Muddy Waters one week, Maddy Prior and June Tabor the next. Flitting from genre to genre, from men to women, my reputation as a musical slut is secure. I’ve tried to imagine what would happen if I got a job at a hard-core blues club as the chick responsible for the filler music between the acts—and instead of slipping the expected John Lee Hooker disc on the turntable, I decided to play Silly Sisters. “What the fuck is that crazy bitch doin’ back there?” I hear the audience shout. I’d probably get the same result if I played Muddy at a British folk festival, though the crowd would probably not use such foul and offensive language. How might I respond to such casting of aspersions?
I would defend myself, heart and soul! While the differences between these two musical genres are quite obvious to anyone with ears (the use of the scales, rhythmic patterns, instrumentation and vernacular to name a few) there are also deep similarities. Both blues and traditional folk (from whatever country you choose) are the “music of the people.” They are forms of music where the commoners get to express both directly and indirectly their feelings about the uppers, weave stories about the conflicts that arise among themselves and celebrate the various and sundry vices that make life worth living, especially those of the erotic variety. The sentiments expressed in Silly Sisters’ “Four Loom Weaver” aren’t that far removed from the anguish of job loss that Ramblin’ Thomas sang about in “No Job Blues.” A similar parallel can be found in “My Husband’s Got No Courage” and “You’ve Been a Good Old Wagon,” both of which deal with lovers who have lost their mojo. Add to that the myriad songs in both genres honoring hooch and John Barleycorn and the commonalities begin to balance the differences.
June Tabor’s solo is “Geordie,” a song that may or not be another song that evil fellow Huntly, as the names used in this tale have changed over time to reflect whichever murderous creep happens to be in the headlines of the day. The basic story is of a man who is jailed for murder and of the woman who comes to his rescue, but there are implications that the murder is a trumped-up charge based on politics. As the executioners sharpen the axe, the bonny lady pleads with the king to “give me back my dearie.” One of the wiser of the king’s counselors whispers in the king’s ear that the royal treasury is having a cash flow problem and it might be a good idea to trade the accused for a badly needed infusion of currency. June Tabor gives her usual fabulous performance, but what really drives “Geordie” is Martin Carthy’s mastery of guitar rhythm, keeping the beat constant and steady on the bottom strings while still managing to add color with counterpoint on the higher notes.
The anonymous multitudes who composed British folk songs always found their way into the sack sooner or later, but in this tale, sad disappointment lurks under the counterpane. “My Husband’s Got No Courage” is a dramatic monologue sung by a young wife who finds she’s married a man who can’t get it up. Since women were not allowed to divorce in the 19th century, and the possibility of release through lesbianism, masturbation or a quick trip to the vibrator shop were not realistic options, her agony is understandable. Maddy and June sing the moaning, hand-wringing chorus together without harmony and then take turns singing the verses solo. This poor horny broad has tried everything: vittles, meats, oysters, rhubarb, clapping a hand between his thighs, throwing her leg over his and nothing she does gets a rise out of this hopeless prick. Bitter that he continues to present himself to the world as handsome and desirable, she finally explodes in the last verse, giving as clear an expression of sexual frustration as you will ever hear.
“The Game of Cards” is a flirtatious, metaphorical trip down lover’s lane by a young man and woman who take a break from their travels at a moment when “this young damsel began to show free.” The young man responds by suggesting the game of “All-Fours,” hint, hint, nudge, nudge, wink, wink. The pair “play cards,” having at least two sexual experiences of unknown variety, but certainly implied when she keeps taking his “jack” in card play and saying, “Jack is the card I like best in your pack.” As is usually the case, the girl dominates the proceedings and the man whimperingly surrenders to her power, saying, “You’re the best I know at this game.” The gracious victor offers him a rematch: “Young man, if you’ll come back tomorrow/We’ll play the game over and over again.” That’s my girl! June takes the lead here, with Maddy providing lovely complementary harmony at a slightly lower volume. Martin Carthy is superb once again, aided by Andy Irvine’s delicate touch with the mandolin and gentler play on the whistle by Johnny Moynihan.
From: https://altrockchick.com/2013/11/18/classic-music-review-silly-sisters-by-maddy-prior-and-june-tabor/
