On est tous le péquenot de quelqu'un d'autre - Vol I

Au grand dam des amis, je me suis découvert, il y a quelques mois, une passion pour la country. J'ai tout entendu à ce propos, j'avais perdu la raison, un fan de soul commettait sous leurs yeux un crime de lèse-majesté : écouter une musique de ploucs racistes, de campagnards ignares. J'avais commis l'irréparable, du coup j'évite le sujet et j'en fais un culte solitaire.

Le fabuleux "Guide de la country music et du folk" de Gerad Herzhaft et de Jacques Brémond indique que la 1ère musique enregistrée des Blancs du Sud, celle des Appalaches, fut désignée au départ par l'industrie du disque, sous le terme Hillbilly music", "musique des péquenots des collines". C'est en explorant les Appalaches que le producteur Ralph Peer a repris ce terme, suite à l'enregistrement de l'orchestre à cordes de Al Hopkins. Ce dernier interrogé sur le nom de sa musique répondit : "We're just a bunch of Hillbillies from North Carolina and Virginia. Call it anything you want".

C'est Ralph Peer qui fut à l'origine du 1er enregistrement de Blues Mamie Smith en 1920 pour Okeh, et des 1ers enregistrements country en découvrant au passage Jimmie Rodgers et la Carter Family. D'après Herzhaft, il a toujours avoué détester ces musiques, amusante contradiction, vu son rôle dans le développement de ce courant.

Pour cette nouvelle série, commençons par Dock Boggs.

Né en 1898, Dock a travaillé à la mine dès l'âge de 12 ans, il apprend le banjo à cette époque en compagnie de musiciens blancs et noirs. Cherchant à quitter la mine, il enregistre en 1927 pour Brunswick et grave une 10aine de titres. La crise de 1929 le ramène à la mine, il continue à jouer dans sa région en dépit des injonctions de sa femme qui le préfererait au trou. En 1954, il perd son boulot de mineur. Devenu sans le savoir une figure culte du folk, Mike Seeger, le frère de Pete, le localise à Norton en 1963 et persuade Dock d'enregister à nouveau pour le compte de Folkways. Son village devient un pôle d'attractions en plein de Folk Boom, ce qui est regardé d'un mauvais oeil par le pasteur du coin qui menace de l'excommunier. Il se remet à boire et décède en 1971 dans sa ville natale. John Fahey a réédité pour Revenant ces 1ers enregsitrements sur le recueil "Country blues - complete early recordings".

on écoute :

• "Country Blues" (1927 - Brunswick)
  

Come all you good time people,
While I've got money to spend,
Tomorrow might be Monday
And I'll neither have a dollar nor a friend.

When I had plenty of money, good people,
My friends were all standing around,
Just as soon as my pocket book was empty,
Not a friend on earth to be found.

Last time I seen my little woman, good people,
She had a wine glass in her hand;
She was drinking down her troubles
With a low-down sorry man.

Oh, my daddy taught me a-plenty, good people;
My mama, she taught me more.
If I didn't quit my rowdy ways,
Have trouble at my door.

I wrote my woman a letter, good people;
I told her I's in jail.
She wrote me back an answer
Saying "Honey, I'm a-coming to go your bail."

All around this old jailhouse is haunted, good people;
Forty dollars won't pay my fine.
Corn whisky has surrounded my body, poor boy,
Pretty women is a-troubling my mind.

Give me corn bread when I'm hungry, good people;
Corn whiskey when I'm dry;
Pretty women a-standing around me;
Sweet heaven when I die.

If I'd a-listened to my mama, good people,
I wouldn't have been here today;
But a-drinking and a-shooting and a-gambling,
At home I cannot stay.

Go dig a hole in the meadow, good people,
Go did a hole in the ground.
Come around all you good people
And see this poor rounder go down.

When I am dead and buried
My pale face turned to the sun,
You can come around and mourn, little woman,
And think the way you have done.

• "Oh death" (60's - Folkways)
  

What is this that I can see,
Taking hold on me with icy hands
I am death and none can excel,
I'll open the doors to Heaven or Hell.

Oh death, oh death, can't you spare me over til another year?
Oh death, oh death, please spare me over til another year.

Oh death, someone would pray,
Couldn't you call some other day?
God's children's prayed, the preachers preached,
The time of mercy your reach.

I'll fix your feet so you can't walk,
I'll lock your jaws so you can't talk.
Close your eyes so you can't see
This very hour come go with me.

Death, I come to take the soul,
Leave the body and leave it cold;
To drop the flesh off of the frame,
The earth and worms both have a claim.

Oh death, oh death, can't you spare me over til another year?
Oh death, oh death, please spare me over til another year.

My mother come to my bed,
Place a cold towel upon my head.
My head is warm, my feet is cold;
Death is moving upon my soul.

Oh death, how you treating me,
Close my eyes so I can't see.
You hurt my body, you make me cold,
You're ruling the life right out of my soul.

Oh death, oh death, can't you spare me over til another year?
Oh death, oh death, please spare me over til another year.

Oh death, please consider my age;
Please don't take me at this stage.
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand.

Old, the young, the rich or poor,
All alike with me, you know;
No wealth, no land, no silver, no gold;
Nothing satisfies me but your soul.

Oh death, oh death, can't you spare me over til another year?
Oh death, oh death, please spare me over til another year.

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