I still own a lot of CDs, which I am told is very 1990s. I don't care - they are mine, and I love them (most of them), and I can play them whenever I like, in super quality, without asking anyone, without leaving my personal details all over the web and without watching someone's bleeping adverts.
Recently I've been making an effort to tidy things up a bit, get rid of stuff I don't want any more, spot old discs which are starting to degrade (and rescue them if possible, if it's worth it), and do some serious-quality rips that I can play in the car. I've had some interesting reunions with a number of voices from my past.
During this latest period of avoiding the news I spend a lot of time listening to Finzi, Ravel, Fauré and odd-bods like George Butterworth and John Jeffreys, so it was a bit of a culture shock to meet up again with Joseph Spence.
Joseph was a pipe-smoking stonemason in the Bahamas, who had a fearsome local reputation as a guitarist and entertainer. Word sneaked out in the late 1950s, when he was visited by collectors and the Folkways people and was recorded in his home. He became something of a celebrity, was recorded again, more professionally, and was booked for a tour in New York and Boston in 1964. This didn't go wonderfully well. His family were very religious, and did not approve of drinking or songs about inappropriate behaviour. Thus he was allowed to travel to the US only on the understanding that he was accompanied by two women members of his family, who monitored his behaviour very carefully, and appeared on stage with him, singing hymns.
This is why you have probably never heard of Joseph, in the same context as you have probably heard of Blind Gary Davis, Mississippi John Hurt, Rosetta Tharp and others from those days. However, the fact remains that Joseph was a self-taught phenomenon - wildly gifted and completely unfiltered. His guitar playing is remarkable (he was a noted inspiration to Ry Cooder, Tommy Emmanuel and all sorts of people), and he sort-of sings along (deedle deedle), coughs and mutters his way through performances. Most importantly, his music is happy - it is very difficult not to smile at his work.
After the failure of the Newport Foundation tour, Joseph returned to live in peace in the Bahamas, and disappeared almost completely, though I am sure that he was still the life and soul of the spontaneous building-site parties, and that his sisters still disapproved of the rum.
And I'm sure he wasn't a bit bothered.
