Robbie Robertson: Somewhere Down The Crazy River
[purchase]
Writing for three different music blogs often results in crossover posts. I wrote about The Jam here recently, and have just submitted a piece about another Jam song to Cover Me. And I recently wrote about The Last Waltz at Another Old Guy, so I guess that I have Robbie Robertson on my mind.
Strangely, though, this song popped into my head, despite the fact that its title doesn’t have the key word in it, and would seem more appropriate for a Boat theme. And yet, it works. It took Robertson 11 years before he released his first, self-titled, solo album in 1987, and tried to stretch beyond the Americana sounds that he played for so many years with The Band. The album was produced by Daniel Lanois, who was also working with U2 and Peter Gabriel at the same time, and all of the members of U2, as well as Gabriel and members of his band all appear on the album. Lanois’ typically dreamy, atmospheric sound pervades the album.
“Somewhere Down the Crazy River” is an odd song.
Robertson only sang lead on two Band songs, and Levon Helm has claimed that Robertson’s mic was off during the Last Waltz
concert (and the Internet rumor mill has his mic off during most Band
shows), so it is not Robertson’s singing that he will be remembered for.
According to Lanois, he secretly recorded Robertson telling a story about hanging out with Levon Helm in Arkansas, fishing with dynamite on hot nights. Because that’s apparently what one does. Meanwhile, Robertson was fiddling with a Suzuki Omnichord, which Lanois also recorded, and he superimposed the storytelling over that, creating the basic tracks for the song. In between the spoken word parts, which have a sort of Tom Waits feel, Robertson sings, perfectly well, I might add:
Catch the blue train
To places never been before
Look for me
Somewhere down the crazy river
Somewhere down the crazy river
Catch the blue train
All the way to Kokomo
You can find me
Somewhere down the crazy river
Somewhere down the crazy river
In each case, the second “Somewhere Down the Crazy River,” is sung, somewhat distorted, by Sam Llanas of The BoDeans. Also featured on the track are fine bass playing and drumming by Tony Levin and Manu Katché, both of Gabriel’s band (among other things). And Bono is somewhere in the mix, too.
It is curiously compelling, which is a tribute to the combination of Robertson’s charismatic, deep voice, his storytelling ability, Lanois’ production and the talent of the musicians. And despite its unconventional sound, it was released as the album’s first single, and was successful.
The video for the song (above), was directed, like The Last Waltz, by Martin Scorsese, whose infatuation with Robertson’s face was still in force. Robertson’s lust interest is played by Maria McKee, at the time the lead singer of the pioneering “cow-punk” band Lone Justice, who were a mid-80s “next big thing” that never happened. Which in itself was sad, since McKee’s voice is incredible (and her solo career never went anywhere, either). She sings on a different song on the album, and one can only assume that she was chosen to be in the video for her looks. When asked about her “acting skills,” McKee was quoted as saying: "... what did I do, I was just being licked by Robbie..."
Thursday, November 2, 2017
Train: Somewhere Down The Crazy River
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Standards: Wayfaring Stranger(s)
Maria McKee: Wayfarin' Stranger
[purchase]
Jerry Reed: Wayfaring Stranger
[purchase]
"Wayfaring Stranger" is a standard in the folk music catalog, dating back to the 19th century. A religious ballad, it gained new meaning during the 1930s, with lyrics seemingly reflecting the plight of the displaced and homeless -- poor wayfaring strangers, "traveling through this world of woe." In the 1940s, it became a signature tune for Burl Ives, who named both his autobiography and radio program after it.
"Wayfaring Stranger" remains an oft-recorded song -- an iTunes search brings up more than 400 matches. Here are two distinctly interpretations.
The first is strictly traditional, performed by Maria McKee on the Songcatcher soundtrack album. It is one of McKee's finest vocal performances, in a recording career full of them.
The second is by Jerry Reed. Thanks to his novelty records and good-ol'-boy persona honed in movies like Smokey and the Bandit and The Waterboy, Reed's many fine records of the 1960s and early '70s have sadly been forgotten. Among the most interesting is 1967's Jerry Reed Explores Guitar Country, on which he reworks a dozen folk and pop classics. Reed's "Wayfaring Stranger" starts with his signature acoustic guitar picking. Soon, a Hammond organ joins in, and Reed's playing gets jazzy, and he even offers up some scat singing. His unique take is a reminder that standards can not only be honored, but reinterpreted as well.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Heaven Week: You Gotta Sin To Get Saved Edition
Gary S. Paxton (aka Rusty Dean): Saturday Satan, Sunday Saint [purchase]
Maria McKee: You Gotta Sin To Get Saved [purchase]
"Saturday satans and Sunday saints,
Fooling their neighbors, at least that's what they think,
Reading that Good Book and singing those hymns,
But come Monday morning and it's back to their life of sin."
--Gary S. Paxton (aka Rusty Dean)
"Now I pray the Lord won't scorn me if I make an honest vow,
To someday wear a dress of white,
'Cause scarlet's what I'm wearin' now."
--Maria McKee
Today's post is all about turning Saturday sin into Sunday saves. Or, at least the appearance of a save. After all, if there's no sin, what the hell are the saints gonna complain about? They need each other, in a twisted sort of co-dependent bipolarity. Patterson Hood of the Drive-By Truckers talks about the duality of the Southern thing, but that duality exists in all Americans, regardless of background, geography, and fashion sense. As we stagger from the bar to the pew, transitioning from a week of Hell to a week of Heaven, let us listen to a couple of songs that address this moral duality.
"Honey show some faith,
You gotta sin to get saved."
