Based in the Washington, DC area (Clinton, MD to be exact), Bob Brown was one of many ‘60s folk acolytes; by his sophomore year in high school he’d hit coffeehouse stages, but it was his pilgrimages to the ‘65 and ‘66 Newport Folk Festivals that really set the course for an eventual pair of early ‘70s albums, neither of which dented the charts. Inspection of their contents reveals both deserved better, and on May 13 Tompkins Square will reissue 1970’s The Wall I Built Myself and the following year’s Willoughby’s Lament on vinyl, compact disc, and digital.
Upon consideration, Bob Brown’s background isn’t particularly remarkable. Formative exposure came through the performances of Judy Collins, Tom Paxton, and Peter, Paul & Mary, their impact easily evident in Brown’s unruffled vocal manner. Far from any kind of roughneck, after he was blown away by Dylan at Newport ’65 his deeper influences were Tim Hardin, Eric Andersen, and Richie Havens; fortuitously, he made the acquaintance of the latter at Newport ’66.
By 1970 Brown’s music had progressed as he studied creative writing at the University of Maryland. Seeking the advice of Havens on a prospective deal with Mercury Records, Brown instead ended up on his friend’s Stormy Forest label, an enterprise stemming from the mainstream success Havens reaped through his opening slot at the ’69 Woodstock Festival.
Havens is known to many primarily as a folk interpreter of Beatles (and to a lesser extent, Dylan) tunes, and for those holding that limited viewpoint Stormy Forest could seem like an attempt to follow in the footsteps of the Fab Four’s entrepreneurial Apple Records venture. If this was Havens’ intent, Stormy Forest ultimately embodied a much smaller scale; other than the man in charge it appears five artists comprised the roster, a total including Brown.
Stormy Forest had the distribution muscle of MGM, but it seems the only chart entries the label chalked up belonged to Havens, though this shouldn’t suggest Brown’s 1970 debut was a commercial bomb. To the contrary, it received moderate DC radio airplay as he secured an area fanbase; garnering a four-star review in Billboard, the disc gathered enough response to allow for a follow-up.
Amongst the first things observable upon engagement with The Wall I Built Myself is a foundation that’s pretty far from garden variety folk, the album benefiting from a live studio recording made possible by the close relationship of Brown to his core contributors Orin Smith on electric guitar and Peabody and Julliard trained Joe Clark on piano and organ.
Alongside the jazzy upright bass of Marshall Hawkins and the violin of Roland Henderson, the rapport lends opener “It Takes the World to Make a Feather Fall” sufficient robustness to relieve any worries of oppressive lightness possibly inspired by its title. Brown does cultivate a gentle disposition that’s occasionally been branded as cosmic, but apart from a few passages of airy glide the first track remains fairly grounded with a focus on Brown’s songwriting.
That emphasis increases during “Quiet Waterfall,” the more succinct setting imbued with effervescent fingerpicking, crisp electric keyboard, Henderson’s baroque viola, and at center stage Brown’s voice, his tone tender yet also possessive of pop savvy; it was 1970 and the soft rock phenomenon was only beginning to congeal, but it’s clear The Wall I Built Myself held some untapped potential in the genre. For further evidence, please consult side two’s “Winds of Change,” and don’t worry; Brown is never monochromatically mellow.
Indeed, if “Monday Virus” initially sparkles forth like the soundtrack to a cool bright late spring morning, it unwinds forcefully via guitar strum and the fleet looseness of violin as a subtle undercurrent of the weird fortifies the whole; specifically, as Brown sings there are a handful of interjections from a female voice (hopefully reported muse Pamela), her utterances of “yeah” and “uh-huh” at first unexpected but after repeated listens beneficial to the whole.
Side one’s lengthy closer “First Light” radiates a mild vocal similarity to Neil Young, Brown having opened for him at the Georgetown club the Cellar Door. However, the piece’s construction is beholden to nobody as it enters the progressive folk milieu inhabited by Hardin, Andersen, Tim Buckley, and Joni Mitchell.
“Winds of Change” might reinforce the soft rock, but “Selina” mingles the sensibility with the aforementioned baroque pop tendencies to deliver one of the set’s highlights as “Seek the Sun” and finale “Icarus” aptly display the high level of Brown’s compositions, both structural and lyrical, with multifaceted musicianship sealing the deal.
Often when a solo artist’s debut is met with a modest reaction the strategy is to drastically revise the program with a switch of accompanists, production, concept and more, but the arrangements for Brown’s second effort were altered only moderately; both were cut in New York, The Wall I Built Myself waxed at Mira Sound Studios as the location for Willoughby’s Lament was changed to RKO General Studios due to Havens’ desire to record on 35mm film.
Brown notably retained Smith and Clark as he expanded his band to include violist Rusty Clark, drummer Rob Windsor, and singer Aleta Greene, but maybe the most significant difference is the swap out of Hawkins in favor of Eddie Gomez, a simply superb bassist best known for his extensive output with jazz piano titan Bill Evans.
In the end Willoughby’s Lament is distinguished by sharper execution, both instrumentally and vocally, of more assured songs with greater overall heft the result; the growth is quickly discernible in the expertly rendered dynamic shifts of opener “If I’d Live Alone” and the chamber classical-inclined resonances of “Interlude.”
Fleeting moments on The Wall I Built Myself could underscore Brown as ambitiously striving to stand apart from an army of sensitive strummers with back pocket notebooks full of lyrics, but there’s not an inkling of straining in “Baby Child”’s range. It also spreads out on an LP tending toward the concise; that’s the case with “Of Breath and Skin,” Brown singing with palpable comfort amongst a weave of exquisite playing, and the even briefer instrumental “Willoughby’s Lament (Part I).”
The backing vocals of Greene and Havens and the rollicking drums of Windsor instill “In these Flames” with early ’70s folk-pop flair landing on Brown’s sole single. “Kindly Leave My Heart” served as the A-side, and courtesy of Bill Keith’s pedal steel it commences the flip of Willoughby’s Lament in a country frame of mind.
“Death in Dreams” slims down to just piano and Brown’s Young-like voice, “For Pamela” evinces a rise in emotional weight without getting strung out in the process, and “Light of Children Come” offers an appealing jazziness thanks obviously to Gomez but additionally to Clark’s keys. That leaves “Willoughby’s Lament (Part II)” to culminate the stronger of Brown’s two LPs.
Post-Stormy Forest, Brown moved into NYC’s Chelsea Hotel and cut four albums worth of stuff, but with the exception of “Close of the Day” on Numero Group’s Wayfaring Strangers: Lonesome Heroes comp, none of it has been released. Today he’s a bigwig in the hospitality industry; not an especially fascinating denouement perhaps, but in 2016 it frankly beats another tragic ending. 45 years later people are still interested in The Wall I Built Myself and Willoughby’s Lament, a reality that should provide Bob Brown with a fair amount of satisfaction.
The Wall I Built Myself:
B+
Willoughby’s Lament:
A-
