THE ROAD: GOES ON FOREVER AND THE PARTY NEVER ENDS.

The mythological lure of the road has long attracted attention in way more than just musical memes. We’ll get to that in due course, but it got me thinking around the whole idea of a road trip. Like, what was the first? Jack Kerouac’s On The Road, came initially to mind, until I realised how shortsighted and narrow was my entry angle, remembering the Richard Thompson response: best songs of the millennia, or of all time, did not start with Sinatra. So that in mind, throwing out my net a bit wider, are we talking the Crusades; that was a sort of tour? Or Christ’s 40 day desert gig, did that count? I think a prime contender would have to be Ulysses, his 12 tasks and all that. Tack on the Trojan War and the tour is encroaching Dylanesque Never Ending logistics.

I could be getting carried away here, but it has an appeal. I wonder what was on his rider? And who ran the merch stall? And for all the buzz around Homer, the “official releases”, I’ll bet there were live sets and bootlegs, swapped in chariot parks, before the show. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone somewhere is still putting together a box set, the Ithaca tapes, perhaps. I’m sure I read about it on the Steve Hoffman forum.

So, as they, say. Robert Earl Keen. Whatever happened to him? Nothing bad, to be fair, as he still tours and plays, but, as with, say, Steve Forbert, so much early promise seeming never quite to be capitalised upon. From Houston, Texas, he hit the ground running in the mid 80s, with a signature stripped back sound, bluegrass style instrumentation, allied to rootsy modern folk songs, all sung in his gritty mournful moan. I loved it, and West Textures, his 2nd album was a bona fide delight. Still is, the songs rendered timeless by that old timey anchor. The song that entitles this piece is his best known song, but they all have legs. Heck, at that time, he, Lyle Lovett and Nanci Griffith seemed an insurmountable triad of potential, at whose altars I knelt, in awe. So young and so much talent.

Keen  had a particular knack for a story song, with TRGOFATPNE being the prime evidence. I alway feel the idea for such long haul yarn spinning came from Bob Dylan, Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts always coming to mind as the trigger to Keen’s muse.(I suppose, given the earlier paras written, due credit for all epics should maybe go to forbears from times long past, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, for his Charge of the Light Brigade, Longfellow  for Hiawatha, or, logically, good ol’ boy Homer himself, but the tunes have been largely lost.) The relatively simple construct, the repetition and the loping propulsive rhythm together produce a suspension of time, the story taking the fill of concentration. Keen was able to show he was no one trick pony, mind, as his next album, A Bigger Piece of Sky, four years later, in 1993, had another cracker, Jesse With the Long Hair Hanging Down. With shock, I note this barely hits 3 and 3/4 minutes, it casting a way longer shadow in my memory, but, details, schmetails, this is still a saga song, just a wee bit shorter. 

Oft seen as his high water mark, A Bigger Piece of Sky, whilst it had its moments, never quite hit my spot as had West Textures. In truth, I sort of went off him a bit after that, as somebody told him his forte might be in humorous songs, an oxymoron by any definition, at least in my book. But he has plugged away, with 20 studio recordings to his name. I gather he is about to hang up his cowboy boots, making me sad I never caught him live. Indeed, of that 80’s trio of performers, Nanci was the only one who ever seemed much to visit the UK, seeing her a host of times between then and the mid 90’s. But I did get to hear one near swansong, as Keen covered a host of his traditional influences: here is what I thought about that album.

A final thought about Keen might be to thank him not only for my beloved West Textures, but also to his enlightening me to the presence and worth of anothe songwriter, one Kevin ‘Blackie’ Farrell, himself no stranger get to the long form song. The exquisite Sonora’s Death Row, covered by Keen on West Textures, is one of his, as is another of my favourites, Mama Hated Diesels, as performed by Commander Cody’s Lost Planet Airmen. Farrell probably deserves a pice in his own right, memo to self, but it’s good to at least have the opportunity to namecheck him, until then.

May the road rise to meet you…….

