Professional Documents
Culture Documents
In the late 1980’s, Ted Bundy, a serial killer awaiting death on Florida’s Death Row, gave
an extraordinary set of interviews revealing in the third person how and why he committed the
murders. On the murder of Roberta Parks, who he transported several hundred miles before
murdering and deposing of her, he speculates that he transported her due to indecision and a
conflict “between that part of him that thought it was necessary to kill his victims, versus the part
Bundy illuminates his double-consciousness, perhaps even strong enough in his case to be called
multiple personas. On one hand, he was acutely aware of and desired to fulfill societal norms.
Yet on the other hand, he felt a compulsion to act out against the bounds of these norms and to
kill his victims. Understanding why criminals deviate from established social norms constitutes
a central concern to police detectives, but a fascination with the phenomena of murder pervades
the general public too. What gives rise to this compulsion to kill? Bundy speculates that “It was
the possession of this desired thing, which was, in itself, -- the very act of assuming possession
was a very antisocial act – was giving expression to this person’s need to seize something that
was … highly valued, at least on the surface, by society.” (Michaud, 200-201). It seems then that
for Bundy, murder is not the act in and of itself, but rather a means of satisfying an internal
craving, a strong desire to become a part of mainstream society by forcefully taking possession
The persistence of murder ballads as an art form points to an enduring demand in society to
comprehend such antisocial acts. However, even the setting and premises of ballads themselves
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point to the speculation involved in simulating these “fantasy” murders. Murders occur
primarily away from the public eye, and leave no witnesses except the murderer himself, who
may not be considered a reliable source. Songwriters, then, attempt the impossible, to analyze
and comprehend the criminal psyche with extremely limited concrete information. By analyzing
murder ballads, we in effect look at murder as seen through society’s lens. What we can glean
from murder ballads is not a definitive answer on why murderers commit the atrocities they do,
“Banks of the Ohio,” born as a part of the oral tradition and recorded in 1938 by the
Monroe Brothers, follows the murder ballad “formula” that characterizes many of the older
murder ballads. The narrator asks his “love” to take a walk with him, hinting at a possible
marriage or proposal hovering in the air, yet by the third stanza, he murders her. In fact, the text
contains many other disturbing inconsistencies. The narrator asks to talk “about our wedding
day” (Monroe Brothers, ln 4) before his love has assented to be his bride. His diction implies,
furthermore, that she has already denied him the pleasure, or may very likely do so: “Only say
that you’ll be mine” (Monroe Brothers, ln 5). The narrator also awkwardly refers to himself in
both the first and third person. When he speaks of his love for his lady, he addresses himself as
“I”, but when referring to the man who committed the crime, he uses the pronoun “he”:
because she would not marry me.” (Monroe Brothers, lns 13-16)
The songwriter may have chosen to use both pronouns to highlight the conflicting desires, or
even alternate personalities such as those described by Bundy. The “I” respects social norms,
and tries to disassociate himself with the “he,” the monster who murdered his true love. In this
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way, the murderer insinuates that he is not to blame; in fact, he is twice the victim: he loses his
true love and also must take the legal consequences for her murder. Rather, he pushes the blame
on her, claiming that she was murdered because “she would not marry [him]” (Monroe Brothers,
ln 20).
