Lucy Kaplansky

FOLK ALLEY, Album review, The Lucy Story, by Henry Carrigan, 3/25/25

Lucy Kaplansky's vocals flow like a pure river on any song she sings.

Kaplansky moved to Greenwich Village in the late 1970s, hanging out, working, and performing at Folk City, and moving among a multitude of folk royalty including Odetta, the Roches, Dave Van Ronk, and Nanci Griffith, among others. Kaplansky met Suzanne Vega and Shawn Colvin in 1980; she and Colvin would go on to play and record together, and they formed, with Richard Shindell, the band Cry Cry Cry.

Kaplansky’s tenth solo album, The Lucy Story, captures Kaplansky’s capacious vocals as she interprets the songs of others and delivers her own compositions. The 25 songs on the album, most of them unreleased, provide a colorful snapshot of Kaplansky’s musical evolution and include an early recording she made of herself singing a James Taylor song when she was 16, as well as live performances from around the world.

The album opens with her version of Lyle Lovett’s “God Will,” Kaplansky’s crystalline vocals flowing over shimmering mandolin, Dobro, and guitar on a sparsely beautiful country ballad. She delivers a gorgeous, spare version of the late Jack Hardy’s “Forget Me Not,” with Kaplansky’s vocals riding over Mark Dann’s cascading fingerpicking. “I Know Why the River Runs” comes from the very last show of Cry Cry Cry at Berkeley’s Freight and Salvage and features the group’s ethereal harmonies; it’s exquisite. Kaplansky turns in a soaring vocal performance on a smoky bluegrass jazz version of “Highon the Mountain.” In a slowly unfolding, almost caressing, take of “It Makes No Difference,” Kaplansky and Shindell capture the raw emotion of the Band’s song in a moving and unforgettable blend of voices. When they sing the final line—“That I never felt so alone before”—the feeling they evoke in their vocals is palpable, and chills shake us and tears fill our eyes. Gently tumbling piano chords provide the foundation for the stunningly beautiful arrangement of Willie Nile’s love song to New York City “When the Last Light Goes Out on Broadway,” while Kaplansky gives a spare arrangement to Gram Parsons “Hot Burrito #1” with her vocals floating above her deeply soulful piano work; this spacious version is sonically reminiscent of the best of Laura Nyro’s work. Kaplansky and Shindell join for a sparkling version of “Love Hurts,” in a live performance. Kaplansky captures the heart of the Beatles “Let It Be” in vocals that dwell in the lyrics and pull the emotional depth from them; the slow tempo of her version allows us to luxuriate in the song’s tender power. The final song on the album is a cassette recording Kaplansky made of herself singing James Taylor’s “You Can Close Your Eyes” when she was 16. The pure clarity of her vocals is evident despite the graininess of this recording.

The Lucy Story highlights Lucy Kaplansky’s voice and her ability to inhabit a range of musical forms, from country to folk to jazz, living within the notes and transporting listeners as she pulls exquisite joy or dolorous melancholy from a song. The Lucy Story celebrates the work of one of our very best singers and musicians and serves as a perfect introduction to Kaplansky’s work.

THE OLD GREY CAT…on music, memories & other stuff, by Jeff Gemmill  1/20/25

First Impressions: The Lucy Story – unreleased and rare tracks, 1976-2023 by Lucy Kaplansky

Thanks to the wonders of YouTube, Diane and I found ourselves watching the recent RTE documentary Nanci Griffith: From a Distance the other night. It’s an illuminating yet ultimately sad look at the late “folkabilly” singer-songwriter and her link to (and love of) Ireland, featuring insightful commentary from Rodney Crowell, Emmylou Harris, Dolores Keane and Lyle Lovett, among others. YouTube being YouTube, another video kicked in when the special ended—Nanci’s 1986 appearance on TNN’s New Country, when she sang songs from her then-new album, The Last of the True Believers album.

