Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet: A Study in Music and Emotion

Photo by Guang Yang on Unsplash

I don’t know about you, but music has always played a large part in my life. And I have a vivid memory of walking into town with my Mum when I was a young lad to buy a copy of The Beatles’ single Yellow Submarine. Happy days!

I never looked back from that point and have discovered many different styles of music over the years (from rock to jazz to classical, and pretty much any other genre you can think of); amassed a decent record collection in the process; and been to loads of excellent gigs and music festivals.

Apart from the sheer pleasure involved in listening to music, I’m also intrigued by what’s going in our heads which makes the connection between music and our emotions so powerful. What is it about certain types of music that makes us feel happy, sad, uplifted or profoundly moved? Why does some music give us the ‘chills’, trigger memories and soothe our souls?

There's more to music than meets the ear

Scientists have been studying the conundrum for some years. And conundrum it certainly is! But research suggest it boils down to music activating the brain’s reward system, triggering the release of neurotransmitters such as dopamine which then generate a profound sense of pleasure. Similar, in other words, to the biological reactions linked to other deep-seated survival behaviours such as food and sex.

And the suggestion is that that musical pleasure is triggered by both expectations and surprises as we experience patterns of melody, harmony and rhythm, and either sudden changes to those patterns or changes in the intensity and tempo of the music. That an emotional response to music is generated by what we expect to happen next and whether or not this happens. And if our unconscious predictions about this are correct, the brain rewards us with a shot of dopamine.  

This obviously begs the question: where’s the evolutionary advantage in being able to make such predictions? The thinking is that early in the development of humankind, understanding and interpreting our environment – recognising and distinguishing between different animal noises, for example – would have been essential to our survival. And taking a shortcut to the primitive limbic circuits that control our emotions offered a rapid means of processing those sounds that could quickly extract us from danger. Do we run, hide or simply ignore the sound?      

Expressing the inexpressible

All this is a roundabout way of getting to the music of Gavin Bryers. In particular, a single piece of his which I listen to over and over again…

Bryars started out as a professional jazz bassist and was one of the pioneers of free improvisation in Britain in the 1960s. He has gone on to work in the minimalist, avant-garde, classical and experimental fields of music. One of Britain’s most important composers, his mix of musical influences is provocative, emotional and strikingly original.

Possibly one of the most haunting pieces of music I've ever encountered is his 1971 composition, Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet. A minimalist masterpiece, it’s based on a 26-second recording of an unknown homeless man’s plaintive rendition of a brief, improvised stanza. Bryars turned this into a 13-bar loop, and then slowly added strings, guitar and orchestra as the piece builds to a rich, cathartic climax.

The emotional impact of this 24-minute piece is astonishing. Underpinned by the evident respect given to the singer, it never loses touch with the simplicity of the original recording while offering a profoundly moving sense of spiritual yearning. It simply takes my breath away.

Reflecting on the inspiration for the piece, Bryars has described how he was working on a documentary with film-maker Alan Power in 1971 about people living rough in the Elephant and Castle district in south London:

‘In the course of being filmed, some people broke into drunken song – sometimes bits of opera, sometimes sentimental ballads – and one, who in fact did not drink, sang a religious song "Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet"… When I played it at home, I found that his singing was in tune with my piano, and I improvised a simple accompaniment. I noticed, too, that the first section of the song – 13 bars in length – formed an effective loop which repeated in a slightly unpredictable way.

I took the tape loop to Leicester, where I was working in the Fine Art Department, and copied the loop onto a continuous reel of tape, thinking about perhaps adding an orchestrated accompaniment to this. The door of the recording room opened on to one of the large painting studios and I left the tape copying, with the door open, while I went to have a cup of coffee. When I came back I found the normally lively room unnaturally subdued. People were moving about much more slowly than usual and a few were sitting alone, quietly weeping.

I was puzzled until I realised that the tape was still playing and that they had been overcome by the old man's singing. This convinced me of the emotional power of the music and of the possibilities offered by adding a simple, though gradually evolving, orchestral accompaniment that respected the homeless man's nobility and simple faith. Although he died before he could hear what I had done with his singing, the piece remains as an eloquent, but understated testimony to his spirit and optimism.’

The 19th century novelist George Eliot noted that, ‘Life seems to go on without effort when I am filled with music.’ A wonderful sentiment. After listening to Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet, I’m left with a sense of melancholy. But also find myself in a deep, meditative state. And the voice of the rough sleeper lives on in my head.  

Bryers has gone on to record considerably longer arrangements in different settings. But you can listen to the original below, released in 1975 on Brian Eno’s Obscure label (on the album The Sinking of The Titanic).