting to hold on to her Mama, and all I can do is watch the clock, and ache to hold her in my arms while they are still strong enough to carry her.

So it's been a poignant time for me, there on the couch with the elderchild while the wee one snuggles in with her Mama. I've always felt like I give the second child short shrift; it seems like we had so much more time, so much more focus when there was only one. Now so much more of our life together is spent in threes, trying to manage the play between them. Now here I am, running out of time.

I'm proud of them, and I feel good about the time we spend together, on the whole. But my little girls are growing up, and though there's nothing I can do about it except take the moments as they come, and fight for every one I can, I miss their smaller selves. And my heart breaks when I think how precious, how rare, the moments are about to become.



There are several popular folksongs about fathers and sons which have been covered within the genre -- stellar versions of Cat Stevens' Father and Son and Paul Simon's St. Judy's Comet jump to mind, though Ben Folds' Still Fighting It remains so definitive it is practically uncoverable. But with the exception of a few sappy countrypop tunes, there aren't so many songs written from fathers to daughters out there.

One reason the crossgender parent-to-child song may be so rare is that it provides a weaker outlet for the narrator to project their own sense of childhood into the child. Which is to say: The narrative trick which turns a song about fathers into a song about fatherhood, which makes mincemeat of my heart in songs like Harry Chapin's Cat in the Cradle and Mike Rutherford's Living Years, is unavailable to us. No matter how much I love my children, I can never claim to know what it is to be a little girl with a Daddy.

But though like the moments I have with my own little girls, songs which speak directly and explicitly to our lot as parents with daughters are precious and few, what songs there are tug powerfully at the heartstrings. So today, a short set of songs which speak to my own complicated feelings for my own little girls. I've deliberately left out songs which name sons or mothers, though I've allowed myself a couple of songs which are open enough to come from any parent to any child. But this set of songs is intended first and foremost for daddies to give to their daughters. As such, it runs from sugar and spice, through everything nice. Because whether you listen as a child or as a parent, that's what memories are made of.

Unlike our previous kidsong posts here on Cover Lay Down, a vast majority of the songs included herein were not originally intended for children. Instead, most teeter on an open line, innocent enough to apply to either a lover or a child, unspecific enough to allow a good interpreter to choose, if they wish. To me, the delivery and intention of the performances below resolves the lyrical vagueness in a way that makes them perfect for sharing between parent and child. But many work well as more general songs of love and affection. You're welcome, as always, to make them your own in any way you need them to. That's the heart of folk, right there.


  • Livingston Taylor, Isn't She Lovely (orig. Stevie Wonder)
    Like brother James, Livingston Taylor specializes in sweet songs delivered in a crisp, light crooning tenor over bright acoustic stringwork. This cover of Stevie Wonder's tribute to female innocence comes from kidlabel Music for Little People, off out-of-print collection That's What Little Girls Are Made Of.

  • Lucy Kaplansky, Goodnight My Angel (orig. Billy Joel)
  • Eliza Gilkyson, Child Of Mine (orig. Carole King)
    A pair from the incredible kidfolk compilation Down at the Sea Hotel: Cover Lay Down fave Lucy Kaplansky with a gorgeous tune originally penned by Billy Joel for his own daughter, and Eliza Gilkyson with a breathy, slow country blues take on a Goffin/King classic which suggests misty-eyed regret even as the lyrics celebrate a child's independance.

  • Shawn Colvin, Say A Little Prayer (orig. Greg Brown)
    So many female coverversions of songs written by fathers for their daughters. This one, which treats the late-night illness of a child with a stoicism and a lightness masking the secret fear all parents have for their sick children, is more poignant than many, more mystical than most. Shawn Colvin is but one of many strong folkwomen on the highly recommended all-female Greg Brown tribute Going Driftless.

  • John Haitt and Loudon Wainwright III, My Girl (orig. Smokey Robinson)
    Languid and dreamy, floated over a majestic piano and guitarstrum, the beauty of this version lies in the distance between Wainwright's melodic voice and Hiatt's rasp. Listen for the high harmony; it's chilling. Originally a B-side, subsequently off out-of-print Demon Records compilation album From Hell to Obscurity.

