Woody Guthrie was the most important American folk music artist of the first half of the 20th century. Coming out of Oklahoma, Guthrie had firsthand knowledge of the Dust Bowl diaspora chronicled in John Steinbeck's novel The Grapes of Wrath. In fact, Guthrie wrote his own version of the story in a song called "Tom Joad." By the time he gained... [+] Read More

Woody Guthrie was the most important American folk music artist of the first half of the 20th century. Coming out of Oklahoma, Guthrie had firsthand knowledge of the Dust Bowl diaspora chronicled in John Steinbeck's novel The Grapes of Wrath. In fact, Guthrie wrote his own version of the story in a song called "Tom Joad." By the time he gained recognition in the '40s, Guthrie had written hundreds of songs, many of which remain folk standards to this day. When he was interviewed by Alan Lomax for the Library of Congress in March 1940, Guthrie punctuated his reminiscences by singing "So Long, It's Been Good to Know You," "Dust Bowl Blues," "Do-Re-Mi," "Pretty Boy Floyd," "I Ain't Got No Home," and other songs. He later wrote "Pastures of Plenty," "The Grand Coulee Dam," and his masterpiece, "This Land Is Your Land." He was also an author (Bound for Glory) and a newspaper columnist.

Guthrie made some recordings for RCA in 1940, but much of his work was issued on the small Folkways label. Meanwhile, in the late '40s and early '50s, versions of his songs became hits for such artists as the Weavers. By then, Guthrie himself was in physical decline, suffering from Huntington's chorea, a hereditary neurological disorder. But during his long illness, Guthrie's influence spread to the next generation, fostering the folk boom of the late '50s and early '60s. Not only is Bob Dylan unimaginable without him, but large segments of popular music are permanently affected by his concerns as a songwriter and his approach to the form. Guthrie also composed a body of children's music toward the end of his performing career in the early '50s, when he was raising a family with his wife Marjorie. The songs, many sung from a child's point of view, have been covered and performed extensively since. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide [-] Hide

Not to be confused with the pop singer of the 1950s, Tommy Sands was the prime songwriter with the Sands Family, a group with his five siblings that became one of Ireland's most influential folk groups of the 1960s and '70s. Although the group has limited its touring in the past decade to an annual tour of Germany and Ireland, Sands has... [+] Read More

Not to be confused with the pop singer of the 1950s, Tommy Sands was the prime songwriter with the Sands Family, a group with his five siblings that became one of Ireland's most influential folk groups of the 1960s and '70s. Although the group has limited its touring in the past decade to an annual tour of Germany and Ireland, Sands has continued to pave new ground as a solo singer/songwriter and as the host of a popular radio show, Country Ceili, broadcast weekly via Belfast's Downtown Radio since 1976.

Sands grew up in a very musical family. His father and six uncles played the fiddle, while his mother played accordion. The family farm, in the foothills of the Mourne Mountains, was one of the few places that Protestants and Catholics joined together to listen to music and dance. Sands began writing songs shortly after learning to play the fiddle. Many of his songs reflect the political turmoil and sociological struggles of his homeland.

Although Sands attended college to study theology and philosophy, music proved too great a lure. Dropping out of the school, Sands began to walk the 120 miles home. He hadn't gotten far when a car with his siblings stopped to pick him up to perform a concert. Inspired by the Clancy Brothers, the Sands Family (Tommy, Eugene, Ben, Colum and Ann) became leaders of the Irish folk revival.

The Sands Family first came to the United States in 1970, after winning a concert trip to New York in a national ballad contest. After performing at Carnegie Hall, the group hooked up with a manager in Boston and remained in America for six months. Returning to Europe in 1971, the Sands Family found that they had acquired an enthusiastic following in Germany.

The Sands Family's string of success ended in 1975, when youngest brother Eugene was killed in an auto accident. In the aftermath of the tragedy, Ann Sands announced her retirement from the group. Subsequent tours have been limited to the three remaining brothers.

