Another Look Knoxville Girl pt 3

Previous posts can be found here and here.



Just as a reminder, here are the lyrics from Knoxville Girl.

As I've said before I'm not a music historian so finding other's perspectives on certain songs I love is a joy.  While fuddling around on the internet a while back.  I discovered Murder By Gaslight, which had a post on my beloved Knoxville Girl.


Turns out, while the ballad does have it's origins in England and Ireland, Americans imprinted an actual murder on the song.


Murder By Gaslight led me to the fantastic article "Not Prepared to Die: Knoxville Girl" which talks about many of the things I did in my first post, although far more eloquently then I every could:

The killer didn't just visit this girl's home on Sunday evenings, he dwelt there, which carries a definite suggestion that he stayed the night. Faced with imminent death, the girl says she's “unprepared to die”, which tells us she's not yet had a chance to make her peace with God about some recent sin that's troubling her mind. Her “dark and roving eye” hints that - in the killer's mind at least - she's a bit of a temptress. Although she can now never be his bride, that possibility's evidently been raised, or why else would he mention it?  - Paul Slade

Paul Slade also mentioned another great version, Charlie Louvin's version from his 2007 album, Charlie Louvin.  It features Will Oldman as well.  The song can be found here

Day of Rest (?) The Unquiet Grave and "story songs"

I've been so busy, it hardly seems like a "murder" blog at all.  So I've decided to post something a little darker for this Sunday's Day of Rest.  Plus, it is October after all.

I've never been a fan of syrupy puppy-eyed love songs, so what I like about  The Unquiet Grave is that it succeeds at being romantic ballad and a ghost story.   A little sweet, a little obsessive, a little sad, and a little spooky.

   ‘The wind doth blow today, my love,
 And a few small drops of rain;
 I never had but one true-love,
 In cold grave she was lain.

 ‘I’ll do as much for my true-love
 As any young man may;
 I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave
 For a twelvemonth and a day.’
 

        The twelvemonth and a day being up,
 The dead began to speak:
 ‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
 And will not let me sleep?’
 

       ‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,
 And will not let you sleep;
 For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,
 And that is all I seek.’
 

       ‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;
 But my breath smells earthy strong;
 If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
 Your time will not be long.
 

        ‘’Tis down in yonder garden green,
 Love, where we used to walk,
 The finest flower that ere was seen
 Is withered to a stalk.

       ‘The stalk is withered dry, my love,
 So will our hearts decay;
 So make yourself content, my love,
 Till God calls you away.’

The first version I ever heard of this song, was Jean Ritchie's a cappella version.  I was unable to find a version of it on the web, but I can't recommend it enough.

The Dubliners.  I think that this might tie with Ritchie's as my favorite version of the song.  Love those tin whistles!

What I love about traditional ballads, is the stories they tell.  Most modern music doesn't do that anymore, even when it comes to "indie" bands.  Writing a "story song" can get you accused of not being "honest" or "personal"  i.e. you'd rather make up something then explore your innermost something-or-other.  I disagree, I think that story songs can be very personal, even if the person singing them wasn't the original writer.  You bring your personal experience to them and your own beliefs.  If that wasn't true, I don't think that Luke Kelly's voice would still make me cry.

Quote of the Week - 10/01/10

My wife Mary and I have been married for forty-seven years and not once have we had an argument serious enough to consider divorce; murder yes, but divorce, never.

- Jack Benny