Dave Van Ronk, a Recorded Perspective
Dave Van Ronk died February 10 of colon cancer. Van Ronk is
probably most famous for an act of kindness he committed in early 1961, when he befriended
a newly-arrived-in-NY Bob Dylan, letting him crash in his Greenwich Village apartment and
tutoring him on guitar.
Van Ronk didn't treat Dylan any differently than he did
hundreds of other young hopefuls -- he was nicknamed the "Mayor of Greenwich
Village" for his authoritative knowledge of blues and folk music and his willingness
to share it with all comers. That's just the kind of guy he was.
He was less well known as a singer and as a superlative
finger-style guitarist and that's a great pity. Van Ronk's recorded output of some 20
albums (15 of which are available on CD) pales compared to Dylan's nearly 100, but it
still has its share of sublime musical moments.
Van Ronk didn't have the finest voice of the original folk
generation, but it might have been the most expressive, with the possible exception of
Odetta -- an early inspiration and booster. And, Van Ronk's control over that raspy
instrument was immense. He was able to inhabit songs and claim even the hoariest chestnuts
for his own, the sure sign of a consummate artist.
His "Duncan & Brady" was definitive, he could
make you buy the premise of "The Teddy Bear's Picnic," and he had a spooky
affinity for any song by Joni Mitchell or Kurt Weil.
He made his reputation singing the songs of the Reverend
Gary Davis, Leadbelly, Blind Lemon Jefferson, and Jelly Roll Morton, but his tastes were
diverse. He collected songs with a precise discrimination that nevertheless yielded a
wealth of surprises. You couldn't pigeonhole the man -- he'd sing Fats Waller's "Two
Sleepy People" and follow it with Weil's "As You Make Your Bed." It would
be just as likely that could segue into "Would You Like to Swing on a Star," a
song Van Ronk considered "perfect" -- the man was no folkier-than-thou purist,
he reckoned a good song was a good song.
He wrote them as well as sang them. One of his songs,
"Last Call" -- a bleak look at the world through the bottom of a bottle --
served as inspiration for When the Sacred Ginmill Closes, one of Lawrence
Block's Matt Scudder mysteries.
"I broke my heart the other day/It'll mend again
tomorrow/If I'd been drunk when I was born/I'd be ignorant of sorrow."
 Van Ronk said the song was
"the result of an all-night shop-talk-cum-bull-session with Leonard Cohen and Joni
Mitchell, assisted by a good deal of wine and a truly loathsome fluid called Byrh. Next
morning I awoke with ["Last Call"] beside me, in my own handwriting. If Leonard
or Joni dictated it to me, they have kept mercifully silent." Of course, Van Ronk
wrote it -- it's too dark to be a Leonard Cohen song, if that's possible.
Surprisingly, Van Ronk didn't issue an album comprising
only originals until 1985's Going Back to Brooklyn [Gazell 2006], a fine place to
start an appreciation of his art. The songs are strong and so is his voice.
His earliest efforts have been, compiled on The Folkways
Years: 1959-1961 [Smithsonian Folkways SF 40041]. It's filled with solid material and
sounds surprisingly natural and present, thanks to remastering engineer Alan  Yoshida at The Mastering Lab. This is
the young Van Ronk, reveling in the riches of the past: "Twelve Gates to the
City," "Duncan and Brady," "Betty and Dupree," and "Spike
Driver's Moan." It's all choice.
Another must-have is A Chrestomathy [Gazell 2007/8],
a two-disc career-spanning retrospective released in 1992. It has early rarities, such as
the Hudson Dusters' rendition of Peter Stampfel's "Rompin' Through the Swamp,"
as well as late-era duets with Christine Lavin on jazz standards like "Two Sleepy
People."
The Dave Van Ronk I know from his recordings is an
enthusiastic, knowledgeable, funny, self-deprecating master guitarist and emotionally
evocative singer. He's good company -- he has been for over 40 years and will continue to
be for as long as people play his records. If you weren't fortunate enough to know him in
life, you could do a lot worse than to get to know him now. He's the kind of friend every
music lover is looking for. As legacies go, you could do a whole lot worse.
...Wes Phillips
wes@onhifi.com
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