Steve Peck writes: A few years back, I purchased a copy of Bert Jansch’s Rosemary Lane in Asheville, North Carolina, on a beautiful fall day that was still more summer than autumn. Upon arriving back home in Indianapolis, I lowered the circular, black vinyl on my spinning contraption, and an enchanting haze wafted in from deep within its grooves.
Cover artwork by Heather Jansch
Imagination is a powerful thing. Music often conjures images in my mind that somehow reflect the sounds and feelings the notes invoke, as if listening in a waking dream state.
Upon hearing Rosemary Lane, I was immediately transported to some British coast where the sky is grey and the ships sound louder at night than they do during the day. There may be a cliff and a lighthouse, but alas, I might be dreaming too hard. I enter a lone dwelling on the hill with smoke rising from the chimney, to hear what I can see.
The kettle is on, and somebody is scouring around, making a cuppa. The fire is sparking in the hearth and a fellow in a worn sweater on a worn sofa is picking a guitar, singing songs both ancient and new. Some are his, others are very old, even older than my home country on this side of the big blue.
The smoke of the singer’s voice caresses the crackling fire in harmony with the quiet crackling of the vinyl spinning ‘round. Some may not hear the smoke because their eyes are too fixated on what’s in front of them. To savor it, one must dream.
The guitar notes are the shape of the kindling in the basket in front of the blaze; vessels of magic, architects of the dream, drawing you closer to their song, smelling of wood and wind.
From the back cover of Rosemary Lane
Neil Young once called Bert Jansch the Jimi Hendrix of the acoustic guitar,
but you won’t find the Star-Spangled Banner on Rosemary Lane. Bert plays in a deliberate manner that creates palpable tension since he could shred tree limbs into dust if he wanted to. Instead, Jansch offers nothing more than what the song dreams of.
The album is just Bert Jansch and his guitar. His voice is a wonderful lived-in shade of smoke that floats in between the notes bearing subtle shades of meaning. He sounds ageless, or of ages past, or the age that hasn’t come, you know… when all things go back in time. To the hearth.
Rosemary Lane was recorded in 1971, to some just a blink, to others it might as well be 1681. It sounds old. It sounded old when it first emerged from the haze of Bert’s smoke and the crackle of his kindling.
I dream on this dreary afternoon, but I’m warm by the fire. My comforter is more than cloth and down, and Bert is more than a figure of the past. He lives on.
My eyes are moist. Smoke has gotten into them, and they need a shut. Blinking back the years.
Salut! Folk has covered Bert Jansch many a time. Click here for links to more articles about Bert.
Added Bonus: Yorkshire-based folk artist Henry Parker just posted a touching version of Tell Me What Is True Love (click here). Highly recommended.
Steve Peck also writes at his Facebook music blog Hickory Notes.
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