John Barleycorn Must Die Album Cover: Traffic's iconic album featuring Steve Winwood, Jim Capaldi, and Chris Wood, marking a mature and cohesive sound for the band.
Traffic’s journey was never a straight line, and perhaps the most defining move they made was stepping back from being Traffic altogether for a while. The on-again, off-again dynamic with Dave Mason had become a recurring drama, overshadowing the music itself. While Mason contributed some catchy tunes, his presence within Traffic was proving to be a limiting factor, especially when juxtaposed with the burgeoning talent of Steve Winwood. Mason’s departures were frequent and disruptive, even missing the initial tour for Mr. Fantasy. Despite the turmoil, Winwood and Capaldi, recognizing a need for more material, temporarily brought Mason back for the self-titled Traffic album. This reunion was short-lived, and after the compilation Last Exit, Traffic seemed to be over.
The core issue was the contrasting trajectories of Dave Mason and Steve Winwood. Mason, with his knack for pleasant, accessible 60s pop songs, appeared to have reached his creative ceiling early on. Winwood, however, was a wellspring of untapped potential. He needed space to evolve beyond the “boy wonder” label and discover the full scope of his musical identity. His stints with Blind Faith and Ginger Baker’s Air Force, particularly his time alongside the disciplined Eric Clapton, proved crucial for this growth. These experiences allowed Winwood to mature and refine his approach. Initially, Winwood began working on a solo project with producer Guy Stevens, but he soon felt the pull back to Traffic, recognizing unfinished business. This led to the pivotal reunion with Jim Capaldi and Chris Wood, setting the stage for John Barleycorn Must Die.
Overcoming Sync Noise: Finding Cohesion in Sound
One of the immediate and striking differences in John Barleycorn Must Die is the near absence of what might be termed “sync noise.” This refers to the jarring discordance that arises when musicians are not completely in rhythmic and musical alignment. The Mason-era Traffic often suffered from this lack of cohesion. A stark example is the live rendition of “Gimme Some Lovin’” from Welcome to the Canteen. While some might pinpoint the interplay between Mason’s guitar and Winwood’s organ as the source of the problem, the overall impression is of a band not quite locked in, perhaps distracted or simply not in sync with each other’s musical intentions. In stark contrast, on the four band-performed tracks of John Barleycorn Must Die, Winwood, Capaldi, and Wood exhibit a remarkable sense of interplay. They sound attuned to each other’s nuances, creating a relaxed yet responsive musical conversation. Throughout the album, there’s a palpable feeling of tightness and focus, devoid of any sloppiness.
Lyrical Minimalism: Prioritizing Mood and Musicality
Another notable aspect of John Barleycorn Must Die is its lyrical economy, with the exception of the title track. The lyrics for the five non-instrumental songs are surprisingly concise. However, this sparseness is not a detriment, especially within the context of Traffic’s strengths. Capaldi and Winwood excelled at crafting sonic atmospheres and emotional landscapes, often more so than narrative-driven storytelling or elaborate poetry. While Winwood’s vocal delivery is undeniably distinctive and soulful, his enunciation, particularly in earlier years, was not always crystal clear. Yet, even perfect diction wouldn’t fundamentally alter the impact of Barleycorn’s lyrics (primarily Capaldi’s contributions), which, while functional, are not the album’s primary focus. Many of the lyrical tracks contain fleeting moments of brilliance, a memorable line or two, before receding into vagueness. The strength lies in the overall mood and musical texture, not intricate lyrical narratives.
Compositional Maturity: From Experimentation to Thematic Strength
The most profound transformation showcased on John Barleycorn Must Die is the quantum leap in compositional maturity. The songs on the Traffic album, and to some extent on Mr. Fantasy, often felt disjointed, lacking clear thematic direction and prone to meandering, unresolved musical tangents. “Don’t Be Sad” stands out as a prime example of this structural weakness. In comparison, Dave Mason’s contributions, “You Can All Join In” and “Feelin’ Alright,” while somewhat predictable and conventional, at least offered recognizable song structures and competent resolutions. “40,000 Headmen” showed some structural coherence, and “Medicated Goo,” from the expanded release of Traffic, also demonstrated a more focused approach. However, these were exceptions. The early Winwood-Capaldi songwriting partnership, while brimming with ideas, often resulted in experimental pieces that felt more like works in progress than fully realized songs.
