I make no claims to having a deep knowledge of folk music, and even less of the much discussed Child ballads. But ever since Ken introduced me to Murder Ballad Monday, I’ve been trying to find just the right song/moment/excuse to write about one of my favorite “folk” musicians, Alasdair Roberts. The ballad that most resonated for me for this auspicious introduction is Robert’s haunting version of Lord Ronald, aka Child Ballad No. 12: Lord Randall.

I’ve spent a good many hours listening to versions of Lord Randall (and there are MANY versions out there, including a Harry Belafonte version and a German version by the industrial band Einstürzende Neubauten) but to get us started, let’s listen to the more traditional rendering by Ewan MacColl, released on Folkways Records in 1961:

Through the incremental repetition of dialogue between mother and son, the tragic tale is slowly revealed: Lord Randall went hunting, and dined with his true love, but now his bloodhounds have died. His mother asks what they ate, fearing that the dogs and Randall too may have been poisoned. Randall agrees and in the last stanza confirms that it is his true love who has poisoned him, and that she should be hanged.

Other, longer, versions add stanzas by discussing what he ate, where the food came from, and expanding on the poisoned son’s last wishes, with mother asking son what he’ll leave to each of his family members,  but always ending with the dramatic – “what will you leave to your true-love?” And Randall’s answer, “I’ll leaver her a rope to hang from for poisoning me.”

Let’s listen now to Alasdair Robert’s version – Lord Ronald.

What fascinates me about this version is how, with the smallest of musical gestures and lyrical edits,  Roberts is able to add new layers of mystery and forboding to this simple tale.

Roberts’ begins with a soft, high pitched drone, and the lyrics, as in the MacColl version, begin with Lord Ronald’s mother asking where he’s been. But, unlike the MacColl version, in the next stanza, there is no mention of his having dined with his true love. Instead, the mother asks where the eels he ate came from, and Ronald replies, “from my father’s black ditch.” The next stanza reveals that the dogs have died, and in the beautiful fifth stanza the fear that Ronald’s been poisoned is expressed (with an ethereal harmony added by Will Oldham.) There’s then a break in the lyrics, and we’re left to listen to the eerie drone – time to allow the poison to sink in, and to wonder if perhaps it was the father who has poisoned poor Ronald.

The next three stanzas reveal the sad truth, neither his brother nor his father poisoned Ronald, it was his true love.

I’m a huge fan of Alasdair Roberts, and of his label mate on Drag City (an independent record label based in Chicago) the aforementioned Will Oldham. Both artists are deeply rooted, or rather have rooted themselves, in traditional music. But they both refuse the “folk singer” label, and, their best efforts are hard to categorize  – they sound neither contemporary or alt-rocky nor traditional or folkie.  So I hope to share some more with you, and I look forward to comments…