Those with a casual interest in late-‘60s British folk-rock might be familiar with the name Shirley Collins. Others holding a deep love for this music have likely already made the plunge into her work, the best of it being recorded with the pipe organ playing of her sister Dolly. 1968’s The Power of the True Love Knot is a perfect place to get acquainted with the traditionally focused, yet contemporarily resonant splendor of Collins’ output.
Outside of Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span, and Scotland’s Incredible String Band, the British folk-rock boom never really gained all that much commercial traction in the United States. And while albums from those groups were pretty easy to find, particularly second-hand in American record stores for years, those acts didn’t really gain huge followings on US shores.
Included in that same scenario was Bert Jansch, both solo and in the group Pentangle, and the slow rise (and eventual explosion) of Nick Drake’s devoted following, but sadly the vast majority of additional Brit folk stuff made an even smaller impression. It took decades for names like Forest, Wizz Jones, and Trees to gather even a small non-native audience for their work, and too much prime material from that era remains seriously uncelebrated in relation to its substantial worthiness.
This circumstance extends to one of the finest singers in the entire movement, the exquisite Shirley Collins. Along with Sandy Denny and Maddy Prior (and to a lesser extent Anne Briggs and Bridget St. John), Collins brought a refreshing feminine depth to the Brit folk milieu. However, in contrast to Denny and Prior, the former a member of Fairport Convention (along with Fotheringay and an extremely useful solo career) and the latter the vocalist for Steeleye Span, Collins had an extensive background as a folk traditionalist, releasing her first recordings way back in 1959.
Her debut album for the British Argo label was titled Sweet England, and her False True Lovers LP, also recorded in ’59, came out the following year in the US via Folkways, with her then partner Alan Lomax serving as producer. Their meeting came while Lomax was visiting the UK for a spell in the mid-‘50s, a sojourn brought on by the Red Scare witch-hunts. And in ‘59 Collins accompanied him on a five month song-collecting tour through the US South that just happened to uncover the greatness of Mississippi Fred McDowell, amongst others.
Where Sweet England (also with Lomax on board and like False True Lovers, co-produced by crucial Brit folk figure Peter Kennedy) was directly related to traditional songs from her homeland, the Folkways record also included sources obtained on that trip to the United States. And yet there really aren’t any graspable stylistic differences between the two. They both offer extended showcases in Collins’ already striking vocal prowess (at age 23) as well as her sturdy playing on the banjo (added guitar appears on both LPs).
And yet it’s said that Sweet England wasn’t well received on release, and from ’60-’63 her only output was a pair of obscure 7-inches. However, in ’64 she collaborated with vastly important UK folk guitarist Davy Graham on the superb album Folk Roots, New Routes for the Decca label. This disc found her at times less traditionally intense in her vocal approach but no less captivating in the natural spirit of her expressiveness and the combination of Collins’ talents and Graham’s jazzy fingerpicking (he was simply a massive influence on ‘60s Brit folk and beyond) remains a true joy.
In 1967 came The Sweet Primroses for the Topic label, a record that found her joined for the first time by her older sister Dolly on pipe organ. While no less traditional in focus then her first two releases, the strength of her singing had only grown, and when combined with the heavily out-of-time beauty of Dolly’s organ playing it was a considerable leap forward.
In combination with the non-cheerful and occasionally downright morbid subject matter, the overriding gentleness of the music promotes a quality that can be quite soothing, at least until the stories related by Collins shift to the forefront of the listener’s attention. Then the situation can get a little (or a lot) disturbing, the music depicting a world where existence, for most humans anyway, wasn’t an experience enjoyed but rather endured (if you survived beyond childhood).
Much pleasure can be derived from The Sweet Primroses however, and it’s an essential disc for any serious UK folk maven, not only due to the ample evidence of Shirley’s musical growth but also because it’s the starting point for the siblings’ highly potent collaboration. But with this said, I wouldn’t recommend The Sweet Primroses as the place to begin an inquiry into the work of Shirley and Dolly Collins.
For that, I’ll advocate for The Power of the True Love Knot, issued in ’68 on Polydor. That record is a statement of true brilliance, detailing an approach to traditionalism so sincere and well-realized yet simultaneously so inviting to contemporary ears that the sisters became a key component in the UK folk-rock scene even without having any traces of a rock sensibility interlaced into the richness of their stew.
It does bear noting that The Power of the True Love Knot sometimes exudes a vibe consonant with the period’s psychedelic ambitions, in large part due to the otherworldly aura of Dolly’s pipe organ. So it makes total sense that the Incredible String Band’s Mike Heron and Robin Williamson are part of the album’s personnel. And also part of the cast is Bram Martin and his 1740 Tosturi cello.
Heavy duty Beatles fans might recognize Martin as the man responsible for the string ambiance on both “Eleanor Rigby” and “She’s Leaving Home.” And while The Power of the True Love Knot is in no sense an attempt at a folk/pop fusion, Martin’s involvement does relate to the music’s lack of traditionalist severity (which is perhaps part of the reason for Sweet England’s lukewarm reception almost a decade prior).
It’s been said that The Power of the True Love Knot’s sound is at times reminiscent of Early Music, and I’ll surely concur. But there is a major difference. Something I’ve noticed from picking up a fair number of secondhand Early Music albums from the classical bins over the years is how the recreation of the music is so intensely exact that it ends up leaving no room for the musician’s own personalities. And I’ve no bone to pick with that method; ‘tis the nature of the endeavor.
But what Shirley and Dolly were attempting was quite different, much closer to the folk tradition the younger sister had helped to document on that trip with Lomax. The musicians they recorded were surely the vessels of songs that in some cases could register nearly as aged as the very hills they resided in, but the musicians for the most part weren’t interested in painstaking reproductions but instead highly invested in keeping touch with the old in a way that made sense of, and more importantly, resonated in a rapidly changing world.