  • Ani DiFranco w/ Jackie Chan, Unforgettable (orig. Nat King Cole)
    Originally a song with unspecified female subject, this song was transformed when Natalie Cole chose to re-record it with the ghost of her father. Though the end result was a song more from daughter to father than the other way around, I think the sentiment holds, even in Ani DiFranco and Jackie Chan's unusual take. From When Pigs Fly: Songs You Never Thought You'd Hear.

  • Ben Lee, In My Life (orig. The Beatles)
  • Chantal Kreviazuk, In My Life (ibid.)
    This song may not have been intended to speak to the way all other loves pale in comparison to the sudden, deep love we feel for our chidren, almost from the moment they are born. But it says it, all the same. Many good versions to choose from here; in the interest of diversity, here's Aussie Ben Lee's tentative, nasal tenor and slow wash of sound off of recent indie tribute album This Bird Has Flown, in sharp contrast with Canadian Chantal Kreviazuk's bright soprano, layered over production suprisingly similar to the original, from the Providence soundtrack.

  • Billy Bragg w/ Cara Tivey, She's Leaving Home (orig. The Beatles)
    All my fears in one song: the parents who never truly understood their child, even as she leaves them behind without a goodbye. Another repost, and more Beatles, gorgeously performed by Billy Bragg; so tender and wistful, it's just right for the occasion.

  • Sheryl Crow, You Can Close Your Eyes (orig. James Taylor)
    One of my very favorite songs to sing to children: a stunningly simple lullaby of eternal parent/child tomorrows from James Taylor, covered in folkpop well enough for a Grammy nomination for Sheryl Crow in the Best Pop Female Vocalist category.

  • Gray Sky Girls, You Are My Sunshine (orig. Jimmie Davis)
    I sing this song to my children, as my parents sung this song to me. Though the Elizabeth Mitchell version I posted in our very first Covered in Kidfolk post sounds more like my parents, the simple, sweet plaintive harmony from local "organic country slowgrass" folkies Gray Sky Girls best parallels that which I hear in my head and heart.


As always, artist and album links above go to online sources for purchasing genuine plastic circles which offer the best chance of profit for musicians, and the least amount of corporate middleman skim-off. Teach your children well: support the artists you listen to.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Covered In Kidfolk, Part 3:
Moral Tales for Wildchildren and Mischief Makers



Much of the subject material of kids music is lyrical fluff, and that's not a bad thing: kids need all the playful silliness and sweet sleepytime nothings that hip moms and dads with heart can bring them. On the other hand, play and sleep alone aren't enough, and kids ain't gonna grow up by themselves. The bigger they get, the more we have to show and tell them the right ways to move through the world.

Thankfully, song is an especially effective way to pass along morals and messages. That's partially because a spoonful of sugar really does make the medicine go down, I suppose. But it's also because children see music as coming from everywhere. As such, using music to pass along values helps universalize a message, making it less about "Daddy's way" and more about the right way to do things.

Folksong has a long history of carrying morals to and for cultures. That doesn't make all folksong successful: as with all styles of music, performing songs which mean is much more difficult. Far too much kidsmusic that tries to say what needs saying ends up sounding sappy and preachy. Happily, a few musicians get it right, making something which manages to be both musically powerful and lyrically meaningful. The best songs of this type stick in the soul, planting valuable seeds which compliment our most deliberate parenting on our best days.

Today, then, some covered kidsongs which take a lighthearted approach to some very serious subjects, from inner life to external behavior, from the social to the ecological. Your kids may not notice the messages as they hear them, of course. But if the true affection that these modern singer-songwriters have for these old songs tells us anything, it is that years from now, these songs will be remembered. And that's not nothin'.

  • Moxy Fruvous, Green Eggs and Ham (orig. Dr. Seuss)
    Sadly defunct folkband Moxy Fruvous makes a popcult-heavy, anti-commercialist folk-rap out of this Dr. Seuss classic. A repost, and out-of-print, but relevant.
    Moral: How do you know you won't like it if you won't even try it?

  • Ann Percival, I Don't Want To Live On The Moon (orig. Ernie)
    If it were up to my littlest one, we'd never leave the house. This is her favorite song, and she always asks for it when we first get into the car. She likes Ernie's original, but I think contradance chanteuse Ann Percival makes it more palatable for the whole family. From The Sweetest Hour, which is.
    Moral: The imaginative world is fun to visit, but there's no place like home.

