A strange character introduces himself: "They call me Hanging Johnny ... But I never hung nobody ..."
But after that little disclaimer Johnny begins bragging about all the people he has hanged. His mother, his brother, his sister Nancy, a robber, a police officer, a friar, his own mates and skippers ..." Different versions include different victims.
It's no wonder this morbid little sea chanty delights me so.
Indeed, "Hanging Johnny" is a classic sea chanty. It's a halyard chanty, a call and response sung by crew members engaged in a long, tedious task like setting the sails on a ship.
According to the liner notes of a 1967 EP titledChicken on a Raft by a folk group called The Young Tradition:
"Hanging Johnny" is a good example of a shanty that was ready made for stringing out, a trick used by the shantyman for lengthening a song to suit the job in hand. Anyone could be a candidate for Hanging Johnny's rope until he had enough verses to finish the job.
On her folk ballad site The Contemplator, Lesley Nelson-Burns writes:
There is speculation that "Hanging Johnny" may refer to the eighteenth century hangman, Jack Ketch. In fact "Jack Ketch" was a term used to refer to all hangman, named after a Jack Ketch who was the executioner at Tyburn from 1663-1686.
However, a web page about "Hanging Johnny" in the Traditional Ballad Index on the California State University, Fresno website says:
According to most sources, the "hanging" in this song does not refer to execution. Great Lakes sailor Carl Joys said it referred to the young sailors who went aloft to swing out the halyards when a sail was hoisted. Another account says it referred to a sailor who held a rope lashed to other sailors. If this "hanger" let them go in a bad sea, they would be washed overboard and lost.
I guess that would explain Johnny's claim that he never hung nobody.
Part of "Hanging Johnny" was featured in a scene from the 1962 movie version of Herman Melville's Billy Budd. (UPDATE 6-18-20: I had a clip of the song from the movie, but it's no longer on YouTube. If it somejhow reappers, please let me know!)
Here is a version recorded by ethnographer Sidney Robertson Cowell in Belvedere, Calif. Performing are a bunch of sailors -- Captain Leighton Robinson, Alex Barr, Arthur Brodeur, and Leighton McKenzie.
This one's from a 1979 Smithsonian Folkways album Sea Songs: Louis Killen, Stan Hugill and the X Seamen's Institute sing of Cape Horn sailing at the Seattle Chantey Festival
But my favorite is a more recent take on "Hanging Johnny" by Stan Ridgway, which appeared on Hal Wilner's 2006 various artist compilation Rogue's Gallery.
I'm not sure whether Budweiser was sponsoring Tiny
On Nov. 30, 1996 Herbert Butros Khaury, better known as Tiny Tim, performed his final gig at a benefit concert at the Woman’s Club of Minneapolis.
He hadn't been feeling well that day. And he'd suffered a heart attack a few weeks before at a ukulele festival in Massachusetts. So after performing an abbreviated version of his hit novelty song "Tiptoe Through the Tulips." His wife, Susan Khaury, told The Associated Press that she'd gone up to the stage to help him back to their table.
It was then when he collapsed.
"He went out with a big bang. Very theatrical," Miss Sue told the wire service. "That was his way, to collapse in front of hundreds of people."
The singer died at a Minneapolis hospital later that night.
So in honor of a true entertainer, here are some videos of Tiny singing some songs he's not normally known for.
On this one he sings "Earth Angel" on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1970 with a group called The Enchanted Forest.
Here's a "duet" with himself on Australian TV. (Sorry, but I don't recognize the song. If you know it, please tell me in the comments section.)
This is a clip from You Are What You Eat, a film by Peter Yarrow (Peter, Paul and Mary.) The female singer here is Eleanor Barooshian, aka Chelsea Lee, who later was in a girl group called The Cake, (which is a story in itself.) Allegedly The off-camera band on this song is none other than The Band.)
