Skip to main content

The Hand That Rocks The Camping Trip In The Woods: “Dueling Banjos” by Eric Weissberg and Steve Mandell



If you want to try to understand why American society is in its current parlous state, you might want to go back and watch Deliverance, a film which came out just at the point where some Americans delivered Richard Nixon back into the White House for a second time. Admittedly you could go further and deeper by doing some detailed research into the causes and effects of the Civil War, not to mention the first encounters between natives and colonisers. It is fitting that Deliverance was directed by an Englishman, since its roots lie in a decidedly Western European paranoia and/or fear of “the Other.”

If you so decide, then be warned that Deliverance is a rather merciless and pitiless film to watch. Horrible things happen in it. One of the four Atlanta city slickers dies. What happens to the Ned Beatty character is practically unwatchable. And yet, once the survivors are tactfully sent packing by the local sheriff – played by James Dickey, the author of the novel on which the film was based – the implication is that the whole thing could have been a hideous dream, an experience that won’t ever be forgotten, a new meaning to the concept of smoke on the water.

And yet – there is, early on in the movie, an oasis of miraculous mutual understanding. Hoyt Pollard is the boy plucking (or miming – local musician Mike Addis was sitting directly behind Pollard, doing the actual picking) the banjo, engaged in a musical conversation with a grinning, urbane Ronny Cox, who looks a little like Elvis and is the one who doesn’t make it back. The musical train patiently picks up speed until the result is as grand and rapid as the most timeless of unseen rivers, the cynosure of John Fogerty’s fantasy of The South.

There were complications; the tune was actually composed by Arthur “Guitar Boogie” Smith in 1954, then entitled “Feudin’ Banjos” (although the “Yankee Doodle” quotes remained), and was first recorded by Smith and banjoist Don Reno the following year. It originally appeared on television in 1963, when The Dillards performed it on The Andy Griffith Show. Used on Deliverance without permission, Smith successfully sued for co-composer credits and royalties. But in this context it sounds like the oldest piece of music ever made and makes a fitting beginning to a year in which it can be fairly proposed that America was in the process of experiencing a nervous breakdown.

Date Record Made Number Two: 24 February 1973
Number Of Weeks At Number Two: 4
Record At Number One: “Killing Me Softly With His Song” by Roberta Flack
UK Chart Position: 17 (credited in UK to “’Deliverance’ Soundtrack”)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Threads Of Alligator Lizards In The Air: “Purple Rain” by Prince and The Revolution

The original idea was for a country-style collaboration with Stevie Nicks, to whom Prince sent a ten-minute instrumental backing track, asking her to come up with some lyrics. However, Nicks was overwhelmed by what she heard and feared that the task was too much for her to take on, so the song was reworked in rehearsal with The Revolution, utilising Wendy Melvoin’s guitar phrasing as a new guideline. The song appears to have existed before the film; Purple Rain the movie is best described as lucid hokum, but its soundtrack changed the atoms which constituted “pop,” far more so than much ostensibly radical music of the period. For many of that decade’s generation, Purple Rain the soundtrack was “our” Ziggy Stardust – better conceived, performed and produced in every way – and the title song, which closes the album, was “our” “Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide.” It is such a patient epic, the song, and about a lot of things, and people – each of the verses addresses a different su

A Pre-Emptive, Though Hopefully Temporary, Bowing Out: “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me” by Elton John

This isn’t quite the last piece of music I’ll be writing about before taking a long break from writing this blog (and most other things) – there’s one more song tomorrow that I’ve been persuaded to write up before I disappear – but the situation is this; I am imminently due to go into hospital for major surgery to treat a long-standing and hugely-annoying hernia. This should have been sorted out years ago but for reasons too tedious to document it’s only being sorted out now. It is going to be a long, fairly complex and in places possibly pioneering procedure. I am being operated on by world-class surgeons whom I trust implicitly and there has been much liaison between my local hospital (where I’ll be going) and the hospital where I myself work to enable this to happen. However, I have to warn you that the procedure carries a fairly high risk of what medical people call “morbidities,” mainly to do with breathing and cardiac issues, for which I will be closely monitored in I

“I Would Have Thought In The Middle Of The Atlantic In The Middle Of The Night That Rockets Must Mean Trouble”: “I’m Not In Love” by 10cc

"watching for night, with absinthe eye cocked on the lone, late, passer-by." (Sylvia Plath, "Prospect," 1956) This story begins in 1954, before most people had really recognised anything called rock, and a pop record which is half-perfect. That record, which stayed at number one in our charts for ten weeks, was “Cara Mia” by David Whitfield with Mantovani and his Orchestra and Chorus. Now, Whitfield was never the most subtle of singers and his in-your-face bellowing is somewhat distracting – it is significant that he was the first British reality media star (not from television, because at that time Opportunity Knocks was only broadcast on Radio Luxembourg) since his climactic high C at the end of “Cara Mia” is like a display of gymnastics, or an athletic field event; can he do that triple loop or throw that javelin beyond the stadium? It proves that technical prowess can often render itself unlistenable. But the magic here lies in the extraordinary