Ballads, Banjos and Banana Slugs
During her junior year at Stanford University, Gale was a volunteer guide at Hidden Villa, an educational farm and wilderness preserve near Los Altos Hills, California.
Music is in the air, it’s in the ground—we catch it, direct it, mold it, while it catches us and shapes our lives with meaning and purpose.” — Steve Van Zandt
This paper will look at how music is used in the Hidden Villa Environmental Project. From this, I will discuss how music can be used in environmental education in general, and then attempt to describe what “environmental music” is and where it can be found.
The Hidden Villa Environmental Project, approximately 11 years old, is a staff of three dedicated people who devote their time and energy to educating children with an awareness of the natural environment. Elementary school children from the second through sixth grades are given a day of classroom preparation, then brought on one or more field trips to Hidden Villa, a 2,400-acre ranch owned by Frank Duveneck and located in the Santa Cruz Mountains only a few miles from the main cities of the western Bay Area. Upon arrival, the classes are split into small groups averaging a half-dozen children and are led by volunteer guides—college students and community residents—around the ranch for a day of learning and fun.
Both the farm and the wilderness beyond it are explored, using teaching strategies aimed at developing a child’s natural sense of wonder and appreciation for animals and the outdoors, as well as overcoming any fears that a city upbringing might have instilled. At the farm, children begin to realize where their own food comes from, and how they are connected to the earth. Many have never thought about where their meat, eggs, and vegetables were before they were in the grocery store, or where their garbage goes when the trucks take it away. Cycles, energy, growth, and decomposition are some of the major emphases of the farm.
Hiking through the beautiful wilderness of chaparral, mixed oak, riparian and grassland habitats helps foster a sense of the natural environment and a love and respect for wild things. Whether it involves taking a close look at an ant’s world with a magnifying lens or climbing to the top of a mountain in order to see the entire Bay Area, the strategies expand children’s horizons and stimulate them to think for themselves. Though some natural history is taught, sensory awareness, appreciation of natural beauty, and caretakership are considered more important than names and facts.
This is all fine, you may ask—but where does the music come in? Just about everywhere. Music at Hidden Villa is used in the classroom, on the trail, and to start and end the day as a group. Like other strategies, music can make a point, teach a concept, reinforce memories, foster appreciation, encourage participation, and let kids have fun.
A song is a great way to get going in the morning when 60-odd children pile out of cars or buses excited and somewhat disoriented. Music can provide an initial focus of attention, and a boisterous action song can help let loose some pent-up energy from the ride to Hidden Villa. Or a familiar song might help them feel more at home. When third-graders from East Palo Alto hesitantly began stepping off the bus, all of the guides began singing their unofficial school anthem, “Give Me that Ole Cavanaugh Spirit” to make them feel more comfortable. A nice sense of comradery between guides and children developed right away as the kids joined in enthusiastically.
Even more useful, a song can also change the initial mood from rambunctiousness to a quieter sense of awe. As an example, staff member Lynne Stietzel and I once led the singing of the Indian chant “Hawk” in order to settle a group of sixth-graders after the morning flurry of organization. We sang the beautiful somber chant three times together—the second time holding hands in a circle, the third time closing our eyes as well. It almost instantly set the tone for hiking and sharing on this gorgeous morning. At the end of an extremely active day, we gathered together and sang it again—first I singing it alone, then everyone joining in. A hawk appeared over the ridge on the second verse, as though we had called him up. Beginning and ending on the same song lent a nice touch of unity to the day, a feeling of having come full circle.
Music can also be taken out on the trail, although in general, this is a little harder unless you have a large group or a group that naturally happens to love singing. A day full of song creates an indescribable spirit—I had one such group, seven fourth-grade girls, and we sang all day, up and down the trails. In fact, the biggest problem, if you could call it a problem, was getting them to stop singing.
Singing on the trail will tend to be a personal preference of the guide, but I think it could be used a lot more. It does require that the individual guide feel confident and comfortable leading songs alone, usually without musical accompaniment (although a recorder or harmonica might be easily taken along). Sometimes the staff will have taught a few songs during the classroom preparation, and these are the best candidates for trail songs as the children already know them. They can create a mood during ceremonies or solidify a point. For example. I spent one day struggling to get the concept of respect for life across to some very young second-graders who couldn’t quite seem to make the connection between my words and not pulling up flowers. I now wonder what would’ve happened if I had simply gathered them around the mutilated plant and had sung to them Malvina Reynolds’ beautiful song “Let it Be,”* having them join in the chorus. They might have been just taken aback enough to listen to what I sang, even if they wouldn’t listen to what I said.
