The story of an eclectic musician who, from Sweeney's Men to the Modena City Ramblers, via the Pogues, has shaped the history of British folk.
There was a period, the 1980s, when folk music was identified with the Pogues. A conversation between two curious music lovers meeting in their favorite shop might have gone as follows:
- Hi, what kind of music do you prefer?
- I listen to folk.
- Oh, so the Pogues? Yes, they're very good.
The Pogues had indeed enjoyed extraordinary success in those years: Irish pubs with live music were springing up all over Europe, and young musicians were getting together to form new bands. And all this was in the spirit of poguesmania. In Italy, for example, the Modena City Ramblers were born exactly like that, after a trip to Ireland. Truth be told, the Irish Pogues aren't Irish at all, even though their music has captured the rowdiest aspects of street music and late-night pub drinking. The Pogues' most iconic figure remains undoubtedly Shane McGowan, who lived up to the stereotype of the nineteenth-century "cursed" poet: on album covers, he constantly appeared mentally deprived, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette in the other. And he was popular. It's clear that an artist, if he's not like this, doesn't inspire enthusiasm. Examples, after all, are endless. It should be added that this type of character, to fuel the myth, shouldn't have a long life, otherwise what kind of myth would it be? Yet our Shane is still in excellent health: could he just be a great actor, perhaps extremely modest in his private life? If that were the case, one would think that too many fans have needlessly damaged their livers.
Folk, however, wasn't born with the Pogues: indeed, those who lived through the 1960s tend to see the Pogues as a departure from the folk movement, an impoverishment compared to the creativity and sophistication of their early days. When I had the opportunity to listen to the Pogues' early albums, I didn't get a positive impression: behind that moody sound, I found energy, yes, but little more. The names of the musicians were unknown to me, except for one: Terry Woods. Given the context, I initially assumed he was a namesake; his was, after all, a fairly common name. It hadn't even occurred to me that Woods was the founder of Steeleye Span and, before that, of Sweeney's Men. That it was indeed him, I discovered relatively recently, to my great astonishment. What was a guy like Terry, with his experience, doing in a band of kids? To understand, you have to retrace the stages of his not-so-brief career. His first instrument was a banjo, purchased when he was 14. He then met a girl, Gay, with whom he formed his first band, Apprentice Folk, a name later shortened to The Prentice Folk. But it was in 1967, after his first youthful experiences, that his professional career began: that year he joined the Irish band Sweenewy's Men. The band's curious name has literary origins: Sweeney's Men is the protagonist of Flann O'Brien's novel "At Swim Two Birds." The other members of that group were Andy Irvine (vocals, mandolin, guitar, harmonica) and Johnny Moynihan (vocals, flute, bouzouki), both musicians destined for fame. Moynihan was the first to use the bouzouki in Irish music, as was Andy Irvine with the mandolin. The result was a refined and creative revival of Irish folk, which, compared to the somewhat rudimentary sobriety of the Dubliners and the Clancy Brothers, became a genre exportable around the world precisely because of its innovative power. The trio recorded their first, self-titled album in 1968, then Andy Irvine decided to abandon the project to travel to Eastern Europe and find new ideas that would later flow into the Planxty repertoire. Andy was replaced by electric guitarist Henry McCullough, who was touring with Jimi Hendrix at the time. Perhaps the latter wasn't the best person to reinvigorate the Sweeneys, the world he came from was one of huge audiences and million-dollar contracts. So after a few months, without having left a trace (there are no live or studio recordings to testify to his presence), he decided to go and play with none other than Joe Cocker. Sweeney's Men were essentially a duo. In 1969, they released a second and final album, "The Tracks of Sweeney." Both albums were re-released in 1992 on the CD "Time Never Was Here 1968-69." After his time with Sweeney's ended, Terry toured Ireland with a group called Orphanage, which also included Phil Lynott and Brian Downey. But the experience was short-lived; they were intense years of constant experimentation. Together with Gay, who had since become his wife, he then went to England where he met Ashley Hutchings, who was playing with Fairport Convention at the time. Hutchings wanted to form a band that included the three former members of Sweeney's Men, but Irvine and Moynihan declined. The three of them no longer had much harmony and their ideas diverged: I have a specific memory in mind, which dates back to the 1980s, when we invited Andy Irvine to play in Genoa. When he saw a Pogues record on the bed of his friend and journalist Antonio Vivaldi, he made a grimace of disgust that I hadn't understood at the time: the music of this group, of which Terry Woods himself had joined, was something substantially different