folk

Desperately Seeking Sue Kahn

Robert Cochrane — Fri, 09 Aug 2024 10:34:15 +0000

Desperately Seeking Sue Kahn Robert Cochrane August 9, 2024 - 06:34

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A Quest For A Face.

1963 was a good year for New York folkie Sue Kahn. The recent graduate from New York College of Music was performing in the coffee houses of the Big Apple, having also secured the prestigious gig of a resident folk singer at Grossinger's, the Jewish holiday complex in the Catskills. A radio interview she undertook that summer with Al Wasser on Radio New York Folk Music Worldwide survives. It reveals a young woman brimming with ideas and passion. In it, she talks about her album appearing the following year, her influences, and her plans regarding a music career.

Resident at 29 Woodmere Boulevard, Woodmere, a building that still stands, Sue Kahn was going places, but quite where we no longer know. The anticipated album failed to appear, evidence of her career exists solely in that radio interview, and no photograph puts a face to her brief ambitions. Still, there is the beguiling existence of seventeen recorded songs. These stretch across three acetate discs, two 12 and one 10-inch.

They appeared on eBay about a decade ago, each listed individually at an opening bid of $2.99, stating simply Sue Kahn. Folk Singer. Acetate. Curious, I googled her, discovering zilch. Placing three $20 tries, I was surprised to find an invoice for $8.97, the postage to the UK dwarfing their lowly purchase cost. When played, there emerged a trained, pure voice with guitar, her vocals occasionally a little too neat for the folk genre, but the songs have a distinctive professionalism, a period charm, her guitar playing is pretty nifty, too.

There's a Russian folk song, Jewish and Haitian ones, American and English too, as well as covers of Tom Paxton's "Ramblin' Boy," Sydney Carter's "Crow On The Cradle," and Gordon Jenkin's "This Is All I Ask." Kahn obviously knew her songbooks. Labels on the discs, where such remain, the state simply Sue Kahn sings and plays her guitar. The acetates, cut at Variety Recording Service, 225 West 46^th Street' are housed in buff-colored sleeves within a torn brown paper envelope, "Sue Kahn - Acetates" scribbled neatly in pencil on the front.

Having had them digitized, I've grown in the intervening decade to admire the unique talent of Sue Kahn, as have a few friends. She has the air of a young Joan Baez, but apart from the radio interview lurking in the corners of the internet, years of searches for a photograph, or even a trace of her, have proven fruitless. She'd have had posters or flyers for her Grossinger's and coffee house sojourns, but such ephemera doesn't always survive.

My hunch is that the acetates are those played on the radio show and were her personal and sole copies. Acetates were expensive in both dollars and time, and these may have come on the market after her demise. If she were alive, she'd be in her eighties. Did she willingly disappear circa 1964, in the fashion of Connie Converse and Jim Sullivan, if indeed any willingness can be attached to their absences? Perhaps she simply met a nice Jewish boy and got married? Maybe she died in a car crash? Such are the conjectures that arise when nothing yet remains.

Her songs could make a delicious double vinyl album, a wonderful postcard from the past at the beginning of the folk explosion. Without a face to adorn one, such a project would be pointless—a failure by design. Someone must recall seeing her perform, and somewhere in a closet, an abandoned filing cabinet, something will reside of Sue Kahn. A fading polaroid of her singing from a holiday at Grossinger's would suffice. A mention or a memory, a description of her face, so her songs from sixty years ago can finally entertain and grace the wider world.

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Sue Kahn

As 2024 is coming to an end. My brother and myself had a conversation about Sue Kahn Cooper.
We pick up your story about a decade later when my brother Mitchell armed with an acoustic guitar on Hudson Avenue in Cedarhurst was in search for a guitar teacher.
Our mother found Sue through most likely the pennysaver and for a few years my brother learned to play songs like garden party, Henry the VIII, and a slew of folk songs. I have to think the Cooper part was she married. Sue was a staple I'm our house weekly to learn the songs she stapled into a spiral notebook. As the songbook filled with hits, my brother wanted to move on to electric guitar...in came the fender stratacaster and out went Sue...my memories of her were the boho style pants, sandals and a love for music. Your post brought new questions to a closed song book of about 50 yesrs ago.

Sue Kahn

Hi Lee, Wonderful to learn a little more of Sue and that she made it into the seventies, though, even there, she remains a distant mystery. Any scrap of information will be gratefully added to the little that I know. Thanks for taking the time to respond. That has rather brightened my dull, cold and grey Manchester afternoon. Best Wishes and fondest regards. Rob Cochrane.