Music is especially useful on rainy days. Group singings psyche the children into wanting to go out and get wet, and help keep their spirits up when they come back soaked. Another indoor way to use music, which I’ve never tried but would like to, might be to put on a classical record and lead a guided imagery strategy. The kids close their eyes and imagine themselves to be something, their thoughts prodded along by the leader’s words and the music. For instance, they could imagine themselves to be water droplets while listening to Schubert’s Eighth Symphony, which is often considered to be a musical representation of running water. An acorn of a tree growing during Copland’s “Appalachian Spring” or an ant watching the sunrise during Grofe’s “Grand Canyon Suite” are other possibilities. With the right group, coordinated with the right music, this could be really effective.
Music is especially used to end the day at Hidden Villa. As the groups trickle back to the parking lot, one of the staff members will pull out a guitar or dulcimer and lead the entire group in closing songs. Sometimes these songs reinforce something the children have seen or learned that day, and sometimes they are just for fun or to fill time while waiting for tardy buses to appear.
It’s usually apparent which teachers utilize a lot of music in their own teaching from how well children respond to these group singings. One class surprised us by singing one of their own songs to thank us and say good-bye. Another pleasant surprise came with a group of hearing-impaired children, who, we discovered, loved to sing. We sang and signed several songs with them, including the exuberant action song, “I’m Happy All the Time.” Music sometimes appears when you least expect it.
The “Concert” often ends the day at Hidden Villa. While this doesn’t involve singing per se, it does depend on rhythm and the coordination of separate groups. Each guide’s group has to decide on what was the best thing they saw or did during their day at Hidden Villa. This often takes a bit of compromising, but always something that can be fit into a word or short phrase can be agreed on, and this becomes that group’s “instrument.” The staff member then acts as the conductor of an orchestra, leading all these separate instruments in a massive chant with varying dynamic levels. The effect can range from total cacophony to—if the instruments happen to blend well—a complex and rewarding rhythmic summary of the day. Some of the instruments my groups have chosen include—climbing the mountain, birds, talking to planets, hugging trees, and “being with our guides.”
Some additional ideas of how music could be worked into a Hidden Villa day: children love to make up their own songs. Taking a familiar melody and setting new words to it is a treat for everyone, and if you have a special group and enough time, you might even be able to make up an entirely original song incorporating their own experiences. Indian chants can’t be matched for their beauty, simplicity, and meaning—one such as “Wichitai-tai” could even be used as a base for group improvisations with a musically mature group. Rounds are also marvelous for creating harmony and unity in a group. Although only giggles may result if you try to do too much, the children may surprise you.
One last important aspect of music at Hidden Villa is related not so much to the children as to the guides. After a hard day of handling rowdy fifth-graders, a few minutes of group singing around popcorn to end the day is often therapeutic. Songs can also help orient trainees and bring people together at Hidden Villa functions.
In general, music can be a useful tool in almost any phase of environmental education at Hidden Villa, or anywhere else for that matter. One might modify the old Chinese proverb to read,” “I hear and I forget; I sing and I remember.” Music truly is a universal language, and I’m convinced that children of all ages love to sing—only the adult variety are more self-conscious of the “quality” of their voices. Children are lucky in that they seldom have such inhibitions.
Any gathering of people can be an opportunity for music to work its age-old spell. After all, the idea is hardly a new one. Long before the written word, stories and ideas were preserved and passed down in an oral tradition. Songs were created by many generations, altered, handed down, and changed again. Folk music has always been dynamic, evolving to fit the needs of the people who sing it at that time. Like work songs, pioneer songs, railroad songs, sea chanties, and many others, environmental songs are a manifestation of a people’s need to express something in their lives in music.
What exactly is environmental music? Any song that conveys in message or mood an appreciation for our natural environment or a concern for its destruction can be considered an environmental song. This is a necessarily broad definition and can include everything from “Home on the Range” to Malvina Reynolds’ “DDT on My Brain.” But a few general categories are apparent.
