Sometime in June, 2025 YouTube posted an entry devoted to Dylan's song "Blind Willie McTell," which went unreleased for eight years after it was recorded. The song is referred to as "a masterpiece." I am uncomfortable with the bandying about of that word, but, yes, it is a masterpiece. The video is about 50 minutes long, and revelatory for any fan of Dylan's music.
Pam and I encountered this item accidentally. One evening, after supper, we were scanning YouTube options on our TV. The algorithms (I guess it was that) steered us to an entry devoted to the complicated history essential for the evolution of that song.
At one point, early in the video, I turned to Pam and uttered, "That's I Went Down to St. James Infirmary."
Possibly 75% of the research that went into the script of this 50 minute piece came from our book.
This video is a fascinating piece of work, and I recommend it to anyone interested in the development of songs. Interested in old weird Americana. Interested in the junction between songs new and olde. Interested in something both informative and fun.
Calloway was, according to my count, the twenty-second person to record "St. James Infirmary." This was a mere three years after Fess Williams' and the Royal Flush Orchestra's initial release, then titled "Gambler's Blues," in 1927. One year after Louis Armstrong's version (recorded in 1928, released in 1929).
Cab restricted the song to the three verses that Louis Armstrong definitively recorded in 1928 (the 3rd recording of the song). Fess Williams, on the other hand, included eight verses.
As I wrote about in the book I Went Down to St. James Infirmary, other early recordings (for instance, two versions by the Hokum Boys in 1929 (4th & 5th overall)) had a much different lyric, now forgotten - but, still, obviously SJI.
Carl Sandburg's written notation - the first one ever (1927) could only scrape the surface of the many versions that were making the rounds throughout North America with solo blues singers, small and large touring bands, in fancy night clubs and sleazy bars and back porches and living rooms and brothels and street corners and music halls, before the recording studios more or less defined (and restrained) the song into the variations we hear today.
Cab Calloway, performing at Harlem's notorious Cotton Club in the 1930s, used SJI as his theme song. Until, using the same opening and the same melodic structure, he substituted Minnie the Moocher - which was based upon a "traditional" song (also documented in Sandburg's "American Songbag") titled Willie the Weeper.
This is such a small part of the story, and it's pretty recent.
(Btw I have no doubt that Michael Jackson studied Calloway's moves.)
The long history of this song is fascinating.
So, in a nod to recent history, here are two videos of Cab Calloway performing St. James Infirmary. The first is from 1947, from his movie "Hi-Di-Ho," seventeen years after his first recording of the song. (He presents the protagonist as a hopeless failure, rather than the gambler who could afford the extravagant funeral arrangements.) The second is from his 1964 appearance on "The Ed Sullivan Show," preceding The Beatles' third appearance. (You can see both of these on my blog entry from 2021.)
"The New Music of Reginald Foresythe" This was the name of his band. It was also his notion that he could influence the musical atmosphere of jazz.
Reginald Foresythe isn't a name you hear much these days. He was born in 1907, and made a splash in both the U.S. and (his birthplace) Britain in the 1920s and 30s.
He was a talented pianist and accordionist. He's probably best known as leader of a band (piano, clarinet, saxes, bassoon - no trumpets!) called "The New Music of Reginald Foresythe." He certainly saw himself as an innovator. Jazzy, but not jazz. Well, jazzy with an odd, impressionistic, edge.
Popular songs of his carried titles such as "Serenade For A Wealthy Widow," "Berceuse For An Unwanted Child," "Dodging A Divorcee," "Dinner Music For A Bunch Of Hungry Cannibals," "Revolt Of The Yes-Men."
Among these was a piece titled "Deep Forest - A Hymn To Darkness #1." (Which was followed by "Lament For The Congo - A Hymn To Darkness #2.")
For this post, we are more interested in "Deep Forest - A Hymn To Darkness #1."
This was recorded only a couple of years after Louis Armstrong released his iconic version of "St. James Infirmary." The third recording of the song, Armstrong's became the template for future arrangements. And now, a couple of years after that 1929 release, we find a song using the SJI melody as a dominant feature of the piece.
Oh. That Louis Armstrong release, with Armstrong's Savoy Ballroom Five, featured Earl Hines on piano. Hines later recorded "Deep Forest," with its SJI melody, two years later. So did Paul Whiteman and his orchestra, in 1934.
