Old Man River

SONG Old Man River

WRITTEN BY Oscar Hammerstein II and Jerome Kern

PERFORMED BY Paul Robeson, William Warfield, The Temptations, many others

APPEARS ON Songs of Free Men (Robeson, 1997), Show Boat: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (1951, remastered 1995); In A Mellow Mood (1967, The Temptations)

NOTE "Old Man River" was a standard part of Robeson's repertoire and appears on many of his albums. It also became William Warfield's signature song.

Show Boat's 1927 premiere announced the advent of a new kind of musical. For the first time, characters developed and matured. Show Boat used popular music to treat serious thematic concerns, exploring issues of domestic desertion, miscegenation, and racism, the last in the musical's signature number, "Old Man River."


But it was 1927, and the inadvertent racist tone of Hammerstein's original lyrics worked at cross purposes to the theme of oppression; the lyrics were recast through the years to eliminate Hammerstein's minstrelsy conception of southern black dialect. The opening line, for example, morphed from "Niggers all work" to "Darkies all work" to "Colored folk all work" to "Here we all work." Singer Paul Robeson, a genuinely protean character and one of the most fascinating figures of his age, took the lead in rewriting the lyrics, refining them so that the faux dialect did not detract from the considerable power of the melody or the meaning of theme.

"Old Man River" has an almost Marxist sensibility: An anonymous ("...them that plants 'em is soon forgotten...") black workingman oppressed by the inscrutable and relentless force of racism is stuck in a backbreaking dead-end job. He lives only for getting drunk on the weekend and because he fears the alternative of death. His days are robotic, mindless, and never ending: "Don't look up and don't look down...tote that barge, lift that bale." In the end, there is simply weariness and endless effort, while the uncaring "Old Man River just keeps rolling along."

LYRICS
Here we all work 'long the Mississippi
Here we all work while the white folk play
Gettin' no rest from the dawn 'til sunset
Gettin' no rest 'til the Judgment Day

Don't look up and don't look down
You don't dast make the white boss frown
Bend your knees and bow your head
And pull that boat until you're dead

Let me go 'way from the Mississippi
Let me go 'way from the white man boss
Show me that stream called the River Jordan
That's the old stream that I long to cross

Old Man River, that Old Man River
He must know somethin', but he don't say nothin'
He keeps on rollin', he just keeps rollin' along

He don't plant taters, he don't plant cotton
And them that plants 'em is soon forgotten
But Old Man River, he just keeps rollin' along

You and me, we sweat and strain
Bodies all achin' and wracked with pain
Tote that barge, lift that bale
You get a little drunk and you lands in jail

I gets weary and sick of tryin'
I'm tired of livin' and scared of dyin'
But Old Man River, he just keeps rollin' along

Paul Robeson sang "Old Man River" in the 1936 film of Show Boat. The first two verses are moved after the chorus. The montage in the middle of the production emphasizes the theme of racism, including an unforgettable and prophetic shot of an agonized Robeson behind the bars of an overcrowded jail cell:


William Warfield sang "Old Man River" in the 1951 film of Show Boat, eliminated the first two verses, a bowdlerization that greatly diminished the song's main theme.  Here, Warfield sings over a montage of photographs of Paul Robeson:


The Temptations, with the initial verses intact. However, "white" has been changed to "rich":


Kenneth Anderson, sings first the first three verses as written, with the "Here we all work" introduction:

There is a Balm in Gilead

SONG: There is a Balm in Gilead

WRITTEN BY: Traditional

PERFORMED BY: Paul Robeson, Mahalia Jackson, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, et al.

APPEARS ON: Paul Robeson: Paul Robeson Live at Carnegie Hall (Vanguard) & Songs of Free Men/ A Paul Robeson Recital (Sony); Mahalia Jackson: In Concert Easter Sunday, 1967 (Columbia Europe - an import, but reasonably priced); Rahsaan Roland Kirk: I, Eye, Aye: Live at the Montreux Jazz Festival, 1972 (Rhino - amazingly, this has been discontinued, but it’s still available used or as an mp3 download)

This blog’s founder, the redoubtable Citizen K, was kind enough to ask me to become a contributor; actually, K asked me this some time ago, but as life has a way of doing, my schedule conspired to make any writing beyond my usual take on Robert Frost’s Banjo impractical. I’m glad that I finally have the time to contribute to Just a Song.

