new moods for antique iron jaw harp

Between the 18th and early 20th centuries, England had a bustling jaw harp trade. Though most folks in Britain during those times never considered the jaw harp much more than a musical toy, the harps made there were known for quality. And they were exported in great numbers to North America and across Europe. I became interested in English-made jaw harps after reading Michael Wright’s excellent book, The Jews-Harp in Britain and Ireland. The archival illustrations of old English harps presented in those pages captivated my imagination. So I started lurking around to source these forgotten instruments. Earlier this year, I finally found two—one in Canada and the other in Australia. Both are iron English harps; they date to at least the early 1900s, possibly earlier. Of the two, the large ornate harp from Australia charmed me most. It's the one I play on this album. And it's the one on the cover. This jaw harp from Australia is different from any of the modern harps I own. It’s quiet, almost muted, and has little of the saturation that characterizes many new harps. Playing it feels similar to the experience of picking at an electric guitar that’s not plugged into an amp. The tongue is also incredibly stiff. When I pluck it, I think of the great 18th-century German virtuous Karl Eulenstein, who lost his front teeth to these old iron harps. A dangerous instrument! Regardless, I’ve fallen in love with this particular jaw harp. It has such a warm, melodious sound, especially when closed-miked with a decent condenser. So for March, I couldn’t help but play it almost every night, often recording. These sessions took me into some heady realms and would often leave me exhausted and dazed. A wild month of noisemaking. new moods for antique iron jaw harp is a collection of snippets from those evening sessions in March. All tracks were freely improvised and won’t be repeated. The recordings and performances are raw and unprocessed. Thanks for listening.