The Practical Miracle

by SANDER | SOMMERS

2023

Recorded and produced by Matt Sommers at Sommersville 2021-2022. All instruments/voices by Bob Sander and Matt Sommers.

1:45

The Practical Miracle

Sander | Sommers
5:53

Wedding Dress

Sander | Sommers
4:38

Sixteen Tons

Sander | Sommers
3:57

Lady Franklin’s Lament

Sander | Sommers
2:45

The Cloud

Sander | Sommers
4:18

John Of Dreams

Sander | Sommers
3:35

I Know My Love

Sander | Sommers
3:22

Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out

Sander | Sommers
1:19

Mike Stan Blues

Sander | Sommers
2:58

Simple Gifts

Sander | Sommers
3:14

Used To Be

Sander | Sommers
3:38

The Fiddler Of Dooney

Sander | Sommers

Album notes by Bob Sander

The Practical Miracle

Somewhere in the 1970s I came across Jaime de Angulo’s 1953 book Indian Tales. The charming line drawings and stories about an anthropomorphic animal family traveling across California in ancient times moved me to compose a little aphorism about a boastful hawk and an unassuming mole. 50 years later Matt and I created music for the little poem to travel around in … and here it is.

Wedding Dress

We took a trad song (from an already very punchy version by a great folk-rock band, Pumpkinhead) -- and went even farther out on the limb with it. ‘Out on the limb’ is where my sax playing, and vocal falsetto usually reside. However, the inherent energy of this song along with Matt’s guitar, percussion, bass, and Keith Emerson-like synth … lifted me up, blazed a trail, and helped me to find my way, gladly and gratefully, down the musical trail. Enjoy.

Sixteen Tons

If you know who Tennessee Ernie Ford is, it might be because of this song. He had a hit with it in 1955. Also: If you knew that info without Google-ing, then there’s a strong possibility you’re an old fart (like me). The song, however, is ageless. And if all this is new to you, maybe go listen to Ford’s original, then come back and play us again. I think you’ll hear our reverence for the source -- and the new places we went.

Lady Franklin’s Lament

I heard this song from an Irish singer whose accent was so thick I couldn’t understand all the words. No liner notes. Waaaay pre-Internet. Tiny label out of Dublin. After a while I gave up trying to get those words. One morning (twenty years later!) I awoke to a television image of a frozen man found in Canadian permafrost – a crewman from Lord Franklin’s long lost 1845 expedition to find a north passage around the globe (about which this song was written). The sight made me remember the song I’d heard. Then, later, I went to work at the Indianapolis Museum of Art – I was the resident storyteller there. When my sessions finished, I walked out onto the museum grounds where a ladies’ guild filled an old house with used items to sell in support of the museum. I walked in, went up the stairs, felt drawn over to a rack of books, reached out and grabbed a book whose spine said: Shantymen and Shanty Boys. Randomly I flipped the book open. At the top of the page (p. 145) was the title: Lady Franklin’s Lament. Complete with all the lyrics. Hmmm.

The Cloud

One free-wheelin’ day we threw together a Laotian khaen (the cinematic instrument that begins the track), a didgeridoo, and a hang drum. Added some drums, flute, electric guitar, synth and a wee bit more. When we flipped the switch on the musical blender it made this tuneful smoothie. They say that after just a few sips you see God. I don’t know about that. Let me know how it went for you.

John Of Dreams

The singing of the late Mick Molony is my source for this song. It was composed by English folksinger Bill Caddick and, according to Wikipedia, bears a strong resemblance ‘to the second theme of the first movement of Tchaikovsky's Pathetique Symphony’. Even though I love the lullaby-like original, our version turned into something more hard-edged and bluesy. For me the real standouts here are the lyrics and Matt’s solo guitar work. See what you think.

I Know My Love

This song was collected in Ireland in 1909, though it’s evidently much older. I heard it from the singing of Mick Hanley in the 1970s but Burl Ives recorded it as early as 1941 and Liz Madden as recently as 2010. The Chieftains, Pete Seeger, The Clancy Brothers, numerous others – lots of folks gave this simple tune a shake. With its ‘The Tide is High’ / ‘Redondo Beach’ vibe, nothing I’ve heard so far has anything like the island stamp we put on it. You can almost feel the ocean wind through your coconuts.

Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out

Composed in 1923, this song really got its legs when Bessie Smith recorded it in 1929 – just two weeks before the October stock market crash signaling the beginning of the Great Depression. Talk about prescient. It’s another one of those songs that everybody takes a swing at. Nina Simone had a version. Eric Clapton had big commercial success with it. We push our little musical hatchlings out of the nest for free, so it’s obvious we’re not destitute, like the singer of this song was. But… I’ve been close enough to down and out to know it when I see it, and to be grateful for where I’m at today. I wish you safe travel down all the roads that lead you far away from it.

Mike Stan Blues

One Saturday while recording at Sommersville, I bumped my foot against the microphone stand during a warm-up noodle. With good earphones on (Matt has really good earphones) that boot sounded like some kind of tribal drum strike. We ran with that notion, kept clonking away, added guitar, harmonica, synth, fiddle, bass, put it all through the mix and voila! Then we dedicated the piece to Mike Stan, the Patron Saint of accidental music.

Simple Gifts

I can’t say for sure, but I bet I first heard this on Judy Collins’ 1970 album, Whales and Nightingales. Back then, singer Ken Langell and I performed it live, a cappella. But, the song has a long and storied history. It was written in 1848 by a Shaker Elder, Joseph Brackett. Famously, Aaron Copland used it in 1944 for Martha Graham’s Appalachian Spring ballet. English songwriter Sydney Carter adapted the original American Shaker tune and lyrics for his hymn "Lord of the Dance" in 1963. That was in turn adapted in 1996, by Ronan Hardiman for Michael Flatley's dance musical, Lord of the Dance. The Wikipedia contributor notes (with subtle but evident venom) that the “Carter hymn was adapted without authorization or acknowledgments of the origins of the tune or Carter's lyrics.” And yet here we are now, the latest in a long line of adaptors and thieves, hoping to succinctly marry reverence for the original folk song with a modern vibe.

Used To Be

A Bill Monroe standard brings us right up to edge of this body of work. Rousing, punchy, a little bluesy – it’s all the things you want in a good bluegrass song. One of only three musicians to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame, the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Bill Monroe was a certifiable genius and rumored rascal. We drive this one straight home in hopes of honoring the original legend. it was a joy to play.

The Fiddler Of Dooney

We wrap up with a poem set to music. I used to recite this in between songs during Preservation Band concerts. Fellow band members could re-tune or get a quick drink while I yacked on. Luckily for me the verbiage that came out of my mouth was written by the incomparable William Butler Yeats. The music is improvised, and listening back on it now, I feel like Yeats might have lent a guiding hand. But wherever it came from, I’m grateful for the inspiration. I’m also grateful for you, for listening to our efforts. Cheers!