  • Taj Mahal, Don't You Push Me Down (orig. Woody Guthrie)
    A reggae beat, the classic kidsong rasp of bluesman Taj Mahal, and a message originally intended both to help kids learn how to play fair and, later in life, to feel justified in standing up for what they believe in. Via Sing Along with Putumayo.
    Moral: Leave your sister alone.

  • Willie Nelson, Rainbow Connection (orig. Kermit)
    An especially poignant take on this old Muppet standard. I've got nothing against Dixie Chicks twang and Sarah McLachlan dreampop, but of all the covers of this song I've got kicking around, it's Willie Nelson who really brings the fragile, shortlived nature of the subject to life.
    Moral: Wishes come true. Never stop dreaming.

  • Rex Hobart, It's Not Easy Being Green (orig. Kermit)
    I've posted this track before too, but it bears repeating. From The Bottle Let Me Down -- kids like indiecountry, right? Bonus points: the lyrics are almost open enough for you to use this song to talk with your kids about "being green" in the more post-millenium, save-the-earth way.
    Moral: Celebrate diversity; be who you are.

  • Jack Johnson, The 3 R's (orig. Bob Dorough)
    This half-cover from mellow surfer and fratfolk god Jack Johnson is based on jazzman Bob Dorough's old Schoolhouse Rock standard Three Is A Magic Number. Johnson gets bonus points for helping me sit through Curious George for the tenth time.
    Moral: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

  • Dan Zanes, We Shall Not Be Moved (trad.)
    Dan Zanes remakes this old protest song with banjo and spunk; like Elizabeth Mitchell, Zanes knows how to speak to adults and kids about what really matters. Warning: side effects may include strong-willed children.
    Moral: Stand your ground. Together, we shall not be moved.

  • Walter "Wolfman" Washington and the Roadmasters, This Land Is Your Land (orig. Woody Guthrie)
    Technically, this one isn't a kidsong either. Kind of socialist, too. But I learned it as a kid, and so did you. And who wants kids who grow up thinking this land isn't theirs to care for? From Funky Kidz, an amazing new compilation of classic kidsongs by a dozen of New Orleans’ best and funkiest; proceeds benefit music education in New Orleans and nationally.
    Moral: This land was made for you and me.

  • Lynn Miles, Everybody Cries (orig. Jim Cuddy)
    There are a surprising number of songs out there which address this subject, but Cuddy's is as comprehensive as it comes, and Lynn Miles makes a gentle yet powerful case for buying into the complexities, and growing into responsibility. I promise this is the last song I'll share from the incredible kidfolk compilation Down At The Sea Hotel.
    Moral: Life isn't always easy, but it's worth it. Try, fail, and try again; I'll always be there to hold you.

  • Jerry Garcia and David Grisman, Teddy Bears' Picnic (Bratton/Kennedy)
    An always-successful bedtime selection, given the teddy bear motif and the mellow voices and mandolins of Garcia and Grisman's Not For Kids Only. But have you ever really listened to the lyrics?
    Moral: Teddy bears are scary. If you must go in the woods, bring a buddy.


If this list seems heavy on the Jim Henson and protest songs, it's not just you. After all, like me, many of these artists grew up in the early days of PBS, back when kidculture refused to speak down to us, and our parents were just emerging from a feelgood sixties adolescence. We may have cut our hair since then, but the values we found in those old songs still matter.

So click on the links above to buy these albums direct from the artists and labels, just to show your kids how to best support the music that matters. And once the CDs arrive, play 'em early and often. But take good care of them, too, so one day, you can pass them down to your children's children. Because somehow, I can't see the greatest hits of Barney or Dora the Explorer having this kind of credibility when our kids grow up to become folksingers.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Covered in Kidfolk, Part 2:
Loudsongs and Dancearounds for Cool Moms and Dads



School's been out for days, and I'm already exhausted. But after a whirlwind tour of relatives and sled runs, Sturbridge Village sleigh rides and Santa stocking mornings, the kids are sugared up, full of pep and peppermint. What to do with a case of the sillies? What better time for another round of Covered in Kidfolk?

