Skip to main content

The Tales Of November Come Late: “The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot



In many ways, this is a strange and rather old-fashioned song for the mid-seventies, even though the events which it describes were then only a year old. The SS Edmund Fitzgerald was for over seventeen years a Great Lakes freighter, transporting pellets of iron ore from mines near Duluth, Minnesota, to iron works in Detroit, Toledo and other Great Lake ports. On the afternoon of 9 November 1975, under the command of its Canadian captain Ernest M McSorley, the ship set sail from Lake Superior, bound for Detroit. But an early storm broke the following day; the ship filled up with water and then capsized – or possibly split – and sank, and although the wreck of the ship was found a few months later, none of the bodies of its twenty-nine-strong crew has ever been found. It sank in Canadian waters.


Lightfoot read an article about the disaster in Newsweek, which helped unlock his long-standing writer’s block and inspire the song. He tells the story as simply as possible, though according to the record’s co-producer (with Lightfoot himself) Lenny Waronker, he agonised for some time over the lyrics, wanting to get the facts as right as possible. His story is not entirely accurate – the ship, as noted above, was heading for Detroit, not Cleveland, and the Detroit hall in which the mourners congregate was not “musty” (he later changed it, in concert, to “rustic old hall”) – but in itself, as a song, it became its own legend.


This is a distinctly Canadian record in ambience, approach and delivery, and it is perhaps not fully understood just how important a figure Gordon Lightfoot is in Canadian music. To the outside world he was this bearded folkie who had a few thoughtful hits in the seventies, but in Canada, where his work has been known since the late fifties, he is as revered as Cohen, Mitchell or Young. In its way “Wreck” is the melancholy other side of the “Four Strong Winds” coin, and, as 1966’s “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” proves, Lightfoot has always been deeply minded when it comes to his country’s history and character.


The record itself (and it must be heard in the context of its parent album, Summertime Dream; avoid re-recordings) is six minutes and twenty-eight seconds of brisk yet melancholy – and late autumnal – folk-rock (in the Dorian mode) with the breeze of the faint gales whistling through the song’s bones. Little wonder that Waronker would go on to sign R.E.M. – there is definitely something of the song’s aura permeating Automatic For The People – but for at least two generations of tyro-guitarists, this, like Rush’s “Closer To The Heart,” has been a song that they have to learn and be able to play before they can call themselves a guitarist. As anyone who’s been there will tell you, it’s a Canadian thing - where else would you hear the extra syllable in "Detroit"?


Date Record Made Number Two: 20 November 1976
Number Of Weeks At Number Two: 2
Record At Number One: “Tonight’s The Night (Gonna Be Alright)” by Rod Stewart
UK Chart Position: 40

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