Tommy Sands' debut solo album, Singing of the Times, released in 1985, included his now-classic tunes "There Were Roses" and "Daughters and Sons." Sands' second album, {^Down By Bendy's Lane:

Irish Songs and Stories for Children}, followed three years later. On his third album, Hedges of County Down, released in 1989, Sands focused on traditional Irish material. He returned to original songs for his fourth effort, Beyond the Shadows, released in 1990. Sands' fifth album, The Heart's A Wonder, released in 1995, included a tune, "The Music of Healing," co-written with American folk singer Pete Seeger. The song was used as an anthem for a "Citizen's Assembly" that Sands organized in Belfast, in August 1986, which included many of Ulster County's top artists and literary figures. The Heart's a Wonder also marked the first time that Sands collaborated with Sarajevo cellist Vedran Smailovic. Sands and Smailovic joined with Irish songstress Dolores Keane on the 1997 title track of the multi-artist album Where Have All the Flowers Gone: The Songs of Pete Seeger. One of Sands' most ambitious projects is a stage musical, The Shadow of O'Casey, that he co-wrote with playwright Sean O'Casey's daughter, Shivaun. ~ Craig Harris, All Music Guide [-] Hide

Though primarily steeped in the traditions of folk and Celtic music, Scottish singer/songwriter Dick Gaughan enjoyed a lengthy and far-reaching career in a variety of creative pursuits. Born Richard Peter in 1948, he first picked up the guitar at the age of seven, and issued his debut solo LP No More Forever in 1972. Gaughan then signed on with... [+] Read More

Though primarily steeped in the traditions of folk and Celtic music, Scottish singer/songwriter Dick Gaughan enjoyed a lengthy and far-reaching career in a variety of creative pursuits. Born Richard Peter in 1948, he first picked up the guitar at the age of seven, and issued his debut solo LP No More Forever in 1972. Gaughan then signed on with the folk-rock group the Boys of the Lough, releasing a 1973 self-titled LP before returning to his solo career with 1976's Kist o Gold. However, he soon returned to the group format, forming a band named Five Hand Reel and issuing another eponymously titled effort that same year; over the next two years, Gaughan issued four more records -- two solo releases (1977's Copper and Brass and 1978's Gaughan) as well as two more Five Hand Reel outings (1977's For A' That and 1978's Earl o' Moray). In the late 1970s and early 1980s, he worked as a critic and columnist with Folk Review magazine, and also acted as a member of the 7:84 Theatre Company; after a three-year absence from the studio, Gaughan also returned to regular musical duty with the release of 1981's Handful of Earth. A Different Kind of Love Song followed in 1983, and in 1985 he released Live in Edinburgh; True and Bold appeared a year later. After 1988's Call It Freedom, Gaughan again retreated from view; much of his time was devoted to his increasing interest in computer technology, and he later earned notice for his skills as a programmer and web designer. Finally, he formed a new band, the short-lived Chan Alba, which disbanded after releasing their 1995 self-titled debut; the solo Sail On arrived the next year, followed in 1998 by Redwood Cathedral. ~ Jason Ankeny, All Music Guide [-] Hide

Perhaps no single person in the 20th century has done more to preserve, broadcast, and re-distribute folk music than Pete Seeger, whose passion for politics, the environment, and humanity have earned him both ardent fans and vocal enemies since he first began performing in the late '30s. His never-ending battle against injustice led to his being... [+] Read More

Perhaps no single person in the 20th century has done more to preserve, broadcast, and re-distribute folk music than Pete Seeger, whose passion for politics, the environment, and humanity have earned him both ardent fans and vocal enemies since he first began performing in the late '30s. His never-ending battle against injustice led to his being blacklisted during the McCarthy era, celebrated during the turbulent '60s, and welcomed at union rallies throughout his life. His tireless efforts regarding global concerns such as environmentalism, population growth, and racial equality have earned him the respect and friendship of such political heroes as Martin Luther King, Jr., Woody Guthrie, and Cesar Chavez, and the generations of children who first learned to sing and clap to Seeger's Folkways recordings must number in the millions. Rising above all of Seeger's political ideals and his passion for authentic folk music is his clear voice and chiming banjo which both sing out with a clarity that rings true.

Pete Seeger was born May 3, 1919, in Patterson, NY. The son of Charles and Constance Seeger, Pete grew up in a household filled with both music (his mother was a violinist and teacher, his father was a musicologist and conductor, both of whom had served on the faculty at Juilliard) and political activism (his father worked as a teacher at the University of California at Berkeley, where his pacifism earned him so many enemies that he resigned in the fall of 1918). The youthful Pete initially rebelled against his parents passion for music, but upon hearing a five-string banjo for the first time at the Folk Song and Dance Festival in Asheville, NC, his dream of becoming a painter was pushed aside. He studied sociology at Harvard University beginning in 1936, but left just before his final exams two years later, choosing instead to roam the American South making field recordings with music scholar Alan Lomax. These experiences were the foundation of Seeger's repertoire of work songs, lullabies, folk songs, and ballads that he would revisit throughout his musical career.