Appreciation songs often focus on a particular plant or animal, such as Steve Van Zandt’s “The Quail,” “I’m a Tree,” and the ever-popular “Banana Slug.” These songs work in a little natural history while dispelling myths. Patty Zietlin and Marcia Berman, on their album “Spin, Spider, Spin,” wrote charming songs about creepy-crawlies—animals that might at first produce one, and only one, reaction in some children: “Ugh! Gross!” Spiders, snakes, worms, and lizards were all gently treated in these songs. Some animal songs emphasize our spiritual ties with our fellow inhabitants of the earth—Peter La Farge’s “Coyote, My Little Brother” is a moving example. Others speak of endangered species, such as Malvina Reynolds’ “The Whale.” The lyrics don’t come out and say, “look at how stupid and cruel you humans are for destroying this creature,” but rather take the more subtle approach of generating an appreciation for the animal and a sadness for its passing. It’s left up to the singer or listener to make the final step of “Now what can we do to stop this…“ in their own minds.
Teaching songs tell a story or use an analogy to explain an ecological concept. For example, food cycles are taught in the Hidden Villa favorite “Dirt Made My Lunch,” water cycles in the “River Song,” matter and energy cycles in “Decomposition,” and the central importance of the sun in “The Sun Circle.”
Significantly, songs about problems are by far the largest category of environmental music. These songs are termed “downers” by staff member Mary Hallesy, and generally treat some of the more unpleasant aspects of the current environmental situation in satiric, poignant, or humorous ways. Favorite topics are pollution, overpopulation, extinction, hazardous wastes, urbanization, and destruction of wilderness values. Some of the best downer songs are new compositions—such as Bill Steele’s “Garbage Song,” the very funny but all too true story of Mister Thompson, his Cadillac, his T.V., and his garbage. Other songs are take-offs on old and familiar tunes. They have the advantage that people are much more likely to sing along and remember them if they already know the melody. The words are sometimes completely different, as in Bob Dorough’s “Stop the Poison” set to the tune of Clementine. Others wryly parallel the original words in some way, such as Jerry Smith’s parody of “This Land is Your Land,” which contains lines like “From the logged-off forests to the dirty waters/This land was made for you and me (?).”
Downers are extremely important. They make their points and get their messages across in no uncertain terms, particularly to adults who can grasp the full irony of their words. But they are strong medicine and have to be used sparingly. Too many downers can produce the hopeless feeling of “Why bother? We’re all doomed anyway,” which is exactly the opposite effect that an environmental educator desires. Songs that outline problems but leave a sense of hope at the end, a feeling that something can be done, are necessary too. The “Water Song” by Wendy Davis, sung to the tune of “She’ll be Comin’ Round the Mountain,” is one such song, with its suggestions for how to help out the water problem. (“I would rather eat a salad than a lawn!”) Mary Hallesy’s new verses to “It’s a Small World” is another one, as are Steve Van Zandt’s “Recycle” and the dynamic “Solar Energy.”
Then there are uppers. Uppers make you feel good. Uppers can be just plain silly action songs borrowed from the YMCA, beautiful old ballads to stir the heart or foot-stompin’ hillbilly songs to get the blood going. Uppers stress that the world is beautiful, people are grand, and if only we can only get our act together, there is hope. A healthy dose of uppers is vital to any environmental education music program.
What makes a good environmental song? Pete Seeger, regarded by many as the god of environmental music, has a wonderful criterion—“They can’t just be editorials set to music.” No one likes to feel that they are simply being fed someone else’s opinion, and people turn off a message that is just too strong. There is often a fine line between being straightforward and being offensive. Much of this depends on knowing your audience, of course, and knowing how far you can push them without losing them altogether. The goal of a good environmental message song is simply to make people realize the current situation and then think about their own reaction to it. Do they approve? Disapprove? If so, what can they do? Success comes when a song fires someone else’s imagination in such a way that their own minds tell them what ought to be done.
Getting people’s minds to work on this intellectual level is very important, but songs also work through an emotional level. What kind of feelings did the song provoke? Wonder? Rage? Sadness? Determination? Did it make you want to laugh or cry? Did it make you feel quiet and meditative, or did it make you so mad that you’re ready to go home and write letters to all your Congressmen and get all your friends to as well? Good environmental music can have all of these effects and many more, and this gut-level reaction to a song is probably its most important quality. If a song slides off people without touching them in some way, then no matter how clever or needed the message, it will be forgotten.
