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.