Seeger was drafted into the army in 1942, spending much of his time performing to troops in the South Pacific, and in 1943 he got married to Toshi Ohta (who has remained his wife for more than 50 years). After his discharge he continued his travels throughout the U.S., but as a performer instead of a scholar, performing wherever people were gathered, from taverns to churches. On March 3, 1940, he met Woody Guthrie at a migrant worker benefit concert, and soon after the two helped form the Almanac Singers, a loosely organized musical collective that included Lee Hays, Millard Lampell, Sis Cunningham, Sonny Terry, Brownie McGhee, Leadbelly, Josh White, Burl Ives, and Richard Dyer-Bennett at different times. The Almanac Singers' career was brief (lasting just over a year), but their pacifist attitudes and their ability to draw large crowds brought them under the scrutiny of the political powers of the time. Upon the dissolution of the Almanacs, Seeger, and Hays formed the Weavers with Ronnie Gilbert and Fred Hellerman who found universal success with their bright renditions of folk songs and spirituals like "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine," "Wimoweh," "Goodnight Irene," and "On Top of Old Smoky." Unfortunately, Seeger and Hays' leftist leanings had long been under the scrutiny of the FBI, and ironically, their straightforward and innocuous performances were drawing disdain from the diehard leftist press. In 1955 Seeger was brought before the House of Un-American Activities Committee and his testimony resulted in his being blacklisted for 17 years (and not officially cleared on charges of contempt until 1962).

Seeger left the Weavers in 1958, for a solo career just as the seeds of the music they planted were beginning to take root on college campuses and in coffeehouses across the U.S. He spent much of the '60s in the South, marching in civil rights protests and arranging an old spiritual into what he named "We Shall Overcome," which has become the anthem of the pursuit for equality worldwide. In 1962, he put the words to a portion of the book of Ecclesiastes to music, capturing the feel of the changing climate of the youth movement in his song "Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)." In addition to the countless social rallies he organized and participated in at this time, Seeger also had a hand in many of the Newport Folk Festivals in the early and mid-'60s. His adherence to the sanctity of folk music came to a boiling point with the advent of folk-rock, and this was visibly demonstrated when he tried to pull the plug on Bob Dylan's very electrified set with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band in 1965. His objection to the Vietnam War was made evident during an appearance on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour in 1967 where he attacked Lyndon Johnson's war policies during his performance of the song "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy."

Seeger focused his attention on environmental issues in the '70s and '80s, notably with the launch of the sloop Clearwater (a floating classroom, laboratory, stage, and speaker's forum) into the Hudson River in 1969. He also remained active on the festival circuit, appearing at outdoor folk concerts and organizing rallies for any number of causes, from labor unions to anti-pollution legislation. The '90s saw Seeger on-stage receiving awards as often as performing music; with honors including receiving the nation's highest artistic honors at the Kennedy Center, gaining entry into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and earning the Harvard Arts Medal (despite the fact that he opted not to graduate from the university). He also won a Grammy Award for Best Traditional Folk Album of 1996, and in 1999 he traveled to Cuba to accept the Felix Varela Medal (Cuba's highest honor for "his humanistic and artistic work in defense of the environment and against racism"). His ceaseless passion for reaching the hearts and minds of those who will listen is summed up by the inscription on his banjo which reads "This machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender." Pete Seeger's music does not force hate to surrender with muscle or intimidation, but with Seeger's simple honesty and pure-hearted clarity which has truly changed the course of history during the 60-plus years that he has been performing. ~ Zac Johnson, All Music Guide [-] Hide

The Weavers had the most extraordinary musical pedigree and pre-history of any performing group in the history of folk or popular music. More than 50 years after their heyday, however, their origins, the level of their success, the forces that cut the group's future off in its prime, and the allure that keeps their music selling are all... [+] Read More

The Weavers had the most extraordinary musical pedigree and pre-history of any performing group in the history of folk or popular music. More than 50 years after their heyday, however, their origins, the level of their success, the forces that cut the group's future off in its prime, and the allure that keeps their music selling are all difficult to explain -- as, indeed, none of this was all that easy to explain at the time. How could a song as pleasant and tuneful as "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" be subversive?

The quartet went from being embraced by the public, and selling four-million-records, to being reviled and rejected over the political backgrounds of its members, and disbanding after only four years together. Yet, despite the controversy that surrounded them, and the fact that their work was interrupted at its peak, the Weavers managed to alter popular culture in about as profound a manner as any artist this side of Bob Dylan -- indeed, they set the stage for the 1950s folk revival, indirectly fostering the careers of the Kingston Trio, among others, and bridging the gap between folk and popular music, and folk and the topical song, they helped set the stage for Dylan's eventual emergence. And the songs that they wrote or popularized, including "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine," "Wimoweh," "Goodnight Irene," "Wreck of the John B," "Follow the Drinking Gourd," and "On Top of Old Smoky," continued to get recorded (and occasionally to chart) 50 years after the group's own time.

