“And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads. And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the Earth: and the dragon stood before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to devour her child as soon as it was born.”
These terrifying verses are from the Book of Revelation — the Bible’s apocalyptic finale, in which all manner of strange and hideous creatures and events are described, foreseen and, crucially, enumerated, culminating in the destruction of the world and the birth of a “new Jerusalem”. Its author identifies himself only as “John”, writing from the island of Patmos. (Biblical scholars used to think that John of Patmos and the author of the Gospel According to John were one and the same, but views have now shifted.) John of Patmos was said to have been immersed in boiling oil by the Romans as punishment for his Christian beliefs; when this failed to kill him or dissuade him from his faith, they exiled him to Patmos.
John of Patmos, then, was the scribe who wrote down what was being revealed to him in visions. The extraordinary imagery of the Book of Revelation, its melding of Old and New Testaments and its depictions of the survival of hope amid terrible scenes, have long resonated with African Americans. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, slave songs and spirituals mentioned John and “the book of the seven seals” (ie, Revelation).
In 1930 came the first recording of a song called “John the Revelator”,by the blues singer Blind Willie Johnson. Though no record exists of it before then, it has the ring of a call-and-response work song, perhaps hollered across fields. In the recording, with acoustic guitar accompaniment, a rasping Johnson asks: “Who’s that writing?”, to be answered by the voice of an unidentified woman (possibly his first wife, Willie B. Harris): “John the Revelator.” It’s a thrilling, chilling song, the words tumbling out of Johnson’s mouth: “God told Moses pull off your shoes/Out of the flock, a well a-you I choose.”
The song’s next iterations were somewhat different, suggesting that it had several branches to its family tree: in 1938 the gospel ensemble The Golden Gate Quartetsang it almost jauntily, describing in bee-hum harmonies a rumble that sounds like chariot wheels. In 1950, in the same mould another gospel group The Trumpeteersbacked their urgent litany of apocalyptic scenes with a twangly electric guitar. In a similar vein, Harry Belafontetackled it in 1964 with churchy organ, thumping drums and throaty backing singers.
As the blues revival of the 1950s and ’60s took hold, veteran singers were being rediscovered and revered as keepers of the blue flame. In 1965 one of those singers, Son House,made the first of several recordings, a solo a cappella version with handclaps as accompaniment, listing the fall of man, the crucifixion and the resurrection in his verses. His voice sounds world-weary and full of foreboding, and his version — along with Johnson’s 1930 “original” — set the template for those that followed.
Since then, singers have mined the song for its mystery, its mythology, its imagery, its darkness. Among the finest performances was one by Nick Cave.In 1999 and 2001 the producer Hal Willner, famous for curating concerts themed around great figures in popular music, staged a series of shows in tribute to the musicologist Harry Smith, whose 1952 Anthology of American Folk Music was a huge influence on the blues and folk revival that followed (Blind Willie Johnson’s “John the Revelator” was among its tracks). Among the acts featuring on the resulting album and DVD (released in 2006), Cave gave a stunning, simmering performance of “John the Revelator”, with Kate and Anna McGarrigle on backing vocals answering his calls in a rendition that channels the violence and dread of the song.
In the Blues Brothers sequel Blues Brothers 2000, the film opens with Taj Mahal’s gruff Son House-style a cappella-and-handclaps rendition, while later in the movie Sam Moore leads a gospel choir in a joyous celebration of the apocalypse — until the police turn up.
In John Mellencamp’s 2003 version, the singer, an exemplar of Americana, engages in a biblical battle with his howling backing singers, electric guitar ringing and wowing. Depeche Mode’s2005 electro-blues “John the Revelator” bears little resemblance to any other version, but is instead a doomy condemnation of political and religious leaders who lay claim to “truths” — though it does echo the numerology of the Book of Revelation: “Seven lies, multiplied by seven, multiplied by seven again.”
Some have adapted it as a kind of stomp, including Tom Waitson a 2016 tribute album to Blind Willie Johnson: metallic and clangy, with backing vocals that moan and tribulate; and roots-rockers Larkin Poe(2017), vowels stretching and guitars growling, biblical and bluesy. This truly is a song for the end of days.
What are your memories of ‘John the Revelator’? Let us know in the comments section below.
‘The Life of a Song Volume 2: The fascinating stories behind 50 more of the world’s best-loved songs’, edited by David Cheal and Jan Dalley, is published by Brewer’s.
Music credits: Columbia/Legacy; Document Records; Jasmine Records; RCA/Legacy; HighTone Records; BMG Rights Management / Mute Records Ltd.; Alligator Records; Tricki-Woo
Picture credit: Michael Ochs Archives