Ain't No More Cain (sic) on the Brazos

I was listening to the Band's recording of "Ain't No More Cane" this morning. When it comes to traditional material, you can't do much better than the band. They do my favorite versions of both this and "Long Black Veil," which actually sounds much older than it really is. Today was the first time I'd really noticed the line "don't you rise up 'til it's judgment day for sure," though, and it struck me at once that Cane may be working dually here.

I knew "Ain't No More Cane" was an old work song, probably dating back to the early twenties or maybe a little further back. I had always assumed it was a migrant farmer song about the ending of the sugar season ("Ain't no more cane on the [banks of the] Brazos [river.] It's all been ground down to molasses" wails the song's speaker. What I didn't know is that it is also a prison song. After hearing it with fresh ears, I went to The Band's unofficial website where Erin Sebo expertly points out that nearly all of the prisons in Texas are along the Brazos and that the song also uses prison slang, like "bully" and "captain."

Another word that is slang is "Hannah," meaning the sun. It is Hannah who is told not to rise until judgment day is certain, i.e., after the anti-Christ, who may claim that (s)he will bring judgment. Sun here may double as Son -- the speaker could be asking Christ to rise up. In the literal context of the song, though, the speaker is asking the sun not to rise because the day means work, often in the hot fields. And though the sugar is all harvested, some other crop's season may be just around the corner.

All of this seems to beg the question, why sugar cane? It may simply be that "cane" is a literal detail from an autobiographical songwriter. It may be that cane fit the meter best. It may also be because cane carries resonances of Cain. Prisoners are outcasts; they bear the same burden as Cain. It could be that they are identifying with him. "Ain't no more Cain" because they have escaped, but then if they "all got ground down to molasses" they may be dead. This is particularly interesting as molasses is the same color as the tar baby. One may think of Jean Toomer's "Cane" or of the white supremacist belief that black skin is the physical mark of Cain (interestingly enough, racists used this as proof of blacks inferiority and then proceeded to lynch blacks, although God marks Cain as a proscription of vengeance, saying that no one can kill Cain because of his mark).

Whatever associations we may make with cane/Cain, its purpose in the song is to represent labor. The sun also represents labor, as the prison work is done beneath the sun's intense heat. The two are equated. When the speaker tells Old Hannah, or the sun, not to rise until judgment day, the speaker is also telling Cain not to rise until judgment day. I don't have the whole thing worked out yet, but there may indeed be something interesting going on there.

100 Albums, 100 Words (20-11)

20. Van Morrison – Veedon Fleece (1974)

From the first strum of “Fair Play,” Van Morrison pours out the fallout from his failed marriage to Janet Planet through coded sorrow. Morrison creates a series of metaphors, using literary figures and outlaws to stand for various aspects of their relationship. The result is impossible to figure out, on a literal level, but the emotive singing more than makes up for this because the listener understands everything that Van intends. This is the logical extension of the second half of Astral Weeks and would have made a fantastic double album coupled with the romantic rural paean of Tupelo Honey.

19. Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On? (1971)

This album has the tireless, friendly flow of a neighborhood meeting, except instead of planning the next block party, the participants are planning the next protest, be it against the war, the destruction of the environment, or the poverty that continues to sap the ghetto. Gaye had to fight hard against Motown brass to get this record on shelves, but once he did it became an immediate landmark and paved the way for several excellent Stevie Wonder albums. Filled with gorgeous vocals and horn fills that trickle between beats, this remains a true measure of the far-reaching power of soul.

18. Bob Dylan – The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan (1963)

It is hard to believe there was another side of Dylan left to show after all of the faces he revealed on this masterpiece. The music here, in both form and subject matter, is more diverse than most double albums. Dylan showcases his mastery of dead-pan humor, rollicking blues hollers, sermons, aching ballads, and topical songs. Not only is this Dylan’s best early album, but it is one of his best albums. Armed with only a guitar, Dylan takes on the world and comes out ahead, winning over listeners every time the ragamuffin troubadour steps out onto the album’s battleground.

17. The Who – Quadrophenia (1973)

Quadrophenia is the Ulysses of rock, the art form’s truest use of stream of consciousness. While Quadrophenia lacks Tommy’s linearity, it creates its own rules as we bounce around between our narrator’s different personalities. While Quadrophenia may lack the sophisticated instrumentation and expert production of Who’s Next, it rocks out rawer than any other Who album, with the possible exception of Live At Leeds. If that’s not enough, you get rare audio footage of Keith Moon attempting to sing on the character sketch “Bell Boy.” They even sample themselves. The joys found here are four times that of most records.