Last time on Covered in Kidfolk we brought you a sweet set of lullabies and softsongs; songs in that post are still live, just in case today's songs tire you out. If you joined Cover Lay Down in the past two months, or if you're just in the mood for something a bit quieter, head over there for a mellow dozen-or-so from the likes of Alison Krauss, Jack Johnson, The Be Good Tanyas, and Shawn Colvin, and a good overview of our Covered in Kidfolk series, and why it's meant to serve your ears, too.

But the point here is to jangle out some energy. So today, we bring you a broad set of genre-pushing folk and folk-related artists hanging out on the fast, upbeat end of the musical kidfolk spectrum. Some are traditional kids songs, sped up as far and stretched out as hard as acoustic instruments can go. Some have their origins in our own childhood favorites, from Sesame Street to Raffi. Some, like Prince's Starfish and Coffee, will be familiar as songs from your own collections, only repackaged for a kid-friendly audience. All give your kids a chance to rock out without you or they resorting to violence.

Whether you've got kids visiting for the holidays, or are just a kid at heart, I think you'll enjoy these raucous folkcovers of familiar and traditional songs for kids. Take a few minutes with your legs up on the couch and watch the kids burn off the sugar -- or, if you've got it in you, use this opportunity to dance around a bit. Just be careful running around the coffee table. Remember, it's all fun and games until someone barks a shin.


Remember, kids: whether you prefer popfolk or sleepsongs, buying local and direct from artists is the best way to ensure that the musical ecosystem remains diverse, rich, and authentic for generations to come. As always here at Cover Lay Down, artist and album links herein go directly to artists' and labels' preferred source for purchase wherever possible. Buy if you can, for the sake of your kids and theirs.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Covered in Kidfolk:
Lullabies and Softsongs For Cool Moms and Dads




I've been a teacher for almost fifteen years, and a Daddy for five; I'm lucky to be able to live in a world where I can be with kids, and play. But other than a short period of time where my daughter's favorite song was Andrew W.K.'s thrashpunk anthem She Is Beautiful, this means there's a constant struggle in my house between what I like to call "that same damn circus record" and what the kids dismissively refer to as "Daddy's music".

But listen up, Dads (and Moms): when the kids demand more appropriate age-specific earcandy, we don't really have to lose. In a world where an entire generation is trying to keep their cool in the face of diapers and snailspace trick or treating, you don't have to listen to that pap that passed for kids music in the disco era. Or Barney songs. Or that awful, too-chipper CD of baby-fied classics your mother picked up at her local all-natural toy store (sorry, mom). There's a brand new crop of kidsingers out there -- a holy host, from Dan Zanes to a thousand younger artists -- and they're not afraid to get 'em while they're young.

For the indie and rock crowds, I suppose, this demand for "real" kidmusic does seem to have opened up a new niche market. But folk music has long carried the torch for the authentic in kidsong. My 1970s childhood was filled with acoustic guitar and rough-tinged voices on already-old records from Guthrie and Leadbelly, and newer acts from Peter, Paul, and Mary to Bill Staines. When folk music came back for the Fast Folk second wave, it brought along its sense of childlike wonder; the demand bought Grisman and Garcia and Taj Mahal a second round of folkfame, and made way for new acts, like the jamgrass-for-kids Trout Fishing in America.

Since then, as the new generation grows through its indie stages, our favorite streetwise musicians grow up and have kids of their own -- and out come the guitars and the quiet, simple voices, calling up half-remembered favorites from a time when everything was simple and pure. Suddenly, everyone's a folk singer.

Like ice cream comes in vanilla and chocolate, kids songs come in two primary flavors, the quiet and the silly -- but there are infinite variations from creamy to nutty. Next week, maybe, we'll get a case of the sillies, and need to shake it all out. Today, three generations of folksingers -- oldtimers Bill Staines and Garcia/Grisman, fastfolker Shawn Colvin and bluegrass staple Alison Krauss, and a host of newer artists from the wide margins of modern folk -- bring us a set of lullabies and resting songs for a quiet Sunday afternoon.


Click on artist/album names to buy some incredible music for the young and the young at heart. And remember, kids: buying music from the artist's preferred source gives you peace of mind so you can sleep like a baby.