In the history of solo guitar pioneers, the late Robbie Basho has long been overshadowed by John Fahey. While the pair's albums share some common characteristics, a new collection by Berkeley's Fantasy label shows that Basho's universe was unique in its own right.
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Basho and Fahey knew each other during the '60s, and both recorded atmospheric acoustic LPs for Fahey's Takoma label, long before the idea got co-opted by New Age artists. (Basho himself ended up on the ultra-mellow Windham Hill label.) Further, their music was equally syncretic, combining Western folk traditions with Eastern ragas and scales -- but that's where the similarities end.
While Fahey's work is often spacious, dark, and stoic, Basho's tunes feature a glorious avalanche of notes. Songs like the frantic "Lost Lagoon Suite -- Vancouver, Canada" combine whirling-dervish dance, hillbilly jig, and medieval chamber music all in one. Another difference between the labelmates is in their instrumentation: Basho generally favors the celestial overtones of the 12-string guitar over Fahey's more earthy six-string playing. "The Haji" highlights the orchestral chime of the former's instrument, infecting the driving, droning notes with what Basho called the "mood of joyous travel." Throughout the collection, there is a sense that Basho is enveloped in his sounds, lost on some cosmic pilgrimage.
In the Bashovia liner notes penned by Fahey shortly before his own death, the iconoclastic musician praises Basho's unique sound but questions some of his Eastern indulgences. Fahey explains that Basho relinquished his given name, Daniel L. Robinson Jr., after a peyote experience in which he'd come to believe he was the reincarnation of an ancient Japanese poet. Also, after following Fahey to Berkeley, the former military school attendee and nightclub bouncer started dressing in knee-high fringed Indian boots and flowery Asian smocks and adopted phrases and ideas from the Orient. Whether looking at Bashovia's silly cover photo or hearing Basho whine some mystic poetry in the middle of the otherwise gorgeous "A North American Raga (the Plumstar)," it's difficult not to laugh out loud. Often, Basho's strange, braying-goat singing voice is problematic as well, although on "Roses and Snow" his unusually tender vocal dovetails nicely with the tabla-driven raga.
Fahey himself toyed with personas. He released his first LP under the name Blind Joe Death, in an attempt to confuse academic critics searching for "real" folk- blues. But according to Fahey, Basho didn't take himself too seriously either. Basho's assumed role "was full of humor and laughter and a kind of slightly mad ecstasy." While Basho's approach may not have been authentic, it was certainly passionate. Either way, Bashovia is a beautiful place to visit.
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