Linkage: Max Ochs

Easily overshadowed by his cousin, Max Ochs still possessed more musical talent than most who were given an opportunity to record music during the 1960s. Having only a slight back-log of tracks two that are counted on a Takoma compilation that alongside Fahey and others helped define American Primitive Guitar, Ochs has been only an occasionally active player since the folk revival. But with the emergence of Tompkins Square Records as an outlet for new and old acoustic works, Ochs has been given another chance to impact music.

Last year's release of Horray for Another Day collected some older guitar tracks as well as some new works and even a number of spoken word pieces. But being a relation to that other Ochs, it's all the more fitting that the precedings here have a political tinge to them. Even in this, though, it might be a bit too much to expect this Ochs to over come the legacy of his cousin.

Horray for Another Day begins with an eastern tinged, bell bejeweled drone, that can at once be figured for an important piece of the evolving way in which players look at the guitar. Over time, it's become more and more acceptable to manipulate the instrument in any number of ways taping the strings, pounding on them or just managing to summon some ethereal noise from it all. And here Ochs does his best to conjure some distant noise from his instrument as the perpetual hand drums push the work forward.

While this might be seen as the statement that the entirety of the album must work towards again reaching, the wide expanse of territory that the guitarist seeks to cover can’t really be bothered with returning to a single stylistic trapping. Instead the album moves on while incorporating a few written pieces. “Crows,” “An Apple Place in Annapolis,” “Muse Sick” and “Phil” offer listeners stories, political and religious views as well as a lament about how his cousin departed the world. At times, these pieces might come off as indulgent, but at this stage of this Ochs’ life, that’s not only to be expected, but spurred on. The guitarist represents a living, walking piece of American music history. And even disregarding his familial ties to the larger culture, it’s safe to say that Max Ochs has as much to offer as any other player still around at this point.

During his rendition of the Fahey 'In Christ there is No East or West,' Ochs pays homage to an indispensible part of Americana, but also displays his own, ample chops. The playing on this track might not hint at Ochs talent in comparison to his departed label mate, but there are more than enough instances of his musical prowess elsewhere on the disc.

A track coming towards the end of the disc again Eastern in style displays Ochs' penchant for cultural appropriations much in the same way Fahey enjoyed working in this vein. Of course that comparison could be seen as an easy marker, but Ochs chops here bear it out, leaving little to no doubt that the thirty plus year hiatus in recording was only to the detriment of fans.