Runway of the Year: 'Hard Times Come up Again No More'
Editor'southward Note: This commodity previously appeared in a different format as role of The Atlantic'south Notes section, retired in 2021.
A reader, Rick Jones, writes:
This video of Stephen Foster's cracking vocal "Hard Times Come Again No More" seems to tie together some of Notes' recent themes. It'south a encompass (the vocal was written in 1856) past the Familia McGarrigle (including a teenage Rufus and Martha) and information technology speaks to coming troubles and the need for perseverance that Fallows has been evoking in his writing.
If you have a version of "Hard Times" that particularly resonates with you and have a memory associated with it, please send the states a note: hello@theatlantic.com. (The McGarrigle/Wainwright association likewise did a version of Stephen Foster's sunnier "Better Times Are Coming.") Update from a reader who flags a rendition of "Hard Times" from Mavis Staples:
From some other reader, Peter:
What a great vocal, unfortunately, it seems timeless. I outset heard it in 1981, sung by the outstanding Chapel Hill string band The Ruddy Clay Ramblers. Their wonderful harmony singing frames the song with a warmth that counterbalances the bleakness of the lyrics you can hither them here.
Another reader recommends a version that isn't bachelor on YouTube:
My favorite is somewhere in my library of Beak Frisell bootlegs, only it's something along these lines. I'm fascinated past songs like this that are but so erstwhile and remain in the repertoire. For example, "St. James Infirmary" is based on "The Rake's Lament," an 18th century British naval song. Information technology'south besides the parent of "Streets of Laredo," the Johnny Cash tune. That's nuts!
One more than reader, Sydney:
Greetings from just south of Raleigh, NC, as I read all the news I missed last night because frequently, playing with babies beats knowing more details of terrorism. When I saw your post on "Difficult Times" I immediately thought of the Yo Yo Ma and James Taylor cover that I had on repeat this time final twelvemonth while waiting for morning sickness to magically disappear in the 2nd trimester of a twin pregnancy, but instead got more than pains and swelling. I resigned myself to only focusing on seeking the adept in life, that hard times would pass.
Proud to say I've now got two happy healthy baby girls, one of whom wants to go on me company now. Go on up the great work.
The covers keep arriving from long-fourth dimension readers, namely Barbara:
It has been so smashing to see the McGarrigle thread spin into Stephen Foster state with "Hard Times Come Again No More than." I similar sentimental songs and plain have a high tolerance for desolation, particularly if rhyming lines are involved. I thought the song'south Wikipedia entry, describing it as a "parlor song," was a dainty bear upon that avoided the sentence implicit in "sentimental," even if the sentence is right on target.
The song is one of my favorites from Foster, who is one of my favorite composers. I learned to play some of his songs on the piano from a tattered copy of a collection of his work. I learned a lot of other folk songs and sentimental favorites from an even more tattered hardcover copy of the Fireside Book of Folk Songs I still accept, although the book now begins halfway through the song "Cockles and Mussels" and ends partway through the index, with no hardcovers in sight. (I was able to get another copy of the book, covers and all, when a family member passed away, but I nonetheless play from the spineless copy that opens flat and stays open.)
I am not an accomplished pianist and I've grown increasingly rusty. Early in simple school, I only progressed partway through John Thompson'southward Modernistic Form for the Pianoforte: The Second Course Book: Something New Every Lesson. The "something new" that killed my progress was syncopation, in the class of dotted eighth notes in a version of James A. Bland'south "Acquit Me Back to Erstwhile Virginny." (I understood the mathematics just fine, only my mind had decided on a rhythm that seemed pleasing to my fingers, and no corporeality of repetition and no lack of a gold star got me to play the song correctly. Afterward weeks of intractable stubbornness on my office and the part of the only pianoforte teacher in town, we parted ways. I did accept more lessons in loftier school when the wife of a new music teacher at the central school offered them. I explained my history, and we started out lessons with Bach. It was more successful, just I stopped taking lessons when I left for college.
Anyhow, I liked all the versions your readers provided; it was interesting to hear a range of interpretations. I similar Emmylou Harris's performance of "Difficult Times Come Again No More." I don't know if the cut I mind to is online, but in this video from a concert, she says that "this is probably the oldest vocal in my repertoire."
The performance of "Hard Times" I play most often is by Thomas Hampson, because I like to listen to the album in the car and am very fond of his "Beautiful Dreamer." (The anthology is American Dreamer: Songs of Stephen Foster, and performers include Jay Ungar on violin, Molly Stonemason on guitar, and David Alpher on piano.)
Unlike some other covers, Hampson'southward doesn't sound like he'south actually been through difficult times. His performance instead fits the Wikipedia description; I imagine he sings the song merely every bit a gentleman with a good vocalization would have done years ago in some parlor, playing piano with more finesse than I have and trying to impress the guests at a party, particularly the adult female he has his eye on. The rendition is polish, and if you enjoy Hampson's vocalism, you may not realize how atrocious some parts of the lyrics are. The chorus is what makes the song great, not the verses.
Of all the versions, the Mavis Staples encompass is my new favorite.
Thanks everyone!
Here's a final update, from the reader who started this "Difficult Times" series. Rick indicated in our email exchange that he was a long-time reader of The Dish, the blog I helped edit for seven years—three of which were at The Atlantic. If yous ever followed the blog, Rick's retrospective here is poignant:
Well that post is having a pretty skillful run! I knew of some other versions (e.g.Taylor/Ma), but many were new. The video I sent originally is not the best musical quality and it has a kind of bad-mannered family Christmas card feel, which I thought fit the season too. Glad I could contribute.
A "View From Your Window" I just dug up from the Dish email archives, taken by Rick in 2012 effectually 9pm in Sacramento
It would exist inaccurate to call me a Dish reader … Dish obsessive is more likely. I checked the site dozens of times a day, every day. About a year agone I made a list of all the wonderful things that The Dish introduced to me and I began to weep halfway through, finally stopping after a page full. I defy anyone to discover me a site today with the depth, reach, humor, and intellectual courage of The Dish. Where else could I notice Wislawa Szymborska AND Dina Martina, Frederick Seidel AND Robert Earl Swell AND Jack Gilbert, Rod Dreher AND Jennifer Michael Hecht? Go ahead, I'll wait for the answer.
I tin still recall exactly where and when I read the postal service from Andrew that you all were closing shop: January 28, 2015, 10AM PST, at a very Dishy location: Sacramento Convention Center, men'south bathroom in the northwest corner, first stall in. (Yes I was alone. Nonetheless oversharing, I know, but in the best Sully tradition). Reading that mail service felt similar getting the news that a skillful friend was very ill.
I came to The Dish from an unlikely source: Kendall Harmon, who is the Canon Theologian of the Anglican diocese of South Carolina, and a robust opponent of gay matrimony. In 2003, my Episcopal parish was in the midst of tearing itself apart later Gene Robinson's ordination and, bewildered, I was seeking dialogue and enlightenment. Kendall had a link to Andrew on his blog roll. Through those years of struggle in the church, Andrew was a bright light of courage, compassion, insight and humour. I was finally received into the Catholic church on Easter Sat 2006, and some of my discernment was informed by the idea that a church that could nourish Andrew Sullivan was besides a home for me.
The Dish was the greatest experience I had on the spider web and one of the greatest intellectual adventures of my life. Equally one of the essential parts in that, thanks from the bottom of my middle. If you ever see Andrew, Patrick, and the rest of the gang, let them know how much the blog meant to me. And should such a projection ever exist attempted again, please know that you lot accept my intellectual, emotional, and financial support.
Thanks for listening, and have a blessed Christmas and Happy New year.
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