"Can Mary fry some fish, Momma..."

According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, Southern Gothic is a literary genre popularized by American writers from the South incorporating uniquely Southern settings and "grotesque, macabre, or fantastic incidents."  William Faulkner, Truman Capote, and Flannery O'Connor popularized the genre.

O'Connor's "Good Country People" is one of my favorite short stories.  The story incorporates deception and physical deformities, and while it is humorous tale, the story contains a disturbing twist. 

Hulga is a representation of O'Connor herself.  

What is it with the South and grotesque deformities?

This archetype still exists.  I can't help but think of Deliverance.

Cue menacing banjo lick...

* * *

When I was thirteen years old, I read Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell's Southern epic.  I also read the vastly inferior sequel, Scarlett.  Rhett butler is the most dynamic character in both novels (His scant presence in the sequel comprises its main fault).  A dashing gentleman and brave warrior, Rhett Butler is chivalry incarnate.  The novel, written in 1936, glorified the South.  Plantations, gentleman, beautiful woman--the South of Gone with the Wind represents American luxury at its finest.  However, it's easy to accumulate wealth with slave labor.  Human rights can stand in the way of prosperity. 

The South paid for its moral depravity, its flagrant disregard for human rights.  Economically and psychologically, the South never recovered from the Civil War.  The Southern gentleman--the Rhett butler archetype--now represents hypocrisy and moral irresponsibility. 

 

The South is the land of the damned.  American Gothic literature, unconsciously or consciously, draws upon the damaged landscape of the South.  

I read somewhere that Hank Williams is the anti-Rhett Butler, the archetypal Southern white man of the 1950's: illiterate, drunk, crippled (Hank suffered from spinal bifida, alcoholism, and depression).

He even possesses a distinct tragic flaw.  His creative powers were fueled by his self-destructive tendencies.  A clean, happy, and sober Hank was unable to thrive creatively.

Hank is Southern Gothic.

As a musical genre, country music is ripe with gothic lyrics and subject matter.  One of my favorite country songs is "Psycho."  Penned by Leon Payne, the song is masterfully interpreted by Elvis Costello, an Irish New Waver (and my favorite lyricist).  The song deals with murder and insanity and possesses a uniquely Southern flavor.

A Star is Born

There was a great article in RollingStone 1076, the issue featuring a meditative Lil' Wayne on the cover.

The issue features a great piece written about Kris Kristofferson by the actor, Ethan Hawke. I'm particularly fond of his performance in the Dead Poets Society.

O Captain! My Captain!

One day I hope to get my students standing on their desks reciting poetry, and you absolutely can't go wrong with Walt.

But back to Kris.

Kris is primarily known as an actor. His first role was in Dennis Hopper's pseudo-sequel to Easy Rider, The Last Movie.

He and Bob Dylan redefined the western hero in Sam Peckinpah's Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid.

"For me [Ethan Hawke], has always been a part of the landscape of my country -- an amalgamation of John Wayne and Walt Whitman." According to Hawke, Kristofferson and Dylan were "claiming the country by seizing its most iconic art form, the Western, right out of John Wayne's and Glenn Ford's hands."

* * *

His big commercial break came in '76. He played a self-destructive, aging rock star in A Star is Born. However, Kristofferson's film career almost came to an abrupt end in 1980 thanks to Heaven's Gate, an anti-American Western. Hawke interviewed Martin Scorsese, who commented on the changing film industry in the 1980's: "The critical establishment ended that decade by making an example out of Heaven's Gate, eviscerating the film and everyone associated with it... They were done supporting individual expression in the movies."

In recent years, Kris' movie career has experienced a resurgence of sorts. He's the best part of the Blade trilogy, playing the gravelly and leathery Whistler, mentor to Wesley Snipes' tax-evading vampire hunter.

* * *

Kris, along with his other outlaw contemporaries -- Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, and others -- helped restore credibility to country music.

They embraced the self-destructive Hank Williams' lifestyle.

The "kick out the lights at the Grand Ole Opry" attitude of Johnny Cash.

This image stood in stark contrast to Chet Atkins' over-produced, squeaky clean, polished Nashville image and sound.

True fans of country music were exhilirated.

***

Kris' success seems to stem from his charisma, which affects his performances as an actor and songwriting-musician alike.