16. Neil Diamond – Hot August Night (1973)

If Neil Diamond was only cool for one night in his life, this was it. Beginning with a scathing critique of society’s reaction to true individuality, “Crunchy Granola Suite,” Diamond goes on to kick props to Lenny Bruce, Humphrey Bogart and Mao Zedong in “Done Too Soon.” Side two features ripping satires of mainstream country (“front teeth missing; well, that’s fine for kissing”). Side three rounds out with a series of ballads, and the aching performance of “Morningside” is downright weepy. I learned to love this record in my crib; I love it more now that I can appreciate it.

15. The Band – The Band (1969)

The Band is the rot-gut swigging Southern granpappy you never had – except he’s four-fifths Canadian and has at least three distinctive, often sublimely overlapping, voices. In twelve songs, this musical troupe nails Americana so completely that Levon Helm should name them all honorary Arkansans. Don’t be dispelled though; everything here transcends its backwoods trappings. The bass on “Up On Cripple Creek” could be being played by Bootsy Collins. “Look Out Cleveland” drives like Deep Purple. “When You Awake”’s majestic, mysterious melody creeps around between every genre and sounds like none of them. The cover is the only thing monochrome here.

14. The Beach Boys – Pet Sounds (1966)

Wouldn’t it be nice if all experiments in symphonic pop sounded this nice? Brian Wilson loved Pet Sounds’ songs of self-doubt and lost love like normal people love dogs, but instead of scratching these tunes behind the ears, he gave them lush arrangements which bring out the full range of their beauty. The arrangements are phenomenal, especially the plodding bass heartbeat that grounds “Don’t Talk.” Carl Wilson’s vocal on “God Only Knows” is heavenly. Mike Love’s vocal makes “Here Today” raise the listener’s spirits. Despite its heartache, Pet Sounds produces empathy, and, through it, fills the listener with newfound love.

13. The Beatles – A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

Yeah, I waited till number thirteen and then picked A Hard Day’s Night. I didn’t even lead off with one of their “good” albums, one of George Martin’s drug-laden masterpieces of masturbatory production, because the truth is early Beatles rock. The chiming guitars are bubblegum, but who doesn’t love a little ear candy? Not only are all the songs originals, but, uniquely, they are all Lennon/McCartney compositions – and this is back when they still wrote together! Each cut is three minutes of sugarpop honey bliss. It’s the music of punch and pie parties, but Sara Lee never sounded this good.

12. Paul Simon – Graceland (1986)

It took nine years after Elvis passed for Graceland to truly become graceful, and when it did, it celebrated and made money for the blacks who Presley arguably stole from, except they were from South Africa rather than the States. Graceland developed more from Paul Simon’s love of South African music than from a desire to shake up apartheid (though he probably didn’t mind that effect). Simon’s love for his source material allows him to effectively overlay it with his own bouncy vocals and blend it with zydeco, rhythm and blues, rockabilly, folk, and the rest of the musical landscape.

11. Bob Dylan – Blood On the Tracks (1975)

It would be easy, and a bit cliché, to point out how Dylan took the corkscrew from “You’re A Big Girl, Now,” gouged out his aorta and spurted his lifeblood all over the ten tracks contained here. Sad as the album may be, however, it has strengths beyond the ability to depress you. Dylan is using unique and powerful ways of dealing with time in narrative. Shifts in tense and point of view fill the album, allowing the songs to be read in several different ways. From "Shelter From the Storm" to “Simple Twist of Fate,” this album contains multitudes.

2008 Supplement -- Best Male Songs Ever, Vol. 1

Along with the mix tape for the year in review, every year I compile supplementary bonus discs for my collection. This year I made two: my favorite songs by male artists and by femal artists. No artist can have a song repeated. Gender depends upon vocalist rather than songwriter or people playing, just for simplicity's sake. This is the playlist for the male version.

1. Bob Dylan - "Angelina" (Shot of Love outtake, 1981)

Mysterious and deep, this song is filled with magical images. Given context, I think it is about Christian Bob falling in love with a heathen of a woman and ready to do spiritual battle to keep her away from the hellfire. Whatever it is about, it is gorgeous and mind-blowing.

2. Barry Louis Polisar - "All I Want Is You" (1976, reissued on Juno)

This folksy love song is a series of light-hearted metaphors that seem inconsequential. The song's strength though comes across in its seeming honesty. It has that Walden effect, where simplicity comes through as authenticity.