By way of further (brief) introduction, I should say that while my musical tastes are eclectic, I’ll probably be concentrating on old-time music in my contributions here, with some forays into jazz; & the first song I chose to write about illustrates this—it’s the old spiritual “Balm in Gilead.”
I’m not a religious person—not even a “believer” in the conventional sense of the word—but I find the spirituals to be incredibly moving music, & this beautiful song is most certainly can be described as "moving." I’m familiar with three recorded versions, all of which are memorable. These are by Paul Robeson, Mahalia Jackson & Rahsaan Roland Kirk—two vocal versions & one instrumental. I’ll discuss the versions, but first a bit of background on the song.

The title is taken from the Old Testament, specifically Jeremiah chapter 8 v. 22: "Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wounds of my [God's] people?" As such, it not only describes the condition of a spiritual exile—a common theme in 19th century U.S. hymns—for instance “Poor Wayfaring Stranger,” in which the Christian pilgrim is moving from this unreal physical world to the “real” world of heaven where all wounds will be made whole & all will be reunited. One can only imagine the power of such a concept to people in the actual bondage of slavery, taken from their native land & subject to severe wounds, physical, psychological & spiritual.

But looked at from the perspective of one like myself who’s focused on our mortal life & not on a life to come, the song reminds me that there is a place where despair can be healed—a place within perhaps (tho these spatial references always tend to get us in trouble, don’t they?) The music reinforces this sense of peace with its stately swing & its movement between major & minor chords (the verse actually ends on a minor chord, which then resolves to major leading into the chorus). For those who don’t know, minor chords tend to produce a darker, sadder harmony, while major chords tend to provide a brighter, more happy sound.

According to Wikipedia, some of the lyrics are related to an 1854 hymn by one Washington Glass, tho it appears his hymn borrowed heavily from a John Newton hymn from 1779. In addition, the second verse seems traditional—this same verse or a close variation of it turns up in a number of old spiritual songs, & probably dates to the beginning of the 19th century or earlier.

All three performances we’re sampling are extremely moving: Robeson’s rich & operatic basso rendition with a simple piano accompaniment, Mahalia Jackson’s dramatic version, backed by both piano & organ, & Rahsaan’s passionate instrumental. It’s interesting to contrast Robeson’s & Jackson’s versions—both singers liked slow tempos, but Robeson’s “Balm in Gilead” moves along in a steady andante (not fast, but moving along at a “walking” pace), while Jackson soars in a rubato largo (a slow but free tempo for you non-musician types)—so slow that it seems the next downbeat will never come. This type of tempo invites exploration, & Jackson not only improvises with the rhythm; she also creates some beautiful improvisations on the original melody, while Robeson renders the melody closely (& magnificently). Needless to say, both versions work extraordinarily well.

Finally, we turn to one of my all-time favorite jazz musicians, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, for an instrumental version captured from his show at the Montreux Jazz Festival in ’72. Kirk was in fine form that day, as witnessed by the album I, Eye, Aye—why Rhino decided to discontinue this album is beyond me, but looks like there are plenty of used copies available, as well as mp3s. In his introduction to the song (on the album, not on the clip), Kirk mentioned the idea of “getting the song in your ear” & making it your own—this was one of his gifts. In the process he remakes this old spiritual on clarinet & tenor sax, turning it into a soaring march such as you’d expect at a New Orleans funeral. If you’re not familiar with Rahsaan Roland Kirk, he frequently played more than one wind instrument—as many as three simultaneously. To describe this makes it sound like a novelty, but Kirk’s playing is always much more than that. My wife Eberle talks about Kirk as having an “orchestral” mode of thinking, & that’s certainly on display here. It’s also worth noting that Kirk’s clarinet playing here is superb—so dramatic, & making full use of the instrument’s wide range; & although Kirk is the main focus, his backing bands were always top-notch—among other things, Kirk was known for playing with excellent pianists, & Ron Burton is no exception here. I wonder about Joe Texidor smoking a cigarette while playing the tambourine, however! I should note that on the I, Eye, Aye album there’s an intriguing intro that didn’t make it into this (or any other) YouTube video clip.

Lyrics are as follows:

Chorus
There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin-sick soul.

VERSE 1
Some times I feel discouraged,
And think my work’s in vain,
But then the Holy Spirit
Revives my soul again.