HOME (IS WHERE THE HEART IS): CLIVE GREGSON

 Again, for me a no-brainer, if again bringing back to these pages a fella I have championed before. But with good reason, like Difford and Tillbrook last week, he has a canon of as quintessentially English songs as has anyone. Which, considering his home has been in the U.S. for most of the last 30 years is quite something. A touch of the "Home thoughts from abroad" tucked away in there, methinks, to which end he resembles that another quintessentially English songwriter, a certain Richard Thompson. (Again, sorry Jordan.....) Whose name will pop up again, here, as you will read, having, at one time, offered gainful employ to Gregson. But first, the song, a glorious song that defines that cliche of home being where you want it to be. It isn't stated whether the protagonist is leaving England or returning there from afar and, indeed, it doesn't matter. The feel of what that home might mean is underlaid by the wonderful brass arrangement, french horn (awkwardly), that mainstay and staple of the brass and silver bands of the north of England, with their rich and evocative tones. Shorthand for old England, the last century, and particularly, the 1950s, as the makers of Hovis bread knew so well.

Gregson has had an interesting time of it, somehow retaining the same slightly bemused air of how did I get here, whether playing to a packed hall with his briefly one to watch band, Any Trouble, to huge acclaim on the folk(ier) circuit in his much loved duo with Christine Collister, or to a handful of punters in his latter-day solo iteration, playing small venues, arts centres and coffee houses. Oddly, it seems in the last he seems most at ease, guaranteed an intent and enthusiastic audience for his vast compendium of songs and self-deprecating patter. But he has seemingly hung up his capos and retired. No huge song and dance about it, a solo farewell tour sufficing. OK, and the special release of no less than 8 albums, month by month, during 2020. Covering the many and varied bases of his output, each of the 8 is themed in way way or another, allowing you to pick and choose the Gregson you prefer. His website explains it better.

RT I mentioned above, this being one of the more inspired moments of the long and illustrious career of the ex-Fairporter. I may even have told this tale before, but, as an early adopter of Clive Gregson and Christine Collister, buying their initial release, a cassette, only available from the pair directly, I had been delighted to learn they would be playing support to Mr Thompson and his band, at a much anticipated pre-Christmas concert at the Birmingham (UK) Odeon, a cinema that doubled as a music venue, and then the best night out in the city. My first capture of Gregson since the demise of Any Trouble, the two put on a great show, captivating the audience with their acoustic charm, however much prompted they were for the more electric oeuvre of the main event. So, imagine my surprise when, after the interval, on trooped the RT band, resplendent with both Gregson and Collister, she on backing vocals and he on second guitar and occasional keyboards. Wow and indeed wow! (No less than Steve Gibbons, also in attendance, was overheard to comment how this wasn't his usual bag, but how astonishing he found it.) I have probably seen Richard Thompson more than about any other performer over my years, as an electric band and also solo, but that band was possibly his strongest, yes, even more so than the arc grade wallop of his current trio. But something happened, at some stage, between Gregson and his employer. After a few years of playing live and appearing on a run of records, their ways seemed to abruptly part. The first I knew of it was a somewhat coruscating review, I think in Q magazine, by Gregson of Thompson's Mirror Blue. Which did not feature him. But the song, 'Put It There, Pal', which was a scathing demolition of an erstwhile friend, on the later You Me Us, may have. In the lyrics. I have always wondered. Collister, by the way, stayed with Richard Thompson, and will often crop up, even now, as a special guest at his shows, perhaps less so now he has married again, and has a wife who can be his vocal foil.)

Rather than linger on this episode, let me concentrate again on the subsequent years, which take in this century. This has seen the rebirth of Any Trouble, on a couple of occasions and a pair of albums, it looking for a time that an annual re-union show might be on the cards. He has toured alone, almost incessantly, or so it seemed, with also a pleasing return to a male/female duo, teaming up for a tour and an album with Liz Simcock. I always hoped it was desire rather than financial necessity that kept him on the road. In truth, probably a bit of both, but, as a Nashville domiciled songwriter for hire, I hope his royalties are, at the least, worthy of his talent. 

