Appalachia’s “Shady Grove”: A Mournful Ballad Through the Centuries?
Songs: “Shady Grove” by Jerry Garcia and David Grisman, “Shady Grove” by Jean Ritchie, “Matty Groves” by Fairport Convention
“Shady Grove” is one of those ubiquitous early American folk ballads that kind of hovers around the edges like the morning haze over the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s there, you’ve heard it, the melody’s nice, the lyrics sound as antiquated as an Amish buggy, yeah, great. It’s like having an opinion about brands of string cheese or choice of vasectomy doctors. The problem is when most people first hear “Shady Grove,” it’s pretty underwhelming: lullabies for colicky babies, off-pitch elementary school choirs, maybe a clumsy arrangement in high school for a moderately competent string quartet. But once you truly sit down and listen to this song performed by a true talent, it comes alive with a profound sorrow whose mournful lyrics weave like ivy within the framework of a Dorian minor-key tune.
The version of “Shady Grove” as we currently know it was first documented in eastern Kentucky around 1900 but is likely quite a bit older. The lyrics are simple and wistful but frustratingly vague, as there seems to be no definitive answer on when and where the song is taking place or if it has any kind of storyline at all. “Shady Grove” grew in popularity during the midcentury bluegrass and folk revival; it was covered by everyone and their mother, including Doc Watson, the Chieftains, and Tom Petty’s original group Mudcrutch. This is a tough song to pull off because you need incredible musicianship to imbue this otherwise soft, muted, overlooked piece with a wistful longing that stretches over the ancient, weary Appalachians.
The lyrics are simple and plaintive:
Shady Grove, my little love
Shady Grove I say
Shady Grove, my little love
I’m bound to go away. . .
Which is where Jerry Garcia and mandolinist David Grisman’s phenomenal musicality kicks in to elevate this gorgeous ballad above the dark steep ravines of the hollows and the rushing gorges of the New River. Released in 1996 as part of an acoustic traditional album, this version is absolutely sublime- two masters at their best, lost in the sweep of sound. Most people know Jerry Garcia as the goofy, stoned, laid-back frontman of legendary jam band the Grateful Dead, but he proves his incredible vocal and instrumental versatility here as he deftly shifts to a simple minor-key chord progression and hushed, almost mumbled lyrics. While typically the guy playing the guitar and singing gets the spotlight, in this case it’s just a background for Grisman’s stunning solo picking.
Moving backwards in time- because why not?- there was an era where “Shady Grove” was performed even before the bluegrass movement (a product of the 1940s). Decades before the modern five-string banjo or accompanying acoustic and bass guitars, folk singer and enthusiast Pete Seeger aired a black-and-white TV clip of Kentucky’s “Mother of Folk” Jean Ritchie singing the tune in its almost childish simplicity while picking on a mountain dulcimer. This was in 1966, as Jimi Hendrix wailed away on the electric guitar and long-haired hippies popped acid at festivals; Jean Ritchie, in her quaint long dress strumming a homemade instrument with a goose-feather quill, looked like some type of pioneer museum relic. And yet a number of musicians- including Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell- drew inspiration from her fantastic and lengthy body of work. She may not have had the magnetic stage performance of Janis Joplin, but Ritchie’s unassuming presence belied a preternatural musicality both angelic and pure.
There’s a lot to say about Jean Ritchie: she was born in 1922 in eastern Kentucky, the youngest of 14 children in a musical family. She grew up immersed in traditional tunes gathered from neighbors, friends, schoolmates, and relatives, and once said that her father had taught her “Shady Grove.” Even more fascinating is Jean’s instrument of choice, the Appalachian dulcimer. The earliest versions of this wooden, metal-stringed, fretted zither date back to the early 19th century with the arrival of a large influx of Scottish and Irish immigrants into the area. However, recent research has failed to link the dulcimer with any Celtic precedents. Instead, it is thought that settlers- frustrated by a lack of sophisticated tools to carve the sharp curves of fiddles- designed an easier, sleeker piece that drew on hardy influences from Sweden and Norway.
So here’s where things start to get interesting. The lyrics of “Shady Grove,” while extensive and varied (over 300 couplings existed by 2000), are generally nothing to write home about. But the song shares a similar name- and often a similar melody in modern versions- with the well-known Northern English ballad “Matty Groves,” which dates to at least 1613. While “Shady Grove” is a melancholy, somewhat jumbled patchwork of verses, “Matty Groves” is a sweeping epic about an adulterous tryst between a woman and her forbidden lover, who are promptly murdered by the husband when he finds out. (Spoiler alert- sorry.) It has the thunderous drama and gripping narrative akin to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” Soap operas can’t top this one: after seeing her lover killed by her jealous husband, the female protagonist cries that she would prefer a kiss from the dead man’s lips than one from her husband’s. But what do these two songs have to do with each other?
As it turns out, nothing. Legendary British folk group Fairport Convention released the definitive version of “Matty Groves” in 1969, using the theme from “Shady Grove.” It was essentially a hybrid of the two and combined the best traits of each: the haunting melody of “Shady Grove” with the tragic opus of “Matty Groves.” And they pulled it off absolutely flawlessly. This is one of those songs where you can follow the individual brilliance of each musician and then listen to the song again just to hear how they play off each other. Jerry Garcia and Jean Ritchie perform shorter and more spare versions, but Fairport Convention backs Sandy Denny’s ethereal vocals with a swirling fiddle, tight drums, warm bass, and immaculate guitar work for a blissful eight minutes.
Folk and bluegrass often find themselves having to carefully tread the line between traditional and modern. You’ll constantly hear new takes on classic songs as each musician or act tries to leave their stamp on their genre. It’s not uncommon for dozens of emerging artists to cover an old Dylan tune. But what Fairport Convention did was truly genius: instead of updating an old ballad for the present, they mixed it with another one. Touché, guys! And while it may not be the most accurate rendition of either song, by God, it works.
Hey hey! Thanks for visiting- your presence is warmly welcomed. Please correct me if I accidentally got something wrong. If there are any songs, artists, or genres you’d love to learn more about, I’m always down for recommendations! This blog is free to read (and always will be) due to a fair amount of academic traffic, but you can always buy me a coffee (aka put a tip in my jar) if you enjoyed this article.