By attributing his actions to his passionate love and her rejection of him, and not
reminding the audience of what “he had done” (Monroe Brothers, ln 14), the narrator-murderer
also builds sympathy for his case. He asks sympathy because his crime, though in a sense
willful, was governed by a disease of his mind, by factors outside of his control. He “was
coming home ‘tween twelve and one” (Monroe Brothers, ln 13), meaning that he has committed
the action in the past, and now stands at the bridge between the old day and the new. He is
“thinking of what he had done,” (Monroe Brothers, ln 14) so he feels something about his
actions. He goes on to define the feeling as remorse, both at loss, but also rejection. He feels no
guilt. “He” murdered the only girl that “I” loved. “He” is the criminal. He asks that the
The Monroe Brothers use the first person narration to allow us to enter the mind of the
murderer and see the criminal act from his viewpoint. Why did their murderer kill his “loved”
one? In his own words, he desires the woman he kills intensely: “only say that you’ll be mine”
(Monroe Brothers, ln 5, 13, 21, 29). Although this seems on the surface to be a cliché expressing
the highest romantic feelings, it is also a demand for license to possess. He wants her, and he
wants to have her in a socially acceptable way. His penchant to belong to society is evident in
the terms in which he seems to court her. He wants to take her for a walk; he want so to marry
her; he “loves” her. However, when she rejects him, he literally takes what he can get: “he
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dragged her down to the riverbank” (Monroe Brothers, ln 10), forcing her to physically submit to
him.
In a modern murder ballad, “Where the Wild Roses Grow,” Nick Cave devises a way to
give voice to both sides of the murder—perpetrator and victim. Cave juxtaposes two different
narratives voices to offer a better sense of what truly happened and what both sides were
thinking as the course of events progressed. As in the “Banks of the Ohio,” the man befriends
the woman, seems to fall in love with her and court her. However, this ideal romance is
complicated by the fact that he suddenly and unexpectedly murders her at the end of the poem.
How does this happen? The male narrator makes the two of them sound like lovers bonded at
first sight: “From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one” (Cave, ln 5). According to his
narrative, they make doe-eyes at each other, while he praises the color of her rosy red lips and
compares them to the color of blood. He does not seem to view this give-away as a faux pas,
but continues to sing to her beauty. On the second day, he brings her “a flower” (Cave, ln 17)
which in her narration, we learn is a rose, and titles her “more beautiful than any woman I’d
seen” (Cave, ln 18). He prompts her, asking if she knew of the roses that she constantly
reminded her off. His narration stays innocent until he takes her down the river on the “third
day” (Cave, ln 29), which he calls her “last day” (Cave, ln 33).
The actual events seem to be told much more directly and honestly from the woman,
Eliza Day’s narrative. She draws attention strictly to concrete events, without emotional mush,
and lets the events can speak for themselves. She chooses, for example, to say that “he knocked
on my door” (Cave, ln 9), indicating that he, from the very beginning, held both the reins and
ought to hold the blame for her murder. She accentuates the fact that she was “trembling” (Cave,
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ln 10), supporting a variety of conjectures as to her emotional state when he stepped into her
bubble, her home, her safe-zone. He comforts her, but also induces tears to run down her face.
Her narration unveils a dark, loving, but also foreboding sexual tenor. She claims he was
her “first man” (Cave, ln 11) as in her first sexual partner. He knocked on her door, and entered
the room called her vagina. Her trembling and tears are over the pain of the first time, since he
has broken down the physical barriers to her body. On the second “day,” but perhaps more aptly
in the second phase of their relationship, he asks for her to shed her mental and emotional walls,
to let him in further as he continues to penetrate her body. He asks her to divulge her
weaknesses, “will you [she] give me your loss and your sorrow?” (Cave, ln 22), but the answer is
a nod as she lies on the bed. Sex is no longer hidden in the stanza, but strongly implied. On the
third day, the singular explicit and perhaps least exciting sexual advance occurs—they kiss. And
he kills her.