Thank You

I will forward your comment to Rob. Thank you for sharing your story. Music is so powerful and personal; so cool that your brother got to absorb some of her magic.

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The Joys of Wonderful, Obscure Folk Music Finds

Robert Cochrane — Fri, 06 Sep 2019 14:00:00 +0000

The Joys of Wonderful, Obscure Folk Music Finds Robert Cochrane September 6, 2019 - 10:00

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folk

The Little Sisters: The Joys of Love (MGM, 1963)

Some album covers can intimate to a vinyl junky too rewarding and intoxicating a hit. Imagine a pair of blonde girls a la Edie Sedgwick -- beautifully and perfectly shot in black and white -- with lazily dressed blonde hair. The one in the background is laughing, whilst the other looks dreamily skywards. Both appear timelessly and unbearably chic. It can only be hoped that such a delightful promise can deliver even a fraction of its beatnik suggestion. The liner notes by the legendary Johnny Carson -- they appeared three times on his show in 1962 -- beguiling reveal: "The Little Sisters are actually sisters. Mary is 22 and Patty is 21. Each girl is married; Mary to a poet who speaks only Spanish (she speaks only English) and Patty is an artist. They live in Greenwich Village, New York City, a gathering place for artists, poets, and folk singers, as well as writers, sculptors, and musicians. A casual stroller through the haphazard streets of the Village might see the girls bustling about in the course of their daily routine. They usually wear plaid leotards, beige car coats and beanies -- one red and one green, but which one wears which one is a point I haven't yet pursued. Their father is a cartoonist. Their grandmother was a vaudeville artist." Forty-three years later in an English Record Fair, all that sounded too good to sound any good, but the sleeve was worth more than the dump bin price of a pound. Sometimes things turn out far better than one could hope. What emerged was a stunning record of remarkable brevity and freshness. The longest track is 2 minutes 18 seconds; the shortest 1 minute 30 seconds, whilst the entire affair lasts a mere 24 minutes. These little sisters understood the dictum that less is better.

The Joys of Love is a remarkably assured debut. It has elements of Kate and Anna McGarrigle, Emmylou Harris, and Nanci Griffiths, but possesses a knowing maturity that one would expect an album from this time to contain. Imagine the theme from "Dueling Banjos" mixed with Francoise Hardy, filmed by David Lynch. But then again, it was produced by Creed Taylor, the found of CTI Records, and engineered by Phil Ramone. There is a strange mix of enthusiastic innocence and artful experience. Greenwich Village 1963 collides with a Kentucky Barn Dance from a hundred years earlier, but surreal isn't one of the many words such a time-warp proposition conjures up. According to Carson's liner essay, the girls decided to go on the road in their own adventurous and endearingly eclectic way: "They wrote letters to towns they planned to visit, and took whatever engagements at whatever prices were available. As a result they sang in homes for old folks, in schools and auditoriums and classrooms, in tiny clubs, and, on occasion didn't sing at all. To support their travels they took side jobs when they had to. They have been waitresses, shop clerks, and car hops in the cities and towns of the East and South. Much of the music included on this album, their first, was collected first-hand on their travels.

The songs aren't "discoveries," of course, but they are authentic because the girls learned a lot of them from their friends in Kentucky and Virginia and the Carolinas." This record is their record of an American sojourn. Appalachian melodies and banjo picking of extraordinary freshness results in a strange slice of American folk music imbued with an air of Greenwich Village worldliness. It seems to be their only long player -- a postcard from the past, which makes you wish you could have been there. It is all too romantic to thinking of these two striking young women continuing to stagger gracefully around Greenwich Village in aging splendor, a pair of Bohemian Beatnik Baby Janes who occasionally burst into song to startle the young. Songs such as "Cuckoo," "The Joys of Love," and "Black Girl" have such a vitality about them, it is surprising that this album rests so far below the radar of those who value the work of exceptional quality. Ripe for sampling, the record has a sweetness that is never cloying, but is far from tongue-in-cheek. A stimulating experience resides in such sophisticated simplicity.

Do yourself a favor and get searching. Probably grandmothers by now, these sisters should sing again, and this record deserves to be heard. There is an enthusiastic air of beginning from this that now reeks of unfinished business. Two albums in over forty years wouldn't exactly be overstating one's talent, and Mary may have finally learnt how to speak Spanish, and if she hasn't, at least that would be another story.

Song of the Week: "The Cooling"

Dusty Wright — Sat, 02 May 2015 14:48:40 +0000

Song of the Week: "The Cooling" Dusty Wright May 2, 2015 - 10:48

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