Yesterday, my wife, Riki, and I went to see "Inside Llewyn Davis," the Coen brothers paean to the Greenwich Village folk music scene in the early 60's. The movie draws loosely on the life and career of the late Dave Van Ronk, a paterfamilias of the young folkies who flocked to the Village in the early 60's. The center of that scene--at least as far as I was concerned--was a small cafe on MacDougal Street called The Gaslight. It was run by a dignified southern gentleman named John Hood. It was home to a number of established and upcoming folkies and comedians. It was there, for example, that I first heard Bill Cosby. Dave Van Ronk, who died in 2002 at the age of 65, was not only a regular at the Gaslight, but the gatekeeper of its "open mike" nights. It was at such such open mikes that people like yours truly hoped to get "noticed" among people destined for, if not greatness, celebrity status among folkies. Having, for example, to follow the late Richie Havens, a performer of astonishing originality, was--to put it mildly--intimidating. I remember hearing a very young and gawky harmonica player named John Sebastian play back-up to a long-forgotten guitarist. I would never have thought that he would have gone on to be a gold album lead singer in The Loving Spoonful, but there he was, at the beginning.
As for its headliners, the Gaslight featured such stalwarts as Doc Watson, the legendary guitarist and folksinger, the most talented folk instrumentalist I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. Blind since birth, Doc was an absolute master of both flat and finger-picking styles, along with a pleasant and unpretentious voice. Mississippi John Hurt, an equally legendary performer whose 78 RPM sides from the late 1920's were collectors items, was rediscovered and brought to New York. Mississippi John had a clean and silken blues-picking style and a rough, but sweet voice. Performing in a battered fedora that he never removed, Hurt was a nice and simple man who always seemed a bit bemused by the attention suddenly focused on him by all these eager young white urbanites.
Ramblin' Jack Elliott (ne Adnopoz), a Brooklyn born son of Jewish doctor who decided he preferred to be a cowboy, and--a la Bob Dylan--transformed himself into a new identity. Interestingly, Both Van Ronk and Ramblin' Jack were inspirations to the young Dylan, whose songs and styles he soaked up until he exhausted them (their styles, that is), and moved on. Another regular at the Gaslight was the talented, but still under-recogized Oklahoma transplant, Tom Paxton. In the film, Paxton is portrayed by a character named Nelson. Like Paxton, he first appeared in the Village while still in the Army at Fort Dix in nearby New Jersey. The clean-cut Paxton went on to be one of the most enduring and prolific singer/songwriters to come out of the 60's. His songs were recorded by the most commercially successful folksingers of the day, including the Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul & Mary, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan. Among his many memorable songs are "The Last Thing on My Mind," "Ramblin' Boy,""Can't Help but Wonder Where I'm Bound," and the clever parody, "Yuppies in the Sky." Also featured in the film is a quartet representing the wonderful Irish group, "The Clancy Brothers," who, along with lead singer, Tommy Makem, were a mainstay of the Village scene. Llewyn responds to the praise heaped on them by the proprietor of the Gaslight (more like Gerde's Mike Porco than the reserved Mr. Hood), by limiting his compliments to their distinctive fisherman's sweaters.
The immensely talented--and tormented--topical singer/songwriter, Phil Ochs, was also a Gaslight regular. Ever in Dylan's shadow, Ochs was never able to make the successful transition from folk to the mainstream success he so wanted. Ochs succumbed to the twin demons of alcohol and depression, and took his own life while still in his mid-thirties. Ochs was more enduringly committed to folk music as an agent for political change than was Dylan, although Dylan's was the more brilliant talent--something Ochs knew all too well. (As Bing Crosby once said of Frank Sinatra--"A voice like that comes along only once in a lifetime; too bad it was during mine." Bing, however, made the better career adjustment.)