Shirley and Dolly’s work shared in the purity of this extension of the tradition, and it seems a big part of the reason they were received so warmly by (and likely felt so comfortable in) the folk-rock scene as opposed to the chamber hall. Obviously there are big differences (geography and age, to name two), but there is also a definite similarity in how the Collins’ music was taken up by the UK folkies and the way their US counterparts paid respectful attention to players like Dock Boggs and Roscoe Holcomb.
The Power of the True Love Knot’s gorgeous opener “Bonnie Boy” begins with the tones of Shirley’s 5-string dulcimer, her voice and Martin’s cello surfacing together shortly thereafter. Dolly’s miniature pipe organ (described by Shirley in her outstanding notes as a “modern mechanically-blown reproduction, by N P Mander Ltd., of a hand-pumped original of 1643) is the last element to assert its presence, and with everything in place the music quickly achieves a tender sadness.
The record’s concept, a collection of love-ballads that illuminate, to quote Collins, “the idea of true love as a power outside of society’s control, ungovernable, irresistible and inviolable,” is in some respects a different kettle of fish from The Sweet Primroses’ excursion into the oft-ghastly darkness of olden times, but due to the universality of the subject, love at some point gripping us all by shoulders and shaking us silly, The Power of the True Love Knot can be just as haunting.
Yes, a portion of these ballads are far from happy ones, but “Richie Story” is aptly described as romantic, and in a way that easily translates to the modern world. Here, King Richard falls so head over heels for a lady that his crown falls off, and he subsequently kicks that jewel-encrusted cap to the curb, abdicating his throne to wait on her.
It’s a song so heavenly and fragile that it can (temporarily at least) drain every ounce of cynicism over the superficiality of lovey-dovey stuff from your acerbic perspective. Well, unless you’ve a strong allergy to the twee, but then again what Shirley and Dolly (and on this cut, Heron on Indian finger-cymbals and African drum and Williamson tooting a tin whistle and clicking Japanese sticks) are laying down is so unaffected that it could possibly salve even the most hardened of hearts.
Collins mentions that the air of “Lovely Joan” was used by 20th century Brit classical giant (and noted collector of English folk song) Ralph Vaughan Williams in his fantasia for Greensleeves. It finds the sisters going it completely alone, with one strand of Dolly’s organ pitched so high it sounds like a pan-flute, and the brief “Just as the Tide was Floating” continues this delicate warmth.
But a warning over unchecked mourning comes with “The Unquiet Grave,” with Shirley going solo, singing and playing a converted dulcimer with the neck of a 5-string banjo. And “Black Eyed Susan” finds Dolly’s organ returning and mingling with her sister’s voice on a tune of mid-eighteenth century origin detailing a departing sailor saying goodbye to his love.
The only accompaniment Shirley’s singing is given on “Seven Yellow Gypsies” is the handclapping of Heron and Williamson, and here The Power of the True Love Knot draws close to some of the unadorned folk song nuggets unearthed in the nooks of 20th century America. But the sound and inflection of Collins’ voice make quickly obvious the locale from which this music derives.
“Over the Hills and Far Away,” again returning to voice and organ, is so seductively lilting that it becomes easy to understand how a portion of the Brit folk scene got so swept up in dancing around maypoles. So keep this in mind the next time you DJ a Renaissance Fair. “Greenwood Laddie” reintroduces Martin’s cello, and Shirley’s liner assessment of his abilities is astute. He navigates the song’s changes so expertly that his contribution never registers as an additive, achieving true sonic equality with the sisters.
That might not seem like a big deal, but Shirley and Dolly were enormously devoted to the folk tradition while Martin had spent a significant part of his career leading a pop orchestra. Sheer talent isn’t always combined with open-mindedness and resiliency, but happily for this LP, Bram Martin was an exceptionally well-rounded player.
The notes relate that “Lady Margaret and Sweet William” was a song collected in Hazard, Kentucky by Jean Ritchie, a living legend of the US folk movement whose 10-inch Jean Ritchie Singing the Traditional Songs of Her Kentucky Mountain Family was the second release on Elektra Records in 1952. And with just Collins’ voice and dulcimer (notably also Ritchie’s choice of instrument), what applies to “Seven Yellow Gypsies” is even more present here. It’s also one of the record’s less cheerful numbers.
However, “The Maydens Came” has an atmosphere that’s more than a little bit bent. This is mainly down to how Dolly’s organ blends with Williamson’s chanter (or Indian Shahanhai), which at moments sounds kinda like a wounded set of bagpipes. Definitely a harbinger of what some have tagged as Wyrd Folk, the strangeness isn’t any less natural than some of the out-there material collected by Pat Conde on his superb The Secret Museum of Mankind volumes.
Shirley’s picking on “Polly Vaughan” is terrific, but it’s mostly a showcase for the brilliance of her singing and in this regard is one of the record’s sweetest selections. “The Barley Straw” finds Dolly striving for what Shirley calls a “country-fair” organ sound, and her playing is very reet indeed. “Barbara Allen,” a true warhorse of traditional song and one that Collins also sang on her first LP, finds the sister tandem bringing the record to a sublime close.
After this album came two masterpieces for Harvest, Anthems in Eden and Love, Death and the Lady, the records finding the siblings co-credited as a duo. Those are Shirley’s most indispensible documents, still traditionally centered but highly progressive in intent. There’s also a whole bunch of very necessary later work to consider, including some legit folk-rock with the Albion Country Band on 1970’s No Roses. But as Shirley Collins’ first dip into the well of uncut mastery, The Power of the True Love Knot stands as an ideal introduction.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A
