Sixty years ago, a young man named Martin Carthy released his self-titled debut LP. It was a revelation, a bombshell in the folk revival. Not just for his idiosyncratic guitar playing, sounding like no-one else on the scene. Nor for his remarkable research into the songs and their history. As much as anything, it was his choice of material. Six decades on, they’re all familiar, a part of the canon. But back then they were dusty, forgotten gems. He brought them into the light and burnished them – including “Scarborough Fair” (which he taught to both Paul Simon and Bob Dylan), now so familiar it feels as if it’s always been there. It was the first step in a glittering career he probably never envisioned back when England was just beginning to swing, and folk music was veering towards the margins.

Released on his 84th birthday, this isn’t a straightforward revisiting of that beginning; there are some pieces missing and others added. But these are songs viewed through the lens of time and experience, sung countless times. They’ve changed in his hands, and he’s not the same person who first recorded them. Think of it as coming full circle, and aged 84, quite possibly his last album.

"The Trees They Do Grow High" (excerpt)

The voice isn’t what it was, of course. It’s a weathered instrument now, straining for the high notes, but still as passionate as ever and time has given it a thoughtful quality. This version of “The Trees They Do Grow High,” springs from a deep well of sorrow and regret, the youthful fancy and hope pushed to the background.

Perhaps the biggest difference is in “Famous Flower of Serving Men,” which wasn’t on the 1964 album, and actually not recorded until 1972, on Shearwater. It’s a truly epic ballad, as much a Carthy composition as a traditional piece, and presented here without music, just stark spoken word, losing none of its power in the change. Indeed, the horror of the opening two verses are louder than ever.

"Scarborough Fair" (excerpt)

Dave Swarbrick accompanied Carthy on fiddle and mandolin on some of that first release, the beginning of their long-lasting partnership. Here he’s accompanied by daughter Eliza on violin (and what a stunning player she’s become, full of subtleties, with the right note of phrase at exactly the right moment), and on three tracks, Sheema Mukherjee on sitar – a musician he met in Imagined Village. Hearing her additions to “Scarborough Fair” both casts the familiar song in a new light and also broadens its perspectives.

"High Germany" (excerpt)

“Springhill Mine Disaster,” one of two songs on that original disc that weren’t from the tradition (it’s by Peggy Seeger and Ewan MacColl), still hits hard with its bleakness and brutal honesty; its emotions may even be more applicable now than when it was composed. And “High Germany” with the implied martial rhythm in the guitar playing, remains the eternal tug-of-war anti-war song, between a young man thirsting for glory, and the woman needing her man at home.

Martin Carthy arrived on the recording scene fully formed, although he’d likely disagree. He’s kept growing ever since, and this backwards glance illustrates the distance between than and now. But, as you listen, it’s impossible not to feel the impact of the man, and of the songs he released back in 1965, all of them folk standards now. In itself, that’s a huge achievement. To have done it all in his own questing way speaks volumes.

Oh, if you’re wondering about the title, it’s a line from “Ye Mariners All,” which is included here, just as it was 60 years ago.

Find the artist online.

Further listening:
Eliza Carthy - No Wasted Joy
Shirley Collins - Lodestar

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