For the last quarter century of his career, Tiny Tim was considered an "outsider" musician. In that light, seeing him perform on national TV with Bing Crosby seems almost like Frank Sinatra sharing the stage with The Shaggs. But here he is with Der Bingle -- and a nice cameo by Bobbie Gentry toward the end.
Tiny has been featured in Wacky Wednesday a couple of times before:
Welcome to this month's Big Enchilada, where we're all just dancing at Doom's Doorway. To quote the ascended master Warren Zevon, "Get up and dance or I'll kill ya!" This show includes a tribute to Billy Miller, who died this month, and the fabulous Norton Records.
Sunday, Nov. 27, 2016 KSFR, Santa Fe, N.M. 10 p.m. to midnight Sundays Mountain Time Host: Steve Terrell Webcasting! 101.1 FM
(This show was prerecorded. It originally aired Sept. 2, 2012) OPENING THEME: Let it Out (Let it All Hang Out) by The Hombres Dive by L7 Mr. Big Hat by The McCool Whips Suicide Cat by Pong Your Pretty Face is Going to Hell by Iggy & The Stooges Nobody to Love by The 13th Floor Elevators Maelstrom by Rocket From the Crypt Four O'Clocker by Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 I Pity the Man by The Hickoids Draggin' the Line by Tommy James & The Shondells (Russian title) by Pussy Riot Hang On by Pussy Galore Cuckoo by The Monks Milkshake and Honey by Sleater-Kinney Tiger Lillian by Kevin Coyne Hot Rod Baby by Elvis From Outer Space Somebodu Knockin' by T-Model Ford Women and Wimmen by John Lee Hooker Nancy Sinatra Tribute Set Nancy Sinatra by The Bottle Rockets How Does That Grab You by Empress of Furrs Summer Wine by Rick Shea & Patty Booker Some Velvet Morning by Firewater These Boots Are Made for Walkin' by Johnny Thunders & Wayne Kramer Lightnin's Girl by Lydia Lunch You Only Live Twice by Nancy Sinatra Prisoner of The Tiki Room by Mojo Nixon The Trip by Donovan Done Got Old by Robert Belfour No Chance by Houndog Between the Ditches by The Rev. Peyton's Big Damn Band Long Black Veil by The Walkabouts The Port of Amsterdam by David Bowie Subscribe to The Big Enchilada Podcast! CLICK HERE
In the not-so-distant past, every now and then I would encounter a special sort of reader who seemed to love to play what I call “stump the critic.” This is the sort of guy — and it would always be a guy — who would go down some list in his head of obscure bands and singers until he got to ones to which I wasn’t hip.
These days I wouldn’t last long in such a game. It’s true that I don’t like a large percentage of the new crap that’s out there. But it’s also possible that there’s another factor at work. Maybe I’ve become more musically conservative in my advanced years and more cynical about what constitutes musical innovation.
But one thing I can say for myself: I was a fan of Churchwood before most people outside of Austin, which means I’m far cooler than most of those “stump the critic” twits. And Churchwood, as they prove once again with their recently released fourth album, Hex City, is a band that all true rock ’n’ roll fans should seek out.
Now.
Churchwood is fronted by singer Joe Doerr, an English professor by day, and guitarist Bill Anderson, who I only recently realized used to play with the acoustic country/punk group The Meat Purveyors, who were always one of the highlights of Bloodshot Records’ annual South by Southwest party at the Yard Dog Art Gallery. Anderson and Doerr have been co-conspirators for decades in various Austin bands.
Some critics — and in fact their own record company, Saustex — have called them an avant-garde blues band. There’s a lot of truth in that. You can certainly hear the influence of Captain Beefheart — who put the sounds of Howlin’ Wolf through a Dadaist meat grinder — in Churchwood’s musical magic.
Churchwwod live in Austin 2015
But the band goes well beyond the Captain’s brand of blues. You also can hear echoes of Beefheart’s pal Frank Zappa in Churchwood’s knack for suddenly changing time signatures in the middle of a song. I’ve compared them to Pere Ubu.