Here are some random facts about Kristofferson:

• He received a Bachelor of Arts in Literature from Pomona College.
• He was a Rhodes scholar. He studied William Blake and William Shakespeare at Oxford University.
• He joined the army and became a helicopter pilot.
• After completing a tour of duty, he was offered a position teaching literature at West Point.
• He turned this offer down and moved his family to Nashville. Initially unable to succeed as a songwriter, he became at janitor at a studio owned by Columbia Records. He was present while Dylan recored his landmark album, Blonde on Blonde.
• While working as a janitor, Kristofferson also worked part-time as a helicopter pilot flying out of the Gulf of Mexico.
• He landed a helicopter in Johnny Cash's backyard to ensure that the "Man in Black" himself would listen to his demo tape.

Kristofferson emulated his hero, the late, great Hank Williams, a man who according to Kristofferson, belonged in the company of Shakespeare and Blake.

Funny.

A drunk, illiterate hillbilly in the company of Shakespeare?

Leonard Cohen agrees.

"Tower of Song."

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey I ache in the places where I used to play And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on I'm just paying my rent every day Oh in the Tower of Song I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get? Hank Williams hasn't answered yet But I hear him coughing all night long A hundred floors above me In the Tower of Song I was born like this, I had no choice I was born with the gift of a golden voice And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond They tied me to this table right here In the Tower of Song So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all I'm standing by the window where the light is strong Ah they don't let a woman kill you Not in the Tower of Song Now you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor And there's a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong You see, you hear these funny voices In the Tower of Song I see you standing on the other side I don't know how the river got so wide I loved you baby, way back when And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed But I feel so close to everything that we lost We'll never have to lose it again Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back There moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone I'll be speaking to you sweetly From a window in the Tower of Song Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey I ache in the places where I used to play And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on I'm just paying my rent every day Oh in the Tower of Song.

Old, Weird America

Harry Smith was a strange man.

He arrived in New York City in 1950. Hailing from Oregon, Harry Smith was a cosmologically-aware (Peyote) anthropologist and experimental filmmaker. He was an obsessive collector: quilts, paper airplanes, and Ukrainian Easter eggs (He had nearly 30,000 in his collection!).

Harry also collected phonograph records, specifically rare 78's.

In 1952, Moe Asch, owner of Folkways Records, agreed to release a three-volume collection of songs, most from the 1920's and 30's, coming right from Harry's personal collection: the Anthology of American Folk Music.

Arguably more interesting than the music itself was the presentation of the collection.

Amanda Petrusich describes the cover art in great detail in It Still Moves:

Each of the three volumes boasted the same cover art--an etching by Theodore de Bry, plucked from a compendium on mysticism by the British physicist, astrologer, and mystic Robert Fludd. The picture, a sketched globe, anchored by a one-stringed instrument, with a hand bursting forth from the clouds to twist its lone tuning peg, was of something Smith called the Celestial Monochord, a protean instrument invented by Pythagoras in 400 B.C. (200)

Each record was color-coded and elementally themed. The red album dealt with fire; the blue air; and the green water.

* * *

Latin lettering, Greek imagery, elemental themes, and banjos?

Archetypes form really fast.

I'm reminded of Milton's Paradise Lost. The epic poem, written in the 17th century, created an archetypal miscommunication that still resonates today: the sinful apple. In the Old Testament, Eve eats of the Fruit of Knowledge; not an apple. However, most people today believe that the fruit she ate was an apple. I'd hazard to say that most people today are blissfully unaware of the source of this confusion: a 400 year old epic poem.

Smith accomplished a similar feat and in much less time. Folk music, early country, blues, and gospel is believed to be invested of a timeless and universal quality. By the time I become an avid of the genre, Smith's Anthology was barely fifty years old. However, I had fallen for his self-mythologizing despite being unaware of the collection. I had only heard Harry Smith's name.

I legitimately believed that American musicians in the 1920's, 30's, and 40's had somehow tapped into the nation's unconscious, creating art resonating with the entire ancestry of human artistry. Yes, I am including the Greeks and the Romans.

Was I disillusioned when I discovered that this mysticism stemmed from a peyote-smoking, obsessive compulsive, cosmological collector?

Not really.

Sure, Harry Smith was an eccentric. However, he was onto something.

Music about life, death, struggle, God, suffering, murder, and general hardship is both universal and timeless.

A friend of mine once wisely said that "human suffering is universal."

Thanks to Harry Smith, I'm no longer an outsider.

Sure, I didn't grow up picking cotton, wandering the woods of Alabama drinking a mixture of iced tea and whiskey, but I am a human being.

Everyone's invited.

Three cheers for the eccentric.

In 1991, Harry Smith won a grammy for his contribution to popular music.