(This essay originally appeared on the Rhapsody Blog. It will make the most sense to subscribers to Rhapsody, an online music service for which I write. If you follow all the links, however, you’ll know what I’m yapping about. As Rhapsody’s Folk Editor, I was recently asked to overhaul our folk music spotlight, a page that’s meant to educate subscribers about the genre through the use of key artists, albums and tracks. This blog post is basically a rambling explanation of these picks.)

I recently received an e-mail from the boss-man. “Do you want to write up a blog post about re-working the folk genre?” he asked. “The approach you take would be up to you, but I figure maybe there’s something to say about some of the choices you’ve been making… It can be as formal or as informal as you like.”

Okay. I choose informal.

Please enjoy the following 1,500-word (and some change) rant on my recent update of Rhapsody’s folk music genre hub — THIS THING HERE — which is our approximation of a kind of CliffsNotes for all of folk music, in other words a pretty good place to start if you’re a folk newbie, and an equally sweet page to check out if you’re a folk obsessive, ’cause you’re bound to agree and disagree with some of the choices. If the prospect of my rant doesn’t tickle your fancy, try this: Chilly Weather. Hot Women.

Otherwise, take ol’ Pete’s advice and dive into this sucker.

First off, I’m one lucky bastard. I make rent by sitting on my butt all day and writing about music. It’s a fantastic job, even when the boss-man forces me to review the latest album from OneRepublic. But for real, most of my assignments are pretty awesome. This makeover of the folk genre hub is a perfect example. Now, why the folk hub needed such a drastic makeover involves a long list of excuses, but only one ultimately matters: Beyonce doesn’t strum a 12-string. Ya dig?

So then, a genre hub is made up of a genre description and three “key” categories: artists, albums and tracks. I started with these three categories, nixing some of the yahoos — Devendra Banhart!? — and adding in all the givens, the canonic stuff no sane person can argue: Doc Watson, Townes Van Zandt, Bill Monroe, Dylan, John Fahey, Woody, Joni, Leadbelly, etc. After that, I decided it would be best to break the history of folk music into three time periods — traditional, revival and modern — with the hopes of representing each one equally.

Traditional
I roughly defined this period as 1950 and earlier. Choosing its key artists, albums and tracks wasn’t difficult, as history drafted its team long ago. But what’s interesting, at least in my opinion, is how trad-folk isn’t really a genre; it’s more like a patchwork of several. If, in other words, you listen to early blues, country or gospel (jazz is one of them case-by-case situations), then you’re listening to traditional folk music. My picks reflect this.

• Blind Willie McTell’s Atlanta Twelve String (a classic in Piedmont blues)
• Our beloved Carter Family
• Across the Tracks: The Best of American Roots Music (an excellent compilation covering all the bases)
• Appalachian banjo whiz Charlie Poole (he mixed old time with a dash of ragtime)
• Gus Cannon’s Walk Right In (he’s the father of jug band music)
• The Stanley Brothers’ “I’m a Man of Constant Sorrow” (way overcooked but totally necessary)

Revival
This is when folk music became, albeit briefly, a fairly easy-to-define genre. It’s the age of protest music, Newport, civil rights, Harvard Square, pinko sympathizers and Greenwich Village. For bookends I used 1950 and something like 1967-1970. In reality, however, the folk revival never died. It just retreated to summer festivals in the Berkshires of western Massachusetts. This stuff is cake.

• Ageless wonder Pete Seeger
• Dave Van Ronk’s The Folkways Years: 1959-1961 (he’s the Mayor of MacDougal)
• Joan Baez
• Folklorist Alan Lomax (this guy is HUGE)
• Odetta (who passed away in December 2008)
• I felt obligated to also include the Kingston Trio’s “Tom Dooley,” which I haven’t heard since second-grade music class. I tried giving it a spin, really I did. But those dudes were just too clean. Then again, how many future folkies did this stupid little song go on to inspire?

The British folk revival received some love as well.

• Nick Drake
• Fairport Convention’s “Come All Ye”
• Shirley Collins’ sublime False True Lovers
• Bert Jansch
• The Incredible String Band’s The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter (which also played a pivotal role in the development of New Age and world music)

Had Rhapsody existed in the 1980s I bet I wouldn’t have included so much from the British folk revival, but ever since that “Pink Moon” Volkswagen commercial in 2000 the movement has finally taken off here in the States. We’ve been inundated with deluxe reissues and anthologies galore. I find that most folk fans 35 and younger prefer the Brits to their Yankee counterparts. Let’s face it: Shirley Collins’ stock is up; Joan Baez’s is down. (Although I implore all Baez haters, and there are many, to explore her excellent string of post-revival country-folk albums, say anything between Any Day Now and Carry It On.)

Modern
This is when folk gets all gnarly with hybridization. As I mention in my genre definition, “Nowadays, folk music is as much a general mindset transcending class, color and geography as it is a set of identifiable genres.” (By the way, quoting oneself is sooo dorky.)

