Rap Battle: How Gilbert O'Sullivan changed hip hop forever
Gilbert O'Sullivan's song 'Alone Again (Naturally)' was released in Ireland and the UK in early 1972.
At the same time, though, on the other side of the Atlantic in New York (and, it should be said, completely disconnected from Gilbert O'Sullivan) there was a new musical movement taking shape.
Eventually developing into what we now know as hip hop, the genre was initially referred to by some as 'disco rap' – which does tell you a lot about its origins. Because much of the scene developed out of DJs taking popular disco and funk records and messing around with them on turntables – slowing them down, speeding them up, looping parts of them, mixing different records together. And, in doing so, they creating something that sounded totally different.
And because disco wasn't very lyrics-heavy, there were also big gaps in these creations, which ended up being filled by the likes of beat boxers and then rappers.
And this all started out as an underground movement – it would be individual DJs crafting these things, often on the fly at block parties and night clubs, and they were constantly developing new sounds and finding new techniques that would give different results.
This scene continues to develop over the course of the 70s and, as mixing and recording technology improves, it allows for the sound to become more elaborate. That means you go from a DJ blending two records together on their turntable to pieces of music that perhaps contain a beat from one song, some strings from another, a hook or a refrain from somewhere else altogether, a small snippet of backing singers from another song – and all looped. And then a rapper adds their original vocals on top of that.
And in a lot of ways you can argue that this practice of taking existing music and re-working it is quite similar, in spirit at least, to the folk tradition that was also thriving in New York at the time. That also saw artists borrowing tunes and even lyrics from traditional and new songs, incorporating them into something new, or putting a twist on them, and making their own song out of it.
But then money comes along, and things start to change...
Yes – because all of this "borrowing" of beats and music is fine when you're talking about what is essentially an informal and fairly niche movement like this. In the early days artists probably didn't even know their music was being used like this and, even if they did, it's not like anyone was making much of a profit off it.
But as hip hop develops into a fully-fledged genre through the 70s and into the 80s, record labels start to take notice, and money starts to be made, things start to change.
For example, The Sugarhill Gang's 'Rapper's Delight', which came out in 1979, is seen by many to be the first mainstream hit from the genre. But the music from that song is basically two existing tracks mixed together – Chic's 'Good Times' and Love De-Luxe's 'Here Comes That Sound Again'. And The Sugarhill Gang's management initially released the song without crediting anyone else - until Nile Rodgers happened to hear an early version in a nightclub, threatened to sue, and got his name added to the credits.
Though in that case at least the music was actually an interpolation rather than a sample – in other words they recorded new music that sounded the same, rather than just playing the original and rapping over it.
And that idea of copying other people's compositions isn't new – so there was some kind of precedent there for dealing with it when it happens. But in the 70s and even into the 80s, actually sampling from another song is still new, people didn't really know how it should be dealt with.
Because it goes without saying that, if someone copies another song's tune entirely, there's a copyright issue there. But if they take a two second long fragment of a song and loop it – to the point that it's not even recognisable – does that count as copyright infringement too? What if it's one of 20 such samples in a song? What happens then?
So the arrival of sample-heavy hip hop creates this kind of no-man's land where other people's work is being used left, right and centre – entire songs are often built up of existing pieces of music that are cobbled together – but the creators of those pieces aren't getting credited, or compensated in any way.
The Beastie Boy's 1989 album 'Paul's Boutique', for example takes samples from 105 songs – with one track alone having samples from 24 other songs. Most of those were used without permission.
So where does Gilbert O'Sullivan come into this?
In 1990, a rapper called Biz Markie is working on his third studio album – and one of the songs he plans to put on it is called 'Alone Again'.
And in it, he loops the piano part from the intro of the Gilbert O'Sullivan song of a similar name and then, in between rap verses, he sings 'alone again, naturally' in the chorus.
So it's very clear where he got the inspiration for his track from – and, in fairness, his label did write to Gilbert O'Sullivan to ask for his blessing in using the sample from his song.
O'Sullivan told them he wanted to hear the song before he will give it his blessing, so they sent it to him. He then listened to it, decides he doesn't want his sample to be used, and turns down their request.
But despite that Biz Markie decides to leaves the track – and its sample - on the album, which is released in 1991.
Maybe he thought that would be the end of it – his 'Alone Again' song follows a very similar template to the big hit on his previous album 'Just a Friend', which was based on a song called 'Got What I Need' by Freddie Scott. Scott wasn't credited on that track and that didn't seem to result in any lawsuits.
