Too Much Fun

The 1952 release of Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music was a major catalyst in the folk and blues revival of the 1950s and 1960s, and certainly one of the most influential releases in modern music. The three-LP collection of Depression-era 78 rpm recordings was a bible of sorts for the Greenwich Village folk community, where would-be troubadours armed with acoustic guitars and harmonica racks gathered in coffeehouses each night to perform songs that they had learned from Smith’s set. Folk music was indeed a serious pursuit for Village denizens, who treated these classic recordings with a degree of reverence that left little room for humor, and certainly no place for a couple of wise-ass speed freaks like fiddler Peter Stampfel and guitarist Steve Weber, who together in 1961 formed The Holy Modal Rounders.

Neither Stampfel nor Weber had even the slightest desire to recreate note-for-note renditions of classic folk tunes, and had no aspiration for the label of “authentic” that so many of the folk scenesters coveted. Though more serious folk practitioners like Dave Van Ronk may have known every word of every song on the Harry Smith anthology by heart, the Rounders’ inability to recall lyrics often resulted in hilariously absurd stream-of-conscious alterations to folk standards that often infuriated staunch advocates of tradition. It was this off-the-cuff approach, combined with Stampfel’s rudimentary fiddle playing and Weber’s excellent claw-hammer acoustic guitar technique, that rapidly earned the duo an enthusiastic following among the fringe of the folk scene; an underground scene within an underground scene, if you will.

The band signed with the jazz label Prestige in 1963 and released their self-titled first album, which together with their 1964 follow-up, The Holy Modal Rounders II, remain the finest and most consistent efforts within an inconsistent discography. Recorded live in the studio with no additional accompaniment to the bare bones guitar/fiddle arrangement, the first two Rounders records consist mostly of haphazardly reworked folk standards. Stampfel’s quirky mock vocal delivery immediately lends an air of irreverence and humor, even during songs with otherwise serious lyrical content. The Rounders seem at times to almost thumb their noses at the intelligentsia of the folk movement, while simultaneously reveling in their love for genuine folk music. While people like Joan Baez and Pete Seeger wanted to right all of society’s wrongs with protest songs, the Rounders just wanted to have a good time.

Some of the Rounders’ finest moments are those when Weber – easily the better singer of the two, by almost anyone’s standards – takes the vocal lead. Weber’s raspy tenor and accomplished guitar style offer glimpses of an extraordinary talent; an underachiever with an endearing aloofness, tragically beset by his unrepentant love of substances and an overall lack of motivation. Originals like Weber’s “Hey, Hey Baby” from the self-titled debut make for some of the group’s best moments, with Weber’s often drug-oriented lyrics expounding upon a more traditional Delta Blues progression, ala Blind Willie McTell:

You can do what you do/You can say what you say

But keep on truckin’ my blues away

You know I ain’t very good in the morning

Without my good cocaine

Both Stampfel and Weber were notorious proponents of mind-altering substances, and their experimentation with psychedelics was undoubtedly a major contributing factor to their musical approach, for better or for worse. At a time when The Beatles were still singing “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” the Rounders were several steps ahead of the psychedelic rock movement, with their 1964 version of “Hesitation Blues,” featuring perhaps the first mention in popular music of the word “psychedelic.”

After a brief stint as members of counterculture heroes The Fugs, a satirical and politically-minded rock group led by poets Ed Sanders and Tuli Kupferberg, Stampfel and Weber amped up the psychedelic weirdness considerably, augmenting their lineup with playwright Sam Shepard on drums and Lee Crabtree on piano and organ. This lineup remained in place for the Rounders’ next two releases, as they took a hard-left turn from their folky roots with Indian War Whoop (1966) and The Moray Eels Eat The Holy Modal Rounders (1968). Both records exhibit the Rounders at the absolute peak of their psychedelic weirdness that rivals even the likes of Syd Barrett, Skip Spencer and Roky Erickson in terms of off-kilter lunacy and questionable mental stability.

Indian War Whoop consists of two side-long collections of rambling, incoherent snippets of narration and musical gags, and is the obvious result of what happens when a band records under the influence of God-knows-what. Bits of the group’s folk origins occasionally surface, awash in tape echo and reverb, but then quickly fade into the ether of backwards tape and gratuitous drug reference.

The Moray Eels Eat The Holy Modal Rounders, while just as strange and off-kilter as its predecessor, is the slightly more structured of the two. The album’s opener, “Bird Song,” also appears in the film Easy Rider and is perhaps their most well-known recording. Other highlights include Weber’s addled garage band rave-up “Half A Mind” and the Beefheart-esque slide guitar workout on “Mobile Line.” The record clocks in at just more than 26 minutes, which is probably still twice as long as even the most open-minded listener can tolerate in one sitting.

The Rounders returned in 1971 after what had to have been a well-needed rest with Good Taste Is Timeless, surprising long-time fans with a level of focus and even (gasp) professionalism absent from previous recordings. Recorded in Nashville with an impressive array of session aces that includes former Elvis drummer D.J. Fontana and pedal steel hotshot Pete Drake, the album finds the group in amazingly focused form. Though the record is largely country-influenced, it also marks a return to the group’s folk origins. The album contains the novelty hit “Boobs A Lot,” which, thanks to extensive airplay on the Dr. Demento radio show, contributed to a brief resurge of interest.

The band’s output has remained spotty and irregular ever since, dependent largely upon Weber’s mental state and level of interest. Albums like Alleged In Their Own Time (1975), the Michael Hurley- and Jeffrey Frederick-assisted Have Moicy! (1976) and Too Much Fun (1999) have shown occasional return to form, but none have matched the humorous charm of the first two albums or the cohesiveness of Good Taste Is Timeless. An aptly titled documentary film, Born To Lose, was released in 2006. The film highlights the strange saga of the band’s career, particularly the enigmatic Weber who, true to from, disappears just prior to a planned 40th anniversary reunion.

For a band that consistently defied tradition and listener expectation, perhaps the greatest tribute is the fact that no one quite knows how to characterize their bizarre genre of music. Names like acid folk, anti-folk and freak folk have been tossed around, but clever semantics will always fall short in defining the uniquely rich blend of folk, blues, bluegrass, jugband and psychedelic rock that is The Holy Modal Rounders.