The nuttiness started in the mid-1960s. In addition to Dylan and the Byrds going electric and thus transforming folk into folk-rock (I’ve included the latter’s Mr. Tambourine Man), mavericks like John Fahey, Leonard Cohen and Tim Buckley opened folk up to Indian classical, free jazz, chamber music, psychedelia, European art song and avant-garde electronics. Then along came Jackson Browne and all them denim-clad singer-songwriters in California. They straddled folk, country, pop and ultimately the velvety grooves of “yacht rock.” At first I went with James Taylor’s Sweet Baby James, but then I spun Jackson Browne’s self-titled debut and remembered just how perfectly awesome that album is.

By the 1980s it’s damn near impossible to differentiate folk from rock/pop, alt/punk and country. These genres weren’t bleeding into one another; they were hemorrhaging. Just about the only artists and albums from this period I can call folk without feeling the need to apply a zillion qualifiers come from the Americana/country-folk/bluegrass axis. Here I’m talking about John Prine, Iris Dement’s Infamous Angel, and Alison Krauss’ Now That I Found You: A Collection. (Of course, the lovely Ms. Krauss now makes NPR-brand adult contemporary with a dash of twang.)

Despite modern folk’s nebulous existence, there have been four important trends in recent years that I needed to touch upon.

Female/feminist/lesbian folk: By making key artists of the Roches, Indigo Girls and Ani DiFranco I think I did a pretty good job addressing a movement that just might be folk’s most high-profile of the last 25 years.

Antifolk: Very debatable. Any Kimya Dawson album is more purely antifolk than Suzanne Vega’s Solitude Standing, which is more like proto-antifolk (sort of). Yet Vega’s influence on the urban alternative folkie, including Dawson, is so pervasive I couldn’t ignore her. Zap me a few years in the future, however, and Dawson definitely gets the nod. She’s special.

Folksy indie pop: I really wanted Smog’s Wild Love and Palace’s Days in the Wake. Unfortunately, both Bill Callahan and Will Oldham are signed to Drag City, and for reasons I still don’t understand the label doesn’t want Rhapsody or any other online service offering its music. (Welcome to the hotly contested world of digital music!) For alternates I chose Daniel Johnston’s Fun — admittedly more of an outsider folk affair — and Elliot Smith. I more or less flipped a coin between Smith’s self-titled second album and Cat Power’s 1996 gem What Would the Community Think (what an insanely moody record). Neither artist is quite as folksy as Callahan and Oldham, yet it does seem as if these two have become the king and queen of loner indie singer-songwriters who whisper depressing thoughts. Check out the adult alternative charts sometime; they are packed with knock-offs.

Freak folk: Joanna Newsom’s sprawling epic Ys is a given, but she’s on Drag City (see folksy indie pop). No worries, though. Jack Rose’s Kensington Blues is more than a worthy replacement. Rose is neither as popular nor impishly sexy as Ms. Newsom, but the instrumental guitarist’s intensely progressive fusion of droning ragas, ragtime and Appalachian folk represents the very apex of freak folk in terms of artistry. Years from now he will be one of the trend’s handful of artists whom we still drool over.

Time to close out this post. The struggle to focus on history and ignore personal taste was akin to the Iron Sheik putting Hogan in a camel clutch. It can only hold so long. Yet I’m proud to say I kept myself in check for the most part, though I must include two pet artists.

Jim Kweskin: Who out there raves about the genius of this guy? Certainly not your average Lil Wayne fan! Nevertheless, the Jim Kweskin Jug Band, which also featured Geoff and Maria Muldaur, was one of the folk revival’s most popular acts. Both John Sebastian of the Lovin’ Spoonful and the Dead’s Bob Weir have said he exerted a profound influence on ’60s rock music. Those are pretty decent references, no?

John Hartford: He was this quirky country-folk banjo player, fiddler and songwriter who lived off the royalties of a single tune, “Gentle on My Mind,” which has been recorded by over 300 artists. Yowsa. But Hartford’s biggest achievement was to help launch progressive bluegrass, aka newgrass, in the early 1970s. A lot of people despise this stuff, especially the more traditionally minded, but there’s no discounting its impact on modern folk music. I mean, you could even argue that Krauss is a product of bluegrass’ prog faction.

Well, that’s about it. I didn’t address every single key artist, album and track, but you get the overall picture. I’ll leave you with some random thoughts that I was too lazy to weave into the mess up above:

I failed to mention Irish folk. Sorry. The Chieftains are a key artist, and they have a key track, “Happy to Meet.”

During that whole Elliott Smith-or-Cat Power coin toss I briefly entertained throwing Sufjan Steven into the ring. But I had just as much of a hard time listening to Michigan as I did “Tom Dooley.”

Bob Dylan, Woody Guthrie, Joni Mitchell, Leadbelly, Nick Drake, the Carter Family, John Fahey, Charlie Poole, Townes Van Zandt and Fairport Convention are the only musicians to appear in all three key categories: artists, albums and tracks.

Bob Dylan is the only artist with two key albums: Another Side of Bob Dylan and World Gone Wrong.

Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska very nearly made the cut, as it just might be the greatest folk album from a straight up pop-rocker.

Joanna is super-cute, but Cat Power is a goddess.