from Andy's artistic path. His abandonment of the Hutchings project is now, in light of these distances, more understandable. Terry, however, joined that project together with his wife Gay, Tim Hart and Maddy Prior, a couple who had also become a partnership after the release of “Folk Songs of Old England, Vol. 1” (1968). The quartet called itself Steeleye Span and released its first and memorable album in 1970: "Hark! The Village Wait!". Even then, however, the group split after this first album; it was too difficult to reconcile their differing views, and Terry wasn't exactly adept at adapting to the situation. The duo of Tim Hart and Maddy Prior continued the Steeleye Span experience, which remains a highly creative group with a large following today. Gay and Terry instead formed the Woods Band, which, initially a group, was essentially a duo that used different musicians for touring and studio recording, so much so that many records were ultimately signed simply by Gay and Terry Woods. Their vinyl records are hard to find today and have a certain commercial value, although many have been reissued on CD. One of them, "Backwoods" (1975), was given to me by a friend: it's an album I found extraordinary for its energy, compositional quality, and originality. In 1980, Terry and Gay separated, and he disappeared from the music scene for nearly five years when, one spring day, he received a call from Frank Murray. Frank was the sound engineer on Steeleye Span's debut album and had later become the producer for the Pogues, an emerging group that had aroused enthusiasm among many with their vibrant and engaging roots music. Terry was asked to join the Pogues, and he enthusiastically accepted. In September 1985, a collaboration began that would end eight years later, when the group entered into crisis following the departure of leader Shane McGowan. The last album with the Pogues (1993's Waiting for Herb) was not well received by critics. From his time with the Pogues, I particularly remember the live concert held in Leysin, Switzerland in 1991, which was recently reissued on double vinyl on Earmark (a joint venture of Sanctuary Records). What remains etched in my memory from that concert, which was also poorly recorded, is the engaging dynamism of certain performances, as well as the extreme crudeness of some of the arrangements. I've always wondered if Terry wasn't a stranger to the chaotic traveling circus that was the Pogues. In 1993, Terry Woods began an artistic partnership with Ron Kavana, a former Pogues collaborator, with whom he founded the group The Bucks, whose debut album, "Dancin' to the Ceilí Band," was released in 1994. Ron left The Bucks soon after the release of that album, but the collaboration between the two musicians didn't end there, and Terry played an important role in the LILT project dedicated to children: the proceeds from the sale of the album of the same name went entirely to charity.This eclectic musician's career took a new turn after meeting Dave Brown, with whom he re-formed the Woods Band. Like all rebirths and reunions, this event sparked the curiosity and enthusiasm of fans. The sound of the new Woods Band embodied Terry's entire career: in addition to twenty or so new compositions, their Irish-inspired repertoire included "The Irish Rover" (by the Pogues), "Waxies Dargle" (Sweeney's Men), and Finnegans Wake (The Dubliners). In 2002, the group entered the recording studio to cut their first CD, "Music from the Four Corners of Hell." The lineup includes a young twenty-two-year-old singer, Shane Martin, as well as Dave Browne (acoustic & electric guitars), Terry Woods (acoustic guitar, banjo, bouzouki, cittern, mandolin, concertina, background vocals), Paul Harrigan (whistle, uillean pipes, accordion), David "Sparky" Hughes (keyboards, electric bass, background vocals), and Steve Browne (drums, percussion, background vocals). The album is enjoyable and I believe it deserves a permanent place in the discography of fans of the genre. But let's get to the last stop on this long journey: Italy. Terry Woods met the Modena City Ramblers and found these young men, who were obsessed with pogues but had little knowledge of traditional music, to be friendly. From that meeting, a collaboration began, and on November 3, 2006, the album "Dopo il lungo inverno" was released, produced by Peter Walsh, with Terry providing some arrangements. Then, in February 2007, the Ramblers returned to the studio with Terry, once again at the Esagono di Rubiera, to record their first album intended for the foreign market. This led to the Modena City Ramblers' latest effort, "Bella Ciao" (Italian Combat Folk for the Masses, 2008), an album recorded in two separate sessions (September 2006 and February 2007) and intended for an international audience. Terry Woods, in this case, not only selected material for re-recording that was suitable for a foreign audience, but also translated some songs into English. The intensity with which he played the mandolin on compositions such as "Music of the Time" and "El Presidente" is perhaps the best tribute to Luca Giacometti, the Modena City Ramblers member who died in a car accident shortly before the release of this album, and with whom he had developed a relationship of great friendship and respect.