The Weavers bear a striking resemblance to an earlier group called the Almanac Singers. Pete Seeger (born May 3, 1919) and Lee Hays (born 1914) had worked together for the first time in 1940 as part of the Almanac Singers, who had enjoyed brief but notable success on radio, and as a recording outfit doing topical songs in a folk idiom, until their leftist political views became an issue; the group members had been caught in the uncomfortable position, as dedicated Communists, of having pushed pacifism and American neutrality during 1940 and early 1941, and then reversing themselves after Nazi Germany invaded the Soviet Union. In the intervening years, during and after World War II, Seeger and Hays had both been involved in various causes involving international peace, civil rights, and workers' rights, and late in 1948, Hays had suggested trying to form an ensemble similar to, but better organized than the Almanac Singers. The notion went through some evolution, including the idea -- later abandoned -- of a multiracial sextet, before it settled on Seeger, Hays, Fred Hellerman (born May 13, 1927), and Ronnie Gilbert (born September 7, 1926). The Brooklyn-born Hellerman and New York-born Gilbert had first met Seeger and Hays through People's Songs, a loosely knit assembly of songwriters and musicians formed in the basement of Seeger's house in Greenwich Village in 1946, which was intended to bolster the postwar union and social activism. People's Songs started with a great deal of promise but faltered two-and-a-half years later, along with the left in general, after the election of 1948, in which the leftist presidential ticket of Henry Wallace and Glen Taylor ran last in a four-way race. It was just after the election that Hays had suggested a new singing group, and he, Seeger, Hellerman, and Gilbert, along with a fifth member named Jackie Gibson, who dropped out soon after, had initially performed that Thanksgiving. The surviving group, known informally as "the No-Name Quartet," performed at various venues around New York and once on radio, courtesy of folk singer Oscar Brand, before settling on the name the Weavers, derived from a play of the same title by Gerhart Johann Robert Hauptmann.

The Weavers' first year was spent avoiding starvation. Their intention had been to help support union-sponsored events and other progressive causes, but the members discovered that, in the wake of the collapse of the Wallace campaign, there were hardly any events at which they were welcome, or which could pay them anything. If 1948 had been a disastrous year for the left, 1949 was nothing short of catastrophic, as the forces of reaction, emboldened by Wallace's defeat and with an angry, obstructionist Republican minority in Congress to give them a national platform, went on the attack. In some instances, the attacks were literal -- during the late summer of 1949, rioting broke out at a concert in Peekskill, NY, in which hundreds were injured by members of veterans groups infuriated by the presence of singer and leftist political activist Paul Robeson, who was also the target of an aborted assassination attempt. Challenges became commonplace, to the loyalties of any visible folk singers with a topical edge to their music, or to that of the people who would hire or record them.

Pete Seeger, the most well-known member of the Weavers, was able to eke out fees of as much as $15 at some venues -- there were still schools that would book him to sing for children -- but that was as good as the money got, and it couldn't be increased for the quartet. The Weavers did make a handful of recordings in the late summer and early fall of 1949 for Charter Records, a tiny label run by former People's Songs supporter Mario Casetta, but most of them were never released, and the undercapitalized label closed in 1950.

Fate took a hand when the group, as a last-ditch effort to keep going, auditioned for a spot performing for the Christmas week of 1949 at the Village Vanguard, a New York club owned by Max Gordon, which was most closely associated with jazz. They went over so well that the gig was extended through the winter and then the entire spring, for $250.00 a week split four ways. Their six months at the Vanguard changed the group's fate. Though the club was virtually empty on the four weeknights, on weekends it filled up, and audiences loved the simple, unaffected enthusiasm that the quartet brought to their music. Folk singing by then had become something of an "art," an elitist, academic activity attuned to scholars, but the Weavers came off completely the opposite of this -- guileless and honest, literally four hay seeds without any experience of playing in clubs. Their presentation and popularity, coupled with the visibility of the Vanguard, soon led to reviews in newspapers and trade journals, and these were almost all positive.

