A rhizome is more than root or branch – also called rootstalk, it’s a supportive stem growing under the ground, laying out roots or sending new growth skyward. An aspen grove is actually one tree – each trunk and leaf genetically identical.

“… where past and present, the practical and humorous stir together …”

The Rhizome Project is not just a record but an experience, like sitting within an aspen grove and engaging all your senses inside that space. 11 folk songs are curated and arranged with the precision expected of classical arrangement. A 32-page book skillfully weaves together very old themes with current events, demonstrating that cycles of humanity and music are alive. Each story is prefaced by a portrait, a human interacting with some physical aspect of the world – another layer of weaving. I first read each story before listening to its accompanying song, and then read them again while I listened again.

Each story, each person, is centered in Moira’s world of western Vermont, but tied to some other time or place: from a son’s funeral to the tradition of souling, from Madagascar to Guatemala, but still New England.

Moira explains that she chose songs which helped form her, helping her “know why certain songs (and people) keep nurturing” her throughout decades. Keep nurturing – that’s an important concept. Songs create a home where you can return when the one where you were born isn’t available, or welcoming.

“And that’s part of how our song rhizomes grow…not just the power or beauty of a song, but the place and people that surround the song when we meet it for the first time.”

the peaceful battle of the sea against land right into the room with you. Throughout this book, Moira will tell you over and again of all the times she’s fallen in love, but I was taken by her description of the “disorienting, inevitable but spiritually necessary departure” of ‘Standing on the Shore.’ Percussion builds time and space. Harmonies, too, are pulled from all corners of the globe.

Each song’s story will tell you who was there, and how they got there. ‘Soul Cake’ put a warm and loving spin on words that were childhood-familiar to me: If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do/ If you haven’t got a ha’penny, then God bless you!

“…where a deep sense of the old songs is mixed with irreverence, social activism and harmony singing as a sort of birthright.”

Moira gives a detailed history of her personal relationship with ‘Oh, Watch the Stars’ – first encountering it through Ruth Crawford Seeger’s American Folk Songs for Christmas Songbook (1953) but then digging deeper to find the song in Saint Helena Island Spirituals (1925) transcribed by Nicholas G.J. Ballanta of Sierra Leone. The portrait accompanying this track is Fiona Small, the creator of all these portraits. And Fiona’s work is incredible – deep and smooth, lightness and dark. Moira says of her: “…she brought Vermont’s river sands, rocks, moss, branches, flowers and light to play in every photo taken for this book.” I’m especially drawn into the shadows in the portraits of David Brynn and Leonore Tjia. Every still image is an act of performance art.

If this recording were a wine, I might describe it as having notes of old forest and island sand with a deep body of hiraeth, legs that extend through the glass and entangle themselves in the bookshelves of your childhood. It doesn’t matter if your childhood was anything like mine. That’s what the hiraeth is for.

“And so…I send this lullaby and poem to each child under the disgusting grip of war.”

But the stories go further, knotting folk songs into now: a multiracial family still feels the need to flee deep-rooted racism of the Deep South, a daughter understands her siblings need her to provide for them. A father leaves the funeral of his son and goes back to the farm. Spectres old as Shakespeare are still walking today. ‘John O Dreams’ is interwoven with a sleepy poem by Palestinian-American poet Naomi Shihab Nye, spoken word with sung lyric, the way I imagine trees conversing when I’m alone among them. The song ‘Great Trees’ and its accompanying portrait of David Brynn gave Moira the opportunity to learn about forestry and conservation – and to share what she learned with us.

This is a very intense recording. Don’t be surprised if you need to take a break after a few tracks, or one particularly impactive one. Think of them as sudden rainstorms, or relatives showing up on the porch unexpectedly. Moira Smiley gave them your address; let them in.

The last gift Moira left for us is one you’ll find at the end of the book: all the lyrics. I was so delighted to be spared that distraction in the beginning. But I’m also delighted to have a third experience available next time I listen to this album.

Moira Smiley is taking The Rhizome Project on the road – make room in your life for this special experience at one of these venues:

Moira Smiley @ Nichols Canyon Music Series

Los Angeles, CA

Follow Moira Smiley on Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, and Instagram. Join her newsletter and order sheet music here: Contact Moira Smiley.

https://youtu.be/AxBS3Q3aK80

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debora Ewing writes, paints, and screams at the stars because the world is still screwed up. She improves what she can with music collaboration, peer-review at Consilience Poetry Journal, or designing books for Igneus Press. Follow @DebsValidation on X and Instagram. Read her self-distractions at FolkWorks.org and JerryJazzMusician.com.