Small Town: Devil Town

[purchase the soundtrack]

Lots of TV shows have been set in small towns, but my favorite, by far, was Friday Night Lights. In fact, I’d argue that season 1 of the show was as good as any first season of any show I’ve seen. While there were some creative ups and downs over the show’s five season run (really, Landry killed a guy?), it still ranks as one of my all-time favorites. If you haven’t seen it, it is available on Netflix, and elsewhere, and you really should.

I’m not from Texas, and I’ve never lived in a place where football held such importance as the fictional town of Dillon, where the show is set, but what made the show so great was the way that it created a world that was nevertheless recognizable to more than small town dwelling Texans. Not only recognizable, but relatable.

The show also used music well. I’ve written before about the role that Explosions in the Sky had, although not as prominent a role as it did in the film on which the TV show is loosely based, but it also used popular music in a way that enhanced and commented on the narrative. Many articles have been written about the show’s music, so it isn’t just me.

One of the most memorable musical moments comes at the end of the first season, a season that started with a tragedy and built toward the Dillon Panthers’ rocky road to “State,” the championship game in (now demolished) Texas Stadium. SPOILER ALERT: The Panthers win, with an improbable second half comeback. Look—it is a TV show, and in its first season, with no guarantee of renewal, so forgive the creators (notably, Jason Katims, who went on to create Parenthood, and used a number of FNL actors as guests) if they wanted season 1 to have a happy ending.

After the triumph on the field, and the requisite hugging and mugging, the scene shifts to the team’s victory parade down the main drag in Dillon, with what seems to be the whole town out to cheer. But rather than set the parade to something easy and triumphant, they used the song “Devil Town,” which is anything but.

Originally written and recorded by Daniel Johnson, a talented songwriter who has battled mental illness, but whose voice, admittedly, is an acquired taste,“Devil Town” has been covered by others, probably most famously by Bright Eyes. In fact, when the Friday Night Lights episode was shot, the editor used that version, but when they sought permission to use it in the final broadcast, Bright Eyes declined. Bad move, Conor. Instead, the publishing company suggested a number of other artists, and the creative team decided to commission Austin, Texas singer/songwriter Tony Lucca to cover the song which was used in the scene.  It was also used earlier in the season, and again toward the end of the series. And in a very creepy promo for the show.

The song focuses on the dark side of a small town, and its references to the town’s residents as vampires resonated as a commentary on the odd hero worship that the residents of Dillon, and by extension, other similar places, had for a bunch of athletically gifted teenagers. Prior to writing this, I watched the episode in question again, to see how the song worked in context—and it really was perfect. The entire season didn’t shy away from showing the darker side of Dillon, while also providing a fair number of uplifting ones.

The show essentially starts with the team’s golden boy quarterback, destined for glory, getting paralyzed on the field, and ending up in a wheelchair. That opens the door for the feel good story of the shy, artistic and sensitive backup quarterback to learn leadership skills, have a relationship with the coach’s beautiful daughter and win the state championship. There are characters who are dealing with missing parents, or bad parents, or no parents, as well as strong families. There is love, lust and betrayal, both by adults and teens. People struggle to survive, and others succeed. The show illustrates both racial divisions and racial harmony. There are dreams achieved, and dreams dashed. There is the pure joy of watching a team come together and triumph, and there are craven boosters who use the team for their own benefit. And during the parade sequence, all of this was summarized in the faces and expressions of the characters, as the song played.

Fittingly, the episode, and the season, ended on an ambivalent cliffhanger. We see the victorious coach, who announced his intent to leave the team for a Division I college job, but had expressed second thoughts to his wife, listen to his paralyzed former star turned assistant coach lecture the team on what they need to do in the off season to repeat as champs, in language that could have come from his own inspirational speeches. He enters the locker room and receives a slow-clapping ovation from his team.

Will he go, or will he stay? Season 2 is also on Netflix.

Blank and Blues: Chord Organ Blues

Daniel Johnston: Chord Organ Blues

[purchase]

Daniel Johnston, perhaps the best songwriter the world has seen. The Beatles mixed with Randy Newman, carefully blended with a mental illness or two and topped off with an enthusiasm few can match.

The latter is to me a key component to his brilliance, and the main reason I prefer his earlier material from the first half of the 80s to his later work when he was still a hyperactive kid brimful of youthful exuberance recording ditties inbetween bouncing off the walls. There's just something about the unbridled energy of his earliest recordings I can't resist. 100% envigorating and life-affirming, despite the often bleak themes.

The lo-lo-lo-fi audio quality of these early recordings, his yelping, lisping voice and penchant for pouncing the keys of his chord organ so hard you can barely hear the notes he's playing are an acquired taste for sure, but anyone with a soft spot for classic pop with great hooks needs Daniel Johnston in their life.

Shorties: True Love Will Find You In The End

Daniel Johnston: True Love Will Find You In The End

[purchase]

Basia Bulat: True Love Will Find You In The End

[live]

More fragility, though at a decent if stumbling pace this time. As I noted this summer, Johnston is cited as an influence by a vast number of emotionally broken artists, and this heartbreaking tune is among his most covered. So many have heard so much in this song, and his body of work in general. I think you will, too.

The Basia Bulat cover is a bonus, from a 2008 Daytrotter session. It's short enough, and true to the original in its irregular pacing and warbling vocal. Broken beauty, all of it.

Advice: Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Your Grievances

Daniel Johnston: Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Your Grievances (original)
[purchase]

Dot Allison: Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Your Grievances (cover)
[purchase]

Clem Snide: Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Your Grievances (cover)
[purchase]

Don't let the sun go down on your grievances
Respect love of the heart over lust of the flesh
Do yourself a favor: become your own savior
And don't let the sun go down on your grievances

And when you wake up in the morning
You'll have a brand new feeling
And you'll find yourself healing
So don't let the sun go down on your grievances.

If a severe manic depressive with an unhealthy appetite for Mountain Dew, who is known for such manic episodes as throwing an airplane ignition key out the window while the plane was still in the air, gives you advice, should you take it?

Oft-hospitalized indie musician Daniel Johnston is known for being a serious oddball, an outsider in a world of outsiders, but his lyrics and songcraft are celebrated by a significant slice of music world and beyond – from David Bowie to Kurt Cobain to Simpsons creator Matt Groening, themselves a fairly untrustworthy group of advice-givers. His lo-fi production and wavery falsetto first hit the world through a series of self-released cassette tapes recorded on a $59 boombox; according to Wikipedia, common themes in his music throughout his career have included "unrequited love, Casper the Friendly Ghost, and comic book superheroes...a propensity to proselytize for his conception of Christianity, warning about the devil, and a fixation on the number 9."

Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Your Grievances is one of Johnston's most covered songs, and it's a recognized classic, most recently appearing on the seminal Oxford American annual Southern Sampler CD for 2007; both covers, above, come from double-length tribute albums from a veritable who's who of fringe musicians from the indie world. Personally, I think the titular sentiment is sensible – resolving grudges quickly, and in the light, seems like sound advice regardless of the source. And from there, the song brims with words of similar wisdom, and other suggestions for psychological health, which seem equally sound.

Johnson's background lends an air of legitimacy to the lyrics, too; this is someone who has been in therapy, and knows, intellectually at least, how to keep the demons at bay, even if on occasion, he is known to force others into the shower to rid them of theirs. But Johnston's history, plus a fluidly changing chorus, also flavors this advice with a sinister implications about what the dark might bring. Caveat emptor, as with all advice, and don't say we didn't warn you.