It was from the Village Vanguard shows that the group first hooked up with Harold Leventhal, a young music publishing executive. He loved their work but was also honest enough to admit that, at that point in his career, he didn't know enough about business to represent them adequately, so he recommended someone who did, a manager name Pete Kameron. In the meantime, they'd also attracted the attention of Gordon Jenkins, who was then one of the top arrangers and bandleaders in the music business. Jenkins brought them to Decca Records, where he was under contract, and had the group perform for label chief Dave Kapp -- by the time the audition was over, the entire production staff was listening and singing along, but at first no one knew what to do with four white singers, whose repertory ranged from traditional gospel, work songs and children's songs, so Decca passed. It was only when Mitch Miller at Columbia Records offered the quartet a contract that Jenkins got adamant; he had a contract written and a session booked, and the group was signed to Decca.

The first result of their Decca contract was a collection of Christmas songs issued on a 10" LP, which didn't attract much attention. But their second session yielded a pair of songs, "Tzena Tzena Tzena," which got to number two, and "Goodnight Irene," which hit number one and stayed there for 13 weeks, and ended up selling two million copies as a double-sided hit single. Cut just before the group left the Vanguard in June of 1950, the two songs caught everyone by surprise with their sudden success. Ronnie Gilbert had just gotten married and was planning on an extended honeymoon out west. As the newly married couple drove across the country, however, they were astonished to find "Tzena Tzena Tzena" being played on jukeboxes at the eateries where they stopped, and also turning up on the radio.

Gilbert received a telegram urging her to cut short her honeymoon and return to the group to help fulfill the bookings that were pouring in, and for the next year the world seemed to be at their feet. There were as many bookings as Kameron could accept, all for top dollar, and offers of television appearances as well, and Decca Records was eager to record anything by the group in order to keep the success of the first single going. In later years, purists would criticize Jenkins' use of string arrangements and a big band brass sound to accompany the group on the original recordings of "Goodnight Irene," "Midnight Special," and "Wimoweh," but the public never objected and the members themselves all felt that Jenkins had done his best to keep their sound intact while putting them into the commercial context of the time. Certainly, they had no objection to the idea of selling several million copies of a song like "Goodnight Irene," written and taught to them by their friend Leadbelly, who had struggled for decades for success and recognition and, alas, had died the year before. The label tried their sound in different formats and combinations, even teaming the Weavers with Terry Gilkyson, a beautiful baritone-voiced folk singer, on "On Top of Old Smoky."

It was all too good to last; they knew, and it didn't. Ever since the breakout of the first single as a hit, the members had expected that somewhere down the line their past political affiliations would be thrown back in their faces. Their manager did his best to downplay any political associations by the group -- they were never booked into potentially controversial events, such as union meetings or political rallies, and avoided doing songs that were overly controversial. From the very start, the group's repertory had been put together on the fly; at the Vanguard, when they realized that the handful of songs that they'd prepared weren't enough to cover the lengths of the sets that the audience wanted from them, they would propose and spontaneously do songs right there on-stage, all material that they knew well from their own respective pasts and all of it considered "safe" and appropriate for a club audience, rather than a political meeting -- Hays' background as the son of a Methodist minister gave him a rich trove of religious songs to draw on, and the others, with Seeger as the dominant figure after Hays, chose what they thought were the best and safest songs they knew.

The irony was that their concerts -- usually at clubs, or in hotel venues where big bands were the norm -- were so innocuous politically, that the Weavers were derided by the leftist press, even by their former colleague Irwin Silber in the pages of Sing Out!, a journal then known for its strong editorial positions. They were sneered at as sellouts. And then, in the summer of 1950, just as they were being offered a 15-minute weekly television show of their own, the anti-Communist journal Red Channels denounced the Weavers. The offer of the program disappeared -- though the group did do a series of spots for Snader Television, an early syndicator in the new medium -- and soon bookings began drying up, though not immediately and not completely. The records kept selling, with another two million copies of their music purchased in America in 1951, spearheaded by "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine," their adaptation of an old Irish folk song that they'd learned from Leadbelly. By that time, however, they were under FBI surveillance and the pressure was on -- it's impossible for someone born after the 1950s to appreciate the stigma, coupled with the threat, attached in those days to the very notion of being seen doing business with someone under FBI surveillance, or being called to testify before a Congressional committee; it could end, or at least severely compromise careers, and split up friends and families; in those days, teachers were being fired from their jobs and students were being threatened with expulsion from colleges for refusing to sign loyalty oaths.