3. Paul Simon - "Graceland" (from Graceland, 1986)

This travelogue about Paul Simon and his son takes a personal journey into America's heart of darkness -- the race-divided South -- in search of the racial unification that occured at Sun records, transforming the personal into a powerful metaphor of national significance.

4. Elvis Costello - "Sleep of the Just" (from King of America, 1986)

Costello has long been interested in writing songs dealing with issues of domestic violence. In this song, Costello, with shifting points of view, depicts a soldier leading a young girl on and engaging in a photographed one night stand with her. He shows the emotional impact this can have by implicitly comparing it to a gang rape in the final verse where her picture is "pinned up upon the barracks wall in her hometown while the soldiers take their turns with her attention."

5. The Band - "King Harvest (Has Surely Come)" (from The Band, 1969)

This may not be my favorite Band song, but my interest in it has grown exponentially over the last year. It's no "Up On Cripple Creek" yet, but the working man ethos and litany of crops makes this rural unionizing song a winner.

6. Brian Wilson - "Vega-Tables" (from Smile, 2004)

The brilliance of this song is the child-like wonder it exudes, the same wonder that led Brian Wilson to develop an arrangement that featured people chomping on carrot and celery sticks in lieu of traditional percussion.

7. ? and the Mysterians - "96 Tears" (1966)

I love garage rock, and this organ-pumped pop song is one of the most sadly forgotten hits. Once a chart-topper, it is still little-known and difficult to come by despite Cameo-Parkway reissues.

8. Van Morrison - "Caravan" (from Moondance, 1970)

This epic of blue-eyed soul just surges and ebbs with the wonderful nuances of Van's aformal voice.

9. The Beatles - "Here, There, and Everywhere" (from Revolver, 1966)

One of McCartney's best ballads, this love song is awash in lush melody.

10. Ben Folds Five - "Brick" (1997)

What hooked me on this was the piano figure. Having been familiar with the song for a decade, it wasn't until recently that I payed attention to the words, aching and wrenching, as I drove home for the holidays.

11. Prince - "Sometimes It Snows In April" (from Parade, 1986)

Proof of Prince's egotism, this song is an elegy for Christopher Tracy, the character Prince played in Under the Cherry Moon, the 1986 film he wrote and directed. In the film, Tracy is murdered by Craig T. Nelson (of TV's Coach), the racist father of the girl Prince falls in love with, who is played by Kristen Scott Thomas. Still, despite its egotism, this song boils over with pathos and passion.

12. Arrested Development - "Mr. Wendal" (from 3 Years, 5 Months and 7 Days In the Life of..., 1991)

This was one of the first rap songs I fell in love with, and that was before I realized the powerful social commentary contained within it. The song celebrates hoboes as people too, and explains the virtues of helping those less fortunate. You go ahead Mr. Wendal.

13. James Brown - "Mother Popcorn" (1969)

"Mother Popcorn" has the most post-modern bass line known to man. A funky tune about curvaceous ladies punctuated by ecstatic screams about a salty snack. Classic James.

14. Billy Riley and his Little Green Men - "Red Hot" (1957)

Billy Riley's gal is red hot, and, comparatively, other rockabilly ain't doodely squat.

15. Johnny Cash - "The Mercy Seat" (from American III: Solitary Man, 2000)

Cash's cover of this Nick Cave track is one of the mot powerful gems to be mined from his American Recordings series, and that is saying a lot. The song is a cryptic jigsaw puzzle, a Rorschack test of serial murder and apocalyptic salvation.

16. Thin Lizzy - "Don't Believe A Word" (from Johnny the Fox 1976)

Thin Lizzy may be the most underrated metal band of all time. Their melodies and hooks are fantastic. This song couples those ever-present qualities with a self-deprecation that strengthen's Lizzy's legacy.

17. Bruce Springsteen & the E-Street Band - "Jungleland" (from Born To Run, 1975)

This song is a true epic. When it reaches the midpoint, the song simmers down to a murmur. When it rises from its ashes, the slowly paced piano that restarts it provides a pulse, upon which every instrument imaginable builds, not least of which is Springsteen's tortured and chiseled voice, pushing the song beyond its imaginable limits.

Labor Songs

I know its a little bit belated, but in honor of labor unions forcing the government to give the good people of the United States a day off of work, here are five songs that pay homage to the common man, the blue collar heroes of their day.

