Early in the movie Raising Arizona (1987), after Hi (Nicholas Cage) and Edwina (Holly Hunter) have kidnapped Nathan Jr., Edwina is heard singing a song to the baby. If you listen carefully, you will notice that it is not a happy lullaby but a song about murder. What is the song?
The song has a long history and was not original to the film. It is called “Down in the Willow Garden,” although it is sometimes entitled after the murder victim, “Rose Connelly.”
“Down in the Willow Garden”
“Down in the Willow Garden” is a traditional Appalachian murder ballad, about a man who kills a woman named Rose Connelly. Much is ambiguous about the song, but it appears she was pregnant. And the singer tells us he killed her because his father offered to pay him.
My father he had told me, His money would set me free, If I would poison that dear little girl, Whose name was Rose Connelly.
And so, the singer “drew a sabre through her” (and apparently poisoned her too). He then throws her body in the river and runs. But then he tells us what happened to him, with the twist that his father now must watch his son be hanged.
My father weeps at his cabin door, Wipin’ his tear dimmed eyes; For soon his only son shall hang From yonder scaffold high.
My race is run beneath the sun, My sentence is waiting for me, For I did poison that dear little girl Whose name was Rose Connelly.
We hear Holly Hunter sing that last verse to the baby Nathan Jr. in Raising Arizona. At the time, Hi has just awakened from a nightmare about the crime he and his wife just committed.
There is a bit of dark humor there in the movie scene: The kidnapper is singing about another crime and about the perpetrator being caught and punished.
Although it may seem odd to sing about a murder to a baby, it is not that unusual for murder ballads to be used this way. And a lot of songs we sing to children have dark undertones that only we as adults appreciate. I often sing “Goodnight Irene” to my newborn, but once you leave the chorus, the song is about a man losing his wife and contemplating suicide. I know others who sing “You Are My Sunshine” to their children. But again, once you leave the chorus, you realize the song is about a woman leaving the singer.
Here, in Raising Arizona, there is something sweet about Hunter singing the song. Its tune is comforting to the baby even as the words speak of something darker. The baby, who only hears the music, is reassured, while the lyrics reflect on the lingering guilt hanging over the adults.
Versions of “Down in the Willow Garden”
Early recorded versions of “Down in the Willow Garden” go back to the 1920s. And the song’s origins most likely go back through Appalachia to Ireland in the 1800s. The tune accompanying the lyrics reportedly come from the song “Old Rosin the Beau.”
In more modern times, the song has been recorded by Flatt and Scruggs, The Stanley Brothers, Jerry Garcia, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, Art Garfunkel, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and the Chapin Sisters. Bringing it back the Coen Brothers’ movie Raising Arizona, Bon Iver and The Chieftains recorded a version used to close one of the episodes of the second season of The Coen Brothers’ inspired Fargo TV series.
More recently, on an album of songs in tribute to The Everly Brothers, Billie Joe Armstrong (of Green Day) and Norah Jones recorded their harmonious version of “Down in the Willow Garden.” Their version appeared on Foreverly (2013), which they recorded as Billie +Norah.
The timeless song continues to live through these modern recordings. And, as noted above, it has also appeared in movies and TV shows, including recently at the end credits of the HBO show Sharp Objects.
Why is “Down in the Willow Garden” so timeless? We do not know if there was a real Rose Connelly, but the story rings true. It reminds us of the stupidity, foolishness, and cruelty of humans. Something we are reminded of all too often. But it also finds some beauty in the way we do not let the tale be forgetten.
On October 14, 1957, the Everly Brothers scored their first number one song with “Wake Up Little Susie.” The song had been released on September 2 as a follow-up to their hit “Bye Bye Love,” which had only gone to number two on the charts during that summer.
Controversy About the Lyrics
Some critics of “Wake Up Little Susie” raised concerns it was about teenage sex, and Don Everly later reported that the song was actually banned on some Boston radio stations at one point. Others, however, thought the song was a more innocent tale about two teenagers who had fallen asleep at the movies.
No matter how you read the song, you cannot deny it is quite catchy, which, along with the great harmonies by Don Everly and Phil Everly, are the reasons it went to the top of the charts. Check out this Everly Brothers performance from 1957 overdubbed with the hit single.
Simon & Garfunkel Version
Another duo with amazing harmonies, Simon & Garfunkel, later paid tribute to the Everly Brothers by performing “Wake Up Little Susie” at their famous Concert in Central Park on September 19, 1981.
Simon & Garfunkel also had some chart success with “Wake Up Little Susie.” The release of their Concert in Central Park version became Simon & Garfunkel’s last top 40 hit, with the song going to number 27 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1982.