For two years, from the middle of 1950, when the first accusations of the group's alleged disloyalty surfaced, until the summer of 1952, Kameron had been able to keep securing the group some work, in smaller, more out of the way venues and from promoters, especially in the northeast, who were willing to risk the protests, hate mail, and threats that inevitably followed the announcement of a Weavers concert. Part of the problem was the group's sheer visibility -- with "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine," as innocuous a song politically as one could imagine, getting a huge amount of airplay, they were a constant source of offense, like a red flag (literally) being waved in the face of rabid anti-Communists. The fact that the Republicans had retaken control of Congress in the 1950 elections, transforming the most rabid anti-Communists from an angry minority into a nasty majority, caused the behavior of their allies around the country to become only more virulent as the military stalemate in the Korean War dragged on through 1951 and 1952. On some subconscious level, it was as though, helpless to defeat the North Koreans (or the Soviets backing them) on the battlefield, the political right transformed any alleged domestic Communists into valid targets, and the Weavers were out there singing, selling lots of records, and making lots of noise. The fact that the group was making money by getting Americans to buy their records, and that a company like Decca Records was earning hundreds of thousands of dollars in profits from their work, only meant that the Weavers were a corrupting force. The very fact that they'd sneaked into their success so suddenly, virtually "under the radar" of the political right, was an offense. And the fact that no member of the group had ever uttered a word in public (or, for all anyone knew, in private) about the Korean War was, curiously, irrelevant amid all of the controversy.

By the end of 1952, the group had called it quits. Decca no longer wanted to record them because it was difficult, if not impossible, to get their records into the stores, and it was no longer possible to get their music played on the radio. The label kept paying them for the duration of their contract until it ended in 1953, and by then each of the members had moved on to other activities. Another key factor, even if the political and business climate had been more favorable, was Pete Seeger, who was never wholly comfortable working in a group context due to the limitations it placed on his repertory, and who liked even less the compromises that the Weavers had made in pursuing their work. The group was seemingly forgotten by the public over the next three years, their music banished from the airwaves and their records withdrawn -- Ronnie Gilbert and her husband moved to California, Fred Hellerman became a music teacher, Seeger performed as a solo act at whatever schools would book him, and Lee Hays wrote radio commercials.

In 1955, however, Harold Leventhal proposed a reunion concert for the four. They tried to book Town Hall in New York but weren't allowed to rent it, so controversial were they still. Instead, in a move that anticipated Brian Epstein's boldness in booking the hall for the Beatles nine years later, Leventhal rented Carnegie Hall -- the irony was that Carnegie Hall's management, involved in the relatively rarefied world of classical music, was totally unaware of any controversy surrounding the Weavers and had no objections. (Similarly, when Brian Epstein called to book the Beatles years later, on the eve of their breakthrough in America, the Carnegie Hall management had no inkling of who they were and assumed that a "quartet" meant four string players and not a rock & roll group, who would not have been allowed to book the hall.) The Weavers reunion event proved to be a sellout and then some, with hundreds turned away; equally important, it was captured on tape, and the tape was then sold to Vanguard Records.

Vanguard at that time was a small but enterprising label specializing in classical music, run by two brothers, Maynard Solomon and Seymour Solomon, a pair of music lovers and scholars. They had no shareholders to answer to and no corporate structure, and even in the world of classical record distribution were fiercely independent. Vanguard released the reunion concert and did very well with it, they followed it up with a second volume, and suddenly Vanguard and the Weavers had a new recording contract. It was through the Vanguard releases, the reunion concerts, and the recordings that followed, that most of the Weavers' baby-boom audience, and virtually any enthusiasts acquired during the folk revival of the late '50s and early '60s, and at any time after, discovered the group and its music.

Their Vanguard recordings were stripped down, very basic productions, just the group members playing with no dubbed-on accompaniment; these recordings are usually regarded more highly than the Decca material which, in any case, wasn't available for many years in any comprehensive form. Seeger left the re-formed group in 1958, preferring to pursue a solo career on his own. By that time, ironically enough, the stage had been set for just such an opportunity by the Weavers themselves. They may not have survived the blacklist intact, but the interest in folk songs that they'd fostered, along with the proof, in the form of millions of copies of "Goodnight Irene" and "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" that had been sold, wasn't lost on the public or the music business -- by 1956, groups like the Easy Riders (led by Terry Gilkyson and featuring a pair of lesser-known People's Songs alumni, Frank Miller and Richard Dehr), had charted a few huge national hits in a distinctly folk-like idiom with "Marianne"; big record labels were looking at folk music, and smaller ones were recording it, and when the Kingston Trio broke out with the two-million-selling "Tom Dooley" in 1958, the dam burst. Collegiate folk groups were in, and even controversial "old" Pete Seeger was able to get a contract with Columbia Records. By the end of the '50s, the anti-Communists were also in retreat, having been discredited by their woefully flawed national icon, Senator Joseph McCarthy, and his fall from power -- nobody especially wanted to take them on if they could help it, but they weren't winning any new battles or new friends, either. Even the Tokens' 1962 hit single, another version of the Weavers' hit "Wimoweh," entitled "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," only helped sustain the Weavers' reputation.

