Richard Rabbit Brown – “Sinking of the Titanic”

American music, especially blues and folk (or traditional, as Bob Dylan used to insist) has always been part of my life. I woke up to it (literally) when I was around 5 or 6 years old and living in Tokyo, when every day began with my father shaving in the bathroom as he listened to Johnny Cash on the Armed Forces Radio Network.

And as you can see from my website (timshorrock.com), which I started in 2006, I’ve also been writing about music for a long time, paying particular attention to Mr. Dylan and his particular blend of American songs, blues, and rhythms, which I’ve been listening to since his first epynomous record in 1961.

The following is one of my favorite essays about one of my favorite musicians, the obscure New Orleans street singer-songwriter Richard Rabbit Brown. I first heard his poignant lyrics at a concert at Wolf Trap in Virginia to celebrate the Smithsonian’s release of Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music, which had an enormous impact on the early folk movement of the 1960s and a particular impact on Dylan himself.

At the concert, Jeff Tweedy of Wilco did a beautiful version of “James Alley Blues,” perhaps Brown’s best-known song that has always been a staple in the folk circuit since it appeared on the Anthology. Back when I was playing open mics in DC about 15 years ago, I used to introduce it as “the mother of all sardonic love songs,” to much laughter. But it still makes me cry; it’s just so true!

The song I write about here is Rabbit Brown’s Sinking of the Titanic, his account of the great disaster that had such an impact on Black people in America. It’s not hard to understand why: the aptly named White Star Line did not allow people of African descent on board, either as guests or employees. Legend even has it that the great boxer Jack Johnson, who was in his prime in 1912, was banned from buying a ticket by the captain himself – a tale immortalized in Leadbelly’s great song, “The Titanic.”

To many dispossessed people in the United States, the tragedy became a symbol of the contradictions and hubris of the wealthy and powerful. Yes, they had the ability to board and enjoy the industrial world’s greatest project up to then; but no, their white skin and privilege did absolutely nothing to protect them from disaster and death in the frigid waters of the Atlantic. For many, it was karma, pure and simple.

What strikes me about Brown’s take on the Titanic is his humanity. Brown may have been Black, he may have been a downtrodden worker in the racist South, but he knew above all that the people on the ship. as well as those who built and operated it, were human beings who, like him, could feel sorrow or joy.

He may have felt a “murmer of satisfaction” at the thought of all those privileged people going down with the ship, but he also identified with their struggles and hopes. And he incorporated important detail into the song, much like Bob Dylan would do years later with “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll.” Like Dylan’s best, it’s a heart-breaking songs of pathos, and will last for generations. Read and listen to it here, and maybe you’ll weep along with Mr. Brown too.