Actually, I have nothing at all against singer-songwriters. One of my particular favorites is Gordon Bok, who sings a lot of traditional material along with songs of his own. The beauty of what he does is that the songs he writes are practically indistinguishable from traditional songs, and if he didn't tell you, it would be next to impossible to determine which is which. This comes from his being sufficiently steeped in traditional material to be able to duplicate the elements thereof—not something that can be said of very many singer-songwriters!   I have swiped many songs from Gordon's records, both traditional and songs he has written (for which I always give proper credit).

I am indeed glad that singer-songwriters are hard at work cranking out songs like link sausages. And that at least some singer-songwriters are really trying to emulate the best elements of traditional songs. Future folk songs have to come from somewhere.

But there are a couple of caveats about that. First, let me note that Woody Guthrie wrote thousands of songs. Some of them are excellent, and a few are close to being accepted as genuine American folk songs, despite the fact that the writer is known. But Woody used what he called the "shotgun technique." He figured that if he wrote enough songs, then just by accident if nothing else, a few of them might turn out to be pretty good. And he was wise enough to round-file the ones that didn't work.

Which brings me to an important point:   An artist friend of mine once remarked that "An artist's most valuable tool is his waste basket!" Being able to look at your own work and admit that "This is crap!" helps to assure that what you do present has a better chance of being good. A lesson that the vast majority of singer-songwriters I have heard could profit by.

Throughout the ages in the realm of classical music, believe it or not, only a small percentage of the music written in all that time is known today. Nobody really knows how many truckloads of manuscript paper were used to light fires because the music on it, at best, roused no more interest than the composer's wife saying "That's very nice, dear," and the audience he first played the music for kept stifling yawns as they edged toward the door. The musical works that consistently inspired enthusiasm over time and in many listeners have become known as "classics." But they were not "classics" when the composer first sat down at the harpsichord or the piano to play them for an assembled audience. A long string of audiences, and other musicians who wanted to play the work, and a sustained interest over a substantial number of years determine whether a work is a "classic" or not.

I'm quite sure that all of these composers certainly hoped that their works would eventually be considered "classics." But not that many were stone-dumb enough to announce, as they sat down at the piano, "This is a classic I wrote last week."

Capische?

Don Firth