Paul Whiteman was a big deal. He was the most successful popular artist of the 1920s. In that decade alone, 63 of his songs were top 40 hits. 13 of those reached #1. He is one of the biggest selling musicians in all of recorded popular music. He kept "Deep Forest" as an instrumental, disposing of Foresythe's lyrics:
At the call of day I must lay my dreams away Once again with my heavy load I'm ploddin' on the road
Oh night where can you be Please set the darkness free Toilin' all the day in life's deep forest You mean dreams and rest for weary me
SJI was recorded at least two dozen times between 1928 and 1930. But its melody was already being incorporated into new songs. Love and theft.
Reginald Foresythe - Deep Forest - A Hymn To Darkness #1
Inside cover of Denton & Haskins 1930 "St. James Infirmary." Item should enlarge if clicked on.
In this blog entry - and in more detail in I Went Down to St. James Infirmary - I write about a 1930 New York court case where Irving Mills' music company sued the music publisher Denton & Haskins.
Denton and Haskins (D&H) were selling a song, "St. James Infirmary," that Mills Music had been heavily promoting over the previous year. (These were the early days of song recording when sheet music outsold records.) While the song published by D&H had the SJI title, the lyrics were much different. D&H hired Claude Austin to write new music and William J. McKenna to write a new lyric. (D&H also included current lyrics inside the front cover; see first image.) D&H were really pushing this issue. The cover title was St. James Infirmary or The Gambler's Blues also known as St. Joe's Infirmary. These were different titles for more or less the same song. So, they were confident in their assertion that they could market a song with a title that was already in use.
Cover Denton&Haskins SJI
Mills Music argued that Denton & Haskins was taking unfair advantage of their advertising and promotion, and thereby profiting from Mills' investment in the song.
When I looked into this, the chief librarian at the New York Supreme Court kindly sent about 600 pages of testimony and legal argument. On trial and appeal Mills won the case, but when it was referred to the Appeals Court, he lost, and had to pay costs.
I had interpreted the judgements as supportive of Mills' claim, and only when I received an e-mail from a New York lawyer, Bruce R. Kraus, correcting my interpretation, did I realize that I had read the"dissenting opinion" as the court ruling.
Cover Mills Music SJI
Irving Mills did not appear in court, but submitted a signed affidavit. Among other admissions, he agreed that the song did not originate with him, or with Mills Music, or with "Joe Primrose." But since this was not a federal court, those admissions meant little as far as copyright and song ownership. As Kraus pointed out, this lawsuit served warning that Irving Mills and Mills Music were not to be fooled with; to challenge them could become an expensive proposition - Mills Music had deep pockets and were unafraid of confrontation.
Of course, this New York case was not about copyright, which is a federal and not a state matter. But, then again ... in the arguments for Mills Music, Irving was saying that I own this title, I have expended considerable effort, energy, and money in publicizing the song. It is unfair that another company gets to profit from my efforts.
Maybe it was due to this warning - the warning that Mills Music would aggressively challenge legal submissions - that the copyright for St. James Infirmary was never challenged in federal court, and Mills continued to profit from the song for many years.
As Bruce Kraus succinctly explained, "you cannot copyright a title." Copyright law considers titles or phrases to be too short; they contain insufficient creative effort to warrant copyright.
For instance, the Beatles famously recorded "The End" on Abbey Road in 1969. Two years earlier The Doors had recorded a song called "The End" on their 1967 eponymous debut
album. So did Pearl Jam (2009), Kings of Leon (2010), and quite a few others.
How many songs have been titled "I Love You"?
From Bob Dylan's 2015 MusiCares Person of the Year speech: “I learned lyrics and how to write them from listening to folk songs. And I played them, and I met other people that played them back when nobody was doing it. Sang nothing but these folk songs, and they gave me the code for everything that’s fair game, that everything belongs to everyone.” (italics extra)
"Everything belongs to everyone," Dylan said. Utopian. Undeniably true. And that's St. James Infirmary.
After the tragic event on January 1st, 2025, it seemed appropriate to post a couple of performances - each with its distinct flavour - of a song closely related to the city of New Orleans. St. James Infirmary.