As I researched this piece I remembered he had also, for a time, been a member of Nanci Griffith's band, as well as, later, a member of Plainsong. Later still he was  the musical director for Dennis LaCorriere, the voice of Dr Hook, which makes for a varied set of skills. I haven't mentioned, either, his phenomenal technique on guitar, acoustic and electric, his competitive soloing perhaps another factor in his ejection from Thompson's band. Their extended duelling on Tear Stained Letter was always nothing short of incandescent.

I don't know quite where Gregson's current home is. Or heart for that matter, but hope they are in the same place and that retirement is kind to him. So, thanks, Clive, for all you have given to my pleasure. 

Below is the other version of Home, by the CG/CC duo.

And a (slightly) more recent live version:

One more? (With guess who.....)

Clive Gregson selected discography.

Love: The Loving Kind

Nanci Griffith: The Loving Kind
[purchase] 

Every once in a while, I’m struck when something that seems so incredibly wrong still existed in my lifetime. Like the fact that married women couldn’t get credit cards in their own name until the 1970s, or that people of the same gender couldn’t get married until a few years ago. But it really is incredible that in my lifetime there were places in this country where it was still illegal for blacks and whites to get married, until the Supreme Court unanimously ruled, in 1967, that such laws were unconstitutional in the landmark case of Loving v. Virginia. And yes, that was their last name, which couldn’t have been more perfect.  (And no, I haven't seen the movie yet, but it's on my list.)

That it took just over 100 years from the end of the Civil War (and just under that from the ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment which, by its clear and unambiguous terms, prevents states from making or enforcing “any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States;” and which prevented any state from depriving “any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws”) to have the Supreme Court make such a ruling, is incredible, unless you have any knowledge of American history, and its inherent racism. (And whether the Supreme Court, as currently constituted would do the same, unanimously, actually seems unlikely to me.) 

Even with the Supreme Court ruling, Alabama continued to enforce a similar law until 1970, when the—wait for it—Nixon administration went to federal court to stop it. And Alabama actually kept the law on its books until 2000, when 60% of its voters approved a constitutional amendment to remove it. Which means that 40% of the voters still wanted to keep it. 

In 1958 (a few years before my lifetime), Mildred Jeter, a woman of Native American, European and African American heritage from Central Point, Virginia married Richard Loving, a white man (and descendant of a Confederate soldier), who was a friend of Mildred’s brothers and who reportedly had many close black friends, after Mildred became pregnant. They were married in Washington, D.C. and returned to Virginia, where their marriage was illegal. Remarkably (or, maybe not so remarkably), they were ratted out to the sheriff, who arrested them. They pleaded guilty, were convicted on January 6, 1959 and sentenced to one year in prison, suspended for 25 years on the condition that they leave the state. So, they moved to Washington, DC, but missed their hometown, despite the whole being snitched on and arrested for being married thing. 

In 1964, Mildred wrote to Bobby Kennedy, the Attorney General, who referred her to the ACLU, which filed a motion to vacate the conviction and set aside the sentences. When the state court sat on the motion for a year, the ACLU brought suit in federal court, prompting the state court judge to deny the motion, stating, remarkably (or, maybe not so remarkably): 

Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix 

In 1966, the Virginia Supreme Court, hearing the appeal of this ignorant and racist decision, upheld the state ban on interracial marriage, using an extremely convoluted interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment (which had been endorsed previously by the U.S. Supreme Court). It was that decision that was rejected by the United States Supreme Court, which found that the law really, really, really violated the Constitution (and reversed its prior, totally wrong, interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment). 

Mildred and Richard moved back to Virginia and lived there for the rest of their lives. Richard was killed by a drunk driver in 1975; the accident cost Mildred an eye. She lived on until 2008, when she died of pneumonia. 

One person who read Mildred’s obituary was Nanci Griffith, who wrote “The Loving Kind,” about the Lovings and their case, and released it in 2009 as the title song of an album. It’s a good story song and does not sound at all like a law school casebook. 

Of course, it wasn’t until 2015 that the Supreme Court, in Obergefell v. Hodges, extended the logic and holding of Loving to prevent bans on same-sex marriage. These cases, and others, used to give me hope that our country was making social progress, which the Supreme Court (eventually) caught up to. But that hope does not seem justified at this time.

