Mr. goodtime

Why John Hartford's still a hero

by David Ritchie

If record stores had a category for "goodtime" music, John Hartford's entire catalogue would surely find a place there. His laid-back jams -- a blend of bluegrass, old time, pop, and country elements -- have never netted him huge success but have made him a counterculture hero for more than 30 years. Many people still remember him for his appearances on the Smothers Brothers show and the Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour. Campbell had something to do with Hartford's fame (and certainly his fortune), making a hit in 1967 with "Gentle on My Mind." The song garnered two Grammys and eventually became a standard akin to a modern "Stardust." Over 600 artists have recorded it since Campbell's hit.

"Gentle on My Mind" is typical Hartford, which brings up the question: How did it become a pop hit? Perhaps we'll never know; the song has no chorus, and the great lyrics refuse to be confined by typical song structure. As a sample, "It's just knowing that the world will not be cursing or forgiving when I walk along some railroad track and find/That you're waving on the back roads by the rivers of my memory for hours you're just gentle on my mind." Hard to believe a banjo tune with 27-syllable lines would help bankroll a man's entire life.

So why are people still listening to John Hartford more than 30 years later? It clearly has to do with the man himself. Hartford plays banjo mostly. He wears distinctive hats. He sings in a warm and inviting vibrato-less baritone. He plays fiddle, too, and guitar, and he dances. He's also a great storyteller (a fact recognized by Ken Burns who used his voice in the "Civil War" series). In short, Hartford is a superb entertainer and a man who obviously delights in music as he clogs on a 4x8' sheet of plywood chosen for its acoustic properties -- the rhythm from his tennis shoes is amplified along with everything else. Again, an unlikely formula for pop success. But it's a presentation that still provides a great deal of pleasure for both him and his audiences.

The other driving force in Hartford's life is his great love of the river. He grew up in St. Louis, and his early years were spent with music and the Mississippi. There seems to be a bit of Mark Twain in everything he does, and his delivery as a singer has the same calming effect as watching a lazy river go by. For many years, he's been a licensed riverboat pilot, a fact that figures prominently throughout his oeuvre. In 1971, he recorded "Steamboat Whistle Blues" with Norman Blake, Tut Taylor, Vassar Clements, and Randy Scruggs for the now legendary album, Aereo-Plain. Those sessions, rooted in bluegrass but decidedly more liberal, are now called the first "newgrass" recordings, influencing a host of young acoustic players. Mandolinist Sam Bush (who subsequently recorded with Hartford) was so propelled by those sessions that he was asked to write the liner notes for Rounder Records' reissue. He called the album a mind-blowing musical experience, "commanding musicianship, creative songs and just a great feel!"

Local musician Chip Smith (of Twang and the Chicken Chokers and a consistent sideman to Spider John Koerner) is a multi-instrumentalist who acknowledges a great debt to those sessions and to John Hartford. He describes the music as "steeped in tradition and pot smoke," an evocative description when you listen to the meandering, irregularly metered, and always clever lines that seem to spill forth from Hartford's pen.

His newest album for Rounder is Good Old Boys, and he keeps with his formula (if you can call it that). Just like on Aereo-Plain, he surrounds himself with great acoustic musicians (like old-time banjoist Bob Carlin and bassist Mark Schatz) and presents a program of his original goodtime compositions. It's back to the river for "The Waltz of the Mississippi," which features a beautiful mandolin solo by Mike Compton as well as Hartford's own fiddle work. "Watching the River Go By" is the story of two aging neighbors who sit on the porch of their lifelong homes watching the Ohio River. In typically offbeat fashion, their pseudo-love story is one of platonic nudism, but only when the weather cooperates (they don't remove their bathrobes when it's too cold or during mosquito season).

"Cross-Eyed Child" is one of the more moving songs on the album, quite a feat when you consider that it's more than 10 minutes long, a mostly spoken tale of Hartford's personal memories of Bill Monroe. Recitations like this are usually pretty tiring after the first listen, but the music and Hartford's voice are both so soothing that the song gets better and better.

It's difficult to explain Hartford's appeal. On the other hand, it's quite simple: he plays some of the most enjoyable, spontaneous, and heartfelt music being made in the world today. Check your cynicism at the door, and if you don't enjoy yourself, you might want to feel for a pulse.

John Hartford plays at 8 p.m. on October 23 at the Visitor's Center Theatre at Old Sturbridge Village as part of the American Music Concert Series. Call 347-3362.