![]() |
I believe this is MJH in Avalon, Mississippi |
Eric von Schmidt’s Baby Let Me Follow You Down gives very different information on the folk revival movement than does Norm Cohen. Cohen reaches very far and wide, touching on what seems to be every piece and person of the folk song revival. Schmidt focuses initially on a specific place and its history on how it came to be, Tulla’s Coffee Grinder (Club 47). By picking out this specific place and providing the words of people like Paula and Joyce who opened this business, it gives a unique perspective on the singers they who encountered the place, which brings with it the information on the folk revival as it played out. “The Baez family came in one night… [Joan] started one of these ‘whoo-haa’ things… that was the first time I heard her,” is a memory of one night at Tulla’s (Schmidt, 18). Schmidt offers these more personal points of view that give the history a completely different spin compared to the way Cohen does it. This is not to say Cohen’s version of discussing the folk revival is better or worse, I do find it very pleasant to read his factual information on how a great deal of folk music was initiated through print and recordings and festivals and books, but both provide their own unique information.
![]() |
Joan Baez singing at Club 47 |
I did notice that “The History of Folk Song Revival” and Baby Let Me Follow You Down both reveal that folk music is considered “left” or democratic. Cohen describes Wilson Guthrie’s father playing in bands and refers to him as an “outspoken Democrat who had played guitar,” which I thought was interesting since I usually think of the eastern states, like Oklahoma where his son was born, to be conservative. Then Schmidt also connects folk music to politics by claiming it to be “politically left” for occasions like Pete Seeger going to Boston to sing at “The Folk Arts Workshop” where music and politics would have equal drive for alot of people. I do not enjoy discussing politics myself, but I thought I would make that connection.
The article by Jas Olbrecht mentioned what Cohen discussed on record companies producing race records, which is what Columbia records called Mississippi John Hurt’s songs that he recorded there. “Make Me A Pallet on Your Floor” and “Lewis Collins” were some of the first songs that Hurt recorded with Rockwell in the 1920s. I had no prior knowledge of Hurt before this class, and I was surprised to learn not only that he had a job as a sharecropper and farmed throughout his life, but mainly that the peak of his career came much later in life and that it was a result also of being rediscovered. This is interesting because he was rediscovered and THEN was very famous and successful; not that he was very famous, then rediscovered, then successful again but that his popularity was created, not reborn.
![]() |
Another cover for MJH, it relates well to his story and farm work in the earlier years |
Then in “With Mississippi John Hurt” by Max Ochs, recorded by Elizabeth Dubovsky, there are parts that tie in John Hurt’s story that I read in the Olbrecht article. It talks about how Max knew Mississippi John Hurt Disappeared “long ago” but then how after listening to his records, he decided to look for Hurt in Avalon, which he did find him. Here is when I found out that Max is the man who Hurt thought was the FBI taking him up North to record his songs (as told in the Olbrecht article). Both describe the instructions on finding Hurt as the third mailbox up the road (Olbrecht), or “forwardly just down the way three houses from the corner” (Ochs). Both readings also gave to notice to how he would make the guitar play the sound “the way he wanted it to” (Ochs), showcasing his musical talent.
To contrast the two telling of Hurt’s story, Max Ochs’ account told that early on, Hurt was not allowed to touch the guitar or read the musical notes of Bach, but ended up finding a way to. Olbrecht did not mention this aspect of Hurt’s story but paid more attention to his life working on the farm and railroad. The biggest distinction was the personal account in “With Mississippi John Hurt” of John and Max’s relationship in the studio, and what gave me goosebumps when I read it was MJH telling Max “that’s how sure I am that I feel God being right here with us now in this place” after he jabbed him in the ribs. This gave a very personal and closer insight to John Hurt, which reveals so much about his character and soul.
In my project this week I depicted a man with his back towards us. In front of him stands a small building from a small town… guess which one - Avalon, Mississippi. Beyond it, looming in the background is New York City. I worked from two songs this week: “Lay Me Down A Pallet on Your Floor” and “Avalon Blues” by Mississippi John Hurt. A line that continued to stand out to me in “Lay Me Down A Pallet on Your Floor” is “well, I’m sleepin,’ my back and shoulders tire,” which after reading about John Hurt’s story in the 1920s, it occurred to me that that reference might be related to the labor that he knows so well from working in the farm. In the jas article, it tells that Hurt would make extra money by selling 8ft cross ties to railroads that would carry over his shoulder - this could be the connection to his own life. The up country has cold sleet and snow and there’s “no telling how much further I’ll go” - he asking for a pallet to be made suggests a time to rest, possibly to rest before continuing on to these places like the country. He says that his back and shoulders are tired, which tell us that he might have travelled a long ways already and still has a long way to go, this is where “Avalon Blues” ties in.
He sings, “Avalon, my hometown, always on my mind” and “New York's a good town but it's not for mine.” This tells of the inner tumult that the singer but be going through, which I also believe is another tie into Hurt’s story where he begins to record more songs and must spend more time in cities where the record companies are. My charcoal drawing this week shows the line where work can begin to alter one’s comfort with different places and the decisions and fear included. Moving to places where success in business can mean leaving loved ones and loved places. Is it worth it? In my experience, coming to Berkeley has been rough at some points because I have a very close relationship with my parents and hometown, but it has helped me learn alot about myself, grow stronger and most importantly, learn to appreciate what I have left.
![]() |
Lake Arrowhead, my Avalon |
To address the other songs of this week, “Beulah Land” has a central message of going to a place that outshines the sun… does this mean it may be heaven? It is also way beyond the sky, which suggests a heavenly or out of this world place. If has got a mother, father, and sister in “Beulah Land,” they have probably left this earth and now rest in Beulah Land. I researched Beulah Land and found that it is from a hymn where the Hebrews were able to call Jerusalem “Beulah,” which means married, instead of Desolate. I wonder if Beulah Land is where the main character in “Lay Me A Pallet on the Floor” wishes he could rest…
These two songs also connect to “Lewis Collins” being layed away by the angels under the clay. He was shot by Bob after he left his home. His mother and people who knew his mourned his death but I wonder why he and Bob were in a shootout. On MudCat I read that this was song is actually about a real event that Mississippi John hurt experienced - someone, maybe a friend, was murdered. This song for me is about the rippling effects, like murder or suicide that impact the lives of so many others, in Lewis Collins’ case, his mother, town, and especially Mississippi John Hurt.
No comments:
Post a Comment