1. "Mr. President (Have Pity On the Working Man)" by Randy Newman

Randy Newman was born world-weary, and this track bears that out. The ploddy piano perfectly suits his plaintive voice as he begs the president for a little bit of empathy. Newman's not asking for a revolution here, not even asking for as much as he does on Harps & Angels, but he does it with such subtle honesty that you know he's really saying a whole lot more.

2. "Joe Hill," by Alfred Hayes and Earl Robinson; performed by Joan Baez on Woodstock.

Joe Hill was quite arguably framed for murder and may have gone up before the shooting squad only because he refused to disgrace the good name of the married woman he'd been sleeping with on the night of the killing. The real reason he was so easily framed,though, was that he was a Wobblie, a member of the super-radical International Workers of the World, a socialist union. He was also a topical songwriter, which is perhaps why its interesting that there are so many songs about him. In this song, his ghost haunts the narrator, coming back to say that his spirit lives on in unions today. Some of his ashes are today enshrined at the headquarters of the AFL-CIO.

3. My Name Is Buddy by Ry Cooder

This album is the ultimate concept. Its narrative blends the fabled characters of Wind In the Willows with the setting of Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath and then cobbles the plot together from pieces of contemporary political context and tales of the I.W.W. Truly, when one imagines this album's scope it is one of the most underappreciated albums of the new century.

4. "King Harvest (Has Surely Come)" by The Band

From the point of view of a migrant farmer, probably a fruit picker, comes this love letter to the union. "I work for the union cause she's so good to me" croons Levon Helm. Later, the union boss says that when workers don't get what they want, then "that's when [they] gotta go on strike." High on the rhetoric, this slow burning rocker compresses many of My Name is Buddy's themes. In doing so, it loses the focus of everyone working together, but expertly illustartes what unionization can do for the working man.

5. "Union Sundown" by Bob Dylan

Now that the United States is losing jobs in the service industry to overseas locations, they call it outsourcing. In the 80s, it was manufacturing jobs getting moved, and that's what Dylan rails against here. Manufacturing jobs were often better paying and required at least some level of knowledge about the machinery those at the plant worked with. This meant that employees were less easy to replace and therefore it was easier for them to unionize. When Bob sings "its sundown on the union and what's made in the USA sure was a good idea till greed got in the way," he is opening up several possible meanings. The union is both the institution of the labor union, and the Union of 50 states. Bob is saying that as we move production overseas and enter a service-based economy we are going to lose not only labor unions but the nation itself. The ever-weakening dollar seems to bear this out. Also, with the brilliant line "till greed got in the way" Dylan is showing us the motive corporations have for doing something that will ultimately destroy their consumer base. "Greed" could be lots of things, but in this particular instance the similarity of sound with "green" makes it obvious that money is the only driving factor here, and it is that brilliant double-meaning that Dylan alludes to through sound that makes this song one of his most underrated.

100 Albums, 100 Words (40-31)

40. Simon and Garfunkel – Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme (1966)

Although Bookends and Bridge Over Troubled Water receive far more attention, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme is certainly the most varied and possibly the most affecting Simon & Garfunkel album. The raucous “Simple Desultory Philippic” and the deeply sorrowful “7 O’Clock News/ Silent Night” are like little else in popular music, and are certainly exotic yet brilliant excursions within the Simon & Garfunkel catalog. Other tracks such as the wistful “Homeward Bound,” the bouncy “59th Street Bridge Song” and the reflective “Dangling Conversation” may follow familiar models, but do so with a graceful delicacy that makes them memorable, not generic.

39. Prince – 1999 (1982)

Following Dirty Mind, Prince knew he had a unique sound, but was unsure of how to develop it. He tried to elongate songs and be over-the-top in his political declarations on Controversy, but a year later he learned how to control the raw power naked funk unleashed on 1999. Prince’s breakthrough, the album contained three top twenty singles, two of which remain classics (“1999,” “Little Red Corvette”). Prince learned more artistically mature ways to politicize his music with “Lady Cab Driver” and “Free” and still managed to keep up his sultry leer on “Let’s Pretend We’re Married” and “International Lover.”

38. Rolling Stones – Exile On Main St. (1972)

Putting on Exile makes you feel like you’re stepping down into a speakeasy, replete with boogie-woogie piano licks, horns and gospel singers. Once inside, exiled from the mainstream, the album envelops you in cathartic celebration filtered through a whiskey-soaked drawl. “Shake Your Hips” is a leering blues. “Shine the Light” is an elegy. “Sweet Virginia” could be a backwoods ode to the state itself. Taken altogether, this is the apotheosis of what Gram Parsons (a close friend of Richards who worked on the album) termed “cosmic American music,” this roots-infused album of juke joint jive feels simultaneously grimy and rejuvenating.