A Beginning for the Everly Brothers
Although “Wake Up Little Susie” was the Everly Brother’s first number-one song, it was not their last. The Everly Brothers topped the charts again the following year in 1958 with “All I Have To Do Is Dream,” and they did it again in 1960 with “Cathy’s Clown.”
What is your favorite Everly Brothers song? Leave your two cents in the comments.
Happy Halloween! Warren Zevon was late in his career before I became a fan of his music. So my memories of him are mostly of him toward the end of his life. So I especially love seeing him rock out in this performance of the one of the great Halloween songs, “Werewolves of London.”
Zevon once referred to “Werewolves of London” as “a dumb song for smart people.” But, of course, it is quite brilliant. Zevon wrote the song with LeRoy Marinell and Waddy Wachtel, but they had some inspiration from Phil Everly of The Everly Brothers. Everly suggested the song title to Zevon after watching the 1935 film Werewolf of London, directed by Stuart Walker and starring Henry Hull, on late-night television.
Zevon, Marinell, and Wachtel began making up the lyrics for fun, adding in some howling. Zevon’s wife at the time, Crystal Zevon, wrote down the lyrics. The next day in the studio, Jackson Browne heard the new song, and he began performing it live years before Zevon got around to releasing it on an album in 1978.
Upon it’s eventual release, “Werewolves of London” became a Top 40 hit for Zevon. But according to George Plasketes, the author of a biography about the artist, Zevon initially felt insulted that the record label had selected that song for a single release over other songs Zevon preferred on the Excitable Boy (1978) album. The label’s choice proved correct, in the sense that “Werewolves of London” became a beloved classic.
The song even inspired the name for a baseball team in London, Ontario. And there is that wonderful opening line, “I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand.” This live performance by Zevon is from Oct 1, 1982 at the Capitol Theatre in Passiac, New Jersey. Check it out.
But I still cannot get this Tom Cruise image out of my head anytime I hear the song.
I am fascinated when I read about people who traveled around the United States in the early and mid-twentieth century discovering great blues musicians and folk songs. The music was always there, but more of it might have dwelled permanently in obscurity had the music not been recorded. Those tales seem stuck in the past, because with modern technology and the Internet almost anyone can post something on YouTube.
But there remains talented artists who fall through the cracks. These lost artists make one wonder if the future may hold a revival for some late in their careers or after they are dead — modern legends who are ghosts to us, just as Robert Johnson’s image and music embrace us across time. I hope that some day the world will rediscover Marty Brown.
Marty Brown’s Early Career
Marty Brown had some success in the 1990s with several outstanding albums. In 1990, he released his debut album, High And Dry which was not a big hit but did modestly well. One music critic gave the album an A+, saying Brown is “the sweetest surprise to ride the train in a long, long time and so authentically country he probably still has a tick in his navel.”
Small radio stations played his songs, but the big country radio stations ignored him, opting for less twangy artists. Brown’s voice and his heartbreak songs led writers to compare him to Hank Williams and Jimmie Rodgers, such as on the title song to the album. But I first heard of Brown when I saw the video for “Every Now and Then,” perhaps playing on VH-1 or CMT, with his Everly Brothers-type vocals.
Marty Brown was born in 1965 in the tiny Ohio River tobacco farming community of Maceo, Kentucky featured in the above video. He began writing his own songs when he was fourteen, sneaking away with a friend to play music at honky-tonk bars.
Later, Brown began making numerous trips to Nashville seeking a record deal while sleeping in an alley on Music Row. In 1991, the CBS news magazine show 48 Hours featured the artist in a story on country music. The feature led to Brown’s record deal with MCA.
During the Autumn of 1991, Entertainment Weekly and People Magazine described Brown’s tour to promote High and Dry. During the tour, Brown rode in the record company’s 1969 Cadillac convertible to perform at fairs and Wal-Marts throughout the South. At each Wal-Mart, he performed on a small stage in a store aisle with little amplification. Fans brought him homemade cookies and fishing lures.
At that time, the 26-year-old was already divorced with two kids and living with his parents. Just months before starting the tour, he was working as a plumber’s helper, making $5 an hour. While on his first tour, he explained that his goals were to buy his dad a bean field, put his kids through college, get a nice trailer for himself, and “not live no highfalutin life style.”
The comparisons to Hank Williams continued. Somewhere around this time, Brown was filmed backstage at the Grand Ole Opry singing Hank’s “Moanin’ the Blues” for a German documentary about the country-music legend.