The sexual tenor may in fact, reflect much more than increasing sexual intimacy. Cave
chooses to situate his murder within the context of three days, a very short period of time for
anyone to fall in love or to even become sexually involved. He may have chosen the time frame
for lyrical purposes, but perhaps he is also suggesting a pressing sense of urgency in the
murderer. What compulsion the murderer feels to become closer with his victim drives him to
make such rapid advances on her. In addition, the urgency may also suggest that what he
receives from her at the end of each day is not enough. He must take more and more. He is not
content with having physical relations with her. He is not sated by being allowed into her mind
and her thoughts. He wants more, and he kills her to satisfy his craving, but does taking
Answering this question is complicated by the fact that the male narrator’s narrative
seems unreliable. In fact, it seems almost impossible to decipher his motive in killing her. His
narration is littered with clichéd images of love (“From the first day I saw her I knew she was the
one (Cave, ln 5); “She was more beautiful than any woman I’d seen” (Cave, ln 18)). In fact, his
language implies that he knows what conventional love looks like, and he is able to reproduce a
convincing replica. In the interest of preserving this image, he even skips over the entire murder.
According to his narration, he “kissed her goodbye, [he] said, all beauty must die / and lent down
and planted a rose between her teeth” (Cave, ln 35-36). Nowhere does he take responsibility for
killing her; her death seems to be only an aesthetic completion of their affair. Can it be that his
only motive is to be the executor of her fate as a “beauty”? It seems unlikely that in the balance
between breaking the strongest social conventions, conventions which he parades throughout his
narrative, and performing almost a sacrificial rite-like murder, he chooses murder. What force
Perhaps the force is his desire to be included as a part of society. Suppose we take his
narration at face value, that his words are heartfelt. Then judging by the gap between his
interpretation of the event leading up to the murder and his victim’s, he must live a far distance
mentally from the rest of society while his initiating such a relationship with his victim shows
that he seeks to achieve and clearly honors ideal love as defined by society. Problematically, he
seems incapable of emotionally connecting with his victim on a concrete level. Although they
have sexual relations and she shares with him her “loss and … sorrow” (Cave, ln 22), he never
shows that he comes to a deeper understanding of her person or shares with her his loss and
sorrow. His appreciation of her and connection with her stays at the surface level. His
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murdering her can be viewed as a tortured attempt to get closer to her and to the society that she
Perhaps he simply employs his words to charm the audience. Although this scenario is
complicated by the lack of reliable information on his true motives, it seems that he clearly
recognizes ideal societal values enough even in this case to be able to parade them. By
attempting to hide his true motives, he reveals that he understands his deviance from societal
norms as pathological. Perhaps his interaction with her, then, is still a failed attempt at
integration with society, since his recognition of his own deviance is also recognition of her
belonging to mainstream society. He asks if “[he] show[s] [her] the roses will [she] follow?”
(Cave, ln 24), in essence, asking her to follow him onto his turf and perhaps even his mind.
explain human nature is not going to be totally understandable to anyone…The act of killing—
we could not expect it to be the goal. Remember, it was the possession of this desired thing”
(Michaud, p 200-201). Murder, as it appears in murder ballads, does not seem to simply be a
singular stroke of ill will, but rather the physical precipitate of psychological issues.
Consistently, songwriters portray murderers (and perhaps rightfully so) as social deviants who at
once recognize societal values and rules but for mysterious reasons cannot adhere to those
norms. If Cave’s piece were missing its female narrator, the piece would be oddly lopsided, and
Cave’s murderer would appear to be as devastated and strangely charming as the Monroe
Brothers’ murderer. In real-life murders, however, the dead woman cannot come back to tell her
side of the story, and we are left with the twisted, often inconsistent or incomplete sequence of
events from which to ruminate about motive. Murder ballads’ valiant attempts at trying to
understand murder may reflect a more general unease with this inexplicable social phenomenon,
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with a group of people living in society but thinking outside society’s bounds, people who
recognize societal values but whose desires to attain those values drives them to commit the
Citations
Nick Cave. “Where the Wild Roses Grow,” Murder Ballads. Mute/Reprise, 1996.
Monroe Brothers. “Banks of the Ohio.” The Essential Bill Monroe & Monroe Brother. RCA,
1997; original recording, 1938.
Stephen G. Michaud & Hugh Aynesworth, Ted Bundy: The Death Row Interviews (New York:
Penguin Putnam, 2000), pp 102-102.