And a current weird musical fantasy of mine is producing a split album that would have Churchwood doing songs by The Fall on one side and The Fall covering Churchwood tunes on the other.
On this album, the band’s basic lineup — which includes guitarist Billysteve Korpi, Adam Kahan on bass, and drummer Julien Peterson — is fortified on some songs by a horn section (The Money Shot Brass) and a pair of female vocalists called The Nicotine Choir.
Every track is filled with incredible blues, funk, and sometimes even metal riffs, as if the Dap-Kings were in a vicious battle with the Butthole Surfers while Doerr plays the role of oracle, unleashing barrages of verse.
By the title, you might suspect “One Big White Nightmare” is about the 2016 election. But what I hear is Doerr standing on the sidelines of some pending apocalypse laughing insanely while shooting arrows of flaming literary imagery: “Haiku: seventeen syllables/frame about a doubt with a grim conclusion/yahoo: all the Houyhnhnms in the world/are getting rounded and ridden into mass delusion …”
(Houyhnhnms? That should get a Swift response.)
Desperately fleeing from some crazy unnamed trouble is a theme that runs through more than one song on Hex City. On the low and slow “Hallelujah” (no, not the song by Leonard Cohen, peace be upon him), Doerr sings, “Yeah, we slithered out of Dodge in a ’60 El Camino/and we parked beneath a sycamore tree/the radio was playing ‘Found My Love in Portofino’ when you entered all the terms of my plea. …”
A few songs later, on “Chickasaw Fire,” he rapidly recites, “payin’ no attention ’cause I’m jailhouse broke/I drive a stolen Cadillac and into the smoke/of a Chickasaw fire. …”
Hex City itself is a dangerous adventure. And the adventure only deepens with every listen.
Also recommended:
* The Out of Towners by Hickoids. This is a bittersweet EP by these venerated Austin cowpunks and Saustex Records flagship band. It’s a happy occasion because this is the first Hickoids release since 2013’s Hairy Chafin’ Ape Suit. But it’s also sad because the six tracks on this CD are the last recordings by the late Davy Jones, the lanky goofball guitarist known for his sweet smile, tacky plaid suits, colorful paint-flecked boots, and cowboy hats.
Jones -- a founding Hickoids member along with Saustex commander Jeff Smith -- died of lung cancer a year ago. In fact, this column is being published on Nov. 25, the first anniversary of Davy’s death.
The Out of Towners is a collection of covers of songs written by some of the band’s favorite songwriters from Texas. It kicks off with a sweet-sounding version of “I Have Always Been Here Before” by the Lone Star State’s favorite psychedelic ranger, Roky Erickson, and includes a blistering take on Willie Nelson’s hit “Night Life” and a more reverent cover of Doug Sahm’s “At the Crossroads,” a song best known for the line “you just can’t live in Texas if you ain’t got a whole lot of soul.”
The late great Davy Jones
There’s a slow, soulful song by Santa Fe resident Terry Allen called “I Just Left Myself Today,” (“I didn’t float, I didn’t fly, I did not transcend. No I just walked out on me again”) from his classic Lubbock on Everything album. And there’s “Dead in a Motel Room,” a dark rocker by the Dicks, an old Austin punk rock band that included Jones. This one has a harmonica solo by Walter Daniels of Big Foot Chester and Meet Your Death.
One of my favorite tunes here is “Cans,” which was written by Rich Minus, who is better known for writing “Laredo Rose,” which was recorded by the Texas Tornados. Minus died earlier this year at the age of seventy-five. “Cans” is the story of a homeless man. I don’t think this band has ever sounded prettier.
Here are some Videos for yas
First some Churchwood. I found some from their recent CD release party at the Hole in the Wall in Austin.
And here is America's beloved Hickoids. Smitty is woefully under-miked here, but this clip captures a big chunk of the Hickoids spirit.
And here's an old favorite tune recorded at the Davy Jones memorial in April.
A strange character introduces himself: "They call me Hanging Johnny ... But I never hung nobody ..."
