Recorded in late summer of 1981, Precious Friend, the second of Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger's live collaborations, is pretty much what you would expect. Seeger is his usual folksy self, leading the crowd through a series of folk tunes ranging from the traditional African chant "Wimoweh (Mbube)" to Harry Chapin's "Circles," while Guthrie mixes his warm counterculture storytelling with selections of old ragtime, gospel, and folk. And while Seeger's singalongs and Guthrie's raps can wear a bit thin after a while, there are some genuine moments of both energy and hominess that are quite nice. Listening to Pete Seeger is kind of like hearing a museum piece, which in his case is fine. On the other hand, tracks such as Guthrie's cover of Tom Paxton's "I'm Changing My Name to Chrysler" and especially "Neutron Bomb" have lost much of their initial charm with time. He's more successful with time-tested material such as the 1920s ragtime of "Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone," as well as Blind Blake's "Run, Come See Jerusalem" and a trio of tunes by his father. Still, it's Seeger's homage to his friend and fellow Weaver, Lee Hays, who had recently passed away, that is the album's true highlight. Included along with the Weavers hits "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" and "If I Had a Hammer" (co-written by Seeger and Hays) are a couple of wonderful Hays originals -- the old union number "Raggedy, Raggedy" and the morbidly funny "In Dead Earnest," written shortly before his death. Seeger and Guthrie's sense of tradition may be warm and inviting in a live setting, but mixing a little more of what made Guthrie's late-'70s work special with the folksier material would have made for a better recording. ~ Brett Hartenbach, All Music Guide
If Arlo Guthrie has always been viewed as the embodiment of a kind of starry-eyed hippie optimism only slightly undercut by a strain of black humor, there has also always been a more thoughtful, spiritual, and even somewhat gloomy side to him that has come out on some of the songs he's written for his albums. It's a less prominent aspect of his persona, to be sure, but remember that this is a man who spent most of his life not knowing whether he had a gene, passed down from his father, that would lead to the development of an incurable, fatal illness starting sometime in middle age. In Times Like These, a live album recorded with the University of Kentucky Symphony Orchestra, was released on Guthrie's 60th birthday, which made him five years older than Woody Guthrie was when he died of Huntington's disease after years of hospitalization; happily, Arlo Guthrie has been spared his father's fate. But the Sword of Damocles under which he has lived has shaped his artistic temperament. Since 1998, he has been performing his music with symphony orchestras, which may seem like an odd practice for an old folkie. But James Burton's arrangements of his songs do put an orchestra through its paces, drawing out their melancholy moods. Be warned: this is not the Arlo Guthrie of "Alice's Restaurant Massacree" or even of 2005's Live in Sydney. The singer says practically nothing on the disc, simply singing one song after another as he accompanies himself on guitar or piano and the orchestra fills out his melodies. And the songs are among his most wistfully reflective, as titles like "Darkest Hour," "Last Train," and "Last to Leave" suggest. An elaborate arrangement of the jazz/blues standard "St. James Infirmary" lightens the mood only musically; after all, it's a song about death. Guthrie dispenses with the orchestra for a single new song, "In Times Like These" itself, and as one might expect, the times he describes are anything but happy. Politicians are up to their usual evil deeds ("When leaders profit/From deep divisions") and even the music stinks ("The singers run/To where the cash is"). The only comfort to be offered is that this, too, will pass ("It's good to remember/These times will go/In times to come"). Toward the album's close, Guthrie turns more to cover material and the tone brightens somewhat, although, even when he pleases the audience with his sole Top 40 hit, "City of New Orleans," the album's overall theme is not actually altered if, for once, one listens beyond the cheery "Good morning, America" line to what the lyrics are really saying: this is a song about a train on its last legs that has only 15 riders for its 15 cars, a train that has "the disappearing railroad blues." Even "Goodnight Irene" and "Can't Help Falling in Love," which close the disc, are songs about romantic notions more desperate than enraptured. By putting his music in an orchestral form, Guthrie may have been trying to take on the mantle of Serious Composer on In Times Like These; he has succeeded at least in coming off as serious, which his fans may appreciate, as long as they don't come to the album looking for laughs. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
Arlo Guthrie's first album came out in 1967, the unassuming and charming Alice's Restaurant, and what is truly remarkable is how fully formed his approach to music was right from the start. Maybe more than any other singer and songwriter of his generation, Arlo instinctively understood the value of deliberate and informed nostalgia, which has kept his material oddly fresh and timeless, and while many of his contemporaries have run themselves ragged trying to change with the times, Arlo simply casts a bemused eye on what is going on around him, and uses the old songs and his wry, hilarious song introductions to comment on it all. It helps, too, that he is the best interpreter of his father's songs, and to hear Arlo Guthrie sing a Woody Guthrie song is to hear it wonderfully close to its original source. This charming two-disc set is drawn from a concert Arlo did in Sydney, Australia, in 2004, and hearing it is like spending an evening with an old friend. Accompanied by his son, Abe Guthrie, on keyboards, and Gordon Titcomb on pedal steel and mandolin, Arlo reminisces, wonders aloud, and chuckles his way through a set that unfolds as naturally as a summer's night, playing a couple of his father's songs, "Oklahoma Hills" and "This Land Is Your Land" (complete with a long spoken word