That snow globe of a brain

Charlie McAlister - Turn of the Century Photograph Of
Unread #12

Charlie McAlister has been creating "true American folk music" (not my words) since the mid-1980s. There probably isn't a single artist who has committed the majority of their catalogue to the cassette format and had their name whispered in mainstream circles. But if there was a list of potential candidates who might possibly, potentially, perhaps make that sort of breakthrough, McAlister's name would be at the top. Partially because of his longevity, partially because of his songwriting, partially because of his eccentricities. (From an email Kevin Greenspon, founder of Bridgetown Records, sent me: "By far one of the most boggling and incredible live sets ever. Real crazy guy ... He got a haircut during his set from his wife/girlfriend and it was being glued to his face or something. He's definitely a kind of savant or something.")

Turn of the Century Photograph Of is one of several cassettes McAlister cut for Unread Records. These releases represent just a tiny portion of his career. The tape features ditties like "Bog Man," which could be McAlister exploring themes on how time is cyclical or how we have a penchant for exhibiting relics of the past no matter how perverse they may be, but likely was written because the dude just wanted to sing about a bog man.

Songs like "Pale Light" (sample couplet: "There is a place I want to go / But I don't know where it is") give you the impression that each of these tracks are really 45, maybe 60 minutes long, that the banjo missing two strings and the broken guitar and the pots-and-pan percussion play on and on, and that the three minutes we are hearing were culled from McAlister's fleeting instances of sanity—those moments when his snow globe of a brain stopped being shaken and the snow settled and the miniature inside could be seen clearly.