Category: Kate Wolf


California Coverfolk, Vol 2: Kate Wolf
(Covers of and from Kate, Greg Brown, Dave Alvin, Nanci Griffith & more!)

August 6th, 2010 — 11:59 pm

As noted previously, we’re headed up the West Coast for the next two weeks and then some, blogging merrily along the way. On Wednesday, we marked the first steps of our journey with a sweet set of songs about the great state of California; today, in the first of two weekend single-artist feature posts, our California Coverfolk series continues with a look at the songs and songbook of one of the region’s most beloved singer-songwriters.





Born in San Francisco, educated at Berkeley, and long known as a native daughter of her adopted Sonoma County, singer-songwriter Kate Wolf was a shining star in the American second-wave folk revival, “repopularizing” folk music in Northern California in the late seventies, and going on to national acclaim before her untimely passing in 1986. With a dozen albums to her name – half of which were released posthumously – she made her claim aptly as a writer and song interpreter particularly influenced by “honest songs and honest singers”, with shades of The Weavers, A.P. Carter, Dylan, Merle Haggard, Lefty Frizell, and other early influences resonating throughout her catalog.

Kate’s clear, pure voice is unmistakably intimate, and in her best recordings, she treats it gently, letting the cadence carry her from soft and low into a soaring legato that slides like light over subtle fingerpicked strings. But there’s more to these songs than just prettiness. Her love of the folkways – of song, and of her natural setting – is evident in her songcraft and her delivery: like the best folksongs, her timeless lyrics of love and longing are deceptively simple, grounded in the flora and fauna of human experience, but they contain depths that resonate long past song’s end.

Though she succumbed to Leukemia at the young age of 44, twenty five years later, Kate’s legacy remains strong. Her life is celebrated each year at the Kate Wolf Memorial Music Festival in Laytonville, CA, which traditionally closes with her song Give Yourself To Love, and this year attracted such folk luminaries as Ani DiFranco, Steve Earle, Robert Earl Keen, Greg Brown, The Waifs, Carrie Rodriguez, and more. And several excellent tribute albums have floated to the surface over the years, including both Laurie McClain’s 2003 cd The Trumpet Vine, and 1998 Red House Records release Treasures Left Behind: Remembering Kate Wolf. Below, some favorites from a well-deserved eternity in coverage.



Kate was as accomplished a singer and picker as she was a songwriter, and her love of song carried over into the tunes of others; indeed, many of the covers she chose to take on in her short lifetime carry the poignancy and prescience of her life and death. Though beautiful Joni Mitchell and Woody Guthrie covers on her earliest albums remain undigitized, her masterful take on These Days, taken from posthumous mostly-covers compilation Looking Back At You, is utterly gorgeous, a perfect soundtrack for the next leg of our journey.


1,057 comments » | California Coverfolk, Kate Wolf

RIP Utah Phillips, 1935-2008

May 29th, 2008 — 10:59 am

One of the last great union-organizing singer-songwriters, Utah Phillips walked the walk, spending a hobo’s life on the road spreading the word on behalf of his blue collar brethren, always championing others over himself, always honest about his work as a folksinger and crafter of song.

Others have said it earlier and more thoroughly, several asking whether there are any like him left; many have shared the obvious originals in the wake of his passage. But it’s never too late to say goodbye. Here’s a few especially fitting coversongs from the folkworld for a short ‘tween-posts tribute to one of our best voices of hope and solidarity.

Rest in peace, Utah. May your songs live on, and your dreams come to fruition.

1,195 comments » | Joe Ely, Kate Wolf, Kathy Mattea, Utah Phillips

Single Song Sunday: Jackson Browne / Nico, These Days

May 25th, 2008 — 11:52 am

Like Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, which was transformed in the popular imagination by Jeff Buckley’s haunting version of John Cale’s cover, there is a plurality of high-profile, popularly dominant sources for These Days, Jackson Browne’s melancholy yet ultimately optimistic tribute to the general malaise and lonesome depression that characterizes the soul after a long relationship has come to an inevitable end. But where in the case of Halellujah the versions which rose to obscure the original were recorded long afterward, in the case of These Days, Nico’s version was recorded first, in 1967, with Browne on acoustic guitar and Velvet Underground chums Cale and Reed on everything else — making Jackson Browne’s 1973 version a dubious original, despite real popularity in and out of his fan base.

