How to be a Folksinger #1

or How to Sing and Present Folk Songs, or The Folksinger's Guide, or Eggs I Have Laid, by Hermes Nye

The first in a series where I read this seminal 1965 text from singing Texan lawyer Hermes Nye, as he gives us all the important (and at times highly politically incorrect) info about how to be a folk singer. In 1965*. In Texas**.

*May not be applicable to 2023.

**May not be applicable in Stroud, Glasgow, or Leigh-on-Sea.

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Today I settled myself into a suitably hard cafe chair and started reading this, which arrived in the post this morning.

I had ordered my copy some time ago from a bookshop in Arizona and it has been wending its way over to the UK for the last few weeks. When I opened I was pleasantly surprised to find it’s a signed copy. Perhaps I will leave some sort of inheritance for my children after all. (It will rely on Hermes becoming some sort of huge cult figure; let’s see if we can make that happen.)

The next discovery was a loose leaf of painstakingly hand typed songs, in alphabetized order. Clearly the songs being listed in non-alphabetical order was unbearable to Hermes.

Contents page. Clearly this book is the work of a keen wordsmith.

OK, into the book proper. Page one of chapter one and the mysterious eggs of the title are revealed. Laying eggs = making mistakes, at least in 1960s Texas.

Next follows the usual discussion of the definition of folk music. I won’t lay it out here, but here is Nye’s somewhat glib conclusion; one with which I largely concur.

After a slightly moot discussion of what it takes, or doesn’t take, to be considered a folk singer, Nye helpfully lists the benefits of being one. The one about "meeting eligible young men or women" has a particular flavour of 1960s Texas. I suspect it might presage some potentially problematic views. Trigger warning, and all that.

The fact that Hermes was a lawyer is made painfully explicit in this next paragraph:

Next Hermes proves my earlier presagement correct. I should add that Nye was a family man, often pictured with his wife and child. Maybe he was in it for the adoration of youth and all that might problematically entail, or maybe it's all just part of the sales pitch.

(I’m thinking of making a “young and nubile” tshirt, that will only be funny to me, and if I ever meet you, you. Everyone else will think me strange, and back away from me slowly before breaking into a run.)

Here’s the final paragraph of chapter one. I'd like to imagine Hermes would enjoy Sing Yonder. But as an old man, often in ragged overalls, I doth protest.

That’s the end. Please subscribe if you want to see more snippets as I work through the book. For paid subscribers, I’ll serialise the whole thing in PDF format below. Hopefully Hermes won’t get all lawyery on me from beyond the grave.

See you in Chapter 2!