This experimentation was not unique to Traffic; the psychedelic era encouraged pushing boundaries in song structure. However, few artists possessed the innate talent, formal training, or intuitive grasp to successfully fuse disparate musical ideas into a cohesive and satisfying whole. A notable example of daring and successful structural innovation is John Lennon’s “Happiness is a Warm Gun.” The “Mother Superior” section initially seems like an abrupt insertion, but its genius lies in its function as a tension-building element, leading to the dramatic and rewarding resolution of the chorus. Lennon, despite lacking formal musical training, instinctively understood the crucial principle of tension and release in composition. Early Traffic songs often overlooked these fundamental elements, resulting in awkward transitions and aimless instrumental jams. Whether it was the influence of Clapton and Baker or simply the natural progression of their musical development, Winwood’s compositions on Barleycorn demonstrate a firm grasp of thematic unity, balance, and robust structures that allow for exploration within a defined framework.
“Glad”: An Instrumental Overture of Thematic Strength
The improvement in composition is immediately apparent with the album’s opener, the instrumental piece “Glad.” Structured in three distinct sections, “Glad” begins by establishing a compelling central theme. The Am-C-D chord progression provides a foundation for Winwood’s fluid keyboard runs around a central melodic idea, while he simultaneously provides harmonic texture with organ chords on the other channel. The inspired moment in this opening passage is the shift to Bbm, dramatically emphasized by Chris Wood’s saxophone entrance. Wood’s saxophone phrase, built around a Bbm-D7 progression, leads to a bold shift to the fifth for resolution. This pattern repeats three times, with increasing variation each time. A truncated verse follows, where Capaldi shifts to a double-time feel and Wood takes center stage with an extended saxophone solo, enriched by tonal effects from an electric saxophone. A return to Bbm signals the reprise of the main theme for a final iteration before the third, slower passage. Here, Capaldi smoothly transitions out of the double-time rhythm, and the band settles into a Dm7/Dm and E7 pattern, creating a bed for a lengthy and beautiful piano solo. Winwood’s approach in this section is modal, incorporating notes outside the standard scale. Capaldi’s cymbal work is particularly noteworthy, his shimmering tones perfectly complementing the piano’s melodic lines. After a dynamic peak, marked by Winwood’s reduced note frequency, the rhythm decelerates to a near crawl. The organ gradually emerges from the background, and the piece concludes on a sustained E major chord – a chord that sets up the unexpected Gm opening of “Freedom Rider.”
“Freedom Rider”: Piano Chords and Saxophone Mystery
The transition from “Glad” to “Freedom Rider” is masterful. The G minor chord at the start of “Freedom Rider” seems harmonically distant from the E major that concludes “Glad,” yet Winwood makes this abrupt shift work seamlessly by introducing an equally captivating theme that immediately captures the listener’s attention and shifts the focus away from “Glad.” “Freedom Rider” exemplifies what producer George Martin termed a “piano song” – a song that is naturally conceived on the piano due to its chord voicings and progressions, and less likely to originate on guitar unless played by a highly skilled guitarist. Guitarists encountering piano-centric chord progressions like those in “Freedom Rider” (or Rod Argent’s “I Want Her She Wants Me” for The Zombies) might initially find them perplexing. Pianists, however, find these progressions more intuitive and readily accessible. This is because diminished, augmented, and certain altered minor chords are more easily voiced and played on the piano than on the guitar.
Adding to the complexity for guitarists, the main riff of “Freedom Rider” is in G minor, while the verses are in A minor. This key change, while potentially challenging for some instrumentalists, is crucial to the song’s overall impact. Having already established E major within the composition through the transition from “Glad,” Winwood cleverly revisits E major by shifting to A minor for the verses and resolving each verse on the dominant E major chord. This forces the seemingly jarring shift back to G minor, and this repetition reinforces the musical logic of the juxtaposition. The initial unexpectedness of the G minor chord becomes, with repetition, a source of musical satisfaction, an “aha” moment of understanding.
The opening saxophone riff of “Freedom Rider” is undeniably captivating, creating an atmosphere of intrigue. It’s a riff of such quality that it could easily rank among the best. Chris Wood’s flute fills and extended solo further enhance the track, representing one of his most vibrant performances. Compositionally, the interplay between the saxophone’s ominous tones and the flute’s more joyful flights creates a compelling contrast of moods, adding depth and interest. Lyrically, “Freedom Rider” is less impactful. The opening lines, “Like a hurricane around your heart/When earth and sky are torn apart,” are a flash of lyrical brilliance, but the rest of the lyrics are more functional than profound. In “Freedom Rider,” mood and atmosphere are paramount, and the song excels as a mood piece.
