Without A Doubt, Jon Langford (2007)

Introduction

When I was just a baby, my Mama told me, “Son
Always be a good boy, don’t ever play with guns,”
But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.
— Johnny Cash (“Folsom Prison Blues”)

Jon Langford is one of Chicago’s renaissance men. He’s a visual artist, political activist, actor, comedic prankster of sorts, and above all else, a gifted musician. His bands proper include revered punk outfit The Mekons, insurgent country group The Waco Brothers, and The Pine Valley Cosmonauts, an ensemble dedicated to performing the work of mainly classic country musicians (Johnny Cash, Bob Wills). He’s also collaborated with countless other musicians: Langford is one of the pillars of Chicago’s music scene. But his greatest skill may be his endless capacity to create community. He comes up with an idea, spreads the word, and then legions of otherwise sane people file in to do his bidding, whether acting in his annual Christmas “pantos,” hilarious if historically-dubious reenactments heavily spiked with bouts of cosmic tomfoolery (Langford himself has played characters ranging from Queen Cleopatra to Mrs. Ahab of Moby Dick fame), or reciting bawdy tales about some of rock ‘n roll’s greatest and most self-involved legends (full disclosure: I’ve performed in his shows myself). 

It’s this ability to persuade people toward a greater or at least more fun good that led Langford to tackle a more serious project: Recording an album of murder ballads in 2002. The Executioner’s Last Songs, Volume One was meant to raise the profile of and some money for the Illinois Death Penalty Moratorium Project (former Governor George Ryan had declared a moratorium on the death penalty in Illinois in 2000; the death penalty was abolished here in 2011 by current Governor Pat Quinn). But Last Songs (Langford released two more volumes as a two-disc set in 2003) were also wonderful albums in their own right, featuring stellar musicians like Steve Earle, Edith Frost and Neko Case singing well crafted and rather chilling works made famous by the likes of The Louvin Brothers and Johnny Paycheck. Now some of the tracks on those albums have previously been the subject of conversation here at Murder Ballad Monday. But we thought it high time we sat down with the album’s maker, to find out all about his relationship to the murder ballad, and music more generally.

This conversation will take place in three parts, over the course of this week. Today we’ll hear Langford’s murder ballad “origins story.” Parts 2 and 3 will dig into why he wanted to record murder ballads, his relationship to country music and punk, and why he’s never written a murder ballad himself (that he knows of).  If you’d rather listen, I’ve included the original audio from our interview, with minor edits of the text to make it more reader friendly. Hope you enjoy!

Langford’s introduction to the murder ballad.

MBM: Do you remember when you first became conscious of this thing called the “murder ballad”?

Jon Langford: I’ve got a funny feeling it might be to do with Tom Jones, because most of his big hits in the 60s were country and western kind of inspired stuff, that was then given the big old London pop hit arrangements, like “Green, Green Grass of Home”, and particularly “Delilah”, which is a savage song about love and revenge. Which to me is always set in Cardiff, down by the docks, even though that’s not mentioned in the song.

MMB: That was just the scene you saw?

JL: For me, yeah, it was kinda like scary sailors.

MBM: Were you raised in Cardiff – you’re Welsh?

JL: Newport, just down the road. But I don’t know why I’d think the murder took place in Cardiff.

MBM: They’re known for their murders?

JL: (laughs). There’s a lot of murders in Cardiff! Famous murders in Cardiff.

MBM: That’s a vicious song. He’s got the knife, it is very graphic.

JL: Yeah, and he sees her cheating through the window, comes back the next day. She stood there laughing “Ha, ha ha!”
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Let’s take a break from the interview with Jon and review the lyrics of “Delilah.”

I saw the light on the night that I passed by her window
I saw the flickering shadows of love on her blind
She was my woman
As she deceived me I watched and went out of my mind

(Chorus)
My, my, my, Delilah
Why, why, why, Delilah

I could see that girl was no good for me
But I was lost like a slave that no man could free
At break of day when that man drove away, I was waiting
I cross the street to her house and she opened the door
She stood there laughing
I felt the knife in my hand and she laughed no more

My, my, my Delilah
Why, why, why Delilah

So before they come to break down the door
Forgive me Delilah I just couldn’t take any moreShe stood there laughing
I felt the knife in my hand and she laughed no more

My, my, my, Delilah
Why, why, why, Delilah

So before they come to break down the door
Forgive me Delilah I just couldn’t take any more
Forgive me Delilah I just couldn’t take any more 

Barry Mason wrote the song, and though he swore never to tell the story behind it, apparently all it took to get him to spill the beans to some friends was a few drinks.

Before we get back to Langford, we should also take a listen: here’s Tom Jones in all his young Welsh glory.

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Jon Langford: A friend of mine in Wales, Julian Hayman wrote a kind of answer record to it, which is called “I Shook the Blade at Delilah”.

MBM: (laughing) How does it go?

JL: (laughs, sings) “And all the tea in China/I felt the knife in my hand/I shook the blade at Delila/I shook the blade at Delilah.”

