Oberlin 1968 - Live Recording of The Young Tradition

Liner Notes by Leslie Berman

The Oberlin concert featured many of the band's hits - "Byker Hill" with its unison stamp-footed rhythmic punctuation; "The Lyke Wake Dirge," an eerie, sour-noted mix of weird witch-like warnings; the broken-token song of parted lovers reunited, "Claudy Banks"; and "Knight William and the Shepherd's Daughter," one of the big Child ballads, just to name four - and their renditions of the sea chanteys "Haul on the Bowline," "Blow the Man Down," and "Heave Away, Me Johnny" sounding in rhythm and arrangement like sailors at work, underscore the trio's affinity for the physical pleasure of singing.

Any time you hear The Young Tradition the first thing that strikes you is the rasping lisping high nasal vibrato tenor of Peter Bellamy (Heather reminds me that someone anagrammed his name as Elmer P. Bleaty), lead vocalist on many of the group's best-known songs. But before your brain can catch up to your ears, you're assaulted by the mighty roar of harmony vocals sung low and high by Royston Wood and Heather Wood, as the trio takes in a collective diaphragmatic breath, then blows it out as bellowing choruses that ring and clang round the room until you could swear you're hearing the bim bam bong of cathedral bells. Though all three of them could sing delicate tunes and lyrics, their signature sound was loud - belting out sea chanteys they were as noisy as a rock band.

And so they sound on Oberlin 1968. My favorite song from this collection with Royston as lead is Child ballad number 44, known as "The Two Magicians." Each time the chorus comes around, Royston adds a humorous one-word commentary on the prior verse. In the story, the blacksmith vows to have the maidenhead of the lady, who spurns him as dirty and of low degree, which starts them on a chase. When the lady turns into a dove and the blacksmith turns into a cock pigeon, he warns her, "cooing," that "the lusty smith will be your love "; when she becomes a mare, and he becomes a saddle, he threatens her again "creaking, bide, lady bide / there's nowhere you can hide / for the lusty smith will be your love / and he will lay your pride." From the tone and timing of the audience's laughter, it seems likely that rude hand gestures accompanied some of the more provocative comments.

Heather sings lead on only two songs during this concert. She turns in a snarky performance of "Me Husband's Got No Courage In Him," warning lusty women not to marry a man until they "try him," and tells the story of the pretty little "Oyster Girl" who beds the young man, picks his pockets, and leaves him with "a dose of the oysters." Although she's always said her strength is in singing harmony, Heather's grown into a fine solo singer over the years, and these showcase spots at Oberlin prove she was starting to stretch her wings back then. On trio songs, where Peter and Royston sing leads and counterpoints, Heather's harmonies tie the tunes together, making the memorable sound that's uniquely the YT.

As mentioned earlier, Peter's voice was in itself remarkable and unmistakable. On recordings, his voice strikes the notes sharply and crisply, when seen and heard live, his voice appears forced through the pipes of a trumpet or the reeds of a clarinet or an oboe, as he bends and poses until you can see the notes forming and dying away. Watching Peter numerous times, he consistently outperformed himself on "Claudy Banks," which he sang almost simply, with few vocal embellishments except those natural to forming the notes of the tune. Not surprisingly, this is one of his best performances on Oberlin 1968. Peter and Royston turn in a wonderful rendition of "The Husbandman & The Servingman," in which each volleys praise for his own profession, and the trio performances here on "The Foxhunt," "Bold Fisherman" and "John Barleycorn," where all three voices come in from the first note, distinct, yet intertwined, are definitive proof of the YT's position as the best a capella group of the folk music revival.

By the time the YT performed at Oberlin, they'd been singing together for more than three years almost every day. But as Heather is fond of saying, they rarely rehearsed, preferring to sing with some spontaneity, and having an instinct for uniting their voices. What we fans have come to consider to be the quintessential YT sound was honed in a modicum of rehearsals for album recordings, endless late night singing sessions at parties, and during many gigs over the years since they'd joined forces. Yet despite their (usually) smooth delivery, they retain on this Oberlin College live concert recording a raw quality that invests every song - a broken token ballad, a sea chantey, a hymn from the Sacred Harp liturgy - with an urgent and deeply emotional timbre. It's too bad that the between-songs patter was eliminated from the recording, because the YT really were hilarious live, whether joking about the subject matter of their songs, or jabbing at one another for comic effect. But the producers were right to make room for all the music, because ultimately, it is the music that made The Young Tradition so special, that even though they disbanded in 1969, throwing in the towel in a civilized fashion with a farewell concert/party at Cecil Sharp House after only four intense years of performing together, and though they released only four recordings, their influence in still felt on the folk scene today.

The first time I heard the aftermath of The Young Tradition, they'd been dissolved as a group for at least twice as long as they'd been one, but they'd come together to support the solo gig, probably of Peter's, when all three happened to be in the same neighborhood in New York City - Peter, visiting from Keighley, England, Royston in town from wanderings and who knew where, and Heather, having moved to the States when she realized her address book had more friends in it from across the Atlantic than it did in England, sauntering downtown from her ship's berth apartment in Hell's Kitchen. I think it was at the Eagle Tavern, a bar/restaurant at the corner of 14th Street and 9th Avenue that hosted weekly traditional folk music concerts, but it could have been any of a half-dozen venues where unaccompanied singers could be sure of drawing a crowd. There they were, slipping in to their accustomed roles as easily as if they'd never parted, bantering and chattering about the songs and where they'd learned them, then throwing back their heads and blasting out chantey after chantey, and harmonizing with gusto on song after song. It was an amazing, long night of music, ending only when their voices at last gave out. Although I was lucky enough to attend solo and duo performances by Peter, Heather and Royston over the years, I never again heard a night of the three of them singing together until now. I've listened over and over to Oberlin 1968 until I find the songs popping into my internal playlist at unexpected moments. In my mind's eye, I can see them at that gig, young, artistically successful, at the top of their form, three beautiful expressive characters, leaning in to their microphones, ecstatically united in song. With this record, I get to relive it with them. Magic.

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