Wait/Don’t Wait: Desperados Waiting For A Train

Nanci Griffith: Desperados Waiting For A Train
[purchase]

No personal story, no long history lesson, no political discussion today. Just a short discussion about a fine song, Guy Clark’s “Desperados Waiting For A Train.” (I mentioned this song a few years ago in a piece on Clark’s “Homegrown Tomatoes," but it’s worth its own post.)

As someone who backed into “country” music through alt-country/Americana/roots/folk music, I first became aware of the great songwriter Guy Clark from covers, particularly this version on Nanci Griffith’s 1998 release, Other Voices, Too (A Trip Back To Bountiful). On that album, Griffith performed the song with Clark, Jerry Jeff Walker, Steve Earle, Rodney Crowell, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, and Eric Taylor. In fact, before Clark released a version, on 1975’s Old No.1, it had already been covered by Walker, Rita Coolidge, David Allan Coe and Tom Rush. And before Griffith’s version was released, it had been covered by Slim Pickens and probably most famously, The Highwaymen (Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, and Kris Kristofferson, some pretty fine songwriters in their own right). And there have been many other covers released and performed, including by Earle, on his recent tribute to Clark, and Jason Isbell, who performed the song at Guy Clark's induction into the 2015 Austin City Limits hall of fame ceremony. Which is just to say that many, many great musicians and songwriters have felt the song worthy of recognition.

Clark had the ability that some great writers, and not only songwriters, have of being able to economically create an entire world, and entire characters, with no wasted words. (On the same album, Griffith also covered Richard Thompson and Woody Guthrie, who have that same talent.) I’m jealous as hell. In less than five minutes, the song tells the story of the relationship between a boy and an old man, and you can feel the love they felt for each other, and the respect that the boy had for the man, an old school oil worker, who seemed to the boy like he was from an old western. And one day, the boy realizes that the man is old, and dying, and the metaphorical train comes to take him away. Two lives in about four and a half minutes of brilliance. I don’t know if the song is studied in songwriting classes, but it should be.

It’s a true story. Clark wrote it about his grandmother’s boyfriend, who stayed at the hotel that she ran in a small Texas town. You can read more about it here.

In 1998, when Griffith released her album, she appeared with all of the guys (including Guy) who sang with her on David Letterman’s show. And since readers of my work here know I’m a huge Letterman fan, and a huge fan of the song, here’s a video:

AMAZE: AMAZING GRACE (USED TO BE HER FAVORITE SONG)/AMAZING RHYTHM ACES

Two for one here, a band with amazing in their title and amazing in the song, which is, um, amazing. And my "research", the search button in the top right of this page, suggests they haven't been here before, surprising if they are indeed up to their modest entitlement. And are they? Let's see.....

I was a bit of a country nerd in the early 70s, or country rock more accurately, that hybrid of long hair and pedal steel, disowned, largely, by each of its parents at the time, yet proving enormously resilient and robust. Now given I was living and raised in East Sussex, in the south of England, my cowboy credentials were pretty slim, but I dug hard and deep to nail my colours to the (confederate?) flag. So it was way more than the Byrds or Burritos for me, more, much more than the New Riders and Poco. I would rifle through the vinyl at record shops for hours until I could find something yet more arcane. And there were a host of trinomials, bands with 3-word names, Atlanta Rhythm Section, Pure Prairie League and these guys, but I could never remember which was which and who sang what. Indeed, I still had to look as listening was no great differentiator. The League I thought were great, ARS were a little bland, with the Aces somewhere in between. The featured song, their sole chart botherer of any great note, is typical of their style, a 4:4 harmonied croon with appropriately wailing steel and lyrics about drinking and crying. It's actually held up quite well, I think. It comes from their 1975 debut, "Stacked Deck", which is probably the best introduction to the band. It contains also another song you may recall, especially if you are Canadian, the number one in Saskatchewan hit, Third Rate Romance, which has dated terribly, the product of when other influences get chucked into the pot. They lasted until 1980, successive albums producing limited returns. (They reformed in the mid to late 90's but that need not trouble us here.)

