WEEK 12: THE HARRY SMITH ANTHOLOGY

Elliot Smith from "Miss Misery" music video.
A talented and deeply troubled singer-songwriter who took his own life at age 34.

Some of the summaries and descriptions of the songs in the anthology feel very cold and almost brutal to me. It’s confusing because the composition of the songs does not reflect the content at all. A lot of the songs involve some sort of tragedy whether that be murder, heartbreak, or crime. Songs like “The House Carpenter” and “The Butcher’s Boy” seem more allegorical than whimsical. It’s as though some of these songs serve as cautionary tales on the darkness of human nature. I’ve mentioned this before, but after being exposed to more and more folk music I’ve truly come to the conclusion that a lot of music was made in response to suffering. Music, both creating and listening to it, can be therapeutic for people. It can give them an outlet or a way to distract themselves from the minutiae of life on a farm, from the everyday tragedies that can befall those who are poor or oppressed.

Why are folk songs so important? It’s something I’ve been thinking about the past few weeks we’ve been diving into them. Music has always been a way to unite communities and foster communication and a sense of connection. A bond between two people can be instantly created through the acknowledgment of a shared taste in music. In a way, folk music is the acknowledgement of a shared history and creates a stronger bond between people who share it with each other. Since back in the early days, before these songs were recorded, the only people who knew these songs were the people that carried the songs with them through generations. I’m curious what the development of the internet and the increased accessibility to this kind of music has done to the culture. Does it still carry the same weight if anyone can have access to it? On one hand I believe that music should not be gate kept. Music should be for anyone who needs it and should not be withheld from people due to social status, income, etc. On the other hand, I take issue with the co-opting of folk music as an appropriation of “poor culture”. Those who seek access to working class spaces and communities, with whom they can only feign shared experiences, bother me. It harkens back to Thoreau, who was privileged enough to taste nature, dip his feet in, but ultimately decide that the conditions were too rough  and that man should keep a balance between nature and civilization. How should those individuals who arrived in Appalachia, forced to carve out their own civilization in an unforgiving environment, feel then? They did not have a choice, their temperament and their culture was created through necessity and survival. Same with the African slaves who were brought here against their will. Their music was a way for them to endure their pain in the hopes of a tomorrow. Black music and black culture developed out of a place of pain and suffering, as did Appalachian music.

I don’t know how to feel about any of this, perhaps this is all very obvious and I’m just pondering it for the first time. I don’t know what it means that some of the best, most genuine music must come from such dark places. Could it be true that suffering, as a human condition, is what leads us to greater heights? I think about this often in regard to Berkeley’s overwhelming high-pressure culture. It’s amazing how many of us suffer here, and yet we believe it will be worth it in the pursuit of some greater success in our futures. All I see is the molding of workaholics, those who self-impose suffering because they get a high from the productivity it creates. Little to no sleep, lack of nutrition, reliance on substances, how much can we give up in the pursuit of “greatness".

WEEK 11: Woody Guthrie

Reading and learning about Woody Guthrie and everything he stood for made me think a lot about the current state of the United States and how disappointing it would be for him if he were alive to see Donald Trump elected president. Woody was a man who truly represented the average American citizen. His story from being born into a middle class family to losing it all during the Dust Bowl and finally becoming a legend is inspiring.

All Woody’s songs, regardless of their content, have this optimism and brightness to them. This line in the reader from Woody struck me, “I hate a song that makes you think that you’re not any good. I hate a song that makes you think you are just born to lose…I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world…”(59). Perhaps that’s why his rendition of ‘Red River Valley’ is more upbeat.

Hearing him sing “This Land is Your Land” tugs at my heart. Despite all the time that has passed since his passing, many immigrants and immigrant families still aren’t welcome or accepted by this land. We don’t feel that is “our” land. The visual differences between us and the white population of the United States makes it easy to isolate and scapegoat us. It feels so melancholy to only know one land as your home your entire life and yet still not be accepted as a native of that land. I sometimes feel lost, not accepted by the culture I was born into and yet not connected to the culture of my ancestors. It's a debate I have with many people to this day; who gets to call themselves "American"? What connects all "Americans" if there is anything at all? How can we live peacefully in a country where there are some people who still consider other people inferior due to their race, sex, etc? Perhaps the only thing we can all agree on is the desire to make better lives for ourselves and the desire to make America some place we can call home.

It's like we all live in our own bubbles and only branch out to attack each other with labels. It's so frustrating, but it's also frustrating to deal with racist and ignorant rhetoric from the same people you're trying to level with. Perhaps taking a page out of Woody's book and experiencing life at all levels and with all types of people is the only way to stop this insidious spread of divisiveness across the country. A divisiveness being made worse by President Trump.