But O'Sullivan clearly had a different attitude to Scott - and sues Biz Markie's record label. The court rules in O'Sullivan's favour – saying the unauthorised use of song samples constitutes copyright infringement.
The label is ordered to pay $250,000 – and forced to halt sales of the album, which is obviously costly too.
And what really goes against Biz Markie is the fact that he asked for permission first – and when that wasn't given, he went ahead and used it anyway. So he couldn't really pretend to be ignorant of the need to get the original artist's approval.
He also seemed to get a particularly hardline judge in Kevin Thomas Duffy. He quoted the Bible in his ruling – and even referred the case to the criminal courts, because he saw Markie as a thief... though no criminal case ever took place.
Gilbert O'Sullivan's case wasn't the first attempt by an artist or record label to go the legal route to resolve a row around sampling – there would have been plenty of cases settled out of court, some cases would have been tied up in the courts at the time. But O'Sullivan's is the first one to secure a ruling.
And so it became the industry precedent – and it set the bar for everything that came after it.
So what impact did it have on the music industry?
Well one immediate impact it had was the name of Biz Markie's next album – which he called 'All Samples Cleared'.
But more significantly it really had a chilling effect on the practice of building songs out of countless samples – because suddenly there was a significant price to be paid if you did so without permission. And as it had been officially deemed copyright infringement, the copyright holders would have a right to be compensated for any use, and they have the right to refuse.
If you look at that Beastie Boys album 'Paul's Boutique', with 104 songs sampled – some of those samples were approved but many weren't, and it's estimated that it would have added millions of dollars to the cost of the production if they had to pay for each of them. Realistically, that album never would have been made if the ruling had come a few years earlier.
And you see the style of hip hop production shifting very quickly – from that sample-heavy example of 'Paul's Boutique' in 1989, to a much lighter approach by the likes of Dr Dre with 'The Chronic' in 1992.
He tended to use only a handful of samples, often from artists he knew were okay with their stuff being reworked, and then he'd add in his own instrumentation around that. And that kind of became the new template for hip hop – which continues all the way through to today.
And even though the ruling was made more than 30 years ago, there are other ways that it's continuing to shape the music industry.
How?
Well two consequences – one perhaps intended, the other probably unintended.
The intended one is that we're now seeing more people being given a credit on modern pop and hip hop songs.
Beyoncé got a lot of criticism for the fact that her Renaissance album had a total of 104 writers credited across its 16 tracks... one song in particular, 'Alien Superstar', has 24 writers credited.
And part of that is because Beyoncé collaborates with a lot of writers and artists. But part of it is because she also uses lots of samples in her songs and now, when you use a song sample, the creators of that song get a credit on your song. So you might have cases now where an artist uses three samples in a song, each one from a song with two writers. And that means you have to add six names to your writing credits.
Among the 'Alien Superstar' credits, for example, are Richard and Christopher Fairbrass. Most people won't know who they are – but they probably will know some of their music. Because Richard and Christopher Fairbrass are better known as Right Said Fred, and their song 'I'm Too Sexy' was the inspiration for the chorus of that particular Beyoncé song. So they both got a writing credit (and a few quid too).
The other unintended consequence of the Biz Markie ruling is that pursuing writing credits has kind of become a sub-industry in its own right.
There are now a number of companies who's whole business model is to buy up the rights to the music of niche or obscure, older artists. They then hunt down cases where their songs were sampled without permission, and file lawsuits looking for compensation.
And sometimes the samples are so small, or they've been so heavily reworked, that they're nearly unidentifiable – so they use special software to analyse songs to find potential samples. In other cases it takes them getting the stems from the original recordings so they can listen to the various tracks in isolation and identify what the parts are made from.
And, surprise surprise, Paul's Boutique is one of the albums that's been targeted by these types of companies. And it may not even matter how long ago the sample was used without permission - because as long as new versions and special editions of an album keeps getting released, the statute of limitations on a case keeps getting reset.
