Flannery O’Connor and the wrong-eyed guitar

Some songs about Southern writers, their books and characters…

“Hazel Motes,” September 67. Just came across this band, this song. Who writes songs about characters in Flannery O’Connor books? Better question: Why don’t more bands? “If God left town ’cause you let him down / Brandishing your Bible / God left town ’cause you let him down / So put on a revival.” 

“Blues for Flannery O’Connor,” Shoeshine Blue. Another act new to me, a primary joy of this exercise. You can read about ’em here. I believe it’s a guy singing but he sounds like Lucinda Williams in a dark place, as if “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road,” had bombed, critically and commercially, and Lu had gone weapons-grade Southern Gothic on her next record.

“Everything Was Stories,” Harry Crews. Spoken word, by the man himself. From the soundtrack to the Jim White doc, “Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus.”

“Barn Burning,” Dave Alvin. The start of a Faulkner suite. A dark, little thing, sung low by our man Dave. “There’s an evil, evil / in this land.” Sinister and smoldering. Perfect. Still, would love to have heard R.L. Burnside give it the Hill Country blues treatment, turn it into a real barn burner.

“Yoknapatawpha,” Delta Joe Sanders. Memphis songster type with a song to make Faulkner roll over in his grave and tip his glass. (What, he’s still drinking? ’Fraid so.) Opening lines: “My friend John was long and tall / He liked to read books and drink alcohol / Talked of a place that wasn’t on no map / Said ‘I don’t know where it is but I do know where it’s at / It’s called Yoknapatawpha, mama.’”

“First Recollection,” Cowboy Junkies. Shreve McCannon’s fellow Canadians incorporate a bit from “Absalom, Absalom!” into song: “I’ve heard a man in crisis / Falls back on what he knows best / A murderer to murder / A thief to theft.”

“Carson’s Blues” and “Harper Lee,” Suzanne Vega. From her album, “Lover, Beloved: Songs from an Evening with Carson McCullers.” In which Carson, through the voice of Suzanne, sings of her multitudes (“A childish liar / A devilish bitch / I can be innocent and charming / And suddenly switch”) and then talks playful smack about the competition, from Woolf, Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Faulkner to Lee (“She always seems to be receiving / More than she deserves / Honey, she’s poaching on / My literary preserves.”) Read about the album here.

“Lateness of Dancers,” Hiss Golden Messenger. An early line from the Eudora Welty novel “Delta Wedding” (“She remembered the nights — the moon vine, the everblooming Cape jessamines, the verbena smelling under running feet, the lateness of dancers.”) finds its way to HGM’s M.C Taylor, who does lovely justice to it (“One morning, one morning / The world was in motion / With the sweet lateness of dancers.”) I found a list online of 10 things Taylor can’t live without. His wife and son were No. 1. “Delta Wedding” was No. 2.

I know, brother. It’s one my faves, too, and the one where Welty says my favorite thing ever about Memphis:

“Memphis,” she said. When her voice trembled, the name seemed to recede from something else into its legendary form, the old Delta synonym for pleasure, trouble, and shame.

“Traveling Shoes” and “Song for Fay,” Caroline Herring. A Mississippi-born songwriter sings a couple inspired by Welty and Larry Brown, respectively. “Song for Fay” is from the compilation “Just One More: A Tribute to Larry Brown,” in a lineup that included T-Model Ford, Vic Chesnutt, and the North Mississippi Allstars with Other Turner and the Rising Star Fife & Drum Band. “Traveling Shoes” is sung acapella and sounds like a hymn — the Church of Eudora Welty, ah. I just may go and get saved.

For further listening: Lee Bains III & The Glory Fires have this great line in the breakup song “Everything You Took”: “You can keep my Walker Percy / You can keep that shirt my brother got the time he saw The Ramones.” … And Jolie Holland, in “Alley Flowers,” sings, “Zora Neale Hurston told her story / And they kicked her out of New York City / Just like Jesus Christ in Galilee …” … And then of course you can read Barry Hannah’s classic short story “Water Liars” and then listen to the fine band of the same name.