As such, cover versions of These Days tend to fall into two camps: those that cover Nico, and those that cover Jackson Browne. The former seem more popular among a certain indiefolk crowd, especially after her version lent hipster cred to the soundtrack for The Royal Tannenbaums, calling us back to it’s fragile, anxious, somewhat spacey sound; you can hear the secondhand influence of Nico in more recent covers from fringefolkers Kathryn Williams, St. Vincent, and Mates of State. Meanwhile, fellow seventies icons Gregg Allman and Kate Wolf clearly have Browne’s slow, simple poetics and clear, open-hearted delivery in mind; so, a generation later, do relative newcomers Denison Witmer, Fountains of Wayne, and Tyler Ramsey.

But as others have pointed out long before me, the bifurcated trunk of the musical tree that is These Days versions is relevant to an evolution of song not only because of the curious history, but because the choices made in each version affect the meaning of the song. And here we are not just talking musical interpretation, either: Nico’s version is lyrically different as well as musicially distinct, and the lost second-person subject of the penultimate line, the focus on belief (I don’t think I’ll risk another) over feeling (It’s so hard to risk another), changes the narrator into someone more narcissistic, less historied, and — some believe — less believable overall.

From a coverblog perspective, then, sourcing each cover becomes merely an exercise in lyrical attention. And though a few seem to be applying Nico’s lyric to Browne’s tone, as in Johnny Darrell‘s country cover; most, such as the aforementioned, go whole hog for one side or the other. Only a very few more recent covers arguably attempt to transcend both — most notably Barbara Manning’s acoustic electronica, and Brandon Seyferth’s comprehensively lo-fi musical rewrite.

But this is not to say that Nico’s version, and subsequent covers of it, are less viable as song: the delicate lyrical interpretation and breathless tension compensates, making tone serve where subject had before. Or is it afterwards? Either way, here’s the two prototypes — Nico’s, and a rare 1971 live recording from Browne, with his take on the song still raw and tentatively performed, plus his more familiar, more poignant 2005 live version, for diversity’s sake; the 1973 produced version is easily available — along with a hefty set of choice Single Song Sunday coversong from the usual wide assortment of folk, presented in no particular order, the better to appreciate each cover for what it is.

Enjoy, as always. Feel free to mention your favorite cover in the comments, or send it along via email if it’s not already here. And if you like what you hear, follow links above and below for websites and artist-preferred-source album-purchasing.

We’ll be back Wednesday, possibly with that subgenre coverfolk post I alluded to a few weeks ago. Also coming soon: more old songs from new artists, a bit of bluegrass, and a look at this year’s New England folk festivals. In the meantime, stay sane, and don’t forget to enter our Sarah McLachlan contest!

986 comments » | Barbara Manning, Brandon Seyferth, Denison Witmer, Fountains of Wayne, Gregg Allman, Jackson Browne, Kate Wolf, Kathryn Williams, Mates of State, Nico, Single Song Sunday, St. Vincent, Tyler Ramsey

John Gorka Covers: Townes Van Zandt, Kate Wolf, Pete Seeger, Stan Rogers

March 23rd, 2008 — 02:51 am


I’ve strayed from the folkfold a bit over the past weeks, testing the limits of folk subgenres and hybridization, trying to feel out just how far one can throw the modern conceit in which everything is a slash-folk hyphenate. I make no apologies for this — folk is a big tent, with many murky corners worthy of exploration. It is also, by definition, tied to the listening culture in intimate, cyclical ways which make it natural for folk to be in a state of constant interaction and integration with…well, everything. Including other forms of music.

But he who would claim to run a folk music blog cannot spend all his time at the periphery of the genre. It’s time to get back to the core of modern folk music, where the artists who made their name performing intimate acoustic songs to tiny bohemian audiences still lug their backseat guitars from city to city on the coffeehouse circuit. And I can think of no more worthy subject for such a triumphant return to the core of modern American folk music than John Gorka.


I’ve seen John Gorka perform live more than any other musician, and I haven’t had to work too hard at it. Since his early days in the Fast Folk songwriter/performer cooperative, Gorka has been one of the hardest working singer-songwriters in the folk business, an anchor for folk festival lineups and a crowd-pleaser at struggling coffeehouses. One year I saw him six times — twice indoors, four times outdoors — and by the end of the season, we were nodding recognition to each other as we passed among the folk fest food vendors.

