You might not think you know Harry Smith, but if you have even a passing familiarity with the last fifty years of traditional folk music, you certainly know his work. A fanatical record collector, archivist, and ethnomusicologist (as well as an artist, filmmaker, and all-around eccentric), Smith compiled the three-volume, six-disc Anthology of American Folk Music for Smithsonian Folkways in 1952, arguably the first such collection of obscure folk, blues, and hillbilly 78s on LP and certainly the most influential. A mere glance at the songs brought to public attention by Smith's Anthology is enough to prove its monumental impact on popular music as we know it: "John the Revelator," "The House Carpenter," "Single Girl, Married Girl," "Frankie [and Johnny]"; the list goes on and on.
The goal of The Harry Smith Project, the latest in record producer (and, like Smith, noted eccentric) Hal Willner's seemingly endless stream of tribute projects, is to shed more light on both the brilliance of the original Anthology and its lasting influence. And true to form - this is, after all, the guy who compiled a Mingus tribute with Vernon Reid, Keith Richards, Robert Quine and Chuck D - Willner has assembled a decidedly motley crew. The Harry Smith Project Live features performances by Lou Reed, Nick Cave, Van Dyke Parks, Beck, Sonic Youth, Elvis Costello, Todd Rundgren, David Thomas, and a hell of lot more besides. And the amazing thing is, all of it is good.
Lou does his Popeye and his Blind Lemon Jefferson - c. 2006 Shout! Factory Or at least, about 95% of it is. The beauty of Willner's approach here is that it's often the combinations of artist and material which sound positively wince-worthy on paper that end up coming off best - like the shuddering version of "Dry Bones" performed by Sonic Youth and avant-garde jazz trombonist Roswell Rudd, or the eerie duet on "The House Carpenter" by Rundgren and Robin Holcomb. Most surprising of all is a Blind Lemon Jefferson cover by the man who once preclaimed that the only rule he made for the Velvet Underground was "no blues licks." Reed's "See That My Grave is Kept Clean," though admittedly mining the same old fuzzed-out noodling and phrasing gymnastics which have long gone from his stock in trade to a depressing self-parody, is somehow shockingly good.
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