If you’re courting Liza Jane, and you want to have any
chance at winning her hand, you’ve got to swing her madly. Clark Kessinger and
his nephew Luches did just that in 1929, on the eve of the Great Depression. This
instrumental dance number appeared toward the conclusion of a formidable recording
spree: nearly three years and thirty singles, much of it for the Brunswick
label. “Liza Jane” peaks and flourishes well beyond the traditional structure
that the two men inherited; it frolics and dips; and when it dips into that classic
“Liza Jane” country melody, you can sing “Riding on that train” or “Goodbye
Liza Jane” because those lines—and every song in the “Liza Jane” family—are related.
The virtuoso fiddler Clark Kessinger was already playing West
Virginia saloons and dances when he was summoned for service in World War I. While
overseas, he may have whistled a different tune, “Li’l Liza Jane,” which had
become freshly popular in that era, and had been transported by the rank and
file to the theatre of war. Upon returning, he teamed with his nephew to form
the fiddle-guitar duo that could both ignite blazes and extinguish them in the space
of a three-minute, ten-inch, vinyl cut. No, they’re not brothers after all in
the nuclear family sense, but they are related, and they are certainly brothers-in-skill.
During the Great Depression, the Kessingers gradually faded from the music
scene. Luches even passed away in 1944. Eventually, Clark Kessinger was
rediscovered in the 1960s, as part of the folk music revival, and from what I
can tell, he didn’t disappoint. Other fiddlers were reluctant to compete with him,
even at an advanced age. The elder Kessinger passed away in 1975.
“Liza Jane” was bundled with a somewhat melancholy pop tune,
“Whistling Rufus,” that nevertheless jumps in the hands of the duo. It’s not
clear which of the two songs was the A-side but the record was released as
Brunswick 521 in June 1929. By then, the “Liza Jane” family of songs had been
circulating for many decades, in various idioms. Clark and Luches weren’t playing
a “white mountain song” but a tune that had traded hands between black and
white musicians—and would continue to do so in the decades to follow. For
example, a sedate and divine Mississippi John Hurt plays a mellow version of
this song (with words) on his 1963 album Folk Songs and Blues.
According to scholar Charles Wolfe, Clark Kessinger ripped
into a fiddle tune the way a hungry fellow would rip into a plate of fried
chicken. As we’ve noted, that’s how vigorous you need to be, when courting Liza
Jane. You love her, you tell her so, you swing her ma-a-a-adly, but she remains
aloof. She’s one obstinate poor gal. And in all likelihood, she’ll go down the new-cut
road and you’ll go down the lane, and if I get there before you do, well, goodbye
Liza Jane.
coda: liza jane
I happen to have developed a specialty in “Liza Jane” songs
(just a little bit) owing to a collaboration with my colleague Emily Cohen for a forthcoming
documentary film that is being happily and gloriously rejuvenated and
reimagined at present, after the pandemic sidelined us unexpectedly. Check out
our website and my previous posts (cultural
history of the song + behind
the scenes at our trailer shoot) for information that will help you understand
my historical claims, although we’re saving the vast majority of our best
details for the film. I can confidently say that there are good days ahead for
this beloved family of folk tunes.
sources of
information
All Music Guide listing
for the Kessinger Brothers
Discography of American Historical Recordings entry
for Brunswick 521 record
Discography of American Historical Recordings entry
for “Liza Jane”
Hill Billy Music entry
for the Kessinger Brothers
Mountains of Music: West Virginia Traditional Music from
Goldenseal. Ed. John Lilly (University of Illinois Press, 1999)
West Virginia Music Hall of Fame entry for Clark
Kessinger
Wikipedia entry for Clark Kessinger
