This seemed like it might really be fun. It was a lot of fun to put together anyway!

Here’s an erratic, eccentric collection of video clips to accompany the book, available at the time of posting anyway, and subject to addition, subtraction, suggestion, and revision – but whichever the case, it should in the end simply lead you to discover – lead me to discover, too – more music.

This is the third of four installments, covering the third section of the book: “Honky Tonk Masquerade.” Once we’ve posted all four, we’ll put them together in one giant Lost Highway video playlist!

Part Three: Honky Tonk Masquerade

WAYLON JENNINGS: The Pleasures of Life in a Hillbilly Band

“Waymore Blues”

This might seem a little slight (the performance, not the song, despite what Waylon says) but it is certainly charming. Which is one of Waylon’s many outstanding, if occasionally wayward, qualities. Another being his typically offbeat, and decidedly non-linear, approach to country music. Here he performs solo, singing one of his recent compositions to his wife, Jessi Colter, on his one-time brother-in-law Jack Clement’s never-actually-screened (except in the documentary referenced above) television show. The song is a tribute to Jimmie Rodgers in a way (“It don’t make any sense,” Waylon says to Jessi. “It does, but it don’t. You could say it has a concept to it”) – but take it as a completely unself-conscious statement of Waylon’s naturally existential point of view. Sometimes – frequently – this can take a darker turn, but it always comes out no-bullshit-with-a-sardonic sense-of-humor Waylon. For Waylon performing in a more characteristic band setting, with one of his many superlative groups of Waylors, check out Waylon Live: The Expanded Edition (BMG 82876 51855), a wonderful two-CD audio set recorded in 1974 with the great Ralph Mooney (also a Stranger at one point and author of “Crazy Arms”) on steel guitar.

HANK WILLIAMS, JR.: Living Proof

“Family Tradition”

Okay, I’m not going to even go there. Just dig the music. Check out the sheer playfulness and intelligence of the composition, the catchiness of the playing, the timelessness (and timeliness) of Hank Jr.’s message at this particular point in his life, as opposed to – look, I’m not going to even go there. This just reminds me all over again why Hank Jr. made such an impact – both popular and personal. So sit back and – well, don’t sit back. Jump up and listen to the music: to the unerring feel for the blues, to a spontaneity and improvisational sense worthy of the master (Jerry Lee Lewis was in many ways as much his model as his daddy), to the whole relaxed (but revealing) approach. And don’t miss out on the way Merle Kilgore throws himself into the act in the background (as he always did), shouting out the chorus and grinning to beat the band. The interview is pretty cool, too, a relaxed interchange that is not without its moments of insight and revelation.

MERLE HAGGARD: In the Good Old Days (When Times Were Bad)

“A Tribute to Bob Wills, with the Texas Playboys”

The greatest Merle Haggard show I ever saw wasn’t a show at all. It was a rehearsal at Harrah’s in Reno – not even a rehearsal, a sound check – that went on for two or three hours. Merle had a twelve-piece “orchestra,” very similar to this one, made up of former Playboys, the core of Merle’s band, the Strangers, and a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old Mark O’Connor. The show that Merle did that night for the public was professional enough but not even remotely on the same plane. The sound check was music purely for the sake of making music – and I think they would have played all night (another Bob Wills reference) if they hadn’t had a supper show to do. Just to show how dedicated Merle can be when it comes to what he really cares about, he learned to play fiddle just so he could play Bob Wills music with the great Bob Wills band. To my mind there could be no better proof of the totality of Merle’s commitment to music: like Duke Ellington, for Merle the band (whether the Strangers or this augmented group) was his indulgence, the gigs were his way of paying for it. We’ll have to do a complete set of Merle Haggard originals at some point, but here we have perhaps the greatest songwriter of our time – of any time? of his genre – of any genre?) singing the songs of one of his musical heroes with just as much genuineness and pure emotion as he would bring to any song of his own. Don’t miss Merle when he comes to town. It may not always be this good, but lately, with his nineteen-year-old son Ben playing lead guitar, he has been consistently more engaged than I have seen him in a long time.

JAMES TALLEY: Scenes From Life (A Triptych)

“Are They Gonna Make Us Outlaws Again?”

I wish we had something from the time that this was first recorded (“Are They Gonna Make Us Outlaws Again?” came out on James’ wonderful second album, Tryin’ Like the Devil, in 1976) – but, you know, the song is pretty timeless, isn’t it? And I don’t know that this relaxed rehearsal approach isn’t as poignantly to the point as a more polished (or youthful) version. This is the Greatest Number One Hit That Never Was. It should have/could have/would have been a big hit for Merle or Johnny Cash if they had ever recorded it (it was such a natural for either one – and they came close). Hell, it should’ve been a Number One hit for James Talley. You won’t find a better Woody Guthrie take-off from any other source, and like so many of Woody’s songs it’s just as applicable today, if not more so. The populist strain has always been defeated in the political arena by big money and bad intentions – but you can’t defeat the music.

