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Click on the image to enlarge.

In my opinion, Dylan’s best 20th-Century album, and one of the greatest works of art ever created in this country — a new 45rpm pressing on 180-gram vinyl . . .

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Rock and roll guitar art of the highest order . . .

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Click on the image to enlarge.

The world was lucky to see him born, on this date in 1941.

The beauty of this legendary collection of American roots music is that it wasn’t put together as the result of an academic ethnographic study.  Its compiler Harry Smith (below) wanted to present an overview of “folk” music, but only folk music he thought was cool.  He also chose only recordings that had been released commercially, on the grounds that if a recording had no commercial value, then it couldn’t be a work of genuine folk art, genuine popular art — an insight of genius.

The result is a revelatory survey of American music, much of it forgotten by the time Smith created the collection in 1952, but also a treasure trove of wildly entertaining music.  Smith had impeccably good taste.

Much has been written about the influence of the collection on the American folk revival of the 1950s, which really can’t be overstated.  Much more could be written about its continuing influence on Bob Dylan, even as he moved beyond the folk revival era.

What counts most, though, is just the magnificence and variety of the music.  The six original records of the collection, grouped in three volumes, have just been reissued on 200-gram vinyl by Mississippi Records, supplemented by a fourth volume containing two more records which Smith planned but never released.

They’re already sold out but can still be had at inflated prices from various online sources.  Hearing it all on vinyl, the way Dylan first heard it, is a cardinal cultural experience.

Let’s go on a moonlight swim . . .

There really are 14 great songs on this album, some better than others of course but all delightful.

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Click on the image to enlarge.

Four mop-tops, three platters of joy.

My New Orleans friends Adrienne and Bill gave me this album for Christmas but I’ve just had a chance to spend some serious time listening to it.  I knew it would be cool, because Adrienne and Bill know what’s cool when it comes to New Orleans music.

Dr. John called James Booker “the best black, gay, one-eyed junkie piano genius New Orleans has ever produced.”  He was a virtuoso keyboardist who combined a lot of traditions, stride, Latin, classical, jazz, gospel, blues, into a distinct style that’s still recognizable as a variant of a traditional New Orleans musical gumbo.  He sometimes added plaintive vocals to his recordings.

Booker died at the age of 43 in 1983 — this album contains his last commercial recordings.  They’re strange and spooky and wonderful — something in that gumbo you haven’t tasted before and can’t quite put a name to.

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Few things make me as happy as surf music, the shittier the better.  I once saw Dick Dale play at the beach in Ventura, California and that made me unreasonably happy.  Dick said, “I always use the thickest strings I can find for my guitar to get this sound — I’ve cut my fingers to ribbons for you.”

Thank you, Dick.