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RTÉ News
17 hours ago
- RTÉ News
Rap Battle: How Gilbert O'Sullivan changed hip hop forever
Gilbert O'Sullivan's song 'Alone Again (Naturally)' was released in Ireland and the UK in early 1972. At the same time, though, on the other side of the Atlantic in New York (and, it should be said, completely disconnected from Gilbert O'Sullivan) there was a new musical movement taking shape. Eventually developing into what we now know as hip hop, the genre was initially referred to by some as 'disco rap' – which does tell you a lot about its origins. Because much of the scene developed out of DJs taking popular disco and funk records and messing around with them on turntables – slowing them down, speeding them up, looping parts of them, mixing different records together. And, in doing so, they creating something that sounded totally different. And because disco wasn't very lyrics-heavy, there were also big gaps in these creations, which ended up being filled by the likes of beat boxers and then rappers. And this all started out as an underground movement – it would be individual DJs crafting these things, often on the fly at block parties and night clubs, and they were constantly developing new sounds and finding new techniques that would give different results. This scene continues to develop over the course of the 70s and, as mixing and recording technology improves, it allows for the sound to become more elaborate. That means you go from a DJ blending two records together on their turntable to pieces of music that perhaps contain a beat from one song, some strings from another, a hook or a refrain from somewhere else altogether, a small snippet of backing singers from another song – and all looped. And then a rapper adds their original vocals on top of that. And in a lot of ways you can argue that this practice of taking existing music and re-working it is quite similar, in spirit at least, to the folk tradition that was also thriving in New York at the time. That also saw artists borrowing tunes and even lyrics from traditional and new songs, incorporating them into something new, or putting a twist on them, and making their own song out of it. But then money comes along, and things start to change... Yes – because all of this "borrowing" of beats and music is fine when you're talking about what is essentially an informal and fairly niche movement like this. In the early days artists probably didn't even know their music was being used like this and, even if they did, it's not like anyone was making much of a profit off it. But as hip hop develops into a fully-fledged genre through the 70s and into the 80s, record labels start to take notice, and money starts to be made, things start to change. For example, The Sugarhill Gang's 'Rapper's Delight', which came out in 1979, is seen by many to be the first mainstream hit from the genre. But the music from that song is basically two existing tracks mixed together – Chic's 'Good Times' and Love De-Luxe's 'Here Comes That Sound Again'. And The Sugarhill Gang's management initially released the song without crediting anyone else - until Nile Rodgers happened to hear an early version in a nightclub, threatened to sue, and got his name added to the credits. Though in that case at least the music was actually an interpolation rather than a sample – in other words they recorded new music that sounded the same, rather than just playing the original and rapping over it. And that idea of copying other people's compositions isn't new – so there was some kind of precedent there for dealing with it when it happens. But in the 70s and even into the 80s, actually sampling from another song is still new, people didn't really know how it should be dealt with. Because it goes without saying that, if someone copies another song's tune entirely, there's a copyright issue there. But if they take a two second long fragment of a song and loop it – to the point that it's not even recognisable – does that count as copyright infringement too? What if it's one of 20 such samples in a song? What happens then? So the arrival of sample-heavy hip hop creates this kind of no-man's land where other people's work is being used left, right and centre – entire songs are often built up of existing pieces of music that are cobbled together – but the creators of those pieces aren't getting credited, or compensated in any way. The Beastie Boy's 1989 album 'Paul's Boutique', for example takes samples from 105 songs – with one track alone having samples from 24 other songs. Most of those were used without permission. So where does Gilbert O'Sullivan come into this? In 1990, a rapper called Biz Markie is working on his third studio album – and one of the songs he plans to put on it is called 'Alone Again'. And in it, he loops the piano part from the intro of the Gilbert O'Sullivan song of a similar name and then, in between rap verses, he sings 'alone again, naturally' in the chorus. So it's very clear where he got the inspiration for his track from – and, in fairness, his label did write to Gilbert O'Sullivan to ask for his blessing in using the sample from his song. O'Sullivan told them he wanted to hear the song before he will give it his blessing, so they sent it to him. He then listened to it, decides he doesn't want his sample to be used, and turns down their request. But despite that Biz Markie