The Changing Narrative of Traditional Murder Ballads
“He stabbed her through her heart and her heart’s blood did flow, and into the grave she did go.” - “Pretty Polly”
As a wave of true crime fascination floods western media, it is essential to remember that these modern forms of morbid storytelling are not the first of its genre. Murder ballads were true crime stories that came to America with early English, Irish and Scottish immigrants. The songs changed in form, but not in essence, as they became acculturated to the new environment and enriched with new musical and cultural influences. The genre of specifically American murder ballads originates mainly from the mountains of Appalachia, where it served as a way to spread news, to entertain and educate, and as a way of preserving local culture. The genre became a form of oral history: many of the chilling ballads were based on true events. The singers would take real crimes committed during their time and transpose them to a song, with simple melodies allowing them to be carried across the mountains. Over time, murder ballads became part of the musical tradition of families, sung to children throughout generations, and used as cautionary tales for young women.
Traditional murder ballads follow a fixed form, the tales often starting in a similar manner: with two lovers, their romance secret from a disapproving world. Often, the man is betrothed to another or refuses to marry his lover, when, due to lack of contraception and sexual education, she becomes pregnant. He is then faced with a choice. Instead of taking responsibility, he decides on murder or abandonment. While sometimes it is through the man's jealous rage or the woman’s own heartbreak, it is rare the woman will survive in the ballad. The fact that these were true crime stories, that were then made public through song, makes them particularly memorable, as they focus on the extreme violence perpetrated against women: “I drew my saber through her / which was a bloody knife / I threw her into the river / which was an awful sight” (“Willow Garden”). This fascination with the gory details of a crime committed against an innocent victim persists today. Such vivid images are present in crime scene photos and brutal recountings are told throughout the media; it is an age-old tactic used to keep the image embedded in the viewer’s mind. Many are fascinated by the obscene because they believe it will never impact them, while others try and learn how best to avoid such horrors. The media, on the other hand, uses such tales as a source of revenue, for the more morbid it is the higher ratings they are likely to obtain.
“Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found, shot through the heart, lying cold on the ground” - “Poor Ellen Smith”
And yet this is not the most disturbing part. Traditionally narrated from a male point of view, murder ballads often shed a sympathetic light on the man and while the woman’s name is repeated throughout the lyrics, he remains anonymous. “Down in the Willow Garden” is an example; it is told from the man’s perspective as he poisons and stabs his lover while she is sleeping, proceeding to then dump her body in the river. After he is caught he explains, “My father often told me that money would set me free / if I did murder that dear little girl whose name was Rose Connolly,” and pities his father, who “sits by his own cabin door / wiping his tear-brimmed eyes.” It is clear in the ballad that he is more upset about being brought to justice or that he got caught, not because he murdered Rose.
A phenomenon that persists today, particularly among white men, is the offender’s lack of remorse for violence against women but which is coupled with their insistence to be heard and receive non-reciprocal sympathy. They tell their own story, often painting themselves as victims whose lives will be ruined by imprisonment. Written by white men, the ballads focus on the crimes of white men and, like the mainstream media, prefer to garner sympathy on their troubles. Even when justice is served, their names live on while their victims are forgotten. Think of the notorious serial killer Ted Bundy and all you know about him, and then try to name the 36 women that he killed. While omitting the names of the killers, murder ballads avoid the overt focus on the man and fail to hold him accountable. The murderer is presented as a sympathetic victim and the woman, whether her name is used or not, is thrown into the river, and we, the listeners learn nothing of who she was.
“He kissed her and hugged her and turned her around. Then he pushed her into the river where he knew she would drown” - “Omie Wise”
In this new age of folk, some artists have denounced these ballads, explaining that they no longer want to perpetuate this narrative. “I Ain’t Playing Pretty Polly” by artist Dirk Powell, is such a statement, claiming that society today is in a place where we no longer tolerate this violence against women. He does not want his daughters to be forced to take murder ballads as cautionary tales and be prepared to protect themselves against violent men. Yet, the simple act of not singing these ballads will not change the reality that we still live in a world where women are subject to aggression and sexual violence. Instead of helping raise awareness of these issues, the ballads could be lost, and with them an integral part of traditional Appalachian music. Visually disturbing horrors perpetrated against women will still be projected in the media and the glorification of violence against women will continue. If the narrative surrounding these ballads could change, it would be far more productive than letting them fade from the world. They could be used to raise awareness of how much society still has to improve, profits from albums should go to victims of assault, and they should remind people of all genders, that violence is an ever-present threat to women.
“He went down the jailhouse and what did he say, I’ve killed Pretty Polly and trying to get away” - “Pretty Polly”
Some women artists, such as Dolly Parton and Kelli Jones-Savoy, have already made it their mission to reclaim this vocal tradition and change the narrative. While still containing murder and other forms of violence against women, the tale is now told from the female perspective. “The Bridge” by Dolly Parton tells the story of a young woman who has fallen for a man and finds herself pregnant after one passionate night. He leaves her and out of despair, she goes back to the bridge that they used to court at and throws herself over to drown herself and her unborn child. The song ends abruptly as she drowns, leaving the listener stunned. While still a tragic and violent ending, what the audience is left with is different than at the end of a song such as “Down in the Willow Garden”. Instead of the remnants of a pitiful murderer mourning his loss of freedom, there is sorrow for the life of an innocent woman whose only crime was to love.
The story focuses on the victim instead of sympathizing with the perpetrator, and the focus shifts to the injustice and pain she went through instead of listening to a murderer lament of how he got caught and must now suffer the consequences.
In “Inch Above Your Knee,” Kelli Jones-Savoy takes a traditional cautionary tale and again puts it in the perspective of the woman. In this story, a girl goes “downtown like an honest girl,” meets a boy, and takes him to her mother’s house where he rapes her. The repeated use of calling him an “honest boy” as she tells the story of her rape provides a sense of irony and a scathing social commentary on men and their sexual dominance. Currently, rape is still not seen fully as the horrific crime that it is, leaving men to run free and the women’s stories doubted. Even in this era of #metoo, society frequently doubts the validity of women’s claims, focusing more on what they were wearing than the fact that her boundaries and body were violated. By changing the narrative Jones-Savoy creates a form of empowerment, and like in “The Bridge” the story is now in the hands of the victim.
“Raised my dress over my head, like an honest boy do, and then he done it to me and said to hell with you” - “Inch Above Your Knee”
While today we revel in the morbid images of the Black Dhalia and obsess over who killed Jon Benet Ramsey, we must note the violent and gendered roots of true crime in the media, murder ballads. As violence against women persists, it is necessary to continue to present these cautionary tales that have been passed down through generations. Some artists like Dirk Powell claimed that they will no longer sing such ballads in the hopes that women should no longer have to fear the violence and harassment that will occur throughout their lives. However, we can’t simply hide the horrific moments of the past and think that our society has moved beyond such injustice. As long as men are continuously let free for their crimes, the names of these women should be sung. The narrative surrounding these ballads should change to project the voices of women and show that women are no longer the helpless “damsel in distress,” but will fight by whatever means necessary until perpetrators of violence are held accountable for their actions.
