A brief history of murder ballads: “The oldest form of crime literature”
Although seen today as something creative and darkly fascinating, murder ballads were initiated in the Middle Ages as a way of informing people of the events of the day. The information would be included in songs for the benefit of public interest, who would then exchange such stories in discussions about current affairs.
Unlike the present, where musicians often openly address a wide range of crimes in their music mostly for artistic reasons – such as The Smiths’ recounting of the Moors murders in ‘Suffer Little Children’ or Bruce Springsteen’s chilling reinterpretation of Charles Starkweather’s murderous exploits in ‘Nebraska’ – back then, songs served as a unique medium for delivering crime news. In fact, because of their origins, murder ballads have since earned the title of “the oldest form of crime literature”.
Although it first originated in the Middle Ages, the genre gained significant prominence within the oral traditions of Britain, Ireland, Scotland, and Scandinavia during the 16th and 17th centuries. As predominantly white European communities migrated to America, they settled in the Appalachian region, establishing roots in various states, including New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Ohio, Kentucky, West Virginia, Virginia, the Carolinas, Mississippi, Alabama, and Tennessee.
The rich tradition of murder ballads accompanied them on this journey, and these narratives, passed down through generations, were meticulously documented by European historians. Among these historians, Francis Child stands out as the most significant, with his collection of ballads forming the cornerstone of the folk tradition in both Europe and America.
In essence, murder ballads aimed to disseminate information about sensational real-life murders or homicides to the segments of society that lacked literacy. The format often adopted a style akin to modern-day poems or songs, as these are the ones that could be most easily recited or set to music. This approach also ensured that news became accessible to a broad spectrum of society, encouraging public discourse. In addition to their informative purpose, they also served as a form of strange entertainment, injecting an early element of sensationalism that foreshadowed the stories found later in tabloid journalism. Ultimately, this was one of the first platforms where people sought affordable thrills rooted in real-life narratives.
Although the majority of these “bloody versicles” (as described by one crime historian) have faded into obscurity over time, a select few have endured as an enduring component of folklore legacy. With the growth of cities and towns and the establishment of formal justice systems, the ballads transformed into folk songs that narrated the stories and issues within the singer’s own community. Notable songs such as ‘John Hardy’, ‘Stagger Lee’, ‘Jesse James’, and later, ‘The Murder of the Lawson Family’, were based on real-life events.
Interestingly, when people discuss the term ‘murder ballad’ in today’s landscape, their thoughts often first turn to the album by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. This association makes sense, especially considering that the album is entirely comprised of songs based on new or traditional murder ballads. However, being released in 1996 placed it within the context of contemporary desensitisation, yet it still maintains the captivating quality that initially made murder ballads intriguing.
Although murder ballads can revolve around the demise of anyone, throughout history, the particular subgenre that gained the most popularity in our culture primarily focuses on ballads centred around the murder of women or girls. Within Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ composition, this notion is maintained with additions like ‘Where the Wild Roses Grow’, which recounts the tale of tale of a man courting a woman and then killing her.
Aside from Cave, many other musical luminaries have recreated folk tales, stories of crime, or traditional murder ballads, including Johnny Cash and his song ‘Delia’s Gone’, Okkervil River’s ‘Omie Wise’, and Bob Dylan, with his version of the deeply disturbing murder of Hattie Carroll. The latter of which falls considerably into the pattern of murder ballads conceived in their inception, with Dylan catching wind of the story and immediately taking the idea to a recording studio before all details had been leaked to the press.
Many songs on The Bad Seeds album Murder Ballads, like ‘Henry Lee’, are interpretations of songs that actually originated during the time when many migrated over to America. ‘Henry Lee’, one of the saddest songs on the record, is based on a ballad from 19th century Scotland.
Not all contemporaries are rewarded with the same respect for their craft, however. There’s been an ongoing debate about the morals surrounding murder ballads for many years. Just as audiences are unsure of how to respond to dramatisations of real-life events, like the recent Netflix series Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, therein lies an issue with the question within music: how far is too far?
A recent example of this would be Tom Jones’ ‘Delilah’, which has been criticised over the years for being, as Cave himself put it, “offensive” and “terrible”. The song is based on a story of a man who catches a woman cheating on him through a window and then waits all night for her to appear before stabbing her to death. The song was deemed so violent that even the Welsh Rugby Union condemned it.
Even though such contributions prevail significantly in today’s world, the entire influx is really telling of humanity’s inherent fascination with morbid narratives. While the exact reasons why some people actively seek out scary experiences like haunted houses and scary films remain a subject of ongoing interest, one commonly mentioned factor is the chemical release of dopamine during these spine-tingling moments, which can induce a sensation akin to euphoria.
As historian Joy Wiltenburg notes in her work True Crime: The Origins of Modern Sensationalism, when we engage with shocking narratives that violate societal norms, it triggers excitement by distorting our emotional responses. It’s also linked to the elusiveness of murder itself – we don’t listen to The Killers’ ‘Jenny Was a Friend of Mine’ and genuinely believe that the story behind it will happen to us: rather, it’s a mystification that lures us in.
Murder is an uncommon occurrence in our everyday lives, rendering it a more enticing source of thrill compared to mundane subjects. Similar to back then, therefore, the appeal of murder-related media remains consistent: it offers a spine-chilling narrative that has the potential to unfold in your imagination, even though the chances of it happening in real life are slim.