decides to leaves the track – and its sample - on the album, which is released in 1991. Maybe he thought that would be the end of it – his 'Alone Again' song follows a very similar template to the big hit on his previous album 'Just a Friend', which was based on a song called 'Got What I Need' by Freddie Scott. Scott wasn't credited on that track and that didn't seem to result in any lawsuits. But O'Sullivan clearly had a different attitude to Scott - and sues Biz Markie's record label. The court rules in O'Sullivan's favour – saying the unauthorised use of song samples constitutes copyright infringement. The label is ordered to pay $250,000 – and forced to halt sales of the album, which is obviously costly too. And what really goes against Biz Markie is the fact that he asked for permission first – and when that wasn't given, he went ahead and used it anyway. So he couldn't really pretend to be ignorant of the need to get the original artist's approval. He also seemed to get a particularly hardline judge in Kevin Thomas Duffy. He quoted the Bible in his ruling – and even referred the case to the criminal courts, because he saw Markie as a thief... though no criminal case ever took place. Gilbert O'Sullivan's case wasn't the first attempt by an artist or record label to go the legal route to resolve a row around sampling – there would have been plenty of cases settled out of court, some cases would have been tied up in the courts at the time. But O'Sullivan's is the first one to secure a ruling. And so it became the industry precedent – and it set the bar for everything that came after it. So what impact did it have on the music industry? Well one immediate impact it had was the name of Biz Markie's next album – which he called 'All Samples Cleared'. But more significantly it really had a chilling effect on the practice of building songs out of countless samples – because suddenly there was a significant price to be paid if you did so without permission. And as it had been officially deemed copyright infringement, the copyright holders would have a right to be compensated for any use, and they have the right to refuse. If you look at that Beastie Boys album 'Paul's Boutique', with 104 songs sampled – some of those samples were approved but many weren't, and it's estimated that it would have added millions of dollars to the cost of the production if they had to pay for each of them. Realistically, that album never would have been made if the ruling had come a few years earlier. And you see the style of hip hop production shifting very quickly – from that sample-heavy example of 'Paul's Boutique' in 1989, to a much lighter approach by the likes of Dr Dre with 'The Chronic' in 1992. He tended to use only a handful of samples, often from artists he knew were okay with their stuff being reworked, and then he'd add in his own instrumentation around that. And that kind of became the new template for hip hop – which continues all the way through to today. And even though the ruling was made more than 30 years ago, there are other ways that it's continuing to shape the music industry. How? Well two consequences – one perhaps intended, the other probably unintended. The intended one is that we're now seeing more people being given a credit on modern pop and hip hop songs. Beyoncé got a lot of criticism for the fact that her Renaissance album had a total of 104 writers credited across its 16 tracks... one song in particular, 'Alien Superstar', has 24 writers credited. And part of that is because Beyoncé collaborates with a lot of writers and artists. But part of it is because she also uses lots of samples in her songs and now, when you use a song sample, the creators of that song get a credit on your song. So you might have cases now where an artist uses three samples in a song, each one from a song with two writers. And that means you have to add six names to your writing credits. Among the 'Alien Superstar' credits, for example, are Richard and Christopher Fairbrass. Most people won't know who they are – but they probably will know some of their music. Because Richard and Christopher Fairbrass are better known as Right Said Fred, and their song 'I'm Too Sexy' was the inspiration for the chorus of that particular Beyoncé song. So they both got a writing credit (and a few quid too). The other unintended consequence of the Biz Markie ruling is that pursuing writing credits has kind of become a sub-industry in its own right. There are now a number of companies who's whole business model is to buy up the rights to the music of niche or obscure, older artists. They then hunt down cases where their songs were sampled without permission, and file lawsuits looking for compensation. And sometimes the samples are so small, or they've been so heavily reworked, that they're nearly unidentifiable – so they use special software to analyse songs to find potential samples. In other cases it takes them getting the stems from the original recordings so they can listen to the various tracks in isolation and identify what the parts are made from. And, surprise surprise, Paul's Boutique is one of the albums that's been targeted by these types of companies. And it may not even matter how long ago the sample was used without permission - because as long as new versions and special editions of an album keeps getting released, the statute of limitations on a case keeps getting reset.
