FTX-916 - STACKALEE
- Penitentiary Blues, Hollers & Work Songs
15 songs with some interviews with the lead singer, recorded by Alan Lomax
at Parchman, Mississippi. Lomax, with his father, had recorded on disc at the
penitentiaries in the thirties, but, in 1947, he went back to record with the
first tape machine that came on the market after the war. He says: "In these
worksongs one feels the incredible vitality of the slave turned John Henry".
The singers are black prisoners, serving time, working on the huge State cotton
plantation.
1. LAWD, I WOKED UP IN THE MORNING (Solo) - 2'45"
2. Talk: Is the the work easier when you sing ? What makes a good leader?
- 2'04"
3. EARLY IN THE MORNING (Chorus with wood chopping) - 4'38"
4. Talk: How did you get in the pen? - 1'22"
5. TANGLE EYE BLUES (Solo) - 2'55"
6. STACKALEE (Solo) - 3'47"
7. PRISON BLUES (Solo with mouth harp) - 2'20"
8. MURDERER'S HOME (Chorus) - 0'48"
9. NO MORE, LAWD (Solo with chopping) - 2'08"
10. OLD ALABAMA (Solo & chorus) - 2'59"
11. BLACK WOMAN (Solo and chorus) - 2'55"
12. JUMPIN'' JUDY (Solo and chorus with chopping) - 4'08"
13. WHOA BUCK (Solo with some speech between) - 3'47"
14. PRETTIEST TRAIN (Chorus with hoeing) - 3'39"
15. OLD DOLLAR MAMIE (As previous) - 3'21"
16. IT MAKES A LONG TIME MAN FEEL BAD - 2'37"
17. BE MY WOMAN, ROSIE (Chorus with chopping) - 2'45"
Recorded by Alan Lomax 1947. Edited by Peter Kennedy & first published on
Folktrax Cassettes 1976.
One must not forget that the deep South was carved out of the wilderness
largely by forced Negro labour, and to sounds like those recorded here. The
tradition of singing at all work, the solo-chorus style, the subtle rhythms,
the part-singing, even some of the scales and tunes, are part of the African
musical tradition which the Negro slave brought to the New World. In these worksongs
one feels the incredible vitality of the slave turned John Henry; one tastes
the bitter anger which has driven him to so many acts of violence, and filled
his heart with fantasies of aggression. One learns of his often casual and brutalised
relationships with women; one listens to verse after verse of sardonic irony
and of veiled protest.
Here is the dark fertile soil which gave rise to the Blues. In the Southern
Penitentiary system, where the object was to get the most out of the land, the
labour force was driven hard. The men rose in the black hours of morning and
ran all the way to the field, sometimes a distance of several miles, with their
guards galloping along behind them on horseback. The swiftest workers headed
each gang and others were compelled to keep pace with him. Anyone who did not
keep up, or who rebelled, were subject to severe punishment. Men worked till
they dropped dead or burnt out with sunstroke. So in these camps the rebel was
turned into a hardened criminal or brought to his knees.
Every Southern negro knew, at least by hearsay, what "going down river"
(going to the pen) was like, and it was the shadow3 of the penal system which
kept the rural negro in a state of outward subservience over the years. In the
pen itself, the songs, quite literally, kept the men alive and normal. As the
gangs "rolled under the broiling sun", the roaring choruses revived flagging
spirits, restored energy to failing bodies, brought laughter to silent misery.
The leaders were always improvising something new about women, faithless and
faithful - women coming with pardons - women - a worrysome and wonderful thing
to a poor prisoner. He laughs to think:
When she walks, she reels and rocks behind
Aint that enough to worry a convict's mind?
Then his mind turns to his own despair:
I'm choppin in this bottom with a hundred years
Tree fall on me, I don't bit mo' care
Many of these prisoner rhymes reveal their artistry only when one hears
them sung. The flow of the vowels is music in itself. The syncopated clash and
bite of the consonants creates its own counterpoint to the rhythm of the work.
The imagery is often brilliant, the language Homeric and dry in its directness:
Be my woman, gal, I be yo' man
Ev'ry day be Sunday, dollar in you' hand
Alan Lomax 1950