“Empty Pages”: Bass Presence and Instrumental Exploration
“Empty Pages” marks a shift in the album’s sonic landscape with the introduction of a prominent bass guitar, competently played by Winwood himself. The opening instrumental flourish foreshadows the chorus structure, demonstrating another example of solid compositional planning. While the lyrics are somewhat meandering and less impactful, the extended instrumental passage is a highlight, featuring strong electric piano riffing from Winwood, supportive organ textures from Wood, and a dynamically varied drum performance from Capaldi.
Side Two: Solo Reflections and Folk Roots
Flipping the vinyl to Side Two reveals “Stranger to Himself,” one of two tracks originating from Winwood’s abandoned solo sessions with Guy Stevens. The production quality here is noticeably polished, with clear separation between instruments in the stereo field, indicative of Stevens’ production expertise. Winwood handles lead vocals and all instrumentation, with Capaldi contributing vocal harmonies on the exceptionally strong chorus. The song’s origins as a solo piece are evident, reminiscent of tracks from Paul McCartney’s first solo album in its self-contained feel. While Winwood’s performance is generally strong (though the electric guitar solo is somewhat lackluster), “Stranger to Himself,” in retrospect, might have benefited from a re-recording with the full Traffic trio to integrate it more seamlessly into the album’s cohesive sound.
The title track, “John Barleycorn Must Die,” is a traditional English folk song. Compared to Steeleye Span’s rendition, Traffic’s version takes on a dramatically different tone. Where Steeleye Span celebrates the life cycle of barley and the joy of ale, Traffic’s interpretation is decidedly darker and more ominous. Winwood’s version transforms the folk tale into a somber and mysterious narrative of violence and suffering.
Traffic’s rendition, with its foreboding atmosphere, seemed more attuned to the anxieties of the 1970s, a decade marked by paranoia and social unrest. While the lyrics in both versions share common roots, the contrasting moods are striking. Winwood’s vocal delivery, Wood’s haunting flute, and the sparse arrangement centered around acoustic guitar lend lines like these a chilling cruelty in Traffic’s version:
They’ve hired men with their scythes so sharp to cut him off at the knee
They’ve rolled him and tied him by the way, serving him most barbarously
They’ve hired men with their sharp pitchforks who’ve pricked him to the heart
And the loader he has served him worse than thatFor he’s bound him to the cart
These lines, in Traffic’s rendition, evoke unsettling imagery, far removed from the celebratory spirit of Steeleye Span’s version. While a jollier interpretation might typically be preferred, within the context of John Barleycorn Must Die, this acoustic darkness provides a compelling contrast, enhancing the album’s overall texture and emotional range.
Barleycorn concludes with “Every Mother’s Son,” the second track salvaged from Winwood’s solo sessions, and its reflective mood provides a fitting album closer. “Every Mother’s Son” is arguably the stronger of the two solo remnants, with a tighter ensemble feel and more compelling performances across all instrumental parts, particularly in the delivery of the lead guitar riff. Winwood’s vocal performance here is also a highlight of the album, culminating in a powerful, belted-out final chorus. The lyrics are also above average, and Winwood’s heartfelt delivery suggests a deep personal connection to the song’s themes:
Once again I’m northward bound,
On the edge of sea and sky
Tomorrow is my friend,
My one and only friend
We travel on together searching for the end
I’m a traveling soul
And every mother’s son
Although I’m getting tired
I’ve got to travel on
Can you please help, my god? (3)
I think it’s only fair
The “northward bound” journey could be interpreted as a return to his Birmingham origins, or perhaps as anticipation of a transatlantic flight for touring. The lines “Tomorrow is my friend/My one and only friend” are particularly poignant, suggesting an awareness of the futility of “searching for the end” while acknowledging the inescapable human compulsion to continue the quest. This resonates deeply – the human condition of pursuing an elusive grail, knowing its unattainable nature yet persevering nonetheless.
“Every Mother’s Son” serves as a thematically resonant conclusion to an album that triumphantly marks Traffic’s return to their musical journey. John Barleycorn Must Die is the first Traffic album where all elements coalesce, fulfilling the promise hinted at in their early work. Instead of fragmented ideas, Traffic delivered a cohesive set of thoughtfully constructed compositions that form a unified and deeply satisfying whole. Barleycorn stands as an album best experienced in a single, uninterrupted listening session.
Sometimes, taking a break, stepping away, can indeed make all the difference. For Traffic, this break and subsequent reunion resulted in a masterpiece of musical maturity and cohesion in John Barleycorn Must Die.