Irish Daily Mirror
13-06-2025
- Irish Daily Mirror
Everything you need to know as Beyond The Pale kicks off in Wicklow
Beyond The Pale kicks off on the Glendalough Estate today, running until Sunday - with a swath of incredible acts playing the Wicklow festival over the weekend. The line-up this year includes Róisín Murphy, Jon Hopkins, legends Boney M and The Sugar Hill Gang, Brooklyn rockers TV on the Radio, Marc Rebillet, berlioz and Broken Social Scene play their only Irish shows this summer with BritAward winners Ezra Collective. As well as homegrown acts Samantha Mumba, Booka Shade, King Kong Company, Houseplants, Soda Blonde, Fionn Regan and many, many more amazing music from Ireland and internationally. Alongside the main music line-up, the weekend will see Irvine Welsh present Men In Love, a literary trip down the rabbit hole of masculinity and disco, accompanied by a riotous on-stage conversation and the accompanying spinning of choons. Haus of Wig brings Dublin's fiercest drag icons for an unforgettable stage takeover, The Wild Geeze deliver their riotous queer cabaret experience while Rathaus invites you to get your Berlin club culture vibes on. Abandoman, the freestyle comedy-rap phenomenon, turns audience suggestions into unmissable musical chaos. Lisette Krol, world pole-dancing champion, unleashes gravity-defying spectacle as part of Duncan Disorderly's VIP House Party. Duncan is best known to Irish audiences from their show-stopping appearance in THISISPOPBABY's hit show WAKE. Beyond the Plate, the food strand of Beyond the Pale Festival, will also take place from June 13 to June 15. With music, art, wellness and food all in one vibrant space, it's the ultimate weekend escape. Beyond The Pale is just 30 minutes from Dublin on the beautiful Glendalough Estate in what has become the top highlight of summer for discerning music, arts, food and wellness fans. Here is all you need to know for the weekend: Cash or card? Some vendors at the festival will accept cash but cards are used mostly. There will be no ATMs on the site so it is advisable to bring some cash with you. Take the bus Marathon Coaches are providing buses to Beyond the Pale including return buses from Dublin City to Glendalough Estate on Friday 13, Saturday 14, and Sunday, 15 June. Direct bus tickets to the festival site are also available for holders of single-day tickets, as well as weekend tickets holders. These Direct Buses will go from and to Dublin City centre and also from and to Bray Dart Station. More info available from Marathon Coaches. It's an easy and hassle free way to get to and from Beyond the Pale, ensuring you can chill out and enjoy the festival, while also helping us minimise the carbon footprint of the festival. Take the DART Marathon Coaches are also providing bus transfers to and from Bray DART Station to Beyond the Pale. How to get there on the road: How to get Home - Pickups at end of Night Tickets are still available: There are a limited number of tickets available here. Access / Opening Times: Car Parks – General Admission Families/Wheelchair Campervan/Caravans Arena Times
Irish Times
12-06-2025
- Irish Times
Trump country: ‘When we travel, if you go to a bigger area, people can be rude and disrespectful'
'There are two words that a southwest Virginian just cannot say,' Bill Smith explains as he sips a whiskey in Good Times, one of the more recent places to open in the town of Big Stone Gap. He pauses for effect. ''Yes.' And 'No'.' Because they don't want to be impolite? 'Well. That's part of it. They also don't want to hang their asses. You can hear it in the jokes. Someone can say something really cutting. And then they'll say, 'Awh, I was just joking with ya.' I came from a place where if you don't answer a question straight, you get: what's the matter, can't you make up your mind?' READ MORE Smith moved from Montana to Big Stone Gap (population 5,114), one of Virginia's many recovering coal towns, 30 years ago. He brought with him a sense of adventure inherited from his mother, who was a big-band singer from Chicago and, later, a renowned drama schoolteacher in Waukesha, Wisconsin. Smith is one of those people who move in no hurry and yet seem to have packed a thousand lives into seven decades. He was a firefighter in California, plus a musician, plus an actor. In Virginia, he worked manual jobs, then as a sports reporter covering the Big Stone Gap school football team during a few feverish all-state seasons. He also curated the acclaimed Crooked Road festival. On the afternoon we meet he has just finished-up substitute teaching at the local high school. He'd never heard of Wise County, much less Big Stone Gap, before the 1990s. But one night he caught a performance by Roadside Theater, an Appalachian touring group, and he met Nancy Countiss. 'That was it,' he chuckles. 