Many great songs work exclusively on this emotional level, creating spells, bringing people together, and working magic. Often children will not fully understand the intellectual implications of a song, but they can feel it. In Malvina Reynolds’ “The Whale,” it is impossible not to feel what is happening when the minor modulation comes in and the “harpoon spears her young/she hovers to protect it and she’s done.” For a completely different yet still crucial reason, feelings are one of the best ways to reach adults. The intellectual level may be blocked, as adults tend to have fixed opinions on an issue already. So when they hear a message they don’t like, there is the danger of their turning off entirely with thoughts and wrinkled noses along the lines of “Eww. One of those crazy environmentalists’ songs. What garbage.” But everyone is vulnerable to the feelings that a good song can create, no matter how firmly they barricade themselves behind the wall of their current opinions. The archetypal call of music is powerful enough to have some unexpected results.
For this reason, delivery rather than intrinsic musical worth is of primary importance. Most environmental songs are very, very simple musically. They consist of a straightforward melody, a few basic chords, and uncomplicated rhythms. All of that is not important. What is important is that the singer(s) imbue those timeworn chord progressions with a vitality that makes this song, sung at this very time by these very people, come alive. The feeling created by the singing and blending of many voices is by its very nature ephemeral. Keep in mind that written songs are only freeze-dried versions of something that has the potential to get up and start running around—or flying.
Therefore, thinking that you “don’t have a very good voice” is no excuse for not leading songs. That’s baloney. A professional singer might be able to sing a good environmental song with perfect phrasing and vibrato—but leave his or her audience cold and unmoved. The energy and life projected into a song matter far more than the musical quality of the performance itself—although of course, fine musical quality is icing on the cake.
I’m personally convinced that anyone can do environmental music well. Energy, a joy in singing, and a desire to communicate are the only real requirements. A clear, strong, unpretentious voice is a boon. I say unpretentious because I’ll never forget an incident during the first full rehearsal of a musical I once participated in. We (the chorus) were supposed to join in and sing with the leading lady, a coloratura soprano with a voice of enormous proportions. But we were so awestruck when she let loose this voice that none of us sang along at first, feeling woefully aware of the inadequacy of our paltry little voices. I think much the same phenomenon can happen any time you are trying to get others to sing with you. A pleasant, comfortable, unstrained voice will make people more at ease and more likely to join in. The idea is to encourage participation, not impress everyone with the quality of your voice.
Much the same can be said for the guitar, banjo, dulcimer, piano, fiddle, flute, recorder, lute, mandolin, harmonica, pennywhistle, or whatever other instruments you may be able to use as accompaniment. While the instrument shouldn’t dominate, it can be an exceedingly valuable tool. An instrument is a natural focal point. It sets the pitch and tone of a song instantly. People can pick up on new songs much more easily if they have chords as guides and it also helps keep the whole shebang in rhythm and on pitch, more or less. Also, an instrument’s tone or quality can create an atmosphere all by itself. A banjo, guitar, and flute will all have distinctly different emotional effects on the audience.
Great skill is not the point, but you should feel comfortable enough with what you are playing that your lack of musicianship isn’t a distraction, either. Fortunately, the general simplicity of most environmental music comes in handy here. I know from personal experience that it doesn’t take more than a few months of practice and a good book or two to teach yourself enough guitar to get by on an amazing number of songs. Of course, help from a friend or lessons is even better. The guitar is probably the most common sing-a-long instrument, and I’m convinced there is a mystical sort of attraction to the sight and sound of someone—anyone—playing the guitar and singing. It naturally draws people in. Other good traditional instruments are the banjo and the dulcimer, and friends tell me that it doesn’t take too long to learn the fundamentals of them either. The piano tends to be a little loud but has the advantage that more people already know how to play it. Flute, fiddle, recorder and other “solo” instruments are harder to sing with but can be used in other ways. The sound of a lone flute under a quiet, star-filled night sets its own mood, while a fiddle just might make everyone want to get up and dance.
Where can you find environmental music? Songs are like milkweed seeds. They spread quite by chance, occasionally blown across the country by a stray gust. For example, Bill Staines’ “A Place in the Choir” was transported to Hidden Villa by a student from the East Coast. But while most sources for environmental music depend on this kind of word of mouth, with someone hearing a song and teaching it to someone else, there are a few standard places to start looking. Keeping in mind our broad definition of what environmental music is, it is possible to find many applicable songs in traditional folk music. John and Alan Lomax’s “Folk Song USA” is a good sampling of American ballads. Perusing such collections or stopping to examine the lyrics of an old favorite more closely might produce a pleasant surprise. Our musical heritage contains an amazing amount of natural lore that is worth remembering and re-singing. A good example is the traditional cowboy song “Home on the Range” with its seldom sung extra verses expressing a deep reverence for the natural beauty of the West. Old songs have an additional advantage in that they threaten no one. Even the most suspicious audience can’t accuse “You Are My Sunshine” of merely being a plug for solar energy or dispute the wisdom of the “Jug Band” song. (“If you wanna eat your crackers in bed, you gotta sleep with the crumbs.”)