That may seem an odd open for an essay on Lucy Kaplansky’s The Lucy Story, but my brain contains a jumble of memories of when and where I stumbled upon various artists—some well-known, most not. Kaplansky, like Nanci, is forever connected to my final years at Penn State, when I spun folk records on the student-run radio station and leaned on (and learned from) the Fast Folk Music Magazine LPs from late 1985 to mid-1987. She appeared on a few of the records, which also introduced me to—among others—Lui Collins, Shawn Colvin, Nanci Griffith and Suzanne Vega. I hear one, I think of the others. Strange, huh? And, now more than ever, I think of them—and me—as frozen in place. It’s only when I look in the mirror and see the gray coloring my beard that…yeah. We’re not in Pennsylvania, anymore.

Which is to say, as I joked in the lede to my review of her last album, in my head I equate Kaplansky to an old college chum. We drifted apart after graduation, re-connected here and there (always at the Tin Angel in Philly, it seemed), and now find ourselves looking back and ahead. As its subtitle suggests, The Lucy Story gathers together unreleased and rare tracks, quite a few of which are live, from the long ago to the recent past. It’s an alternate history, if you will, a map of roads not taken.  However, despite the disparate sources, it plays out as if a set piece.

The 25-song collection opens with a lovely rendition of Lyle Lovett’s “God Will” from 2007 and concludes with a sweet cover of James Taylor’s “You Can Close Your Eyes” that she recorded in her bedroom at age 16 in 1976. Between the two, there’s a bounty of songs that are sure to perk one’s ears.

A stunning rendition of Ola Belle Reed’s “High on the Mountain,” borrowed from the 2001 Wayfaring Strangers album, Shifting Sands of Time, mines the terrain of the aged: “High on a mountain top, standing all alone/Wondering where the years of my life have flown/High on a mountaintop, wind blowing free/Thinking about the days that used to be.” The fun “On an Asteroid With You,” on the other hand, celebrates the present and predicts a fun future. Written by Kaplansky’s dad during his honeymoon with her mom, it echoes Tin Pan Alley in the best of ways. That both hers parents—who were celebrating their 51st anniversary at the time—lend a hand on the live recording makes it all the better.

“Beautiful Boy,” from a 2012 John Lennon tribute concert, captures both the song’s nuances and heart. And speaking of heart: her solo take on the Flying Burrito Brothers’ “Hot Burrito #1” stops time, just about. It’s followed with an aching “Love Hurts” that finds Richard Shindell playing Gram Parsons to Kaplansky’s Emmylou. 

Other than the Taylor song, a 1982 demo of “Heart Over Head” is likely the oldest recording in the 25-song set. It metaphorically hails from Sesame Street’s “one of these things is not like the others” segments; it oozes the early 1980s pop sound, in other words. Yet, stylistic deviation aside, it’s quite fun. (For those curious, Bette Midler recorded it on her 1983 No Frills album; one wonders if she learned it from this recording.)

A 1986 radio appearance on WNEW-FM with Vin Scelsa is a delight. Accompanied by Shawn Colvin (harmonies) and John Levanthal (acoustic guitar), she delivers a transcendent rendition of Colvin’s “Diamond in the Rough.” When they join voices on “snakes in the grass, gotta step on the gas,” wow. Just wow. Another radio appearance that same year, on WXRK-FM, finds Kaplansky joined by Colvin for a cover of Ralph Stanley’s “Green Pastures”; again, their voices blend in the best of ways. Sandwiched between those tracks: a wondrous rendition of the Beatles’ “Let It Be” from a 2012 gig at the City Winery in New York.

Robert Frost’s “The Road Untaken” is often interpreted as celebrating the choice to take the road less traveled, i.e. embracing individuality. In truth, however, the poem is about the many decisions we make throughout life, both large and small, and how most matter less than we like to think. Just as map apps offer various routes for traveling from point A to point B, the same is true of life writ large; we wind up where we’re supposed to be no matter the path taken. In this case, much like the river of time, the sublime collection flows unimpeded from start to end. 

THE BERKELEY PATCH - 3/30/23 - By John Roos 

Lucy Kaplansky was at a career crossroads back in the early-1990’s. At the time, she was a staff psychologist treating mentally ill adults at a New York state hospital and had also established a private practice. She was simultaneously a burgeoning singer-songwriter performing locally in thriving New York City clubs with designs on transitioning to being a full-time musician. A risky move, indeed, but plunging ahead was a choice that propelled Kaplansky forward with no regrets. 