MBM: Wow.

JL: It’s a cool song. And in that song he doesn’t kill her, he shakes the blade at her and runs off. Sort of threatens her a bit and runs away. It’s a really strange song. But my grandmother used to love that song (“Delilah”), and it’s odd it was like number one in the charts in 1967 or 1968. And I was a little ten year old kid and my grandmother would like nothing better than me to stand up on a stool or a chair and sing “Delilah” for her at Christmas parties. And it’s a horrible song, it’s just misogynistic, it’s deeply offensive . . . it’s great!

MBM: But you put it into the mouth of Tom Jones, that deep baritone, and his sexy plunging necklines…

JL: Yeah! And it has all that crazy almost like klezmer-y things going on in the background (sings some notes). It’s an epic.

So probably it was Tom that introduced me to the murder ballad. But then, it was Cash as well. You know the first song I learned to play on the guitar was “Folsom Prison Blues,” with that classic line “I shot a man in Reno/just to watch him die.” And the Waco Brothers, I think we’ve done that every gig we’ve ever played. We always end with that.

MBM: What do you like about that song?

JL: Um . . . it’s just sort of relentlessly bleak. I think there’s something about murder ballads. I mean, you’ve got country and western music. I knew about Johnny Cash and I knew about Tom Jones when I was a little kid. But I didn’t really know what was good about country and western music. I thought it was horrible old people, you know on Irish TV channels late at night. A lot of old gits in blazers sort of strumming and singing about stuff that didn’t make any sense to me. Johnny Cash, I thought of him as kind of a rockabilly, like Elvis. A big star and that song’s just really tough. It’s a really hard song. And most of the country music I liked when I got into it later in the 1980s was that: The holy trinity of murder, cheating, and drinking. That seems to be what most country and western songs are about. There was a lot of George [Jones] and Tammy [Wynette] singing about love and stuff like that. But even that was about cheating and divorce. And those three things kind of defined to me what was interesting about country music. That it’s kind of this attempt to deal with awkward, real life things in the way old traditional folk music did, rather than the kind of pandering escapism of pop music. Which, of course, is what country music has now become, having banished (laughs) cheating, drinking and killing.

MBM: it’s interesting though that Johnny Cash and Tom Jones are both kind of swaggering, macho figures. I mean, I don’t think Johnny Cash uses his sexuality in the same way Tom Jones did.

JL: No. I think Tom Jones that’s just where he comes from. He doesn’t come from very far from where I come from (laughs), but it’s up the valleys, you know . . .

MBM: The land of tight pants and hairy chests?

JL: Yeah. I read his autobiography once and it’s appalling. He’s really stone age, Tom. I love him because he’s a national figure in Wales and his music, I really grew up with his music. My mother and sister had all his records and played them all the time. I met his sound man, Jeff the sound man, he works with Elvis Costello as well. I had a good chat with him once about Tom Jones, I was just kind of fascinated. I said “What’s he like?” He said “Oh, he’s bloody magic Tom is, he’s great! He just likes beer and shagging.” And he said “Last week we were at the Albert Hall, and Shirley Bassey’s there, they’re going to do a big duet at the Albert Hall. And it’s like 11 o’clock, and she’s come down to rehearse and we phone his minder: ‘Where’s Tom? Tom’s not here, Shirley’s here.’ And they were like ‘Oh, we’re on the Edgware Road. He’s waiting for the pub to open. He’s been up all night and he says he can’t face Shirley without a couple of pints in him!'”

So he’s like . . . he’s like a valley boy, they’ve very simple needs. And he has this incredible weird open marriage as well. I don’t know what all this has to do with murder ballads but it’s just interesting to me that in so many mainstream hits of that period, particularly Tom Jones and Johnny Cash, you know killing and murder was the main subject matter. It seems like some weird attempt to confront reality.
*******

On that closing thought from Langford, let’s contemplate the “weird attempt” of Johnny Cash to confront reality in “Folsom Prison Blues.” I’ve chosen to share the video of his performance at Folsom Prison, though it only features the audio and not the actual footage of Cash performing.

Please note the way the prisoners erupt in cheers and applause at the line “I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die”. 

Here’s some interesting background on the Folsom performances. Cash performed other murder ballads there as well, including “Long Black Veil” and “25 Minutes to Go.”

Johnny Cash performed at many prisons throughout his career, but the first time was in 1958, at the maximum security penitentiary San Quentin. Apparently Merle Haggard was in the prison and so part of the audience for Cash’s performance, which helped send Haggard down the path to his own brilliant career in music.

Here’s a great performance of “San Quentin” by Johnny Cash, in the prison of the same name. In a later part of our interview, Langford talks about his efforts, with The Mekons, to break down the “wall” between artist and audience. Cash clearly does that here.

So that’s Part 1. Tune in Wednesday for part 2 of our interview with Jon, and part 3 on Friday. In the meantime, do you remember the first murder ballad you ever heard? If so, share your tune/memories in the comments section below.