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Brown’s Excellent Next Three Albums
In 1993, Brown tried to reach a wider audience with the more diverse Wild Kentucky Skies, which is one of my favorite albums. The album features break-up songs like “It Must Be the Rain” and love songs like “God Knows.” A folk ballad he wrote about his grandmother’s death, “She’s Gone,” would not sound out of place on Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music. During this time, he toured with Jimmie Dale Gilmore.
The title song, below, features a more lush production than a lot of his other honky-tonk songs, but there is still an aching country sound. One of his family members told a story about how Brown kept the Nashville Symphony Orchestra waiting the morning of the recording because he had a craving for a Big Mac. But then he nailed the song on the second take. “Wild Kentucky Skies” should be the official Kentucky state song.
In 1994, Brown released another excellent album, Cryin’ Lovin’ Leavin’, making a run of three outstanding albums in four years. AllMusic rates each of his first three albums 4-5 stars out of 5.
Brown did not sound like slick Nashville country. But the record company still hoped for Brown’s widespread success because it was the early 1990s. During this time, other neotraditionalist and alternative country artists like Steve Earle and Dwight Yoakam were breaking through and building audiences.
Brown received some critical acclaim. But again the sales were not as high as the record company wanted. MCA Records dropped him.
Brown then signed with the independent label Hightone and released Here’s to the Honky Tonks in 1996. For the most part, Brown wrote or co-wrote most of the songs on his four albums. And on Here’s to the Honky Tonks, he co-wrote almost all of them (including one track covered by Engelbert Humperdinck). The CD again garnered critical praise but weak sales.
He performed one of the songs from the album, “You Can’t Wrap Your Arms Around a Memory,” on Prime Time Country on TNN. On the show, he also explained that he was inspired to write the song while watching The Honeymooners late at night. [2015 Update: Unfortunately, that video is no longer available on YouTube.]
The Music Appears to Stop
And then after the four albums, that was it. Marty Brown disappeared. Only Here’s to the Honky Tonks remained in print. If you look him up on CMT or AllMusic.com or Wikipedia, the official story ends in 1996 with Here’s to the Honky Tonks.
In the early 2000’s, I found an address for a fan club in his hometown of Maceo, Kentucky, so I wrote to the address. But I never received a response.
But of course there is more to the story. As country music became more pop-oriented, Marty Brown disappeared from the limelight and did not perform except for family reunions. But he continued to write songs, and a few were recorded by other stars. He co-wrote 1998’s “I’m From the Country” for Tracy Byrd.
As time passed, Brown fell on some hard times as he fell out of the spotlight. In subsequent years the former local hero’s name occasionally appeared in the local newspaper in unfortunate stories unrelated to his music. For example, in 1997, just one year after Here’s to the Honky Tonks was released, Brown pleaded guilty in Indiana to a misdemeanor charge for taking an old engine block and selling it for scrap metal. He explained that he found the block in an alley, but he was fined and sentenced to probation.
Hope for a Comeback?
In the last few years, though, there have been signs of a career struggling to resurrect. Around 2008, a MySpace page popped up, selling a new CD he recorded with his son Marty Brown Jr. called Somethin’ Real. The website included some photos, showing that he had aged and was no longer the skinny kid in his early videos.
I ordered two copies of the new CD. When I received them, the cover label was merely a copy of the 1996 Here’s to the Honky Tonks cover, but it included an autograph. Despite the amateur packaging and non-major label recording, the new music still had some of the magic. On songs like the wonderful “She’s Beautiful Everywhere” he showed his voice remains one of the most authentic country voices around.
Today, a few years later, the MySpace page seems to be gone. Another webpage has information about buying the album and a mailing address. But it is unclear if the sales are still operating since the MySpace page linked to the site is gone. A Facebook fan page merely includes the abbreviated Wikipedia bio. [Update July 2011: See comments below for updated Facebook and other information.]
His son Marty Brown Jr. has a MySpace page but there is no mention of the music he made with his father. There are only a few Marty Brown videos on YouTube, and they do not fully illustrate his range.
Still, Marty Brown has not completely disappeared. In October 2010, he played at the Roxy Theater in Franklin, Kentucky. He still performs as a local celebrity, and he writes songs with new artists, as shown in this session with Michael Ray.
I suspect fans who live in his area appreciate his talent, and his work is influencing others, including his son Marty Brown Jr. as well as another talented young son who writes his own music. But Marty Brown should be getting national attention from genuine country music lovers.
What Happened?
Why did his national career die out in the 1990s? Not enough people connected with his music. You can blame that on several things, ranging from the promotion to his musical style.