Seeger's first replacement in the Weavers was Erik Darling (born September 25, 1933), a former member of the Tarriers who lasted with the group until 1961 when he left to pursue a solo career and, eventually, to form the Rooftop Singers; he was succeeded by Frank Hamilton (born August 3, 1934), who stayed until 1963 and was succeeded by an acquaintance of Lee Hays', Bernie Krause, who worked with the group during their final year together, including the 1964 Carnegie Hall concert which featured a composite of all the group members working together. The group members went their separate ways, each of them remaining in music to varying degrees, although Ronnie Gilbert also pursued a degree in psychology; Pete Seeger helped introduce Bob Dylan to the established folk audience, and later showed that he had lost none of his flair for controversy, challenging the popular media with new songs such as "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy," dealing with Vietnam; Lee Hays saw a song that he had co-written with Carl Sandburg as "Wreck of the John B," retitled "Sloop John B," turned into a huge rock & roll hit by the Beach Boys, and he later became a mentor to Don McLean (who also performed with Pete Seeger). In November of 1980, a pair of reunion concerts at Carnegie Hall became the final appearance of the original quartet and the focal point of the film Wasn't That a Time, a documentary that chronicled the Weavers' history. Hays passed away the following summer, thus ending the active history of the group. Since then, two box-set collections of the group's work -- Wasn't That a Time on Vanguard, covering their history from 1950 through 1964, and Goodnight Irene: The Weavers 1949-1953 on Bear Family, devoted exclusively to their first four years together -- have appeared on CD; and Kisses Sweeter Than Wine, a double-CD of previously unreleased live performances from the years 1950-1953 on Omega Records, the successor label to the Solomon brothers' Vanguard Records. Additionally, most of their Vanguard albums have reappeared on compact disc, and a pair of compilations of their Decca work have been issued in England and America. Listening to their material today, the great irony is the sense of timelessness in the performances. The avoidance of controversy, which made the group such pariahs to their compatriots on the left and utterly infuriating to their opponents on the right, gave the Weavers' music a universality that topical songs of the era would have sorely lacked ten or 20 years later. At the same time, the group's unaffected style, partly a result of their sheer inexperience, gave the recordings an honesty and directness that was lacking in the more scholarly approach to folk music that was more typical of the era. The result is a body of songs several hundred strong that have stood the test of time for a half-century or more. ~ Bruce Eder, All Music Guide [-] Hide

Wasn't That a Time! is a treasure for serious Weavers fans. Featuring 87 songs on its four discs, including several unreleased numbers, the box set is designed for devoted fans; the liner notes are filled with anecdotes and photos that provide a good portrait of the group. For some casual fans, it might be a bit too much, but Wasn't That a Time!... [+] Read More

Wasn't That a Time! is a treasure for serious Weavers fans. Featuring 87 songs on its four discs, including several unreleased numbers, the box set is designed for devoted fans; the liner notes are filled with anecdotes and photos that provide a good portrait of the group. For some casual fans, it might be a bit too much, but Wasn't That a Time! is a fitting tribute to the seminal folk group. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide [-] Hide

Jam-packed with great songs and emotions, "There Were Roses" is a classic, dealing with the senseless killing in Northern Ireland. "I'm Going Back on the Bicycle" and "Don't Wake Me Early in the Morning" are fun songs. "Humpty Dumpty Was Pushed" questions us, and "Your Daughters & Your Sons" has been used as an anthem throughout the world....

Jam-packed with great songs and emotions, "There Were Roses" is a classic, dealing with the senseless killing in Northern Ireland. "I'm Going Back on the Bicycle" and "Don't Wake Me Early in the Morning" are fun songs. "Humpty Dumpty Was Pushed" questions us, and "Your Daughters & Your Sons" has been used as an anthem throughout the world. Highly, highly recommended! ~ Chip Renner, All Music Guide [-] Hide

"Greatest Hits," as Seeger himself wryly wrote in his liner notes, is a misnomer considering that he never had hit singles or huge-selling albums as a solo artist, though actually "Little Boxes" (included here) made the lower reaches of the charts. In reality this 1967 compilation (since reissued on CD) collects the most popular tracks of his... [+] Read More