WEEK 10: LEADBELLY

Learning about Lead Belly and his tragic history helped but his songs in perspective for me. After listening to ‘Midnight Special’ I looked up its meaning. Apparently it was a passenger train that passed Sugar Land Prison in Texas and shined light onto it. Lead Belly was imprisoned at Imperial Farm in Sugar Land, Texas after murdering Will Stafford. He had a very personal connection to the song, which was a traditional folk song.

Similarly, ‘Rock Island Line’ is also about a railroad and was first recorded at the Tucker, Arkansas prison farm. ‘Take This Hammer’ was also a prison and railroad work song specifically about fleeing from forced labor through the prison system (an insidious issue we are still battling today). The song is surprisingly sad. The lines:

"If he asks you was I laughin'
Tell him I was crying’
.
.
I don't want cornbread and molasses
But I got my pride”

Indicate how desperately he wanted to be out of that system that dehumanized him. I watched the segment from the Gordon Parks film and was struck by the line, “Nothing can sing like a darkie when he puts his mind to it” from the Governor while Lead Belly is essentially begging to be pardoned. When he throws the cigar at Lead Belly’s feet like you would throw a scrap of meat to a dog, I was angered. It angers me to think that a human being could treat another human being like this and that it happened quite frequently to Black Americans in those times.
The “Newsreel” depiction of Lead Belly makes him act the role of childish, obedient performer while the governor is portrayed as a mature, understanding figure. This video was quite frankly, made for white audiences in a way that would make them feel the least guilty for being complacent to the horrid treatment of people like Lead Belly in the penitentiaries.

Lead Belly was a man with his own demons and flaws who found solace and hope through music. His life truly reflects his singing and it's very special and rare that we get to hear recorded folk music come from such a genuine place.

WEEK 9: Songster 2 2017

I really enjoyed listening to 'Fishin' Blues', both the version by Taj Mahal and Henry Thomas. It recalls a simple pleasure of catching and cooking your own food. The quaintness of the music is endearing and makes me happy. 'Sitting on Top of the World' is also a pleasant song, but its lyrics are quite a bit darker and deal with losing an important loved one. Both 'Fishin' Blues' and 'Sitting on Top of the World' have an optimism to them though that makes them pleasant to listen to.

Mississippi John Hurt's Candy Man is a deceptively naughty song. Upon first impression John Hurt's warm and soft voice betrays the scandalous nature of the lyrics. It almost reads as a child overhearing what the women in the town are saying about this "Candy Man'. There's an innocence in the way he sings that gives an otherwise dirty song a humorous slant. Reverend Gary Davis's version has a similar feel, but is more visceral and desperate in his delivery. He is not a child, but a man. This makes the song not as comforting as John Hurt's version. I googled the term "Candy man" to see if it meant anything beyond song lyrics and wikipedia states that it is, "used to refer to a candy street vendor or slang for a drug dealer". I'm not sure whether to trust this information because they do not provide a source, but if it is true then Gary Davis's delivery in his version has an important dark undertone to it.

The chord progression of all these songs has an uplifting feeling to it that can distract from their lyrical content. 'Cocaine Habit Blues' once again takes a whimsical instrumental and combines it with a more serious, almost disturbing song topic of being addicted to drugs.

Blues music is interesting for its contrast between instrumental and lyrics. I'd never listened too intently to it before but it goes against my original expectations. I expected the Blues to sound sad, but somehow the realization that a lot of Blues music sounds happy has thrown me for a loop. Once again I think about how the people who originated these songs must have used them as mood lifters or coping mechanisms. The power of music to distract you from your problems and change your perspective is valuable. In my piece I decided to depict a woman in the middle of dancing joyfully. The bruises on her legs and dirtiness of her feet are in juxtaposition with the carefree nature of her actions. I find this same juxtaposition to be present in the Blues and am interested in exploring it.

WEEK 8: MISSISSIPPI JOHN HURT

Art by Winfred Rembert

Mississippi John Hurt is an inspiration and testament to the power of culture in connecting and healing people and the role that music has in keeping culture present and relevant. It's apparent in his name (Mississippi John Hurt) that the place he was born and raised played a tremendous part in his music. His tumultuous history with music and the fact that he was self-taught makes his story even more heartfelt. Making music was a way for people in rural areas to express themselves, pass the time, grieve, and celebrate. Music was an integral part of John Hurt's everyday life and a very personal thing for people of the time. I've been talking with my friends recently about the personal role of music in our lives. I remember being 11 years old and recording covers of songs with my brother. I think about the times I've gone karaoke singing with my friends and how the communal energy felt. Songs have an inherent history that can connect you with other people almost instantaneously. It saddens me that in many places, music (and art in general) has become something to be commodified and gate-kept, only afforded to those who conform to the society's standards of what is "good" (technically proficient, academically trained, etc.). The fact that the art realm has become so classist is a topic of conversation that gets my blood boiling every time. Not only that, the appropriation and imitation of "poor culture" is something that also happens frequently in the art world. People who have the privilege to artificially construct struggle for themselves in order to generate art are taking attention away from those who are also making art  from that struggle but actively living and working close to the poverty line. This is why I find Mississippi John Hurt's story so compelling, because he was an example of a genuine artist creating art through his experiences. Many times the world never gets to hear artists like him, and I'm sure there are still many people as talented as he was waiting to be discovered.

