Product Reviews
For decades, the legend of the late folksinger Karen Dalton rested on the two studio albums she released between 1969 and 1971. Dalton was all but forgotten by the time she passed away in 1993, her music career long behind her, but posthumous interest in her work dovetailed nicely with the archival spelunking that resulted in Delmore Recordings' release of previously unheard Dalton tapes. Following up on their release of a 1962 Dalton recording, the label offered up the appropriately titled 1966. This home recording captures Dalton and her then-husband Richard Tucker playing together in the cabin in rural Colorado where they sought refuge from the Greenwich Village scene, sans running water and an official address (Dalton was very literally off the map). Despite the lo-fi nature of the source tape, which was made in an ad hoc manner by a local friend, the sparse setting -- just acoustic guitar and banjo -- gives Dalton's distinctive voice plenty of room to do its thing. The song list is probably typical of what she was performing live at the time -- in fact, she and Tucker are said to have been rehearsing for a gig during this recording. As on her studio albums, she tackles some traditional folk tunes ("Cotton Eyed Joe," "Mole in the Ground") as well as songs by her friend and fellow folkie recluse Fred Neil ("Other Side of This Life," "Little Bit of Rain") and the work of her pal and fellow drug victim Tim Hardin ("Don't Make Promises," "While You're on Your Way," "Shiloh Town"). Her version of "God Bless the Child" makes it clear why she's often regarded as the Billie Holiday of the folk world; not only did Dalton share Lady Day's lived-in tone, world-weary delivery, and troubled, foreshortened life, she had a way to take songs from almost any source and make them sound as if they'd never existed before her haunted pipes brought them into being. ~ J. Allen, Rovi
Product Notes
Archive collection of previously unreleased impromptu recordings from the underground Folk legend. Karen Dalton was a remote, elusive creature. A hybrid of tough and tender with an unearthly voice that seemed to embody a time long past. As is often the case with such fragile beings, she instinctively understood that the only way to survive the harshness of the world around her, was to keep herself hidden. So it comes as no great surprise that she rarely sang in public or ventured into the unnatural setting of a recording studio. Only twice, for 1969's It's So Hard To Tell Who's Going To Love You The Best and then again for 1971's In My Own Time, was she coaxed from her habitat into the studio. Other times she made music in casual settings, sitting around a kitchen table or wood burning stove with her friends, singing and playing until daybreak.