AUDIO LINK. Just click the audio link or cut and paste it into your web browser. Thanks. https://soundcloud.com/randall-stephen-hall/save-me-a-seat-beside-you-7415
Ever since I was a wee boy I have found trains a comforting thing for they will take you somewhere, with a whole group of strangers. In a sense they are no longer cutting edge technology but could it be argued that we, as humans, have created a concept, a technology, that benefits us and that doesn’t need replacing with just more cars?
My grandfather was a train driver from 1916 up into the 1940s. A witness to the age of steam and its demise by lobbying for cars. The car lobby, yet another area undiscovered and yet to be fully in the public eye. Lying under a cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke. Of deals done in back rooms to carve up the countryside and put our produce on the roads, rather than our trains and an efficient railway network.
Our railways are now, pretty much, compromised by the car and the myth individualism. I’m guilty too. I still drive a car but our family, as a whole, only has one. We have always shared one car.
I still like trains and the fact that you can let someone else do the driving while you relax, work, or just enjoy the view.
Another technology I grew up with was the record player, a Dansette Mono, bought for our family by our Aunt Ruby. I listened to a fairly endless list of artists like Simon and Garfunkel, Joni Mitchell (get well soon Joni), James Taylor, Carol King. Mainstream American folk plus lots of Black Soul, Blues from the early 1970s.
(Have you noticed that Folk or Rock are never referred to as White Folk or White Rock.)
But before I had any money to buy records myself I only had access to less than ten LPs that we had in our house, one of which was Paul Robeson. I think it was sheer boredom one day that made me take it out of the paper sleeve and put it on the turn table. I was about nine.
At first the music seemed from a much earlier time. That I was observing a piece of history. But soon I began to like the tone of Paul Robeson’s voice. It was like a big warm cardigan. It was comforting and held my attention and I have often thought why would I like this music then?
When I was about six I got my tonsils out but I hemorrhaged badly, lost a lot of blood, but survived. In the early hours, the following morning, a black doctor in the whitest of coats, stood beside my bed to check my arm (a blood transfusion). I had never seen anyone black before. The colour of his skin was beautiful and amazing to a little boy like me. My arm felt so sore and stiff but soon I fell back to sleep.
I never saw the black doctor again but I’ll always remember that moment. Such kindness and patience. Such care and attention to one so weak. So in a way I can now see why I liked Paul Robeson’s voice. I had made a connection between the two things.
How our past influences us is like dipping our toes into the cool clear waters of an illuminated cave. You never know what you will connect with. I feel those connections still and that early black influence keeps returning to me and continues to influence some of my music.
I’m so grateful that black culture has had such a profound effect on me. I feel so white, yet at times, inside, I feel so black. Gospel, Soul, Roots music and Blues are some of the oldest influences I carry with me.
Here is a recent song called “Save me a Seat Beside You.”
Save me a seat beside you
When you catch the train.
Save me a seat beside you
You don’t know my name.
Take me cross the bridge to Folky Town.
Where you can be yellow, black, white or brown.
Did I say red?
Red, red will do.
For they will welcome you.
Save me a seat beside you
When you leave this place.
Save me a seat beside you
I think I know your face.
All of these people just fightin’ for love.
Just lookin’ down instead of lookin’ above.
Achin’ for something they just can’t find.
I want to catch this line.
Save me a seat beside you
I have to catch my breath.
Save me a seat beside you
I kind of like your dress.
Ten foot tall with wings on your back
Floatin’ up above this railroad track.
Showing me the way to Folky Town
Where I’m gonna lay this burden down.
Repeat first verse . . .
end.
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