John Gorka came up through the ranks the hard way, opening for Bill Morrisey and Nanci Griffith before taking first place at the 1984 Kerrville Folk Festival at the age of 26. Three years later, upon the release his first album I Know, Rolling Stone named him “the voice of ‘new folk’”. Since then, he has released ten albums, five of which I listened all the way through this evening, trying to put words to Gorka’s greatness.

And let me tell you, I’ve had a hell of a time trying to pin down what it is about John Gorka that makes his work so powerful.

It’s not his humor, though Gorka can write light, wry, self-effacing and funny better than most. It is not his elder-statesman status among the post-Fast Folk generation, though it’s always good to listen to those folks who the folks you love are listening to. It is not anything especially adept about his technique, though that rich, clear baritone and gentle way with a guitar comprise a powerful instrument. And it is not his infamous kindness, though I have never seen a performer take more genuine grateful pleasure, more sincere and untainted glee, in being given the gift of sharing his songs…and though there is nothing more folk than the way Gorka grins that infectious crooked grin, like Dennis Quaid without the mischief, in the face of applause.

For many listeners and critics, the above is more than anough to secure Gorka’s place in the pantheon of folk gods. But for once, I’m not going to try to speak to what makes Gorka good in any objective sense. Because, to me, what makes Gorka the epitome of folk is that he has the ability to truly speak to a part of me that, once realized through his music, turns out to be exactly what I have always felt.

Gorka is the only songwriter I know that, so often and so well, speaks for the secret, sensitive part of me that rails against the trappings of what our overcommericalized, testosterone-laden culture says a man should be. His ability to capture and express deep love and commitment as brave, honorable, and bittersweet, through deceptively simple guitarwork and an unusually rich, pure voice, is both uncanny and perfectly expressed.

And Gorka does this better, and more often, than any musician I know. He gives voice to a particularly sincere, masculine ownership of self as fragile and human which I have heard in other artists, and he applies this sensibility to more aspects of who I am – father, son, lover, laborer, wanderer – than any other musician I have heard.

Perhaps this subjectivity is not so subjective. Perhaps, though it is our commonality of white male experience which makes this work on one level, it is also true that, like with Joni’s longing for Canada or Josh Ritter’s unfinished adolescence, anyone can find their own emotional story in Gorka’s tales of blue collar labor, parenthood, and love. If so, then this is the kind of folk artist that makes you feel things you didn’t know you felt, in ways that are clearer than you knew possible.

The intimate connection I feel with Gorka’s music may affect my ability to judge the path of his career more objectively. Though all his albums have topped the folk charts — his 2006 release Writing in the Margins won numerous “best of” awards in the folkworld — in my opinion, some of Gorka’s recent work has been a bit erratic. His newer political songs are weaker; tracks on his recent albums suffer from overproduction which drags them out past their power. Though his later work speaks brilliantly to the bittersweetness of fatherhood, his cover of Marc Cohn’s Things We’ve Handed Down on a recent kidfolk compilation is an unfortunate trainwreck, pitched far too high for his voice. And though Gorka brings life to Stan Rogers’ poignant The Lockkeeper on Writing in the Margins, his older live version is far better.

But even on an objective level, this is minor quibbling; Gorka’s output has been so strong for decades, it is easy to excuse an occasional lapse in concentration. In live performance, and in recent tracks like Townes Van Zandt’s Snow Don’t Fall, Gorka can still call up an absolutely stunning power. And happily for cover fans, over three decades of performing and recording at the center of the folkworld, Gorka has contributed songs to many folk cover compilations and tribute albums, where, invariably, his song choices and his performance stand out from the crowd.

Today, a select few songs Gorka has chosen to make his own over the years.* All are good, and many are great; take them with my blessing, and be prepared to be spoken to. I cannot claim that you will feel what I feel, but by all accounts, this is what folk is supposed to be.


Everyone who reads this blog should have at least one John Gorka album in their collection. There are many, including Pure John Gorka, a “best of” compilation of the five albums Gorka released on the Windham Hill label between 1990 and 1996, but if you’re just starting your collection, I absolutely recommend Gorka’s second, his major label debut Land of the Bottom Line. From there, pick up his debut, and his last four CDs, at Red House Records, which celebrates 25 years in the folk business this year. Even better, pick up Gorka’s in-print albums directly through John Gorka’s website, where autographs come with every CD at no additional charge.