More interesting to me is what happened to the erstwhile piano tinkler, James Hooker, not realising he had been in the band. A decade or so on from crate digging in dusty record shops, I was married and living, by chance and to my glee, next door to another country rocker, although Paul was slightly more attuned to the country than the rock. He had a bigger collection than me and introduced me to many an act I hold dear to this day, Steve Earle and Nanci Griffith, to name but two. Back then Earle was only beginning to revive his career after his drug habit had led to incarceration. But Nanci was in her prime and, being someone with a bigger european audience than at home, toured the UK regularly. I just have seen her play half a dozen times in those late 80s, always with faithful Hooker alongside, playing piano and leading her band, the Blue Moon Orchestra, which would also showpiece whichsoever hip young guitar slinger she had unearthed in the country & irish clubs of Dublin. Her shows were a delight and could have me alternately yelping and weeping, not least in the song below, co-written with Hooker, the much covered Gulf Coast Highway. Live, Hooker was always given due credit for his overall role in the Griffith sound, he seeming quiet and unassuming, smiling in embarrassment as attention was drawn to his pivotal position and exquisite playing.

Life intervened in so many ways and Paul and I lost contact. I stopped going to Nanci Griffith and indeed any shows for actually quite a long time, picking up again roughly 15 years ago. Hooker had however kept busy, and I was astonished to see he had worked with and was on so many records I love. Like John Hiatt's "Slow Turning"and ex-Brinsley Schwarzer Ian Gomm's "Rock'n'Roll Heart", both as organist. Also that he had, full circle into and within my trajectory toward the Rhythm Aces, been a latter day Flying Burrito Brother, or at least appeared on a couple of albums, albeit far from their heyday. (And, fact fans, original Rhythm Aces drummer, Jeff 'Stick' Davis, was a member of the 'Sneaky' Pete Kleinow/Garth Hudson collaboration, Burrito Deluxe.)

Hooker is now seemingly retired and was certainly never a returning Ace. As I look back over my years of gigging, he has certainly always seemed one of the good guys. And, through appreciating his later work, suddenly I find myself listening to 'Stacked Deck' with a whole lot more enthusiasm.

Stack yours!

July: Armstrong

Nanci Griffith: Armstrong
[purchase]

It isn’t a particularly profound or original observation to point out that 1969 was a pivotal year. There were Woodstock and Altamont and tons of amazing albums, Nixon’s inauguration, the Stonewall Riots, the Mets won the World Series, the U.S. secretly bombed Cambodia while the antiwar movement gained strength, the Beatles had their picture taken on Abbey Road and performed for the last time, the Manson family went on a murder spree, Sesame Street debuted, and Ted Kennedy pleaded guilty to leaving the scene of an accident. Just for starters.

But if you had to pick the number one event of 1969, you’d probably pick the small step for man, and giant leap for mankind—Neil Armstrong’s first step on the moon, which took place in July, 1969. I was 8 when it happened, and I remember being allowed to stay up late to watch history being made. (Most of the other times I was allowed a late bedtime that year related to the Mets). As a kid in those days, there was little more exciting than watching rockets launch—we’d stare at the TV, waiting for the countdown, and what seemed like the slow climb of the rocket into space.  Which may be why MTV's early branding included videos of rockets and moonwalks. The moon landing was something truly amazing, especially when you consider that the watch I’m wearing now probably has more computing power in it than the entire Apollo 11 mission used.

While watching the landing, John Stewart, formerly of the Kingston Trio, wrote a song, “Armstrong,” which is about how despite all of the problems in the world, and our differences, everyone watched, or heard, about Armstrong’s amazing feat. I can honestly say that I never heard the song, but here it is:



(That’s the single version, which is different from the version released a few years later on Stewart’s album, Cannons In The Rain. I never heard that version either.)