interjection about American presidents that brings home the essential and important premise of the song), a few of his own songs (including one of his finest, "Highway in the Wind), a traditional song or two ("St. James Infirmary," "Green Green Rocky Road"), and pays tribute to friends Steve Goodman ("City of New Orleans") and Derroll Adams (the striking and poignant "Portland Town"). In between he manages to tell stories about Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Janis Joplin, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, and Dolly Parton while reflecting on everything from airport security to the difficulty he has in remembering the words to his timeless epic, "Alice's Restaurant." He has even come up with a way to do "Alice" without actually doing "Alice" ("Remembering Alice") that is as ingenious as it is delightful. Arlo's hair may be snow white now, and his voice may be full of a little more gravel (he sounds, as he always has, like a slightly bemused Bruce Dern), but he still delivers the kind of set he did 40 years ago, only with the song introductions lovingly adjusted for time and distance, and everyone is blessed to have him still doing it, a sort of steady and trusted barometer of the times. Alice is immortal at this point, and here's hoping Arlo is, too. ~ Steve Leggett, All Music Guide
On his first studio album of new original material in a decade, Arlo Guthrie turned out a recording to fit in well with his existing catalog. His chief musical influences continued to be Bob Dylan and the Beatles, circa 1966, as he made melodic folk-rock anchored by his acoustic guitar and augmented by a rock rhythm section, other stringed instruments, and keyboards, frequently played by his son and co-producer Abe Guthrie. The lyrics also had a Dylanish twinge in their highly poetic, sometimes obscure language, though Guthrie commented on a variety of contemporary issues including the experiences of veterans ("When a Soldier Makes It Home"), child and spouse abuse, and gentrification. Just as often, however, singing in his resonant, half-spoken voice, which had begun to be reminiscent of Willie Nelson, Guthrie adopted an elegiac, fatalistic tone, expressing spiritual concerns in nearly apocalyptic terms. That too had long been a feature of his music, but on Mystic Journey, unleavened by humor, it was the dominant theme. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
His understated narration and music make these classic stories easy to listen to. ~ Bob Hinkle, All Music Guide
As the 1970s wore on, Arlo Guthrie continued to grow with each subsequent release, wrapping up the decade with what were not only his two most personal albums, but arguably his two best, Amigo and Outlasting the Blues (with the lukewarm live recording One Night between the two). Continuing his longtime association with producer John Pilla, he returned in 1981 with what would be his final studio effort for Warner Bros., Power of Love. As had been the case with the past couple of studio outings, Pilla gives the material more of a pop and rock sheen than Arlo's late-'60s, early-'70s output. But while his production on Amigo had a toughness to it, Pilla often seems to go soft here, as he did on the otherwise terrificOutlasting the Blues. Still, the major difference between Power of Love and Outlasting the Blues is both the number and quality of Guthrie's originals. In the latter half of the '70s, with tunes such as "Victor Jara," "Patriot's Dream," and "Epilogue," he proved himself to be a songwriter whose own output was capable of matching his excellent taste in other people's songs, whereas the pair of self-penned tracks here are average at best. Still, as has been the case throughout his career, Guthrie makes up for the lack of songwriting inspiration with a handful of well-chosen covers -- including Richard Thompson's heavenly crossing "When I Get to the Border," T-Bone Burnett's more recent title cut, Jimmy Webb's "Oklahoma Nights," and David Mallett's "Garden Song," which would become a staple of his live shows, also turning up on his 1982 live collaboration with Pete Seeger, Precious Friend. Moments such as these make for a pleasant enough listen, but overall the record lacks the personality of his early- to mid-'70s work, the power and grace of Amigo, or the strong songwriting of Outlasting the Blues, making it a slight disappointment by comparison. Power of Love was reissued by Koch in 2000 as a two-fer along with Outlasting the Blues. ~ Brett Hartenbach, All Music Guide
In 1979, Arlo Guthrie was no longer just Woody's kid, having a made his own mark on folk and popular music throughout the '60s and '70s. He was also approaching the age where he would discover whether or not he would be struck with Huntington's chorea, the hereditary nerve disease that killed his father. Outlasting the Blues deals with this sense of mortality, as well as faith, family, and time gone by. Guthrie refuses to ignore his possible fate, while examining the way things are, were, and should be. Musically, John Pilla's production, which lacks the vitality of his work on the superb Amigo, doesn't do much for Guthrie's folk-rock, though the material on side one is all first-rate and certainly strong enough to stand on its own. Guthrie had recently converted to Catholicism, and his beliefs run through much of Outlasting the Blues. "Which Side," the record's hardest rocker, begins as if it were just another '60s protest song, before you realize that it has more in common with "Gotta Serve Somebody" than "Blowin' in the Wind." "Wedding Song" is a beautiful tale of marriage, while the warm domesticity of "World Away From Me" and the record's best song, "Epilogue," round out the first side. "Epilogue" is a poignant baring of the soul by a man sure of his faith, if not his future, while at the same time at ease with his past. Whereas the first five songs are among Guthrie's best, the remaining tracks, though not without their pleasures, aren't quite as consistent and nearly atrophy under Pilla's lightweight production and the MOR backing of Shenandoah. Despite its flaws, there's plenty to admire about Outlasting the Blues, which, at its best, is about as honest and mature as folk or pop songwriting gets. ~ Brett Hartenbach, All Music Guide