Erynn Marshall and Carl Jones

A couple months before the proverbial excrement hit the fan, in March of 2020, Erynn Marshall and Carl Jones released a lovely duo album titled Old Tin. The record’s name comes from Carl’s song therein of the same title, a song touting the virtues of that old metal box that we all have, sitting somewhere on a shelf, cradling bits of flotsam and jetsam that evoke the emotions of bygone days. That old tin is a perfect metaphor for this collection of music.

When the smoke settled in the summer of 2020, folk musicians found ourselves looking at a calendar full of crossed-out tours, camps, and festival dates. These are events that we all look forward to, where we renew ongoing friendships and revive our stoke by drinking at the well of the old-time tradition. Not to mention the critical income we derive from these events. Most of us had to stay home and make lemonade from the lemons of 2020. Looking back, we now see that it wasn’t all bad. We renewed our relationships with our spouses, our pets, our homes, and our neighbors. In Erynn’s case, she says that their garden was bountiful, and the canning of salsa, pears, peaches, and hot sauce filled them with a sense of accomplishment. They had so much, they were able to give some of it away. What’s better than finding a big bag of fresh cooking greens on your front bench, shared by a mystery neighbor? It happened to me in 2020.

The simple joys of a kitchen garden in summer are evoked by the music on this album. In a nod to the communal nature of the old-time community, keys and tunings are provided in the liner notes, as well as notes on the provenance of each piece. Sources include a blend of choice original works with plenty of obscure trad stuff, and a Hank Williams song that sits comfortably in the mix. One of my favorites is “Southern Special,” sung by Carl, a piece composed by Cecil Campbell and performed by him and the Tennessee Ramblers, who recorded with RCA from 1934-1951. For me, this and a few others sung by Carl seem to channel the glory days of Norman Blake and the Rising Fawn String Ensemble. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, for back in the 1980s, Carl played mandolin with James Bryan and Norman and Nancy Blake as part of the Ensemble. As for the fiddle tunes, they are impeccable in both curation and execution. The discerning listener will detect satisfying bits of the lonely Appalachian sound, the Celtic lilt, parlor melodies, and modern barn burners.

“Prayer of the Donkey” is an old poem that was put to music by Carl Jones. It’s the kind of song that catches your ear from afar at first, and reveals ever-deeper layers of emotion as you peel back the onion. The original poem version of this song can be found on the web-based media collection of Smithsonian Folkways, translated into English from the original French in 1947. Writer Carmen Bernos de Gasztold endured the German occupation of her homeland during WWII while working in a factory and supporting her widowed mother until her mother died as well. Her difficult life is reflected in the words of these verses, which shine a light on universal themes—especially for women—even as they describe the hard life of a lowly donkey. Tears welled up as I read the words of the original poem, words that survive intact in Carl’s new song.

Sad music has always been an integral part of the folk tradition. It reminds us to appreciate daily the simple joys of life. Raising a garden, the laughter of children, the ring of a fiddle and a banjo. These are the things that make life worth living. From listening to this beautiful recording, I’m pretty sure that Erynn and Carl know what I’m talking about.