Kaplansky, who has a PhD in Clinical Psychology from Yeshiva University, had been hanging out and collaborating with the like-minded Richard Shindell, Suzanne Vega, Nanci Griffith, and Shawn Colvin, among others. It was Colvin, in fact, who offered to produce Kaplanskly’s debut, The Tide, which was released on Red House Records in 1994. Six months later, she signed a contract with booking agency Fleming Artists and was on her way.

Kaplansky went on to flourish over the next 30 years with her folk music-based career. The enduring singer-songwriter-guitarist has released over a dozen albums supplemented by regular touring and a loyal fan base, with two upcoming Bay Area shows later this week at Freight & Salvage in Berkeley and the Hopmonk Tavern in Novato. 

Still, how tough at the time was that career-altering decision for her to make?

“I had really wanted to sing full-time, so it was not an if but a when would I take that leap of faith,” recalled Kaplansky during a recent phone interview. “At that point, I had been working both (professions) for years and it was not an easy decision but once I made it, I never looked back. It was the right thing to do.” 

Kaplansky draws from personal experiences for her lyrical subject matter, focusing on the often complex matters of the heart. Universal themes of loss, longing and loneliness, as well as love, joy, friendship and hope, are all propelled musically by roots-based instruments including acoustic guitars, mandolin, piano, percussion, and the occasional electric guitar. What Kaplansky seeks to capture and share in her songs are emotional truths, as she puts it, “When I listen to music, or even read something, it has to ring true to me in some deep way. I’m striving for that in my writing.” 

Kaplansky’s latest independent release, Last Days of Summer, was created during the COVID pandemic and offers a mix of both the personal and political. The material ranges from the title track, a bittersweet, coming of age story song inspired by Kaplansky’s daughter, Molly, who was about to leave home for college; to the more socially-conscious “Mary’s Window,” which tackles the separatist mood, isolation, and finger-pointing that came to define the political climate during our previous presidential administration. For a sample of Kaplansky’s sound and style while performing “Mary’s Window,” go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VgCmQCG_bw 

“I can’t plan or create a topic, I usually need to be moved by something,” Kaplansky revealed about her organic songwriting process. “It’s more like, let’s see where this line takes me, and then it can change direction if that feels right, maybe to a different tone or timbre mid-stream. I let the song lead me rather than following a plan of my own.” 

As far as her business model, that’s a different story because Kaplansky does have a plan and she’s sticking to it. While digital streaming platforms, such as ITunes and Spotify, now dominate the music-buying industry, the royalties paid to the musicians—the actual creators of the art—are undeniably meager. [For every digital album sold on ITunes for $9.98, the artist receives only 94 cents, which is less than a 10 percent cut. The rest goes to the record label ($5.35) and Apple ($3.70).] Rather than participate in this lunacy, Kaplansky has been selling her music only on her website and at her live shows since 2015’s duo recording with Richard Shindell titled Tomorrow You’re Going. 

How’s that been working out for her? 

“There’s a lot to say about this but royalties are basically non-existent and it’s just not going to work for us as artists,” insists Kaplansky. “I had this flash of insight while out walking the dog, where I thought to myself, ‘What if I don’t put my music on the streaming services, then what?’ Well, I’ve sold a lot of my last few albums doing this. It works for me and honestly, it’s a lot more fun.” 

With the exception of playing a few band gigs near her home base on the east coast, Kaplansky is touring primarily as a solo act these days as a result of economic necessity. But it’s not such a bad thing. 

“Touring with a band is not feasible for people like myself,” she said, “because there’s just not enough income (generated) to make a living doing that. I do have complete freedom playing solo, though, and don’t have to worry about anyone else onstage. It is a powerful thing to do the solo shows and make it financially feasible.” 

So, circling back to her doctorate in Clinical Psychology and her private practice, I asked Dr. Kaplansky if that education and experience have given her a unique understanding of the human condition that perhaps informs her story songs with such vivid character sketches? 

“The way I look at this is that my training has made me insightful, wise, and informed in general—particularly about personal conflicts and motivations—but I don’t really see a direct line (to my songwriting,) although it certainly does affect my world-view,” answered Kaplansky. “Some of it likely seeps in subconsciously. Still, there’s so much for all of us to absorb from our everyday lives if you’re open-minded and curious.”

