“It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty Delta day. . . ‘’
1967 will always be remembered for Sgt. Pepper and the Summer of Love, but I can never come across this day on the calendar without thinking of another song from that summer, the Raymond Carver-like short story that the beautiful Bobbie Gentry encapsulated in a perfect song –hypnotic, mysterious, sad—that is virtually without peer in pop music history. Gentry’s mixture of the prosaic and the ineffable—the tangibility of the biscuits and the plough and the frog, juxtaposed with the enigma of what was thrown off the Tallahatchie Bridge, and why Billie Joe jumped—give the song a hot, fevered, surreal quality, and her refusal to spell everything out for the listener contravenes all the rules about pop music, which is in its essence a vehicle for our unexpressed thoughts, feelings and desires. In interviews over the years, Gentry always denied knowing why Billie Joe jumped, a statement which may or may not be true, but which was certainly sound marketing: what would it profit her to end the mystery? Besides, in the last verse, Gentry gives us all the bitter information anyone ever needs to know: Papa is dead, Mama’s depressed, Brother has moved away, the girl is all alone, and Billie Joe is a fading memory.
By the way, I am happy to report that I am not the only fan of this song. The singer Jill Sobule has a new song that salutes Bobby Gentry. Hear it here, then go find yourself a bridge to toss some petals off of.