STONEY EDWARDS: A Simple Little Dream

“Hank and Lefty Raised My Country Soul”

Stoney was a stone original – I know, I know, I’m sorry. It was something on which he prided himself to the point that when a psychiatrist friend offered to teach him to read, he refused on the basis that it might alter his view of the world. (“I’m glad I can’t read,” he said. “It scares the shit out of me sometimes how close I came to being an educated man. When I think of how many things that’s written about [is] copied – well, I can’t copy anybody else. What I write has to be true.”) Well, I don’t know how far I would take this, but Stoney was as natural a philosopher as anyone I’ve ever encountered, and while he may never have achieved the popular success of Charley Pride, his chief and just-about-only rival in the African-American corner of commercial country music (though we shouldn’t forget O.B. McClinton), and although as far as I know his oil well in Oklahoma never came in, it seemed like he led a truly fulfilled life. As evidenced by this extremely lo-def video, which captures so much of the unpretentious charm and enthusiasm of a true country original.

This seemed like it might really be fun. It was a lot of fun to put together anyway!

This is the first of four installments, covering the first section of the book: “Honky Tonk Heroes.” Once we’ve posted all four, we’ll put them together in one giant Lost Highway video playlist!

Part 1: Honky Tonk Heroes

ERNEST TUBB: THE TEXAS TROUBADOUR

“Waltz Across Texas" and “Walkin’ The Floor Over You”

Two of Ernest’s most iconic songs, delivered in typical sledgehammer fashion.

It doesn’t hurt that he is joined by a young, energetic Merle Haggard, taking his place as an honorary Troubadour on “Walkin’ the Floor Over You” and clearly inspired (like nearly everyone who met him – or saw or just heard him) by Ernest’s transparent sincerity.

This must have been around the time that I am writing about in the book, when Ernest, old, ill, suffering from emphysema, would still wait around the high school gym that was hosting his latest show until the very last autograph was signed.

HANK SNOW: STILL MOVIN’ ON

“I Don’t Hurt Any More”

Once again the kind of wonderfully straightforward and unembarrassed emotion that seems almost anomalous in our ironic world, delivered in Snow’s distinctive style. (Listen to Elvis’ right-on imitation on The Million Dollar Quartet session.) It comes with the usual bonus of Hank’s beautifully articulated acoustic solo – and dig the cornstalks!

**note: the video that was originally selected has disappeared from YouTube, along with the cornstalks. Above is similar take from a couple of years later

“I’m Movin’ On”

This is it. The Birth of Rock ‘n’ Roll (more or less, one of many – on the country side). Elvis recorded it on Elvis Country, as a tribute to the star with whom he first went out on tour in early 1955. It appears to have been filmed prior to its even being recorded by Hank in March 1950.

DEFORD BAILEY: PAN AMERICAN BLUES

“Pan American Blues”

Here’s DeFord Bailey, back on the Grand Ole Opry stage after an absence of many years. One of the earliest stars of the Opry (his original version of this song actually kicked off the first broadcast to officially use the “Opry” name in 1927), he was treated like a mascot and dropped in 1941, ostensibly because he wouldn’t “learn new songs.” But DeFord could play all day, on harmonica, banjo, and guitar – he took his inspiration, he said, from his solitary childhood out in the country, where he would listen to the birds and the trains going by and imitate all the sounds around him. When I met him, through James Talley and social worker David Morton, his great champion over the years (it was largely through David‘s efforts that he was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2005), he was living in a public housing project on Edgehill Avenue in Nashville, where today a plaque proclaims his one-time residence.

RUFUS THOMAS: THE WORLD’S OLDEST TEENAGER

“Walking the Dog”

How can you beat this (well, Rufus anyway)? Rufus was the self-proclaimed “World’s Oldest Teenager” when I met him in the mid-1970s, he was still the World’s Oldest Teenager when he died at 84 in 2001. He inspired the Sweet Soul Music Festival in Porretta, Italy, where in the 1990s, little kids called out “Rufalone,” as they ran after him in the streets. Rufus, as Jerry Wexler might say, was “a stone gas.” Or, to put it another way: Rufus vincit omnia.

BOBBY BLAND: LITTLE BOY BLUE

Bobby and B.B. King: Medley

Don’t miss the great Soul Train intro by Don Cornelius.

You can’t miss the graciousness and affection that both men display. The first time I saw them both was at a Battle of the Blues in 1966 at Louie’s Showcase Lounge, a lively but little room despite its name, in Boston’s Roxbury section. The spirit was not all that much different from the one exhibited here, except that it was a battle, with no duets contemplated or joined, and Bobby’s squall vanquishing B.B.’s falsetto, at least for that night. (When Bobby ended with “Stormy Monday” and fell to his knees at the lyric cue, the women could not be held back from storming the tiny stage.) The easy trade-offs here are no less enthralling, the vocal mastery no less assured – and dig the jackets, too!

T-Bone Walker: “Don’t Throw Your Love On Me So Strong”

T-Bone was Bobby’s main man, as he declares in the chapter. And not just because T-Bone originated “Stormy Monday” either. For the whole sound. He was B.B.’s main man, too – hell, he was everybody’s main man. Check out the way he holds his guitar, like a keyboard around his neck, and note the familiar chord progressions, too. And while you’re at it, check out B.B. and T-Bone together in the next clip, with BB’s jazzy, T-Boneish intro, not to mention “the great Lloyd Glenn,” as B.B. properly introduces him, on piano.

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