'I came out here in 1994. Not on a whim. But I fell in love. The last show I did was in Montana, and 10 days later I was learning how to make hydraulic hoses here for minimum wage.' By 'out here' he means the pioneer trail in reverse: crossing the fabled Cumberland Gap, the mountain pass that intersects the Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia state lines, and into the triangular wedge of counties in southwest Virginia. He arrived just as the coal companies had begun their exodus, disrupting the deeply established patterns of life throughout Appalachia, the 13-state mountainous region of the United States that has acquired a reputation that is in some ways distinct from and deeper than the country itself. Bill Smith: 'Education was never a priority bcause you could go into the mines and make more than the teacher' Cumberland Gap viewing point Bill Smith doesn't yet consider himself local, 'although it helps that my wife's family's been here 300 years'. He's a natural raconteur and has a fizzing mind with which he bounces through topics and centuries at will. Over the course of an afternoon, he tells me that here, the big open-plan Good Times restaurant, was the original location for the town newspaper the 'Post', where he began working in 1996 'just as Westmoreland coal was leaving and things were tense'. He talks about the difference between formal schooling and inherited knowledge. 'Education was never a priority. Because you could go into the mines and make more than the teacher. People have a tendency to look down on miners. But it is highly technical and dangerous and always has been.' That takes him on the rich seam of storytelling running through the Pow [Powell] Valley, and the inherited music tradition. He talks about the Bristol museum, about an hour away, where Ralph Peer all but created the US country music tradition through a series of recordings he made in the summer of 1927. 'And you can't throw a dead cat around here without hitting a musician. Some of the best old-time and bluegrass music in the country is within 100 miles of here. Last Saturday there were three different bands in town. But before the pandemic there weren't really any bars here to speak of. For years, it used to be the front porch.' He explains how the consequences of the pandemic are still taking a toll. 'Too many kids came out of Covid damaged. They were feral. This is our first proper year back in school. The pandemic in this area – we had almost 1/10th of our population die. I lost 14 friends. I think it was over 1,000 people in Wise County.' Something jigs a memory of an inherited story: his wife's great-great grandfather, eight years old and walking for days with his family on the move to Wise County. 'He was carrying the family pewter. And a chair. Well, seems he got real tired of hanging on to the pewter and he chucked it. Piece by piece. Into the woods. But we have that chair still.' Then he says, out of the blue, ' Daniel Boone walked the ground right about my house,' as if the famed pioneer had passed by just last week. Trump country: In the 2024 election Wise County returned Donald Trump with an 81 per cent vote, neighbouring Lee County with 85 per cent The overarching point is that while Smith still considers himself 'an oddity' to the true locals in town and in this part of Appalachia, the richness and singularity of the region has him spellbound. 'It's wild,' he says. 'And it's conservative. And it has cultural depth.' It is, we agree, a long way from Washington, longer than its 430 miles suggest. You can catch a little of Virginia's hauteur in its nickname, 'Old Dominion'. Arlington House, perched above the cemetery, looms over Washington, DC , as the former home of the Confederate general Robert E Lee. If you drive the I-80 and swing a right past Senator Tim Kaine's constituency office in Abingdon, after which the state turns truly mountainous and bewitching, you will finally end up in Lee County, named after the famed general's father. The cross-state drive takes about seven hours, allowing stops for petrol and Dunkin' Donuts. In the 2024 presidential election, Wise County returned Donald Trump with an 81 per cent vote. Neighbouring Lee County voted Trump by 85 per cent. These are thumping returns in counties that can make for grim reading in the statistical data: 27 per cent of people live below the poverty line in Lee County. An unofficial stat: in an area of gorgeous natural beauty, Lee County shows no hotels on the usual listing sites. Barbara Kingsolver, author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Demon Copperhead, which is set in southwest Virginia. Photograph: University of Edinburgh/PA It has, more recently acquired a literary significance as the setting for Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver's phenomenally successful, Pulitzer Prize-winning novel that transposes the blueprint for David Copperfield on to a live-wire teenager in southwest Virginia during the opioid epidemic that ravaged this part of the state. Kingsolver grew up in Kentucky and lives in Virginia. She has railed, wonderfully, against the authenticity of vice-president JD Vance's memoir Hillbilly Elegy which, she said, was dismissed by neighbours for 'the hollowness, the fact that he isn't really one of us'. In the same 2024 Guardian interview , she said she has, despite the accolades, 'dealt with this condescension, this anti-hillbilly bigotry for a lot of my life'. [ Barbara Kingsolver: 'The first time I set foot in Ireland I felt so at home. Something about the language, the culture' Opens in new window ] Kingsolver is a fearsome defender against all the national prejudices Appalachia has faced down. More impressively, she has put her money where her mouth is. January marked the opening of the Higher Ground recovery centre in the town of Pennington Gap. It's a bungalow dwelling in the heart of the town that has been converted to a refuge for women recovering from addiction. The shelter is funded by Kingsolver, with absolutely no fanfare. Over lunch in the McDonald's down the street, Elizbeth Brooks, who grew up in Lee County and runs the centre, tells me she understands exactly what Kingsolver means by the casual prejudice thrown at Appalachians. 