The absolutely wonderful Michael J. Miles just took the time to reflect on our newest album (out today!!!), Undertaker’s Songbook.
We were so moved by his words that we wanted to share them here as a guest blog below. Aside from his beautiful writing gifts, Michael is also known as a banjo god/ambassador, guitar maestro, teacher, playwright, designer of grand musical collaborations and performances, and otherwise fine human.
(You can read the source post on Facebook, alongside many kind and supportive comments!) Enjoy!
PREAMBLE. The Sons of the Never Wrong have a new CD. It is magnificent. Treat yourself and support the artists by purchasing the new CD directly from Sons of the Never Wrong.
You could listen to it on Spotify, which is good for the listener but not so good for the artist. The truth is that for the artist to be earn $15 from Spotify, (the going rate for one CD) no fewer than 3750 people must listen to one song!! Get the CD, behold the artwork, read the lyrics, and discover the personnel. You’ll be glad you did.
UNDERTAKER’S SONGBOOK. My first reaction when I got to the end of the new Sons CD, was to go back to the beginning and listen again to discover what I missed. At the end of the second time, I went for a third—as there is much to behold.
I had been intrigued, along the way, by the title, Undertaker’s Songbook. Where did that title came from, and how had it earned its position in their internal debates? Funeral parlors don’t call them ‘undertakers’ anymore, I don’t think—but call them what you may, the undertaker’s job is to bring dignity to heartache, respect at the end. But then what might be in an undertaker’s songbook? You might expect empathetic, sympathetic words; stories of struggle about people close by; maybe some humor; and some dose of hope. Who knows?
30 years after their world began, this is album #10 for the Sons (I think). Superlative is what comes consistently flying from the “folk music critics” and others when they hear the sparkling and inventive harmony, and the deep reach of the songs. I recall sitting at a table with Peter Yarrow (of Peter, Paul and Mary) when he heard the Sons for the first time—he was so excited and he was bursting right before my eyes as if he were about to jump up and kiss everyone in the room. But if you know their music, you know his exact experience. And maybe you can answer this question….where were you when you first heard the Sons of the Never Wrong? And wherever and whenever that was, for most of us, it was an I-can’t-believe-I’m-hearing-the-magnificence-that’s-coming-right-at-my-heart-and-soul moment.
America is slowly emerging from the pandemic, with consternation and heartache thundering from the omnipresence of suffering, running alongside the liberation coming from those of us fortunate enough to have been vaccinated. What do artists do under such circumstances? What does anyone do? We do what we can, what we must. Nurses save lives. Bus-drivers drive buses. Songwriters write songs.
Bob Dylan, who just turned 80, talks about the importance of observing what’s going on around you. When asked about song content and folk music he said this, “Rock and roll was not enough for me. There were great catch phrases and driving rhythms but the songs weren’t serious or didn’t reflect life in a realistic way. Folk songs are filled with more despair, more sadness, more triumph, faith in the supernatural, and deeper feelings.” Sounds like he could have added, “for example, listen to the Sons of the Never Wrong.”
From a year of darkness comes a reckoning record that aches and hopes, that fantasizes and cries; that heals and reaches inward and outward. As the Sons describe it, this record was, “Recorded during the pandemic, apart and together.” I have the privilege of knowing these people and working with them from time to time. So I’ll call them my friends (and they are) and this is not a ‘review’ as I’m not a critic—I was just inspired to tell this story as I see it from the outside looking in for anyone who might care to listen.
One of my favorite things about Chicago are the people who are here—especially the musicians who are all a phone call away. Looking at the array of people on this record, I was struck by this exquisite collection of musical comrades, most of whom I know directly, a few I’ve only seen/heard, and a few others. So I’d like to describe them for those of you who might not know them.
I’ll start with Bruce Roper (which probably annoys him) but Bruce is a true renaissance man. For this recording, he wrote most of the songs and served as producer and sound engineer. If that weren’t enough—he of courses sings with a distinct edge of truth, plays guitar, and built the guitar he plays. At one event where the Sons were performing, I mentioned how much I also liked the sound of the bass, only to discover that Bruce built that electric bass as well. I could go on but there is everyone else.
Deborah Maris Lader plays multiple string instruments really well and often sings that middle harmony line that, when done well, draws no attention but adds a power and distinction that delivers the magic. She also writes some of the songs and is a world renowned visual artist who, once again, created the art for the cover of this recording. Deborah’s art will always mystify and enchant.
Sue Demel evokes wonder. She carries an unbridled imagination for vocal possibilities, and an unhindered daring to bring it to the table. When the audiences have their mouths agape at the splendor that comes from the Sons, it is often because Sue Demel has dared to go where most singers simply cannot. I can’t begin to say how many times I’ve seen it—and if you’ve seen the Sons, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Then there are the other players on this record. Remember that electric bass guitar that Bruce built. It was played by John Abbey, an extraordinary musician (and recording engineer) who brings a warmth to this entire record. It’s like every moment of most every song is riding on John’s shoulders with his in a-the-pocket, inventive and heartfelt bass lines. Add in Bob Long on piano and organ, and Gerald Dowd on percussion—and there is the rhythm section. Bob and Gerald are examples of the grandeur of Chicago personnel. They’ve been with the Sons for years and bring beautiful harmonic orchestration and groove.
And there are more. I was delighted to see Larry Clyman playing electric guitar. When I was hiring teachers for the Old Town School, I discovered Larry and with him created the “Professional Guitar Series.” He was, when he lived here, one of the finest guitarists around and he showed me a picture he had of when he played with BB King. There were side by side on stage, and you could see their improvisational hands in the exact same position.
Add in more splendor with Karen Savoca and Pete Heitzman. Pete is a guitarist like Larry Clyman—who’d describe Jimi Hendrix as one of his main influences. Together with singer-songwriter Karen Savoca, they make their way across North America with a duet sound that is a stand-alone wonder. Karen writes songs that bite, that caress and are hammered forward with Pete’s exquisite guitar work.
There are others woven into the mix. All-star Irish flute and whistle player, Larry Nugent, adds his signature sound. Mark Dvorak adds excellent banjo lines in “Oh Chocolay.” Jenny Beineman adds one of her own haikus and her lovely voice to “In The End.” Evan Silver, Deborah’s son, joins in with vocal harmonies and generational mix for the future. And Marc Kelly Smith, originator of Chicago’s poetry slams, has a slot in “Black Dirt Ground.” Frankie Donaldson adds the mystifying tabla to “Om Not This Time.” And there are more, but you can check them all out on the recording when you get it.
I’d like to turn to some of the lines of the songs that came from our three sons… Bruce, Deborah and Sue. The role of the artist is to witness and experience what everyone witnesses and experiences, and then to take and reframe it for us to receive. That gift can be understanding, restating, reassuring, insightful, mysterious. It can go wherever the muse leads. Think of Monet and his paintings. You could say that he was one of the greatest painters of his era. You could also that he just went outside and painted his back yard. Both statements are equally true, maybe?
The past year of surreal isolation and heartache is unfinished and unresolved. Words fail here to summarize the magnitude of this time, and it’s ongoing reach. But the questions and answers to “what did you do this year” linger with endless shades of grey. Essential workers did essential work, and the rest of us tried to get by. Here on this record is what the Sons did (in part) during this year. So I’d like to close with three quotes from them:
“The lights are low the song is overDishes washed we’re under coverFaucet drips and all is quietEveryone, everyone’s in the house“— Deborah Maris Lader