NEW JERSEY ARTS  12/5/22 - Review of Montclair NJ show

“It was a long time before I could do this song without crying,” said Lucy Kaplansky before performing “This Is Home” — a love song about her husband and daughter — at The Outpost in the Burbs in Montclair, Dec. 3. You could imagine her saying this about many of the songs performed in the course of the night. 

There was “Old Friends,” for instance (not the Simon & Garfunkel song), inspired by her decades-long friendship with her former singing partner Shawn Colvin. “I remember us sitting on the floor singing every song we knew/Richard and Linda Thompson, Gram and Emmylou,” she sang, as if if lost in a reverie. 

And there was “Last Days of Summer,” about her daughter Molly’s recent departure from home, to attend college, featuring lines such as “After 18 years, how can it be just one week more/Till we carry those boxes to her new room on the seventh floor.” 

Kaplansky, a native of Chicago who has lived in New York since the ’80s, sang songs written in the aftermath of 9/11 (“Brooklyn Train,” “Land of the Living”) as well as “Mary’s Window,” which starts as a anguished look at pandemic-era isolation as well as the “sickness and hatred and bigotry” of pandemic-era politics but turns into a hopeful anthem. In “Song of the Exiled,” she found poetry in the lives of New York taxi drivers — immigrants from other country who have found hope in the United States. 

Kaplansky — who sings with a hint of a twang, and has a knack for making her self-revealing lyrics sound conversational — backed herself on guitar, piano and mandolin during this solo show. She mentioned that she had been performed at the Outpost many times before, and had made her first public announcement that she was going to be a mother at a 2003 Outpost appearance. (Molly came to this Outpost show, Kaplansky said, serving as her road manager, but skipped the show itself in order to do homework backstage). 

For much of the show, Kaplansky relied on requests from the audience, giving the evening a casual, intimate vibe. She also joked about the poor condition of the jacket she was wearing (“I asked Molly, ‘Is this OK?’ … she said, ‘It’s OK for tonight’ “) and in many other ways, too, gave the impression that she was just hanging out with friends, not performing for a crowd. 

Kaplansky has self-released her last two albums — 2018’s Everyday Street and this year’s Last Days of Summer — as well as her 2011 Kaplansky Sings Kaplansky EP, featuring songs written by her late father, mathematician Irving Kaplansky (also an accomplished musician). She has gone further than most indie musicians, though, selling the CDs only through her website, lucykaplansky.com, and at shows, and not making them available through streaming services since she believes streaming services do not pay artists fairly. 

Indeed, one of the angriest songs she performed at the Outpost, “End of the Day,” was directed at an unnamed musician who has sold out. She also seethed about a betrayal in “Turn the Lights Back On.” But her tone was, mostly, warm and nurturing. “I just want you to know that I’m fine now,” she reassured her fans after singing about her parental heartbreak in “Last Days of Summer.” 

She performed one song from that Kaplansky Sings Kaplansky album: “A Song About Pi,” in which Irving Kaplansky cleverly translated the first 14 digits of the pi sequence (3.1415926535897) into a melody, as if the numbers represented notes on a scale, and also wrote lyrics such as “there was elation/Throughout the whole Greek nation/When Archimedes did his mighty computation.” 

The show’s other covers — and there were a lot of them — were of a less intellectual nature. Kaplansky sang the Johnny Cash hit “Ring of Fire” (written by June Carter Cash and Merle Kilgore) and as well as the standard “White Christmas,” Nanci Griffith’s “I Wish It Would Rain,” Eliza Gilkyson’s “Sanctuary,” Loudon Wainwright III’s “The Swimming Song,” Dave Carter’s “Cowboy Singer” and Julie Miller’s “By Way of Sorrow.” And she closed her set (before encoring with “By Way of Sorrow”) with a hypnotic version of Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” that was unlike any I’ve ever heard before (and I’ve heard a lot), backing herself with an insistent strummed-guitar pulse. 

And then “By Way of Sorrow” — an audience request, so not a pre-planned show-closer — summed up this introspective, sometimes dark but ultimately life-affirming show perfectly, via Miller’s assurance that “You have come by way of sorrow, you have come by way of tears/But you’ll reach your destiny, come to find you all these years.”