As for the movies's inspiration, Dave Van Ronk, whose posthumously published memoir, "The Mayor of MacDougal Street" (co-written by Elijah Wald), was not the struggling loner portrayed by Oscar Isaac in "Inside Llewyn Davis." While never able to achieve the commercial success of his acolytes, Van Ronk, with his manager and then-wife, Terri, was not constantly in search of "crash pads," but, rather, provided his own Village apartment to others, such as Dylan. Van Ronk, like Llewyn Davis had been a merchant seaman, but left those days behind him by the time he settled in the Village. Trained in jazz, Van Ronk took the guitar far beyond the simple three or four-chord strums of many folkies. He immersed himself in the blues styles of the great Delta bluesmen he admired. Van Ronk was more than an imitator; he was an adapter. Not even the Reverend Gary Davis (another Gaslight performer), Mance Lipscomb, or Mississippi John Hurt, would have dreamed of transcribing ragtime piano classics like "The Entertainer," (theme song from "The Sting"), "The St. Louis Tickle," and many others to the guitar. I believe to this day that Van Ronk did the best adaptation of "The House of the Rising Sun," (co-opted first by Dylan on his first album, then picked up by the animals and transformed into a monster hit, without a penny to Van Ronk.) Van Ronk did a masterful adaptation of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" (which he called "Clouds"), and was set to release it as a commercial single, when Judy Collins beat him to the punch and enjoyed significant success with what is now considered the definitive version of the song.
As for the Gaslight itself, the movie faithfully captures the outside of the folk club, but makes the inside a blend of (the) two other famous folkie haunts, "The Bitter End," and "Gerdes Folk City," both of which had liquor licenses, something the real Gaslight (but not its cinematic stand-in) lacked. And Oscar Isaac, whose character is admittedly based loosely on Van Ronk, does his songs beautifully, singing in in a less distinctive, but better voice than Van Ronk, and playing guitar in a manner true to Van Ronk's stylings.
"Inside Llewyn Davis" is a picaresque journey through the Greenwich Village of my youth. A symbolically effective (if unsubtle) closing to the movie has Llewyn Davis leaving the microphone as the changing of the guard--in the form of a young Bob Dylan--replaces him on stage, both literally and figuratively. Davis has come full circle from the flashback that follows the film's opening scene, as we again see him meet the man who (unexplainably) beat him up at the beginning. This is now understood as being in response to Davis's drunken heckling of the man's wife (a Jean Ritchie-like autoharpist) the night before.
For my wife, Riki (still recovering from years of "folk fatigue") "Inside Llewyn Davis" was enjoyed better at a distance than when lived through. The Coen brothers have done a very good job in bringing this era to life.
As a long-time Van Ronk admirer (warts and all), I commend the reader to "The Mayor of MacDougal Street" and the listener to (as a starter) "Dave Van Ronk--A Chrestomathy." Sadly, Dave (and most of the Gaslight regulars) are long-gone, but their spirits live on in this lovingly-made film. It certainly took me back, and for those of you who were never there, it's an earnest re-creation of a long-ago time that, for me, seems like just yesterday.
As for its headliners, the Gaslight featured such stalwarts as Doc Watson, the legendary guitarist and folksinger, the most talented folk instrumentalist I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. Blind since birth, Doc was an absolute master of both flat and finger-picking styles, along with a pleasant and unpretentious voice. Mississippi John Hurt, an equally legendary performer whose 78 RPM sides from the late 1920's were collectors items, was rediscovered and brought to New York. Mississippi John had a clean and silken blues-picking style and a rough, but sweet voice. Performing in a battered fedora that he never removed, Hurt was a nice and simple man who always seemed a bit bemused by the attention suddenly focused on him by all these eager young white urbanites.
Ramblin' Jack Elliott (ne Adnopoz), a Brooklyn born son of Jewish doctor who decided he preferred to be a cowboy, and--a la Bob Dylan--transformed himself into a new identity. Interestingly, Both Van Ronk and Ramblin' Jack were inspirations to the young Dylan, whose songs and styles he soaked up until he exhausted them (their styles, that is), and moved on. Another regular at the Gaslight was the talented, but still under-recogized Oklahoma transplant, Tom Paxton. In the film, Paxton is portrayed by a character named Nelson. Like Paxton, he first appeared in the Village while still in the Army at Fort Dix in nearby New Jersey. The clean-cut Paxton went on to be one of the most enduring and prolific singer/songwriters to come out of the 60's. His songs were recorded by the most commercially successful folksingers of the day, including the Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul & Mary, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan. Among his many memorable songs are "The Last Thing on My Mind," "Ramblin' Boy,""Can't Help but Wonder Where I'm Bound," and the clever parody, "Yuppies in the Sky." Also featured in the film is a quartet representing the wonderful Irish group, "The Clancy Brothers," who, along with lead singer, Tommy Makem, were a mainstay of the Village scene. Llewyn responds to the praise heaped on them by the proprietor of the Gaslight (more like Gerde's Mike Porco than the reserved Mr. Hood), by limiting his compliments to their distinctive fisherman's sweaters.
