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Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Bert Jansch, John Renbourn and the dog

I recently got the elegant book-like 4-disks set of first four, seminal Transatlantic's albums of Bert Jansch, freshly issued on Earth records with Bert Jansch Foundation blessing.

I've been a loyal and grateful scholar and lover of Bert's music since my short trousers years and own all the sought-after vinyl discs first pressings of the eponymous first, It Don't Bother me, Jack Orion and Bert & John, albums I listened and listened, sipping their beauty and most important, getting the inspiration to play guitar, as well.

... so, why I bought this disks?

To pay hommage to Bert, to own an easy media to listen to the beloved music at home, where I don't use any turntable or in the car... and...

... to appreciate or blame modern-day mastering and digital rendition of these classics...

Do the average, tattooed studio tech-head hear and is him respectful and faithful to the original master-tape or its hi-rez digital safety copy?

Three of the a.m. four titles - but It Don't Bother me - were recorded in Bill Leader's dining room, in London by Mr. Leader himself using a (tube) Revox G36 and - who knows? - maybe a Reslo or Coles' mike.

I listened to this music for decades... last time... dunno, maybe 4 or 5 years ago...

... but what I noticed this evening during a short, yet much enjoyable listening sessions, while listening to Bert & John was surprising, at least!

During Mingus' Goodbye Pork-pie Hat duet, Bert is on right speaker and John at left... I was immersed in the beautiful interweaving guitars and, suddenly, a dog was barking on right channel, in the background.

I was so surprised I was thinking it was outside my studio when another woof appeared at left, the same dog barking, apparently.

Then on Tic-Tocative, another duet... again the same medium-sized dog, slightly more in the background.

Bill Leader's dog, outside in the yard?

Why I didn't noticed this woofing-dog before, during the several explorations of the original vinyl disc?

My past systems weren't that transparent?

I suspect the above to be the answer, pals... as I always say, it's not the noise itself, but the discovery of the hidden noise in a recording.

When I turned-off the Gotorama and took a short walk homebound, I smiled: it was a couple of days I hadn't a satisfying music-dose in my studio and the daily-job diet was poisoning my soul, day after day.

To my surprise, I was feeling different, better.

Music truly is healing, easy and deep, food for mind and soul.


1 comment:

Alan's Archives said...

Superb albums all. I'd never noticed the dog, I must go back and listen! 8>)