(side note, John Hurt's story reminds me a lot of Winfred Rembert)

Week 7: APPALACHIA II: THE BRITISH BALLADS

All the ballads have a tinge of melancholy to them, especially the American ballads. You can hear the European influence very clearly in the American ballads. I noticed a connection among some of the songs (such as Omie Wise, The House Carpenter, Barbry Allen, and the Lowlands of Holland) in that they all share a theme of separation, heartbreak, and death. Omie Wise was murdered by John Lewis, both Willie and Barbry died, the husband and wife of The Lowlands of Holland are separated by war (he is implied to have died), and a woman is lured away from her husband by the Devil and murdered in 'The House Carpenter'. You can hear one or more of these themes in almost all the songs mentioned this week. Perhaps the the lasting power of some of these songs is due to their melancholy nature. I speculate that many of the people who sang these ballads could relate to the feelings of physical and mental isolation.

I felt those feelings as I was listening to Barbry Allen, which I based this week's piece off of. I related to this quote from the Mike Yates article of Olive Campbell hearing 'Barbara Allen', "I saw again the long road over which we had come, the dark hills, the rocky streams bordered by tall hemlocks and hollies, the lonely cabins distinguishable at night only by the firelight flaring from their chimneys.  Then these, too, faded, and I seemed to be borne along into a still more dim and distant past, of which I myself was a part". At the time I was listening, I was dealing with some demons of my own and the emptiness of the rendition by Jean Ritchie resonated in me. I tried to channel those feelings of loneliness, jealousy, and guilt from the lyrics and my heart onto my piece. The warped perspective and deconstruction of the lines/shape/form reflects my mental state and the spiral of self-loathing that resulted from all these negative feelings.

Week 6: APPALACHIA

At first glance, 'Banks of the Ohio' is a hard song to get into. The lyrics illustrate a scenario so disgusting and reprehensible that there seems to be a cognitive dissonance between the lyrics and the melody. The casualness in the way Ashley and Watson sing it is jarring. The version sung by Ollie Gilbert feels more in line with the actual content of the lyrics. Her version is stark and bare, with careful attention given to each phrase so that the listener can hear it very clearly. I appreciate the ability of the song to tell a complete story in such a short amount of time.

The version of 'Will the Circle Be Unbroken' by Watson and Ashley is almost solemn and retrospective. It feels calming and emotional compared to the stiffness of the Carter Family version. The tempo difference adds to the difference in feelings of the two versions of the song. The Carter version is almost robotic and commercial. It's very much performance while the Watson and Ashley version comes closer to front porch. However once again, neither come close to the rawness of Ollie Gilbert's version. Ollie's voice and cadence reminds me of a grandmother singing to their grandchildren. The lyrics of the song are very sad and, like 'Banks of the Ohio', are at first betrayed by their instrumentals.

When I did research into Appalachia, I found images of poor, rural scenes that reminded me of where my mother came from in rural China near Shanghai. The cold and hazy landscape that is beautiful to the eye is also very harsh and unwelcoming to live in. People that have grown up or lived long lives in these areas seem to have a hardness about them, a toughness that can only come from overcoming hardship. I think music is one of the few ways that people can process and cope with the tragedies and traumas around them. Both 'Banks of the Ohio' and 'Will the Circle Be Unbroken deal with tragedy in their lyrics, whether it be the death of a mother or the senseless murder of a woman. Being able to resolve these events in song means being able to accept life and carry onward. For my piece this week, I thought a lot about the lyrics to 'Will the Circle Be Unbroken' and how it applies to my life. The line "There's a better home a-waiting In the sky" made me think about my unresolved relationship with spirituality and the afterlife. Like many people, I want to believe in something better after death, but my skepticism continuously reminds me that I have nothing to base that hope off of. Hearing songs of grief like this one make me wish I could have more faith in the unknown. For a moment when I listen and sing along, I can feel some of my unresolved grief be assuaged. Sadly, for me songs can only be a temporary escape and not a therapy.

I wish to keep the content of my piece a secret until we meet. After reading what I have wrote above I am curious what people's first impressions and assumptions of my piece will be. 

Update:

My piece is a reflection of my family, with the chrysanthemums representing my grandmother, the roses my mom, the sunflower being me, and the dragon and snake representing my brother and grandfather, respectively. It is a piece representing the transition and flow of life, circling and eventually coming back together.