"Greatest Hits," as Seeger himself wryly wrote in his liner notes, is a misnomer considering that he never had hit singles or huge-selling albums as a solo artist, though actually "Little Boxes" (included here) made the lower reaches of the charts. In reality this 1967 compilation (since reissued on CD) collects the most popular tracks of his 1962-1966 output for Columbia, which was a pretty small slice of his prolific career. Nonetheless, these were among his most popular recordings ever, whether as done by him or covered by others. To begin with, it has the original 1962 version of "Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)," made into a number one folk-rock hit in 1965 by the Byrds (and covered to good effect by Judy Collins in 1963). There's also "The Bells of Rhymney," also covered by the Byrds in 1965, and "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?," a hit for the Kingston Trio, although the 1962 version here is a disappointingly thin a cappella one. Other tracks were among the most popular staples of his repertoire: "We Shall Overcome," "Wimoweh (The Lion Sleeps Tonight)," and "Guantanamera." Though it might not qualify as an ideal career survey given its narrow chronology, certainly it's among the one or two best anthologies for those who just want one or two Seeger comps, as it has many of the most renowned songs he wrote or popularized in their most popular recorded versions. [Columbia/Legacy reissued a remastered edition of this 1967 album in 2002, including four bonus tracks.] ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide [-] Hide

You'd think the last word in Woody Guthrie reissues would have appeared before this. After all, the legendary folksinger recorded most of his best work nearly 60 years before this was released, and the bulk of it has been regularly reissued in fine collections on Folkways, Rounder, and other labels. So this CD is as surprising as it is welcome.... [+] Read More

You'd think the last word in Woody Guthrie reissues would have appeared before this. After all, the legendary folksinger recorded most of his best work nearly 60 years before this was released, and the bulk of it has been regularly reissued in fine collections on Folkways, Rounder, and other labels. So this CD is as surprising as it is welcome. What makes it probably the single best Guthrie disc you can own? For one thing, the compilers had total access to the archives of Folkways Records founder Moses Asch, for whom the singer made the lion's share of his most important recordings. And they picked for this package 27 songs that showcase the incredible range of his writing and performing talent -- everything from children's ditties ("Car Song") to social commentary ("Do-Re-Mi") to historical tales ("End of the Line"). Then there's the title track -- Guthrie's most famous tune -- which was only sporadically available until this CD. It's here in two versions, including one that features the famous yet previously unreleased "private property" verses.

The sound quality is as notable as the program. The compilers went back to the master recordings and did a magnificent job of cleaning things up without altering what Guthrie waxed. The result sounds pure and intimate -- as if the singer were right there in the room with you. Finally, there's a superb 36-page book with all sorts of fascinating detail on Asch, Guthrie, and every track. The best news: This is only the first volume in a four-CD series. ~ Jeff Burger, All Music Guide [-] Hide

While the neophyte might be better advised to start with the 20-track 1972 Columbia compilation The World of Pete Seeger, this collection would make a good second purchase to hear the highlights of Seeger's major-label sojourn. Eschewing such favorites as "Little Boxes" (Seeger's sole chart single) and "If I Had a Hammer" (which Seeger... [+] Read More

While the neophyte might be better advised to start with the 20-track 1972 Columbia compilation The World of Pete Seeger, this collection would make a good second purchase to hear the highlights of Seeger's major-label sojourn. Eschewing such favorites as "Little Boxes" (Seeger's sole chart single) and "If I Had a Hammer" (which Seeger co-wrote), but including many other familiar performances (among them "Turn! Turn! Turn!" and "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"), the set is thematically organized into story songs, political songs, biographical songs, and children's songs. This separation sometimes seems arbitrary -- "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy" and "Harry Sims" (about a mine workers' union organizer) would seem to fit better in the political column than as stories or biographies -- and in concert, where much of this material was recorded, Seeger deliberately mixes his songs up while drawing on at least a few other categories. But for the most part, the grouping works on disc, and along with classics like "We Shall Overcome" and "This Land Is Your Land," there are some pleasant discoveries, such as the story of "Aimee Semple McPherson," from Seeger's debut Columbia album Story Songs, and Woody Guthrie's "Belle Star," a duet with Ramblin' Jack Elliott from The Badmen. At a running time well under two hours, the album could have been more comprehensive, and the liner notes, spread among seven writers, amount to little more than superficial tribute. So, this is not the kind of retrospective Seeger deserves. But it gives a good sense of the range of his talent, and it is full of enlightening, entertaining songs and performances. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide [-] Hide