37. The Doors – Morrison Hotel (1970)

Even though Jim Morrison moans that this is the strangest life he’s ever known on “Waiting For the Sun,” Morrison Hotel may be the most normal album The Doors ever released, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. No twelve minute songs about incest, no wigged out poetry readings – just the essence of rock. Robbie Kreiger’s guitar carries all the barroom swagger he can muster on “Roadhouse Blues.” Ray Manzarek’s hands flutter across his organ on the nuevo-funk masterpiece “Peace Frog.” The compositions are tight, leaving none of Soft Parade’s filler. The older I get, the better this record sounds.

36. The Who – Live At Leeds (1970)

Pete Townsend used the studio to great advantage to create pristine recordings unparalleled for their majesty and breadth. Then, in concert, his bandmates destroyed them with virtuosic power as a completely maniacal trio with a really pretty guy who mostly just stood there but occasionally sang. A blend of perfectly nailed covers (“Shakin’ All Over,” “Young Man Blues”), extended jams of songs that go leagues beyond their original incarnations (“Magic Bus,” “My Generation”), and a concise smattering of mostly straight-forward hits (“Substitute”), Leeds provides the perfect introduction to what the Who do best, and that is rock like wild wildebeests.

35. Bruce Springsteen – Born To Run (1975)

Born To Run is a street fantasy, an “opera out on the turnpike,” and a glimpse into the kind of world that plagued Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver. The urban underbelly Springsteen creates is populated with a vivid cast of characters, including Bad Scooter, the Magic Rat, and the Duke Street Kings. Behind the gritty tales, though, lies a lush and tender soundscape. Roy Bittan’s nuanced piano invites the listener in while Clarence Clemons tight, bright horn leads shoot right through them with pained solos. More than anything else, this is the sound of E-Street, distilled to its finest essence.

34. The Band – Music From Big Pink (1968)

Coming down the wire from a big pink barn, this idyllic album slowly unravels its strengths. A muted organ begins spreading creaky chords among earthy voices in the gospel strains of ”Tears of Rage,” but by “We Can Talk” Garth Hudson is rocking it like a swamp, building to a peak in “Chest Fever.” Following this up is Richard Manuel’s most aching vocal on this album, “Lonesome Suzie.” The musicianship developed while a Toronto bar band and the sound honed with Bob Dylan in the basement of Hi-Lo-Ha reach their logical conclusion in this blissful blend of smooth country sounds.

33. Beatles – Revolver (1966)

Tonight, on Unsolved Mysteries of Rock, we will consider many of the conundrums and confusions surrounding the Beatles’ Revolver, such as what exactly did Dr. Roberts prescribe? Was “Tomorrow Never Knows” inspired by just LSD, or was a time machine also involved? Why do the head lice crawling around on the cover look conspicuously like the Beatles themselves? And, perhaps most importantly, why did the Beatles choose to name this album Revolver? Was it simply to prevent Ted Nugent from one day using the title himself, or was it just that the music on this album completely blows your mind?

32. DJ Jazzy Jeff – The Magnificent (2002)

Baby Black, Pauly Yamz and Chef Word are stars, at least in Philly, the geographical context that this album is a musical metaphor for. The Magnificent creates community, and the lesser known rappers stand shoulder-to-shoulder with giants like J-Live, Raheem, Jill Scott, Shawn Stockman, and DJ Jazzy Jeff. This is undoubtedly the most underappreciated album on my list, which is shameful because the socially conscious rhymes the rappers construct in their lyrical landscapes build up the people, despite occasionally falling into the misogynistic trap that plagues so much otherwise delightful rap. And, of course, Jeff proves fresher than the Prince.

31. Johnny Cash – At Folsom Prison (1968)

If you were a prisoner who got to go to a concert, what would you like to hear songs about? (Please check all that apply.)

o Sleeping with your best friend’s wife
o Being so busted broke you have to steal
o Shooting cocaine
o Shooting your woman down
o Shooting cocaine AND shooting your woman down
o Shooting a man just to watch him die
o Getting pictures of mom in the mail
o Hangings and electric chairs
o Failed attempts at pardons
o Flushing down old love affairs
o A fellow inmate’s musings on religion
o Dirty thievin’ dogs
o Prison break attempts
o Prison break attempts that are really suicide attempts