The song has been covered a few times over the years, but the one I did hear was by Nanci Griffith, on her album Clock Without Hands. In fact, the album features three Stewart covers, including “Armstrong,” and Stewart plays acoustic guitar on the track. (Pete and Maura Kennedy, who I saw at Clearwater, contribute mandoguitar and vocals). It is a pleasant folk song, and Nancy Griffith’s distinctive vocal style works well. And the lyrics mention July.

The Dexateens, an underappreciated band from Alabama, released a song called “Neil Armstrong” a few years ago on their excellent album Hardwire Healing, which was produced by the Drive-By Truckers’ Patterson Hood and David Barbe, who was in Sugar and has produced Truckers albums. Matt Patton, the Dexateens' bass player now fills that slot in the Truckers. Unlike the Stewart song, though, the Dexateens seem to be focusing more on how the moon shot, and his celebrity, affected Armstrong. And the lyrics also mention July.

Apparently, there are some people who believe that it was actually Louis Armstrong who was the first man to walk on the moon. He wasn’t, of course (although he sang “Moon River”), but he died in July—on the 6th, in 1971, at his home in Corona, Queens, about a mile from Shea Stadium, where the Mets lost 5-1 to the Expos.

LISTEN: TO THE RADIO/NANCI GRIFFITH

Spoilt for choice, really, songs about the radio abound all over, and it is the immediate word association I link to listen, watching or touching the radio seeming always a bit pointless. Let alone smelling. But there are only a few that go as far as to spell it out, and Nanci came up top of my pile this morning.

And I've been wondering what's been happening to Nanci Griffith of late. For a time, in the 80s, she was huge over here, well, as huge as what-was-then-country-and-is-now-americana got in the UK at that time. She seemed to be forever touring her neat little ankle socks off, perhaps taking advantage of the local enthusiasms, playing venues such as the Birmingham Irish Centre on more than one occasion. (Come to think, there has always been a hibernian appetite for twangy guitars and half her band were from Ireland, so maybe the clue is in the name of the hall.) I snapped up all her early records up until suddenly I reached peak Nanci, round about the brace of covers albums she put out, somehow feeling she had lost her muse. The truth, it seems, is more prosaic, she was losing her health, with breast cancer, treated successfully, and a prolonged spell of what was (euphemistically?) called writers block. There have been sporadic records this century, but her innocent sparkle seems anachronistic now. But then, hell, it was a delight, her quirky introductions, all in look at li'l ol' Texas me high school prom voice, giving me as much delight as the songs. I strongly commend her 'One Fair Summer Evening' live opus from 1988 to catch that flavour at its sweetest, just one stir ahead of saccharine.

So this song, 'Listen to the Radio', what about it? Well, it's from her 8th record, 'Storms', the one where she was being groomed slightly away from her folk-country hybrid into a hoped for wider appeal, with a more easily consumed and slightlier (slighter?) AOR sensibility. Produced by Glyn Johns, the alchemist of the early Eagles output, and without a fiddle or a steel guitar in sight, it was initially dissed by the purists, but I have to say its legacy has lasted longer than its forbears. It sounds good to these ears, my delight heightened as I read the names of Bernie Leadon, Albert Lee and Jerry Donoghue amongst the contributing musicians. The lyrics are typical Griffith, harking back to west texas backroads, nostalgia tinged with regret, loneliness never far away, but :
                                           
                                           When you can't find a friend  
                                           You've still got the radio  
                                           When you can't find a friend  
                                           You've still got the radio …,

words with which I can relate with ease. So my days by the radio were an oceanwide away, a room in a shared house in London, south of the thames, but, 10 years later, settled in Birmingham, I could remember well the feeling. Do people still listen to the radio in this way, I wonder? I know I don't, beyond an occasional catch of the morning news in the car. Are there now songs about Spotify playlists, or YouTube channels? Perhaps there are.

Go on, then, listen to the radio.......

Hard: Hard Times Come Again No More

Hard Times Come Again No More is a song that dates from well before the Great Depression, but it’s easy to see why you might not think so. The song is a secular hymn, a plea directed to the comfortable for compassion for those less fortunate. It speaks to times when those in power would have the poor and the middle class compete against each other, rather than risk us joining together to find common solutions to our problems. We are in such a time now, and the Great Depression was a period that brought about such a joining together for an all-too-short moment. The song, however, shows that the need for compassion is much older. Stephen Foster wrote Hard Times Come Again No More in 1854, and it became a favorite on both sides of the Civil War. In seeking out versions of the song for this post, I found that some of the best versions express the idea that none of us are alone in the way the song is arranged.

