Perhaps the scariest three minutes of music ever recorded were by Nehemiah “Skip” James in 1931, in Grafton, Wisconsin, for the old Paramount blues label.
Here’s the original recording of Skip James’ Hard Time Killing Floor Blues. The way I heard it was that it refers to James working the “killing floor” in a Chicago slaughterhouse.
Any guitar player who has tried to do this song can tell you that it isn’t easy. I think James recorded it in Em tuning; for the sake of not popping strings, I’ve shifted it to Dm in my poor attempts to play it. This style of fingerpicking blues evidently originated in or near Bentonia, Mississippi, where James was from. My dad drove us through Bentonia when I was a kid; it’s a wide spot in the road near where Highway 49 crosses the Yazoo River.
The idea of someone doing this song on an electric guitar is not so novel– I do it on a Strat– but doing it with a band, live, and with an accordion and drums as part of the deal . . . well, it took Lucinda Williams and her fine band to manage that and the following YouTube video is, to me, stunning. Their spare arrangement just nails it:
Sorry I can’t provide any info on this video; the intro, showing someone playing James recording his song on a Stella guitar, is very well done. Folks who knew Skip James, who died in Philly in 1969, say he wasn’t a very happy person much of the time but I suspect he’d love what Ms Williams and her associates did with his wonderful song.
AN ASIDE . . .
It occurs to me that it was almost exactly 50 years ago that our family drove through Bentonia, Mississippi. At the time, the late summer of 1963, we were living in Houma, Louisiana, which is southwest of New Orleans. I don’t know what possessed my dad to move there; they must have had a great airport as flying was the only thing that he cared about. I remember that we were living there when John Kennedy was killed.
My mom, my brother Jeff and I loved Houma. It was deep in the Cajun bayou country and the food, music and people were wonderful. Near Houma was a smaller town called Thibodaux, on the banks of Bayou Lafourche, where my dad took us to a superb little seafood restaurant on the weekends; here’s a photo I took of Jeff standing on Thibodaux’s main drag. Moody and magnificent, wasn’t he?
Here are my mom, Jeff and me in front of our house on Willard Avenue; I’m the geeky-looking guy wearing glasses; I wasn’t moody or magnificent, but at least I was cheerful:
Anyway, there was a hurricane about to hit in that area and it was something to worry about. All that part of the Gulf Coast is low-lying, and the Houma/Thibodaux area especially so. If you recall the Swamp Thing comic books, they were set in Houma. So my dad decided the smart thing to do would be for us to hop in the white DeSoto and spend a few days in Yazoo City, Mississippi (250 miles due north and on higher ground), and Bentonia is 15 miles south of that town.
As it happened, the hurricane came up as far as Yazoo City so we didn’t escape much. But I got to see Bentonia, never dreaming that one day I’d wish I’d paid more attention to it!
Aug 24, 2013 @ 13:12:16
Excellent! Now I’m going to have to look up Lucinda on Youtube!
Aug 24, 2013 @ 13:13:42
Tara, that will be time well spent! My son and wife saw her open for Tom Petty years ago and were impressed!
–Jim
Aug 24, 2013 @ 13:23:01
I’ve been a fan of Lucinda Williams for a long time. She’s very gritty and a good story teller with her music. She’s written tons of stuff for other musicians. Check out her YouTube video and the song, “Joy”. For a song that really only has 1 chord, the hook say it all-“You took my joy and I want it back”.
Aug 24, 2013 @ 17:48:54
Thanks, Paulette! I’ll check that song out!
–Jim
Aug 24, 2013 @ 13:36:29
Great story, Jim
Aug 24, 2013 @ 17:20:46
This is kinda long. Hope that’s not a problem, Bluesman.
Skip James was a quite interesting figure. He didn’t support himself with his music, but was a pimp and bootlegger. He had some serious emotional conflicts and was, in may ways, his own worst enemy. Stephen Calt has written a good biography of him, “I’d Rather Be the Devil,” which is reviewed on the “reading page” of http://RoadDawgBlues.com.
I liked that photo of the Blue Front. I sat on that front porch for a couple hours one Saturday afternoon about twenty-five years ago, having stopped on a trip from Yazoo City to Jackson. The power was out and several people were sitting around playing an acoustic guitar they were passing around. One guy was blowing a home made flute. Another had a four-stringed instrument made from a small oak keg that had been cut in half length-ways, the open side filled with a board that had a “Case” logo branded on it. He said his granddaddy made it back in the ’40s. They were passing around a bottle of shine, for which the BF has been famous for decades, and talking about R.L. Burnside, who’d stopped by for a beer a couple of hours before I arrived. (This was before the release of the film, “Deep Blues” from which Burnside had become widely known. I had just recently become aware of him.)
As it turned out, one of the guys there was from Artesia, Mississippi, over in the Black Prairie, and he recognized me from hanging at Big Joe Williams’ trailer outside Crawford. He asked me about that. It had been more than a decade before and I didn’t remember him, but I guess he would have been likely to remember a blonde-headed white boy at Big Joe’s. Once it was established that I had known Big Joe, I got included in the circuit of the shine bottle.
There was a meat smoker made from an old upright freezer and filled with chicken on the ground next to the porch. A pile of wood chunks for the smoker fire included a few which appeared to be cut from a creosote fence post. I asked about that and was told that it gave the meat a good flavor. (“Liquid Smoke” is made from, essentially, creosote, but of the wood tar variety instead of the coal tar variety most commonly used for wood preservation.) The smoker door had a hole cut in it, covered by a piece of plywood with a screw in one corner. They were able to swivel that cover out of the way, reach in through the hole and remove small pieces without having to open the door and let all the smoke and heat out. I was given a small chicken leg and it was pretty tasty, but the thought of creosote, which had burned the hide off of me on more than one occasion, caused me to decline an offer of more.
Eventually, a couple of guys showed up who were quite drunk and evidently had been kicked out of someplace else for starting a fight. One of them was quite angry about something and things degenerated from there fairly quickly. I took my leave and headed south.
Aug 24, 2013 @ 17:50:20
Hey, Beaz! You and your wonderful adventures are welcome any time and the longer the stories, the better!!! Your site is one I recommend to people all the time.
–Jim
Aug 25, 2013 @ 00:46:30
You da man.