 by Tom Hallett
QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “It’s dying in me. I really don’t want to go on the road much anymore. I’m tired of airports... but if I had my own little truck I could enjoy a few more years of going down the road and doing shows and stuff ... but the world is getting so over-crowded with traffic on the roads and airports, and with all this war-time stuff while traveling, it’s really not a lot of fun anymore.” — Ramblin' Jack Elliot
SONG OF THE WEEK: “Fine Soft Land” — Koerner, Ray & Glover
We’ve got a long-awaited, special treat to run through this week, gang, so we’ll pass on the usual rants, raves and raucous recollections and dive right into the OUT stack on this ole milk crate I call a desk ...
 Kris
Kristofferson
This Old Road
2006
New West Records
Here are a few of the legends surrounding revered American songwriter Kris
Kristofferson: He once flew a helicopter onto country superstar Johnny Cash’s
lawn and interrupted the Man In Black’s breakfast to throw him a copy
of his song “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.” He could’ve
been rock’s New Bob Dylan. He exudes such raw, animal sex appeal that
women have been known to literally keel over and faint in his presence. Are
they all true? Probably, but only Kris could authentically verify them.
So what are the facts? He was born on June 22, 1936, in Brownsville, Texas.
His father was in the military, and as a youngster, he traveled extensively.
He’s been writing songs for over 40 years, and shows absolutely no sign
of slowing down. He is 70 years old. The silver-tongued devil, as he’s
been dubbed, has worked at dozens of disparate jobs in his lifetime, including
singer/songwriter, soldier, janitor, protester, actor and chopper pilot. He’s
won countless awards, both from the music industry and the film world.
He’s written literally dozens of instantly recognizable pop and country
classics, including the soul-searching “Why Me, Lord?” the hobo
anthem “Me And Bobby McGee,” the lust-laden ballad “Help Me
Make It Through the Night” and the devastating, true-to-life ode to addiction
and loneliness, “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.” He’s
been covered by Janis Joplin, Sammi Smith, Patti Page, Johnny Cash, Ray Stevens,
Roger Miller, O.C. Smith and Gladys Knight & The Pips, just to name a few.
His 1972 album, Jesus Was A Capricorn, brought him worldwide attention
and helped to launch a still-thriving film career—playing Harlan Howard
in “A Star Is Born” opposite Barbra Streisand, portraying a kooky
outlaw scientist in “Blade,” roles in “Lone Star” and
“Payback,” and working in films by Peckinpah and Scorcese.
He was once married to Rita Coolidge, and released several duet albums with
her. Along with Willie Nelson, Cash and Waylon Jennings, he took the haunting,
reincarnation-oriented tune “The Highwayman” to the top of the charts
in 1985. Despite his extensive military upbringing and background, he has a
long history of taking a fierce anti-war, anti-big business stance, which came
to the fore of his writing with 1978’s “They Killed Him,”
a tribute to Christ, Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., as well as his ongoing,
active protests against American military involvement in foreign lands.
 The
Don Was-produced This Old Road is, hands down, the most solid, real,
poignant, from-the-gut album Kristofferson has offered in years. Mostly a spare,
stark soundscape punctuated only by KK’s lyrics, asides, chuckles and
wordy intros, the record more resembles a fireside, hot toddy-augmented hootenanny
than some of the stodgy, over-produced clap-trap some of our other national
musical icons have been releasing in the past few years.
Kristofferson’s voice was never his strongest point; like Dylan’s,
it was a grizzly voice you had to grow into (or let grow into you) while you
let the impossibly universal, mind-blowing, heart-rending lyrics you heard fill,
swell and burst into fine, fiery life in your gut and your soul. Like Dylan,
as well, KK seems to have grown into his voice. Here, the gruff and sometimes
off-key rumblings emanating from deep in his chest recall the soothing, old-time
AM radio broadcasters, or maybe that favorite tale-tellin’ old drunk you
hope is waiting on a stool at your favorite watering hole.
The songs here are all way above average, with KK delving into such matters
as coming to grips with your own mortality on the harmonica-heavy title track:
“Lookin’ at a lookin’ glass/ Runnin’ out of time/ On
a face you used to know/ Traces of the future lost, in between the lines/ One
more rainbow for the road/ Thinkin’ of the faces in the window/ That you
passed along the way/ Or the last thing you believed in/ Ain’t you come
a long way ... down this old road?”
“Pilgrim’s Progress” finds him attempting to reconcile all
he’s felt, done and contributed to the ongoing, universal fight for freedom,
equal rights and solidarity, with lines like “Am I young enough to believe
in revolution ... am I high enough on the chain of evolution to respect myself
and my brother and my sister ... I get lazy and forget my obligations/ I’d
go crazy if I paid attention all the time/ And I want justice, but I’ll
settle for some mercy/ On this holy road through the universal mind ...”