Jennifer Warnes: Hard Times Come Again No More

[purchase]

Jennifer Warnes finds a stark beauty in the song with the sparest arrangement here. She gets a small group of friends together for an a capella version that expresses solidarity with the sounds of human voices alone.

Mavis Staples: Hard Times Come Again No More

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Mavis Staples is best known for her work with the Staples Singers, although her solo work has become better known lately. Either way, she is a gospel singer at heart. Even a secular song like this one becomes a prayer when she sings it. This jibes perfectly with Stephen Foster’s intent, and results in a powerful performance.

Nanci Griffith: Hard Times Come Again No More

[purchase]

Nanci Griffith makes a specific connection to the hard times that have been experienced by the Irish people. Her version includes notable Irish musicians such as Dolores Keane and Sharon Shannon. Griffith starts with a small ensemble, and gradually builds to the full arrangement, which is a great musical device for expressing the theme of the lyric.

Paolo Nutini and the Chieftains: Hard Times Come Again No More

[purchase]

Finally, I could not resist closing with the Chieftains’ version with Paolo Nutini. The universality of the theme of the song is still very much intact, but the Irish connection is now explicit. The Chieftains find a perfect fit for the song as an Irish ballad, and deliver a version that lingers after the last note. Stick around for the coda played on pipes and drums; it really takes this one home.

1988: Love at the Five and Dime

Nanci Griffith: Love at the Five and Dime

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I suppose you could call this post cheating on my part. After all, Nanci Griffith released the original studio version of Love at the Five and Dime in 1985, not 1988. On that version, there is a full band, but the production is handled with a light touch that puts the focus where it belongs, on Griffith and on a song which has arguably become a standard. But this is the live version, from 1988’s One Fair Summer Evening, and this performance is something special. It’s just Griffith and her guitar for the most part, and that’s all that is needed. Griffith has the rare gift of being sweetly sentimental without ever being cloying. Here, she lays down a pattern on the guitar, and does a spoken introduction to the song over that pattern. The intro is almost two and a half minutes long, and it is a wonderful monologue that is almost worth the price of admission by itself. After hearing this, I would be happy to attend a performance by Griffith just to hear her talk. But, of course, the song is great too. I don’t want to give anything away if you have never heard this, but I really think someone should call a band Unnecessary Plastic Objects.

Street Names: Gulf Coast Highway

Nanci Griffith: Gulf Coast Highway

[purchase]

Now this is how you write a love song. Gulf Coast Highway isn’t about a road. It’s about two people who live in a house on that road. In the space of a single song, Nanci Griffith takes us from the time this couple moves into the house to them growing old together. Griffith lets us know that there are hardships along the way. But through it all, they know they will have their love for each other, as surely as the bluebonnets will bloom in their garden each spring.

Duets: The Eleventh Hour Edition

First of all, let me say that I adore this week's theme, as I've always been a harmony voyeur - there's just something about two voices saying so much more than one could, lyrically and sonically. To that end, I fear I am running out of time, as I was out of town for the beginning of the week and too busy to post - hope you all won't mind if I do a bit of a clean sweep here to share some of my other favorites...

Jules Shear and Susan Cowsill: Restaurant Scene

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Jules Shear is best known as the author of Cyndi Lauper's "All Through The Night" and the Bangles "If She Knew What She Wants", but I'm particularly enamored with his recording, Between Us, definitely in my Top Ten - his gift for lyric writing is beyond description ("some people are changed by great romances but it's the wounds that make us who we are" and "so try to make it like the dream you had, the peaceable kingdom where no one's betrayed" and so many brilliant turns of phrase too numerous to name) and this CD is composed entirely of duets with such notables as Carole King, Ron Sexsmith, Paula Cole, Freedy Johnston and others. My understanding is that it was written after his break-up with Aimee Mann and each song is more tragic than the next - her side of the story can be heard on I'm with Stupid Now (guess perspective is everything)...