(Chorus)

VERSE 2
If you can’t preach like Peter,
If you can’t pray like Paul,
Just tell the love of Jesus,
And say He died for all.

(Chorus)

Joan Baez, Paul Robeson: Joe Hill

SONG Joe Hill

SONGWRITERS Alfred Hayes (words) and Earl Robinson (music)

PERFORMERS Joan Baez, Paul Robeson, others

APPEARS ON From Every Stage, Woodstock: Music From The Original Soundtrack and More (Baez); Live at Carnegie Hall (Robeson)

Although popularized by Joan Baez' performance in the 1970 film Woodstock, this labor ballad traces its pedigree back to a 1930 poem by the British writer Alfred Hayes called "I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night." (Some accounts have Hayes writing the poem in 1925.) In 1936, Seattle composer Earl Robinson set the poem to music; since then, various artists have performed the song as an inspiration for organizing labor and other community movements. In addition to Baez, singers of Joe Hill include Paul Robeson, Pete Seeger and Phil Ochs. In 1958, Robeson performed what must have been the definitive version for an earlier generation at his Carnegie Hall concert. "Joe Hill" remains a staple of Baez' concerts to this day.

The song's unlikely subject was born Joel Emmanuel Hagglund in Sweden sometime between 1879 and 1882. Hagglun emigrated to the United States in 1902 and began traveling the American west as a migrant laborer. Somewhere along the line, Hagglund became known as Joseph Hillstrom, a name perhaps inevitably shortened to Joe Hill. Hill joined the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW, also known as the "Wobblies") in 1910, gaining prominence as an organizer and writer of labor songs.

In early 1914, Hill arrived in Park City, Utah, having found work there as a silver miner. Shortly after Hill's arrival in Park City, masked robbers murdered a Salt Lake City butcher and his son in the family shop. During the robbery, the butcher returned fire and wounded one of the robbers. Shortly after, Hill appeared in at local doctor's office with a bullet wound. Although he denied robbing the butcher -- and rudimentary forensic evidence supported his claim -- Hill was nonetheless arrested and tried for murder. Hill's efforts to keep the IWW out of his trial failed, and it is thought today that his membership in the radical labor organization was the key factor in the guilty verdict brought against him. A Utah firing squad executed Hill on November 19, 1915. (Complete Wikipedia article here.)

Shortly before his death, Hill sent the following message to IWW leader Bill Haywood:

Goodbye Bill. I die like a true blue rebel. Don't waste any time in mourning. Organize... Could you arrange to have my body hauled to the state line to be buried? I don't want to be found dead in Utah.

"Joe Hill" has been performed around the world in over a dozen languages. Of the two versions presented here, Baez' version shows "Joe Hill" in its folk roots and -- through Robeson's more classically oriented rendition -- the extent to which the song has been adapted. Earl Robinson had this to say about "Joe Hill":

"Joe Hill" was written in Camp Unity in the summer of 1936 in New York State, for a campfire program celebrating him and his songs, "Casey Jones," "Pie in the Sky" and others. Before the end of that summer we were hearing of performances in a New Orleans Labor Council, a San Francisco picket line, and it was taken to Spain by the members of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade to help in the fight against Franco. It has travelled around the world since like a folk song, been translated into twelve or fifteen languages. Joan Baez' singing of the song at Woodstock brought it to popular attention, but I still get asked the question, "Did you write 'Joe Hill'?" [More here and here.]

LYRICS
I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
alive as you and me.
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" said he,
"I never died" said he.

"The Copper Bosses killed you Joe,
they shot you Joe" says I.
"Takes more than guns to kill a man"
Says Joe "I didn't die"
Says Joe "I didn't die"

"In Salt Lake City, Joe," says I,
Him standing by my bed,
"They framed you on a murder charge,"
Says Joe, "But I ain't dead,"
Says Joe, "But I ain't dead."

And standing there as big as life
and smiling with his eyes.
Says Joe "What they can never kill
went on to organize,
went on to organize"

From San Diego up to Maine,
in every mine and mill,
Where working men defend their rights,
it's there you find Joe Hill,
it's there you find Joe Hill!

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
alive as you and me.
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" said he,
"I never died" said he.

Joe Hill - Paul Robeson Jr.;Lawrence Brown