Today’s bonus coversongs include two Gorka originals covered with care and beauty; David Wilcox, especially, captures the best of Gorka’s emotive power in a song originally cobbled from an old prayer written by a soldier in wartime. Plus a fun, familiar song with Gorka on backup, just to show off that voice a little more:

Previously on Cover Lay Down:

  • John Gorka covers Girl of the North Country
  • John Gorka covers one of many Christmas Songs Written By Jews

    *I am also desperately seeking a recording of John Gorka covering Dylan’s Love Minus Zero/No Limit, which appeared on the out of print A Tribute to Bob Dylan, Vol. II (Sister Ruby Records: 1994).

  • 745 comments » | David Wilcox, John Gorka, Kate Wolf, Maura O'Connell, Phil Ochs, Stan Rogers, Townes van Zandt

    Caroline Herring, Lantana: covers of Kate Wolf and All The Pretty Little Horses

    February 19th, 2008 — 08:46 pm


    Ever wonder what happens to the artists who win Best New Artist at SXSW? If they’re Caroline Herring, they release a strong second album and then disappear, putting their recording career on hold to focus on marriage and motherhood. Now, after a long hiatus, Herring returns to the forefront of the folkworld with Lantana, a stunning, intimate collection which I’ve already shortlisted as one of my top ten folk/roots/Americana albums of 2008.

    Taking time off for family is an especially risky move in today’s music world, where momentum is king — bloggers, who constantly seek “the next big thing”, share no small responsibility for accelerating this process. But with true genius, Herring turns her time out of the limelight to her advantage, treating it as both subject and sustenance, crafting a strong, polished set of tunes which speak to the the complex balance between traditional family roles and career ambitions which women are asked to internalize in modern society.

    The result is a revelation. Herring’s five years out of the studio only intensified what was already a stellar ability to create and deliver poignant, powerful songs about the world around her in a pure, rich southern-twanged voice reminiscent of some of the the best female folksingers of the past thirty years. The songs on Lantana are simultaneously authentic and new, applying traditional folk storytelling and verse structure to stories of women in today’s rural South who, like Herring herself, have struggled to find their place between the demands of the heart and post-feminist possibility.

    At its best, this album is haunting and beautiful, combining strong songwriting with solid, effective production and stunning vocal delivery. Paper Gown, a murder ballad of the finest order which retells the chilling story of Susan Smith, is especially gorgeous example of Herring’s ability to create song of the first order: catchy, thoughtful, sympathetic, and deep, the song roots itself in your soul, lingering long after the music has faded from the ears. Even in her quieter, more peaceful numbers — including a deceptively simple cover of traditional lullaby All the Pretty Little Horses and a beautiful, wistful version of Kate Wolf’s Midnight on the Water, both of which we feature below — Herring brings a depth of emotion which few contemporaries can muster

    Universally accessible yet rooted deeply in the sounds of Herring’s native south, Lantana is the best singer-songwriter CD I’ve heard in a very long time. Let’s hope it’s the first of many more to come from this up-and-second-coming talent.

    • Caroline Herring, Midnight on the Water (orig. Kate Wolf)
    • Caroline Herring, All The Pretty Little Horses (trad.)

    Lantana doesn’t come out until March 4th, but you want more of Caroline Herring as soon as possible, so pre-order Lantana over at Signature Sounds today. Act now, and you can pick up this magnificent album for under ten dollars — a real steal in today’s market.

    Still not convinced? Check out Paper Gown over at fellow folkblog Here Comes The Flood. Their description of Caroline Herring’s sound as “gothic country” is right on the money.

    Today’s bonus coversongs include another take on Kate Wolf, and a set of songs which used to be my favorite versions of the slave lullaby All The Pretty Little Horses before Caroline Herring hit it on the nose:

    • Nanci Griffith, Across The Great Divide (orig. Kate Wolf)

    • Calexico, All The Pretty Horses (trad.)
    • Shawn Colvin, All The Pretty Li’l Horses (trad.)
    • The Chieftains w/ Patty Griffin, Whole Heap of Little Horses (trad.)

    929 comments » | Calexico, Caroline Herring, Kate Wolf, Nanci Griffith, Patty Griffin, Shawn Colvin, The Chieftains