The power of Folk

I spent a couple of days in Louisville, Kentucky on the banks of the Ohio river a few years back while assisting friends during an Ironman event. I can remember reading the signage, detailing how they marched slaves down the street where I was walking, newly auctioned off to unknown masters. Chained, shackled and boarded on boats destined for the deep South. Many did not make it to their final destinations due to illness, most likely caused by the extreme emotional stress they were placed under.
This was where the phrase, “Sold down the river” came from.

It hit me hard as I began to imagine entire families and relationships being dismantled exactly where I stood. There is nothing like the power of place to deliver the gut-punch of reality. I am not one for outward displays of emotion but the tears fell. I could feel the suffering still hanging in the air. The experience took me by complete surprise.

Three years ago Patty Griffin began to work with this song about the underground railroad. Of slaves escaping, inspired by something Toni Morrison had written in her book, Beloved. The lyrics went through several transformations before it reached its final incarnation with the help of Robert Plant who also lent his voice and power to this song.

"I had the song in an odd shape and couldn't really figure out how to use it," she says. "He came in and arranged it so that it became what it is. He came up with the tempo and the mood on it."

It had impact for me on this Easter Sunday evening as I drove home from my solo meal of etouffee at a local creole hangout. Feeling a little wistful, missing my own people, this beautifully haunting song came over the radio.

It has been my experience that the best songs and stories need so few words to convey the meaning and have impact. When it is crafted as gorgeously as this, I am inspired to write lyrics that are spare and honest.
The simplicity and depth of emotion is why I love the art form of Folk and American music so much.

Meet me in the evening, where the river is low
Meet me on the waters of the Ohio
No lines, no lines, the river is a river, not a line
My blood is the water and it's darker and deeper than time

If the hounds are howling, then you cannot hide
My friend, I will meet you on the other side
No lines, no lines, the river is a river, not a line
My love is the water and it's stronger and deeper than time

Meet me 'neath the moon, under the singing tree
If you are the first, stay there and wait for me
If no one comes by morning and the sun is a-rising red
If no one comes by morning, please forgive me, my friend
For I am dead