Amy Rigby and Todd Snider: Til the Wheels Fall Off

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I loved what Anne said in her Nick Cave/P.J. Harvey post ("when two artists you love do a duet together you feel like the universe is lining up") - that's exactly how I felt when Amy Rigby had Todd Snider join her on a song a few CDs back. I am a fan of both, as their sometimes cynicism belies a true faith that trouble is only temporary - this tune mines the road-trip-as-relationship metaphor ("I guess the path of least resistance wasn't on the map")...

Robert Earl Keen and Margo Timmins: Then Came Lo Mein

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When a Texas songwriter teams up with the female lead singer of The Cowboy Junkies, anything is possible - through the use of puns ("I was steamed, I was fried") and interweaving voices, they manage to put a poignantly humorous spin on a nervous breakdown in a Chinese restaurant...

Nanci Griffith and Adam Duritz: Going Back to Georgia

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Queen of country-folk meets lead singer of angst-ridden rock band - what could have been a recipe for disaster succeeds beyond wildest expectations. This song is on my funeral tape ("I've been blinded by the sun, washed in the rain, scattered in America, I'm scatterin' again, but if you're goin' south, darlin', I guess I'm travelin' with you") - yep, Georgia's always on my mind....

Clothes: Dress of Laces

Nanci Griffith: Dress of Laces

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The well-worn metaphor of a well-worn dress speaks to the weary heart of a girl desperate for love from an absentee father and a debauching mother; I won't give away the ending, but I will say that the moral here seems to be that laces let to wear too thin can snap -- revealing, too late, that which would have kept us from an inevitably rash and regretful end.

The song, written and originally recorded by relatively under-the-radar Texas singer-songwriter Saylor White, was given life on a national scale with the release of Other Voices, Too (A Trip Back to Bountiful), Nanci Griffith's second of two bestselling all-coversong tributes to her musical influences and peers. No less an authority than the oft-cited Oxford American Magazine included Griffith's gorgeous countryfolk ballad on their yearly Southern Sampler way back in 1998, and I think it bears repeating. With Lyle Lovett on harmony vocals for that perfect finishing touch.

Footwear: Boots of Spanish Leather

Bob Dylan: Boots of Spanish Leather

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Nanci Griffith: Boots of Spanish Leather

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Martin Simpson: Boots of Spanish Leather

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There's been a Bob Dylan song in almost every single theme we've attempted here on Star Maker Machine, but those of us who appreciate his iconic songwriting know there's no such thing as too much Bob Dylan. Hence, Dylan's neo-traditional ballad of separation, loss, and fine Spanish footwear, with the boots in question the final request from a left-behind lover who, after thrice refusing material possessions, finally asks for the memento as a signifier of his acceptance that he will never again have what he truly desires.

Call it cavalier or callous, the power of those final three verses, spoken by the remaining narrator after the dialogic "other" has faded from the song, are undeniable. In fact, I believe the song is one of Dylan's most powerful and enduring -- and for a man with such a canon, that's saying a lot, indeed. But then, I'm not alone in this assessment, which I share with no less an authority than the Norton Anthology of Poetry, 5th edition, which included the lyrics to this song in a section titled "Popular Ballads of the 20th Century."

That said, it may be sacrilege, but as someone who has gone on record as preferring Dylan the songwriter to Dylan the performer, I genuinely prefer both of today's covers to the original 1964 performance from Dylan's seminal work The Times They Are a-Changin'. Nanci Griffith's genderbent countryfolk take is more plaintive and delicate, as her songs are wont to be; master guitarist Martin Simpson's version is more mystical and poignant, revealing the song as less neo- and more a true traditional folk ballad from across the sea. Each, in its own way, hits the gold standard of coversong, subjectively speaking: though there are a dozen or more covers of this one out there, it is these two which, for me, transformed the original song from something decent into something truly great, more than worthy of its inclusion in my own high school English Lit textbook.