Pam and I stayed with friends in NOLA a few years ago. We heard the song played everywhere; in small jazz venues, on street corners, and in food venues such as the Cafe du Monde, all in the French quarter. A grand time was had by all. It was the Jazz Festival. Streets were crowded, everyone was smiling.
First, is an award-winning Canadian band, living on a small island off the west coast, Blue Moon Marquee. Exceptionally talented, their take on St. James Infirmary.
Next, New Orleans legend Trombone Shorty. At the Obama White House.
New Orleans will always rise from turmoils visited upon it - whether storms or terror attacks.
Continuing with contemporary approaches to SJI, here are two Dee Dee Bridgewater interpretations of the song.
Bridgewater does some gender-bending in her version. She recorded this on 2015s remarkable Dee Dee's Feathers.
I have included two of her variations. Like jazz (or the blues) her approach to the song allows her musicians to have space. Space. SJI allows space for improvisation and interpretation, and Dee Dee takes advantage of that.
Debbie Burke recently interviewed me for her blog, "Debbie Burke - jazz author."
She hosts a remarkable site - I recommend checking it out! Her books can be found via amazon, and on her site.
Since she was the interviewer and I was the interviewee, there's not much I can add, except, of course, for the interview itself. So, for those of you interested in following further, here is the link:
Back in September I promised a series of contemporary interpretations of St. James Infirmary. We started with a young Rufus Wainwright. This is the second in that series and you will find two variations this time (plus a delightful interpretation of "Simple Twist of Fate").
First, David Mattson.
David Mattson on guitar
Now living in Largo, Florida, David has lived in all but one of the U.S. states, and a few other countries. He currently uses a Joe Beck alto guitar, made for him by a friend. His interpretation of SJI is a charming reimagining, with the refrain "her left hand brushing back her hair" transforming into a tender conclusion. He would use his rewritten SJI when doing soundchecks, or as an opener for gigs, allowing lots of room for improvisation.
This is a beautiful example of how SJI can be adapted by creative artists; always recognizable, always different.
Raygun Carver
Our second example.
Raygun Carver - a band name for Michael Soiseth - released his first album, "Moon Fields Yawning," in 2020. Raised around Port Angeles, he has an idiosyncratic sound, with refreshing interpretations and beautifully crafted originals. Of the latter, his "Everywhere You Go Is Where You'll Be," suggests that regardless of where we live, regardless of where we move, we remain who we are - changing the place does not change the person. Ahhhh, but maybe, changing the person can change the place?
His take on SJI is invigorating.
And, of course, not only traditional songs are open to interpretation. Raygun Carver's phrasing and timing on Dylan's "Simple Twist of Fate" opens us up for a new listen. (For instance, cue in to Carver's song at about 1:10 - "like a freight train ...")
There are so many interpretations of SJI. So many.
I am planning to post a few recent variations, starting with Rufus Wainwright. This song was recorded in 1998, part of his first album but excluded from it and re-introduced on a 25th anniversary CD.
Rufus creates a link between The Unfortunate Rake and SJI. He mixes them together as a kind of gumbo, combining lyrical touches from SJI and Streets of Laredo. Mostly, though, it's The Unfortunate Rake that he references.
The song starts: "Early one morning at the St. James Infirmary Early one morning in the month of May I spied a young cowboy all wrapped in white linen Wrapped in white linen, and as cold as the clay"
And later: "Call for the doctor, come and heal my body Call for the preacher to heal up my soul For my poor head is aching and my sad heart is breaking I'm a poor, rundown cowboy and hell is my doom"
Aside from the name of the institution (St. James Infirmary rather than St. James Hospital), this is pretty well The Unfortunate Rake - and nothing in this version, or any other version of The Unfortunate Rake, makes me think of SJI - either lyrically or melodically.
He delivers a good song.
This is not surprising: he is always brightly original, sparkling, in both his own compositions and his interpretations.
Tony Bennett in the U.S. Army, 1945. (TonyBennett.com)
Tony Bennett, who died today at 96, made his first recording seventy-seven years ago:
After a distinguished career in the army (and a short-lived demotion for eating in a restaurant with a black friend, after which he was put on gravedigging detail), Tony Bennett recorded his first song. This was "St. James Infirmary," made in 1946. The song was on a V-disc, for American troops, and never released in the U.S. George Tannenbaum explains what V-discs are:
"V-discs were recordings done for American soldiers during World War II. Because there was a musicians strike in the U.S. at the time, V-discs were recorded but they never went on sale in the States. They were only for our overseas troops. Most of the records never came home and the masters of the recordings weren't treated with any special reverence. So for years it was rare to get a hold of a V-Disc recording--especially a rare one."