I love his music, although I realize that his hardcore traditional country sound is not everyone’s cup of tea. For example, after I loaned a Marty Brown CD to a country fan friend, he told me he loved the CD but “my wife said she’d divorce me if I ever play that music again.” In the comments section under a Marty Brown video, one person wrote: “I never want to hear this song again.”
Maybe Marty Brown’s career stalled because the man was too authentic. He remained rooted in his small town, and even as his career was taking off, his dream remained to buy a trailer for his family. It is difficult to imagine him hanging out with the Nashville elite.
Some of my friends make fun of country music, but most Nashville singers can hang out with the big eastern city folk while at the same time maintaining some connection to the country. John Rich and Trace Adkins sing about being country boys, but they excelled in New York City on Celebrity Apprentice. I cannot picture Tim McGraw and Faith Hill doing yard work, but I can imagine Marty Brown mowing a lawn.
Many country singers come from small-town roots and they maintain that connection, but stardom takes them to another level. Even Steve Earle, authentic as they come and another brilliant artist who spent some years in the wilderness after encountering fame, moved to Greenwich Village.
Maybe Marty Brown would have moved on if he had he found lasting fame, but I cannot imagine him living in New York City or Atlanta or any other large city. He was always too attached to his roots, as shown by the video of “Every Now and Then.” He was and remains connected to his place and locked in time like many folk singers and old blues musicians. In spite of his amazing talent, destiny apparently prevented him from being a big star on a national stage.
Brown described his fear of obscurity in a 1992 Los Angeles Times article: “I’d go to bed at night, crying myself to sleep,” he recounted. “I’d ask the Lord why he gave me this talent to write these songs just to have them sit in a drawer.”
Maybe some day when Marty Brown is an old man playing acoustic guitar in a cabin in Kentucky, someone with recording equipment will go visit him to get one more album out of the music sitting in drawer. And when people hear the music, they will wonder why there were not more Marty Brown recordings — just like I wonder about the lost folk and blues recordings from the early 1900s. Do have any favorite artists who have disappeared? Do you know anything about Marty Brown? Leave a comment.
{June 2011 Update: See comments below for new developments since this post was published. If you are looking for news on upcoming performances by Marty Brown and his family, Shellie Brown has posted some information about shows in the comments.} {Update June 2013: Marty Brown returned to the national stage on “America’s Got Talent”!}
The Oxford American magazine recently released its Twelfth Annual Southern Music Issue, and, as always, the magazine and enclosed CD are outstanding. Oxford American is billed as “The Southern Magazine of Good Writing,” and once a year, it devotes an issue to southern music, including a CD of the music discussed in the magazine. I first discovered the annual music issue in 1999, when my friend and co-worker Sid gave me my first copy, and I have been following the magazine ever since.
The “southern music” of these issues consists of nuggets of a wide variety of the good stuff. In the CDs I have from past annual music issues, the artists included people I already knew – such as Sonny Burgess, Odetta, and the Del McCoury Band – to new discoveries for me – like the Gosdin Brothers’ 1968 recording of “There Must Be Someone (I Can Turn To)” on this year’s CD. There are occasional odd gems, like when the 2000 CD included a recording of Robert Mitchum and Lillian Gish singing “Leaning” from Night of the Hunter that made me love the song and his voice outside the context of the haunting scene in the movie.
Last year, Oxford American started a new approach with its music issue. Instead of covering a broad geography, the magazine began to focus on one state each year. Last year was Arkansas, and this year’s issue concentrates on Alabama. I really liked the previous broader approach, but the state-by-state approach is growing on me. And either way, it is the best magazine-CD out there, and it still covers a wide range of styles and time, with songs from the 1940s through 2010. Additionally, I like that the magazine’s approach has evolved over the years so now there is a feature story about each track on the CD.
There are also other articles, like fiction by Greil Marcus and an article about the song-writing team of Felice and Boudleaux Bryant. Never heard of the Bryants? The article will tell you the story behind their songs recorded by the Everly Brothers, like “Bye Bye Love” (recorded by the Everlys just to get the $64 session fee).
Oxford American has struggled through the years to stay in business (like another music magazine I loved, No Depression). From my recollection, and from the missing CD in my collection from one year, the magazine’s troubles peaked in 2004 when they stopped publishing for a period. Do not let that happen again. You may pick up the magazine at most bookstores or order the magazine and back issues from the website, which also has this year’s track listing (under “Further Listening”). FYI, I have no affiliation with the magazine, I just wanted to share.
A version of this review was also published at NoDepression.com
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, making a run of three outstanding albums in four years. 
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