We are in the sixth century BCE. Jerusalem has been conquered, the Temple destroyed, the Israelites are in exile in Babylon. They weep and mourn; their fate is a punishment from God for idolatry. They sit by the waters of Babylon — perhaps the rivers Tigris and Euphrates, perhaps the irrigation canals — hang their harps in the trees in sorrow and remember Zion — Jerusalem — while their Babylonian captors mockingly demand that they sing one of their songs. The Israelites cannot. “How,” they ask themselves, “can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”
This is Psalm 137, a song about being unable to sing. Probably written by the prophet Jeremiah, it has been set to music hundreds of times over the centuries by composers such as Palestrina (1525-94), who used the psalm in its Latin form, “Super flumina Babylonis”; by Philip Hayes in 1786, whose composition has become part of the folk repertoire in a musical round arranged by Lee Hays of The Weavers: a live version with audience participation closes Don McLean’s 1971 album American Pie (a beautiful version of this arrangement also forms the soundtrack to a montage in the TV series Mad Men); and by Victorian composer George Mursell Garrett. The psalm forms the basis of “Va, pensiero”, the Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves from Verdi’s Nabucco (though with its lilting waltz rhythm, Verdi’s version sounds more like a drinking song than a lament).
Now we are in the late 1960s, and Rastafarianism has gripped Jamaica, finding expression in the reggae music of the island. It is a faith that connects with the Old Testament, whose stories of exile, enslavement and liberation resonate powerfully among the descendants of African slaves. The Melodians are a Jamaican group who have been recording since the early 1960s, first in the new ska and rocksteady musical idioms that have swept the island, then morphing into devotional Rastafarian reggae.
In 1970, they take Psalm 137 and turn it into a gorgeously slinky song, “Rivers of Babylon”, interpolating a verse from another Old Testament Psalm, 19 (“Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart…”). The closing bars offer the singer a chance to emphasise the song’s message: “Sing a song of freedom, brother!”
In Rasta parlance, “Babylon” means oppressive western society, and “Rivers of Babylon” becomes something of a Rasta anthem. For a short while, it is banned from radio airplay by the Jamaican government. It is re-recorded in Jamaica in a straightforward version by Dennis Brown 1971, then in 1978 by U-Roy in a spooky dub deconstruction with deep bass and ghostly toasting. It features in the 1972 Jamaican film The Harder They Come.
Meanwhile, the song is spreading globally. It is covered in an a cappella version by Linda Ronstadt in 1976 that lasts less than a minute. And in 1978 it is recorded by a Caribbean disco-pop group based in Germany under the guidance of producer Frank Farian: Boney M. “Rivers of Babylon” in Boney M’s hands (or, rather, Farian’s hands, for he is their svengali) becomes a bouncy, catchy disco tune decorated with rattling timbales; Farian himself provides the deep vocals.
The lyrics adhere pretty faithfully to The Melodians’ version, though whereas The Melodians sang, “Be acceptable in thy sight, O Far-I” (a reference to Haile Selassie), Boney M’s version is the more prosaic “here tonight”; and The Melodians’ “King Alpha” (Selassie again) reverts to “The Lord” in Boney M’s version. The song is a global smash (along with its B-side, “Brown Girl in the Ring”, based on a West Indian playground song), bringing biblical liturgy to the dancefloors of Europe perhaps for the first time.
By now, Psalm 137 has travelled far and wide; it spreads a little further, but it is now essentially “owned” by Boney M. There is a thin comedy version by British parodists The Barron Knights in 1978 (“There’s a dentist in Birmingham…”), a stirring rendition by American a cappella ensemble Sweet Honey in the Rock (1985), a thumpingly dull acid house remix by Pete Hammond (1988) and a cringeingly awful pan-pipe version by Hubert Meyer (2008) that sounds like dialogue from the children’s TV animation The Clangers.
But something has been forgotten along the way. Psalm 137 has another couple of verses which, though still used in some liturgical contexts, have been left out of the pop adaptations. This is hardly surprising: the last stanza is particularly nasty — it calls for brutal vengeance against Babylon. “Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones.” How very Old Testament.
What are your memories of ‘Rivers of Babylon’? 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: Rivoalto; EMI Catalog (USA); Decca Music Group Ltd.; Trojan Records; Virgin UK; Rhino/Elektra; MCI; Epic; New Rounder; MTJ
Picture credit: Alamy