Though not as well known as Alan Lomax or Harry Smith, Fonotone Records founder Joe Bussard did as much as anybody to preserve and promote America’s raw indigenous musics as the era of rugged regionalism drew to a close. Starting out as an obsessive record collector, Bussard canvassed shacks and homes throughout the rural Southeast in search of pre-World War II recordings of blues and country music. Along the way he met several undocumented musicians, recorded them, and played them on his radio show, all while learning how to play a lot of the songs himself on guitar. Quite simply, Bussard was a man completely immersed in music and the Fonotone box set collects a basket of the fruits of his wonderful obsession. 

There’s a lot of great collections of raw American music out there, from the Smithsonian-Folkways series to Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music to John Fahey’s two American Primitive albums just to name a few, but Fonotone Records is unique even though it deserves to keep the same esteemed company. The most noticeable difference is that Bussard made these recordings between 1957 and 1970 (rather than compile existing old recordings), so that rustic hiss and scratchiness that give off the “olde-tyme” aura on other historic recordings is notably absent, and all the pickin’ and voices are heard in clean fidelity.

Secondly—and perhaps most crucially—is that Bussard was coming at this music from the perspective of record collector/hardcore fan/musician as opposed to a scholar or folklorist, which gives the Fonotone sessions a sense of recklessness and just plain fun that is occasionally missing from more noble-minded documentation. His wicked humor was such that he was not above playing a mean joke on dour blues nerds by perpetuating a hoax with John Fahey, a willing participant as the fake bluesman “Blind Thomas.”

Bussard favored regional American people’s music: country, bluegrass, gospel, jug bands, murder ballads, blues, and Appalachian vocal harmony with nary a microwatt of electricity. He famously disdained the slightest whiff of modernity, with particular scorn for pop and contemporary country music. Most of the featured artists are not well-known names, and those that later gained notoriety appear here in fake blues guises or under exaggerated jug band monikers, which lends the set an un-starlike air. 

With five discs and a total of 131 songs, there is a lot of music on hand (not to mention the lovely 160 page booklet), but unlike a lot of other box sets that tend to sit on the shelf after the initial thrill wears off, Fonotone Records is inviting, user-friendly, and inspires repeat visits. It works best when you throw on the discs and listen to it like it’s the wildest radio show of old-time music that you’ve ever heard.  Six hours worth, too.