Crawdad Song by The Moonrakers: A Skiffle Stomp Through Time
Let’s get one thing straight—1959 wasn’t exactly known for its chill vibes. The Cold War was in full swing, people were stockpiling canned beans like it was going out of style (spoiler: it never did), and yet somehow, amidst all that chaos, The Moonrakers dropped Crawdad Song, a little gem of an album that feels like someone threw a barn dance into a blender with rock ‘n’ roll and folk. It’s messy, sure, but oh-so-fun.
Hailing from the UK and released under Graph Records, this album straddles genres like a kid on a seesaw. Pop? Check. Folk? Double-check. World music before anyone even knew what “world music” meant? Triple check. And let’s not forget skiffle—a scrappy, DIY cousin of rockabilly where washboards are totally legit instruments. If you’ve never heard of skiffle, think of it as punk rock’s great-grandpa who still insists on wearing suspenders.
Now, onto the tracks. You’ve got classics like Worried Man Blues and Wabash Cannonball, but I’m gonna zoom in on two bangers that stuck with me harder than gum on a shoe: Crawdad Song and Putting On The Style.
First up, Crawdad Song. This tune is basically the musical equivalent of finding five bucks in your old jeans—it’s simple, unexpected, and makes you feel oddly accomplished. The lyrics are pure nonsense gold ("You get a line, I’ll get a pole"), which means it’s impossible not to sing along once it gets lodged in your brain. Also, if you’re anything like me, you’ll spend half the song wondering why crawdads have such bad PR compared to lobsters. Spoiler alert: they don’t deserve it.
Then there’s Putting On The Style. Oh, buddy. This one kicks off with enough twangy guitar licks to make you wanna grab a banjo and start busking outside your local coffee shop. It’s catchy as heck, with a rhythm so infectious you might catch yourself air-strumming during awkward silences at work meetings. Lyrically, it’s about... well, honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Something about looking sharp while life falls apart around you? Either way, it’s got swagger, and sometimes swagger is all you need.
What really stands out about Crawdad Song (the album, not just the track) is how unapologetically raw it feels. There’s no Auto-Tune here, folks—just real humans making noise because they love it. Sure, some parts sound like they were recorded in someone’s garage (and hey, maybe they were), but that’s kind of the charm. It’s like hanging out with friends who aren’t trying too hard to impress you—they’re just having a blast, and you can’t help but join in.
So, would I recommend Crawdad Song? Absolutely—if you’re into quirky throwbacks or want to confuse your Spotify algorithm for a week. But more importantly, listening to this album reminds me of something profound: music doesn’t always have to reinvent the wheel. Sometimes, it just needs to give you a reason to tap your feet and smile. Now excuse me while I go figure out if crawdads actually play fiddles in their free time.
