Tag Archives: Glenn Yarbrough

The Limeliters

I understand the old folk music craze is the subject of some current interest, on account of the new Bob Dylan movie. I hear it’s good, and have no plans to see it (despite Dylan/Zimmerman’s Minnesota roots), because Dylan has never done anything for me, personally. (I speak of entertainment, not failed attempts to borrow money. So don’t believe the rumors.)

The focus of the film, I understand, is Dylan’s break from the folk movement when he insisted on using electric guitars, to the horror of Pete Seeger, who operated as a sort of surrogate father and commissar for the Folkies. He was (as the movie does not make clear, I’m told) a fervent Communist and Stalinist. Many conservatives see Dylan’s adoption of electric music as some kind of affirmation of capitalism. Perhaps there’s something in it, though I never quite understood the rationale – you can be sure Dylan will never explain it.

I have always hoped – perhaps naively – that the really big, commercial folk groups of the day operated to some degree outside Seeger’s sphere of influence. Such groups as the Chad Mitchell Trio, the New Christy Minstrels, and the Limeliters.

The Limeliters were my favorite.

What set them apart was the vibrant edge Glenn Yarbrough’s tenor voice brought. After he left the group he had quite a successful solo career, and I was always a fan, though he was never a top seller.

Anyway, I remember the period well, and still like the music better than I like Dylan’s. Above, the Limeliters, in an uncharacteristically Christian moment, do “What Wondrous Love Is This?” and “Old Time Religion.”

Glenn Yarbrough

We’ve had news of the death of several public figures this year: Gene Wilder, Alan Rickman, Harper Lee, and Elie Weisel to name a few. You may have missed the news of the death of a folk singer back in August. Glenn Yarbrough, whose 77th birthday is coming up January 12, began singing in college after some encouragement from his roommate, Jac Holzman, and  Woody Guthrie, who was a visitor and eighteen years Glenn’s senior.

Glenn sang the lead song in the Rankin and Bass production of The Hobbit. I’d like to say–I think I’d like to say this–that I internalized “The Greatest Adventure” and made it my life song. I don’t think a fair perspective on my life would say I had broken the mould of my life and created someone new. I’m not like Bilbo was before his adventures, but I’m not like he was afterward either. It’s very likely that I have not “stopped thinking and wasting the day.”

The bridge of Glenn’s song has always held me. I’ve even nicknamed myself Raindream because of these words.

A man who’s a dreamer
And never takes leave
Who thinks of a world that is just make-believe
Will never know passion,
Will never know pain,
Who sits by the window will one day see rain.

I have needed this kick in the pants repeatedly, but like the believer who loves to feel conviction while neglecting to repent, I can’t say I’ve acted on it. At least, not often.

I know I’ve heard more of Glenn’s music, but I don’t remember the context. Perhaps my parents had one of his records. Maybe I heard it through Pandora at some point. I hope he died knowing the Lord.