Bennett became Grandmaster of the Great American Songbook, a superb stylist whose recording history extended from 1952 ("Because of You") to 2021 ("Love for Sale," with Lady Gaga).
We miss you, Tony!
You can listen to the 1946 SJI here:
And here's a more contemporary version, from 1994:
Some of the people involved in the complex and intriguing story of "St. James Infirmary."
MOMENTS BEFORE LAUNCHING INTO A PERFORMANCE of “St. James Infirmary” in 1941, jazz great Jack Teagarden referred to it as “the oldest blues I ever heard.” The first timeIheard the song, sixty years later, it sounded utterly contemporary.
I was alone in my apartment and listening to a new CD, The Finest in Jazz Vocalists. Lou Rawls was singing “St. James Infirmary.” I had been a Rawls fan as a teenager, and paid close attention. Rawls began with a mournful preamble, one that — I found out later — was written by Irving Mills in 1930 and is an infrequent addition to the song:
When will I ever stop moaning?
When will I ever smile?
My baby went away and she left me
She’ll be gone for a long, long while.
I feel so blue, I feel heartbroken
What am I living for?
My baby she went away and she left me
No no no never to come back no more.
The band picked up the tempo and launched into the body of that version of the song (there are many versions):
I went down to St. James Infirmary
I heard my baby groan
I felt so broken-hearted
She used to be my own.
Hearing that melody, I shot out of my chair and shouted into the empty room, “That’s ‘Blind Willie McTell’!” It brought to mind, with a jolt, the Bob Dylan song of that name. It’s not that the Rawls' melody was identical to Dylan's, but there were similarities. For instance, both songs use the same basic chords. Thousands of songs are based on those chords, however, so it was probably in the pulse or the phrasing that the similarities revealed themselves. I have played these two songs to friends, who often hear no resemblance. For me, it was a revelation.
Dylan recorded “Blind Willie McTell” in the spring of 1983 for his Infidels album, released in November of that year. “Blind Willie McTell” did not appear on the record, and neither did several others from those New York sessions ("Foot of Pride," "Someone's Got a Hold of my Heart"). “McTell” emerged on no official Dylan recording (bootlegs were another matter) until 1991, when Columbia released a three-CD set of alternate versions and previously unreleased material called The Bootleg Series, Volumes 1–3. This is where I first heard Dylan’s “Blind Willie McTell.”
“Blind Willie McTell” is a magnificent piece of songcraft in which both the poetry and the music carry us into broad terrain. Dylan accomplishes this not through conventional narrative, but through a series of vignettes, a cascade of images that, coupled with a compelling melody, conveys a landscape of conflict and despair. The chorus summons the musician of the title: “Nobody can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell.” Asked why he had omitted the song from his album, Dylan said he didn’t think he had recorded it right. The first time he performed the song in concert was August 5, 1997, at Montreal’s Du Maurier Stadium, fourteen years after recording it in the studio.
Standing there, listening to Lou Rawls, I remembered Dylan’s words near the end of “Blind Willie McTell” — “I’m gazing out the window of the St. James Hotel.” Here, in a song melodically reminiscent of “St. James Infirmary,” Dylan seemed to be paying homage. I made up my mind to find out more about “St. James Infirmary.” Little did I know that this was the beginning of a very long journey, eventually leading to I Went Down to St. James Infirmary.
As a music lover (and fellow Canadian), I need to mark Gordon Lightfoot's passing. He died yesterday, May 1, at the age of 84.
"Ring Them Bells"
Most remembrances will mention "In the Early Morning Rain," "If You Could Read My Mind," "Canadian Railroad Trilogy," and so on. He wrote hundreds of songs with nary a bad one among them. I prefer to include a couple of more obscure songs. His cover of Dylan's "Ring Them Bells," and "Black Day in July," a song that was banned in the U.S. due to sensitivity over the 1967 Detroit race riots (from which the city has not recovered).
"Black Day in July"
It is difficult to overestimate Lightfoot's importance to North American folk/popular music.
You're a singular talent, Gordon! Keep on singing!!!
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