'I feel like it varies. I mean there is a stigma to our area. And we are – I don't know, most people just see those of us who live in Appalachia as hicks and hillbillies and all that. And they do. And … I agree with Barbara. On the TV shows and everything it's all they focus on. They don't focus on the beautiful areas up here. They don't spend time here. 'My own family, when we travel, if you go to a bigger area, people can be rude and disrespectful. Here we are friendly. My dad will wave at every single car. The finger raised from the wheel. Even the counties surrounding Lee County will kind of make jokes … 'Oh they're from Lee County'. Some people take offence. And especially with schools and stuff too. There's … a snobbery.' About eight years ago, one of the worst moments of Brooks's life catapulted her into an unlikely transformation. She was eight months pregnant with her first child when she says she was arrested and, because of previous charges, placed on a Court Recovery programme. She had, in her teens, graduated from alcohol and marijuana to opioids and methamphetamines, dropping out of Wise college and falling into a pattern of addiction. Elizabeth Brooks: 'If you go to a bigger area, people can be rude and disrespectful. Here we are friendly' 'When you are in addiction there is a lot of isolation,' she says. 'You shut everybody out.' A 2019 report by the Washington Post included data analysis recording that, between 2006-2012, 34.9 million opioids, or 120 pills per resident, were shipped into Wise County alone. Brooks regards her eldest child Jayden as 'my miracle baby'. She has been sober since July 7th, 2018, and was working as an addiction counsellor when she was asked to run the new centre. She speaks with Kingsolver regularly, usually on Zoom. 'She's been wonderful. I don't know how she does it because she's a very busy woman.' There are six women in the residence now. 'I do their medications. It's kind of about building up their stability and accountability and getting them stable in the real world. A couple of my girls … they are, I wouldn't say hot-headed, but they are little firecrackers. And their personalities clash a little. So, it is kind of learning how to be emotionally stable as well. I tell them: there is more to recovery than just being sober. You need to work on yourself, get your mental health right, get your job and just be accountable for yourself.' One of the very first residents, Crystal, who is working at the counter in McDonald's, talks about the transformative effect the home has had on her life. Brooks likes that prospective residents be sober for about five or six weeks before taking a place there and returning to employment is part of the deal. But it can be difficult finding a job in Lee County. The Appalachian Regional Commission reports that in Lee between 2018-2022, 26 per cent of people lived in poverty and the average household income was $41,000 (it is $75,000 nationally). Brooks works nine to five. Jayden is autistic. She is due to give birth to her third child this summer. Evenings are busy: weekends a chance to come up for air. 'I tell my girls too – I'm no different from they are or any better because in my recovery, at any point, it's always a battle for me, too, just like it is for them. I've learned a lot about my triggers and staying away from them situations I don't need and that's what keeps me sober. Because I'm not saying I still couldn't have a bad day and go down the wrong path. We were like a runaway train ... I felt like we didn't have any kind of leadership whatsoever — Hank Fannon 'And before my fiance now - a thousand people would tell you I would never be engaged to a police officer in my life. And I would never have been with somebody who treated me with the most respect, that I respect myself with. It's very different now, and I am very grateful.' She and her fiance have held back on their wedding date because of the growing uncertainty over Medicaid changes; her boy is dependent on the treatment he receives through the programme. She is closely tracking the political conversation on autism taking place in the capital. In April, US health secretary Robert F Kennedy pledged 'a massive testing and research effort' to determine the cause of autism. Trump has appeared to suggest that vaccines could be to blame for autism rates, although decades of research have concluded there is no link between the two. [ 'Slippery slope to eugenics': advocates reject Robert F Kennedy jnr's national autism database in US Opens in new window ] 'There aren't many options for my son around here. So that would affect him. I feel like that would have made a really big impact on the election if people knew that. Just because it is going to hurt everyone. And I don't really see the helping part of it. I don't understand how that helps because unless you have a child with autism you don't really – there is nothing that causes it. And I think they could have worded it a lot better.' Hank Fannon: 'Trump is the most patriotic thing that has come through in a long time' Still, this is steadfast Trump country. And the ARC reports slowly climbing figures of median income levels and employment throughout the region. There is no sign of any real crisis of faith in Trump Republicanism here. On the way back from Big Stone Gap, I find Hank Fannon at the telephone in the office of the immaculately tidy tyre business he owns. Like seemingly everyone in this part of the country, Fannon's voice is rich and melodic. A television in the corner of the office is showing Fox News on silent and images of Trump's recent visit to the Middle East. The Fannons are in both the tyre and real estate business. 