He kicks off the Death Of The Sixties ballad “The Last Thing To Go”
with a chuckle and an anecdote: “OK, the great featherweight champion
Willie Pepps once said, talkin’ of a fighter’s lifetime, ‘The
first thing to go is your legs, then it’s your reflexes, then it’s
your friends ... this one’s called ‘The Last Thing To Go’...”
Over weeping acoustic guitar, he intones, “Every hard rockin’ wreck
on the highway/ Every heart-broken rule of the road/ Every true thing we wrote
on the wind is still singin’/ Love is the last thing to go ...”
Sharp punches of harmonica slither in, then he takes it home: “Love is
the reason we happened at all/ And it paid for the damage we done/ And it bought
us the freedom to fall into grace/ All the way to our place in the sun ...”
A few other stand-outs on an album that’s chock full of superb cuts include
“Wild American,” wherein KK simultaneously celebrates his heroes,
both fallen and still kicking, and laments the death of Old America: “I
don’t care if that’s left or right or wrong ... you’re the
one, wild American/ Steve Earle, I remember it was somethin’ that you
said/ Put your picture in the paper and a price upon your head/ You said, brother,
if you really give a damn, just remember we’re all sons of Abraham/ Sing
a sadder song of freedom/ Slowly sinkin’ with the sun/ Waitin’ for
a burning star to lead ‘em/ You’re the one, wild American ... Merle
Haggard ... Willie Nelson/ Heroes happen when you need ’em ... you’re
the one, wild American ...”
“In The News” is like a horrific, half-hour blast of CNN, FOX-News,
or C-Span all balled up together and put to music, made even more terrifying
with lines like, “How’d this happen, what went wrong?/ Don’t
blame God I swear to God I heard him say/ Not in my name/ Not on my ground/
I want nothing but the ending of the war/ No more killin’/ Or it’s
over/ And the mystery won’t matter anymore ...”
 Probably
the most raw, emotional, anthemic number here, though, is the dire, call-to-arms
ballad “The Final Attraction,” which KK introduces with the line,
“The words of this song occurred to me while I was watchin’ Willie
Nelson close a show one time, waitin’ in the wings there ...” Eerie
slide guitar and joyful harmonica join Kris’ own simple strumming as he
recounts the life and times of a troubadour, the likes of which he, and we,
will probably never again be fortunate enough to watch rise up against the stinking
tide of antiseptic sludge about to cover this country ...
“Somewhere in your lifetime, you were dared into feelin’/ So many
emotions, that tear you apart/ But they love you so badly/ For sharin’
their sorrows, so pick up that guitar/ And go break a heart ... Come on, son,
get back up on that stage—you can do it just one time for Hank Williams/
Go break a heart ... (the music swells here, and so does Kris’ voice and
your heart) and Ray Charles, and Johnny Cash, and June Carter, and Waylon Jennings,
and Roger Miller ... go break a heart ... and Janis Joplin, and Jimi Hendrix,
and George Harrison, and John Lennon and Mickey Newberry ... go break a heart/
An’ Vince Matthews an’ Shel Silverstein and Lefty Frizell ... go
break a heart/ An’ Harlan Howard ... and maybe one time for me ... go
break a heart.”
A brilliant, brave, honest, real, raw, rough, truly patriotic batch of all-American
singing, writing and pickin’ that, in a perfect world, would win every
possible music award in 2006. Sadly, considering its anti-lie/-cheat/-steal/-rape
the country/-fuck the people attitude, the world at large will probably never
be privy to the fantastic secrets, wise observations, and true-life story-tellin’
that lies buried in this gem of an album.
You wonder where the voices of reason have gone? You wonder why Dylan doesn’t
pick up this particular burden and re-shoulder it? You wish somebody would have
the balls to stand up to the liars, fakes, money-grubbers and purveyors of death
and pain currently running this planet? Take Kris’ advice: Pick up that
guitar, and go break a heart ...
*Gig Of The Week: Don’t miss pop/rock
gods Cheap Trick this weekend (March 24) as they bring their own raucous brand
of amped-up Midwestern rock ’n’ roll to the MYTH Nightclub in Maplewood.
For ticket prices and directions, check out the club’s website at MYTHnightclub.com
That’s a wrap, kiddies. Tune in again next time ’round for more.
Til then—make yer own damnable news.
If you have local music news/gigs/events/CDs you’d like to see
mentioned in this space, or you’d just like to share some of those “special”
cookies you just baked, send replies to: Tmygunn777@peoplepc.com. ||
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