Many people think of two names when they think of recent environmental music—Pete Seeger and Malvina Reynolds. Seeger has not only contributed his own compositions to the environmental music collection—such as “Rainbow Race” and the “Song of the Last Whale”—but has been instrumental in popularizing the songs of others. His album “God Bless the Grass” appeared in 1970, the year of the first Earth Day, and contained many great songs—including those of Malvina Reynolds. Malvina would write songs from articles in the newspaper that touched her. She became known as sassy and outrageous for such satiric classics as “Little Boxes,” inspired by the ticky-tacky houses of Daly City, and “There’ll Come a Time,” where she predicts an urbanization nightmare and thanks the Lord that “when that day is here I will be gone.” “God Bless the Grass” is a poignant song lending new meaning to the term “grassroots movement.” But many of her songs are pervaded by a gentle faith in love and in the goodness of people, such as “Magic Penny” and “If You Love Me.”
Many of these somewhat controversial songs found an outlet in the magazine “Sing Out!” which began in 1950. Here Seeger, Reynolds, and other young songwriters could publish songs reflecting concern for the environmental values they saw being eroded away. “Sing Out!” is still going strong today and remains one of the best sources for new environmental songs.
The Sierra Club published a collection entitled “The Survival Songbook,” but, as Mary Hallesy puts it, they were all downers. Although it contained many great songs, singing it straight through would produce unbroken melancholy, which was further enhanced by the graphic and doleful illustrations opposite each song. So. Mary decided to do something about this, helping to put together a smaller, lightweight version of a Sierra Club songbook suitable for backpacking and including many wonderful international folk tunes, spirituals, spoofs, trail songs, ballads, and other uppers along with the downers.
Several popular entertainers turn out songs that can be sung or listened to in an environmental context. Judy Collins, Joan Baez, Gordon Lightfoot, John Denver, Bob Dylan, Kate Wolf, New Riders of the Purple Sage and Moody Blues are just a few examples and new songs are coming out all time.
Environmental music is always growing and changing. Steve Van Zandt, who works at Jones Gulch for San Mateo County Outdoor Education, wrote a songbook called “I’m a Tree” in 1979 which contains many of the songs used at Hidden Villa. Steve’s songs are particularly appropriate to use with children, for they employ easily understandable analogies and often incorporate a great deal of action. At a recent workshop, Steve unleashed a new collection of songs, including the marvelous “25,000 Miles,” and staff member Wally Lenker sang us a still unfinished but delightful song on packaging. New songs are being written all the time to keep up with current events and needs.
Songbooks, records, and other people are the best sources for environmental songs, but don’t forget one of the best sources of all—yourself. Writing your own songs to fit a particular point or feeling can be very challenging but also very rewarding. It is one of the most natural ways to communicate in the world. Just remember that a song should catalyze some sort of reaction in your fellow singers and listeners when it comes to life. And then enjoy it! As Steve Van Zandt says,
“If the songwriter is the catcher of songs, the musician is the releaser who sets in motion the music that becomes children laughing, jumping and smiling, as we too become the song.”
Appendix: Song References (partial)
“Sierra Club Songbook” (small). Northern California/Nevada Regional Conservation Committee, published by World Around Songs: “Let it Be,” “Home on the Range,” “The Whale,” “The Sun Circle,” “Stop the Poison,” “This Land Is Your Land,” “Water Song,” “It’s a Small World,” “You Are My Sunshine,” “Jug Band,” “If You Love Me.”
“The Survival Songbook.” Jim Morse and Nancy Matthews, illustrations by J.A. Smith, published for the Sierra Club: Coyote. My Little Brother. Garbage Song, Rainbow Race, Song of the World’s Last Whale, God Bless the Grass, There’ll Come a Time, DDT On My Brain.
“I’m A Tree.” Steve Van Zandt, 1979: The Quail, I’m a Tree, Banana Slug, Dirt Made My Lunch, River Song, Decomposition, Recycle, Solar Energy.
Many thanks to HVEP staff and volunteers—that means you, Mary!
All songs that can be tracked down to a reference appear above in the Appendix.
Gale Warner
Unpublished, 1981