The eMusic Dozen: Old Country

It may seem odd to start this list with a folk revival band, but the NLCR were scrupulous in their reconstructions of string-band music they'd learned from old records, and the better-quality recording here will help you adjust your ears to the odd harmonies and tonalities of mountain music — or "old-timey" as its fans call it. There's also the fact that the material's been selected with entertaining modern audiences in mind.

Holcomb never recorded in the old days, but made up for it after his rediscovery during the folk revival. The title captures the content (and Holcomb's voice) perfectly, although the stark music and Holcomb's vocal delivery, cracked and jagged like aged hickory, may sound a little rough to contemporary ears. Holcomb was a virtuoso banjo picker, and knew and played a lot of very old styles, meaning that you're hearing echoes of the 19th century here. Holcomb performed semi-professionally in the '30s, and his repertoire here shows it, with his rendition of "House in New Orleans," better known as "House of the Rising Sun," being one bit of proof.

Dock Boggs, bootlegger, farmer and banjo player, recorded during the '20s, a perfect example of how clueless the record companies were: his records barely sold, but Boggs was a great artist whose haunted, lonely, blues-inflected playing was unique in its era. After Mike Seeger rediscovered him in 1963, Boggs played the folk circuit to much acclaim and recorded a couple of albums for Folkways that showed he was still at the top of his game. He re-recorded some of his old tunes — "Country Blues" and "Pretty Polly," for instance — and he also cut the definitive version of "Oh, Death," which he hadn't recorded back then. Again, this is not easy listening, but it sure is riveting.

Q: Why are there steel guitars in country music? A: Naked ladies. A huge fad for Hawaiian music spread through the United States in the '20s, and Hawaiian bands — with scantily-clad hula dancers — were a big draw in vaudeville and tent shows. As a result, a lot of people started using slides on their guitars, and Cliff Carlisle was one of the first. His career was overshadowed by Jimmie Rodgers', but he was an important performer in his day, and this collection shows why: bluesy, semi-risqué songs alternate with sentimental and religious numbers — something, as they used to say, for the whole family!

Virtuosity counted for a lot in early country, and Tom Darby and Jimmie Tarlton had it. On regular and Hawaiian guitar, respectively, they introduced a lot of numbers into the repertoire, including "Columbus Stockade Blues" and "Birmingham Jail," and this collection is an excellent roundup of country circuit standards during the late '20s and early '30s. Thirty years later, their instrumentals were still keeping folkies' fingers busy trying to keep up. Tarlton was another rediscovery of the folk revival era, and his slide guitar skills were undiminished.

Uncle Dave was a born entertainer, and one of the first country superstars, at least in part because his enthusiasm was so contagious. He attacks his banjo with insane energy, yelling and whooping as he thunders through the instrumental passages, singing with a gusto that threatens to blow the recording needle right out of the wax groove. Macon remained popular long enough to join, in 1925, what would eventually become the Grand Ole Opry, where he became its first major star with the usual mix of sacred and profane, all delivered with perfect sincerity.

Commercial country music starts here. A.P. Carter, his wife Sara, and her sister Maybelle came to Bristol armed with two guitars and an autoharp and a passel of songs A.P. had written. They weren't disappointed, and the success of songs from that session like "Single Girl, Married Girl" and "The Storms Are On the Ocean" led to a long career that continued even after A.P. and Sara divorced and Maybelle and her daughters kept the flame burning at the Grand Ole Opry. The sheer number of Carter classics still being recorded is stunning, and the millions of records they sold and the even more millions of listeners they reached with their radio broadcasts make them essential to understanding how country happened.

Commercial country music also starts here, with the charismatic, doomed, young man from Mississippi who was cut down by tuberculosis at the height of his fame. The yodel he introduced in his songs became essential for subsequent singers, and the steel guitarist he used on many of these tracks also became a must for anyone pretending to commercial success. It's got to be admitted, though, that Rodgers had a keen ear for a song, both the ones he wrote himself and the ones he took from others, and there's a good reason, which you can clearly hear here, why so many contemporary country singers revere him. Just ask Merle Haggard!

Meanwhile, over on the western side of the aisle, great things were happening, with the coming of western swing, a marvelous hybrid of Texas fiddle tunes, jazz, and blues. Bob Wills was its greatest exponent, but there were many others, and Boyd, with his band, was one of them. This is an excellent collection, pointing up Boyd's way with a song ("I Can't Tame Wild Women") and the virtuosity of his band (any number of the instrumentals here). Beginning as an all-acoustic ensemble, they quickly swelled to a ten-piece, and some of the great names of western swing, including fiddler Jesse Ashlock, passed through.

Here is the archetypal western group, all sweet harmonies, sentimental depictions of the Old West (all, conveniently, written long after it had passed), and catchy melodies. But the Sons also had a secret weapon: the Farr Brothers, Hugh and Karl on fiddle and guitar, respectively. The Farrs were two of the greatest swing performers never to play with Bob Wills or any of the other western swing bands, but this set of 1940 radio transcriptions — all recorded live — shows why the Sons were in demand both as recording artists and as musical relief in Hollywood westerns.

With this album, we're just about to step into the modern era. The Delmores were perhaps the most influential brother duet in country history, because they started as a somewhat hotter version of the Blue Sky Boys and, in the late '40s, helped invent country boogie, which presaged rock & roll. Here, it's early innings yet, but the pattern is being set, with some of their biggest hits appearing in early versions: "Browns Ferry Blues" and "Blue Railroad Train," for instance. Alton Delmore played tenor guitar, making for a distinctive lead guitar sound, and his interlocking, vocally and instrumentally, with his brother Rabon is telepathic.