'It's a little tighter-fisted than it was,' he says. 'But Trump … he's the most patriotic thing that has come through in a long time. That shooting, wherever it was ... that put him in the White House. And the tariff thing is impacting, yeah. I sell some American-made stuff. All the China-built stuff. It's probably raised prices, $20, $30 a tyre. And I can't eat nothin. 'People are subject to doing impulse spending with this kind of stuff. If you need a tyre, it's just like going to the doctor: hurt's bad; 'I gotta get something done now.' But we were like a runaway train the other way. I felt like we didn't have any kind of leadership whatsoever. I knew when Trump came back into play it would tighten up a little – for a while.' But property prices, always modest, are beginning to rise. Appalachia is not immune to the property escalation heist that has gripped America. People are noticing the extraordinary value to be had in this part of the country – and the stunning landscape. We talk for a while about the economic realities of the region. Fannon sighs before answering. 'This is a depressed community, first off. There is a lot of poverty here. So, indirectly I am living off fixed-income people. So … I don't know. It bothers me some. We sell real estate in this region and it has been cheap real estate. But right now ... you can put a sign in the yard. A lady died three weeks ago and her daughter and I went to school together. And it sold in two days.' Joey O'Quinn works part-time in the tourism centre and plays in a band called the Hillbilly Hippies It also sold for well above the asking price. Up in Big Stone Gap, Joey O'Quinn, who works part-time in the tourism centre, is talking to a friend of his, Les Bailey. There's a bottle of gift whiskey on the counter and they joke about never opening a second bottle before noon. Bailey is rushing off to take their mutual friend, Larry Mullins, to the doctor. They all play in a band called the Hillbilly Hippies. Tourism is beginning to make an impression. Big Stone Gap is slowly opening itself up to the idea that it can be an attraction to outsiders, with new restaurants and cafes alongside the staunch jeweller's and legal firms on the main street. It has the natural splendour and the unrivalled music heritage and – the scarcest of commodities – authenticity. The local cafes and restaurants are friendly and without affectation of any sort. O'Quinn, who worked as a regulator with mining companies, believes the future for this part of Virginia lies in tourism, flipping the 'hillbilly' stigma after centuries. 'We have to be sensitive to that balance. This has been an impoverished region, yes, since the 1800s. But there are so many good things in terms of music and the mountains and all that culture.' Close to the tight triangle of land where the three state lines of Tennessee, Virginia and Kentucky intersect, people driving the US-58 often do a double take as they pass by Junior Whitt's place. The striking thing about these counties is the absence of Trump banners or mementoes. But Whitt's place is a shrine to Maga-ism. Junior Whitt's place is a shrine to Maga-ism. Photograph: Keith Duggan He is sitting on a sun chair enjoying a smoke when I stop to ask him what inspired all of this. We find ourselves looking at the Confederate flags he has hanging. He says he hangs them because they are part of the history of the state, of the region. Often, strangers stop and ask to take photographs and Whitt will engage them in conversation. 'Well, from what I'm hearing all the time: they are for Trump,' he says in a gentle voice. 'They are not for the other side. I don't go for the transgender stuff and all this critical race theory stuff. I don't go for this stuff and a lot of other people don't go for it. That's why I'm against the Democrats. I don't vote for all that. And a lot of other people say, well, I don't vote for that either. I say, well, it's the same damn package. If you vote for 'em you, vote for it. They say, 'I never thought about it that way; you're right'. Yeah, I'm right. 'This house across the road ... they are big Democrats. We get along and everything. I hear it every day. People from out of state come through, see this, stop and walk around. And they're for Trump too. If the Democrats got back in, they would have destroyed us.' We chat for a while more. When there are no cars passing, it is incredibly serene here. Whitt waves an arm against the blue sky in the vague direction of his childhood home, on a farm near the Pow river. His parents were Democrats. He says his father would turn in his grave if he could see the party now. He sounds suddenly frustrated and tired by the state of American politics. 'See, back then you had some good Democrats. They sat down and talked with people.'