The immensely talented--and tormented--topical singer/songwriter, Phil Ochs, was also a Gaslight regular. Ever in Dylan's shadow, Ochs was never able to make the successful transition from folk to the mainstream success he so wanted. Ochs succumbed to the twin demons of alcohol and depression, and took his own life while still in his mid-thirties. Ochs was more enduringly committed to folk music as an agent for political change than was Dylan, although Dylan's was the more brilliant talent--something Ochs knew all too well. (As Bing Crosby once said of Frank Sinatra--"A voice like that comes along only once in a lifetime; too bad it was during mine." Bing, however, made the better career adjustment.)
As for the movies's inspiration, Dave Van Ronk, whose posthumously published memoir, "The Mayor of MacDougal Street" (co-written by Elijah Wald), was not the struggling loner portrayed by Oscar Isaac in "Inside Llewyn Davis." While never able to achieve the commercial success of his acolytes, Van Ronk, with his manager and then-wife, Terri, was not constantly in search of "crash pads," but, rather, provided his own Village apartment to others, such as Dylan. Van Ronk, like Llewyn Davis had been a merchant seaman, but left those days behind him by the time he settled in the Village. Trained in jazz, Van Ronk took the guitar far beyond the simple three or four-chord strums of many folkies. He immersed himself in the blues styles of the great Delta bluesmen he admired. Van Ronk was more than an imitator; he was an adapter. Not even the Reverend Gary Davis (another Gaslight performer), Mance Lipscomb, or Mississippi John Hurt, would have dreamed of transcribing ragtime piano classics like "The Entertainer," (theme song from "The Sting"), "The St. Louis Tickle," and many others to the guitar. I believe to this day that Van Ronk did the best adaptation of "The House of the Rising Sun," (co-opted first by Dylan on his first album, then picked up by the animals and transformed into a monster hit, without a penny to Van Ronk.) Van Ronk did a masterful adaptation of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" (which he called "Clouds"), and was set to release it as a commercial single, when Judy Collins beat him to the punch and enjoyed significant success with what is now considered the definitive version of the song.
As for the Gaslight itself, the movie faithfully captures the outside of the folk club, but makes the inside a blend of (the) two other famous folkie haunts, "The Bitter End," and "Gerdes Folk City," both of which had liquor licenses, something the real Gaslight (but not its cinematic stand-in) lacked. And Oscar Isaac, whose character is admittedly based loosely on Van Ronk, does his songs beautifully, singing in in a less distinctive, but better voice than Van Ronk, and playing guitar in a manner true to Van Ronk's stylings.
"Inside Llewyn Davis" is a picaresque journey through the Greenwich Village of my youth. A symbolically effective (if unsubtle) closing to the movie has Llewyn Davis leaving the microphone as the changing of the guard--in the form of a young Bob Dylan--replaces him on stage, both literally and figuratively. Davis has come full circle from the flashback that follows the film's opening scene, as we again see him meet the man who (unexplainably) beat him up at the beginning. This is now understood as being in response to Davis's drunken heckling of the man's wife (a Jean Ritchie-like autoharpist) the night before.
For my wife, Riki (still recovering from years of "folk fatigue") "Inside Llewyn Davis" was enjoyed better at a distance than when lived through. The Coen brothers have done a very good job in bringing this era to life.
As a long-time Van Ronk admirer (warts and all), I commend the reader to "The Mayor of MacDougal Street" and the listener to (as a starter) "Dave Van Ronk--A Chrestomathy." Sadly, Dave (and most of the Gaslight regulars) are long-gone, but their spirits live on in this lovingly-made film. It certainly took me back, and for those of you who were never there, it's an earnest re-creation of a long-ago time that, for me, seems like just yesterday.
