Yes, well, pigeonholing ... but anyway ...

Burl Ives is an important instance from half a century back.

Ives was, hands down, the most important professional circulator of traditional songs in the late 40s and especially the early 45 rpm-LP era, 1950-55 or so. His records and concerts established, for US audiences at least, a canon of some 40 or 50 American, English and Irish folk songs that still stand among the most commonly known, from "Blue Tail Fly" and "Lavender Blue" to "Big Rock Candy Mountain" and "Molly Malone."

But then he branched out into singing his own idiosyncratic sort of country-pop music: "A Little Bitty Tear Let Me Down," etc. From then on he would do the occasional traditional song, but in both style and repertoire he had become a country-pop-novelty singer, and a very effective one too, breaking in a whole new and much bigger audience who barely realized he was once the US' best known folk singer.

His reasons were undoubtedly various. He wanted a paying career, and the traditional music market (which he was foremost in creating) was small then as now. Also, he was beginning to break through as a well-known actor, moving from stage to screen, and doing that very well too. His more sophisticated popular music persona probably was a better complement to his primary profession. So, a good career move.

In one way it's odd we should be asking these questions. In most pre-20th century cultures, "popular" music equaled "people's" music and that was, in at least one important interpretation, traditional music as well. But the coming of electronic media meant "popular" music was no longer what filtered through people's consciousness in an endurance contest for longevity, but instead became a professionalized, competitive songwriters' and publishers' game in which quick popularity could be force-fed by sheer exposure -- Tin Pan Alley, in short. Thus "popular" music became, in style and repertoire, the primary killer, or driver-out, of traditional songs, singers and singing.

(Yes, I know, there are a dozen major objections to that quick overgeneralization, but anyway ... )

That's why it does matter, and isn't just pigeonholing. This is how traditional styles and repertoires got driven to the wall. This is one big reason why singers make the change from "folkie" to pop. They go not only where the money is, but where the market outlets are, and where the popular acclaim is, and the personal satisfaction of a "legitimate" career. That's not a complaint, it's just reality.

Besides, just because we love the traditional songs best (some of us do, at any rate), we shouldn't forget many varieties of popular song are fun to sing, challenging and satisfying in their own right. And they're especially well adapted to casual singing.

For example, "April Showers" or "Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone" or "Here Comes the Sun", or you name your own favorites, really might work better in the shower, or while driving to work, than (naming some peppy trad favorites of my own) "The Old Man Who Lived Near Hell," "Salty Dog," "We're Gayly Yet" or "Lime Juice Tub" -- in part because they are more contemporary and do tune up your mind for a day in the contemporary world.

Me, I'm a folk singer for ever. (Though I've done the occasional ancient pop item in my concerts just for fun.) I can see the other guy's viewpoint. As to whether you still call him/her a folk singer after the switch is made, well, I guess Burl Ives most likely forfeited the name when he abandoned the game ... if that matters.

Like it or not, people will usually call you by some name that describes what you're doing. On the other hand, if you don't do it any more it may take them years, even decades to catch up, because they're not really paying that close attention. (You're lucky if they get it right in your obit.)

Thus the late Burl Ives still rates the name folk singer, even though that was only a small slice of his very long and productive career. Correct? Incorrect? Probably not worth worrying about. But as you can see, the fate of a whole brand of music lies very close under the surface of this. That's where the searing emotions come from, I suspect. -- Bob