Revolutions of Time…The Journey 1975-1993 (Disc 3): Exodus

Interesting that this disc covers ten years (1983-1993) in twenty songs, while the previous two discs covered fewer years in 40 songs. Of course, the last disc was all duets. I’m not sure I understand the logic behind the discs: Pilgrimage (disc 1); Sojourns (disc 2); and Exodus (disc 3). I can’t find a copy of “Music from Songwriter,” so this version of “Who’ll Buy My Memories” is new to me, and it is an excellent recording, as is this version of “Write Your Own Songs” from the same album. I also don’t own Partners yet, so “When I Dream of You” is new to me. It appears that this is an album of original recordings, not a compilation, but the strings cloy. Willie’s vocals in 1984 are quite strong. This version of “My Own Peculiar Way” surprised me. After such cloying strings on the last track, this one surprised with its utter spareness. Johnny Gimble shines on fiddle. This may be one of my favorite versions of this song. “There is No Easy Way (But There is a Way)” is new to me because I don’t own “Island in the Sea” yet (another Booker T. Jones collaboration). Actually, I just ordered it online, so I do own it, but I don’t have it in my possession yet.

Revolutions of Time…The Journey 1975-1993 (Disc 2)

The liner notes list 35 albums as “The Releases,” which I take to mean the 35 releases on Columbia from 1975 to 1993. I think I own (and have already reviewed) all but seven: Partners, Music from Songwriter (can’t find, except on DVD), Electric Horseman (too expensive), Funny How Time Slips Away (with Faron Young; can’t find it), Brand on My Heart (with Hank Snow; too expensive), In the Jailhouse Now (with Webb Pierce; expensive), Old Friends (with Roger Miller; expensive). I hope to acquire these soon, but I have spent hours on the web scouring the used CD sites and am having trouble finding them at a reasonable price or at all…Well, scratch that. I just found four of these albums on two re-released double albums, but they cost me a pretty penny. I’ll be reviewing them soon. Partners is also listed, but I can’t tell if that is a compilation, so I’ll wait to order that.

Again, I can’t really recommend this collection except for the liner notes, and the nicely linear walk through the Columbia catalog. But why buy this collection when there are five tracks from the compilation “Half Nelson.” A compilation of a compilation. You might as well buy the album itself. Since I don’t own “Music from Songwriter,” this is my first listen to “How Do You Feel About Foolin’ Around.” The line “Ain’t nothin’ realer than right here and now if that’s as far as it goes” fits Willie’s “be here now” philosophy. We have so little time, so eat, drink, and be merry. I may have to break down and order the DVD since I can’t find the CD. With only one song from most of his albums, this set doesn’t really give you a very good feel for his best stuff.

Revolutions of Time…The Journey 1975-1993 (Disc 1)

"Music establishes an order between man and time. The stripe establishes an order between man and space." —Michel Pastoureau, historian, The Devil’s Cloth, 1991

This is a handsome three-disc compilation that contains songs I have already reviewed in previous blogs. The liner notes are excellent, though, so I will focus on those while also looking at the philosophy and rationale behind the selections.

The booklet opens with a quotation from Willie: “Fortunately, we are not in control.” On one hand, Willie seems resigned to fate, a more Taoist “go with the flow” kind of guy. And yet, at other times he seems to show a more Buddhist or stoic resolve, a more disciplined facing up to hardship. Is it possible to be an easy going stoic? A carefree cowboy? A smiling John Wayne? And looking at the quotation above, it seems that Willie’s music does bring order to time, the way Proust does. So Willie is in control, if only in his art. Even when he is most behind or in front of the beat, he is most in control. Paradoxically, when he seems out of control, that is most unconstrained by the meter, he is most in control. By breaking meter he makes his own meter, which is the supreme level of control. To control free verse is the highest form of control. It is to control without seeming to control. To control without controls, to fly without instruments, and yet to fly nonetheless.

This 1995 collection focuses on Willie’s 18-year tenure with Columbia Records, from 1975-1993, from Red Headed Stranger (1975) to Across the Borderline (1993). Disc one is titled “Pilgrimage.” It contains songs from Red Headed Stranger (1975), The Sound in Your Mind (1976), The Troublemaker (1976), To Lefty from Willie (1977), Stardust (1978), Willie and Family Live (1978), Sings Kristofferson (1979), The Electric Horseman (1979), Honeysuckle Rose (1980), Somewhere Over the Rainbow (1980), and Always on My Mind (1981). The perfectly chronological sequence allows you to hear five years of Willie’s career in a condensed form. The recording information is detailed and thorough, which is not often the case on the albums themselves. Sometimes the compilations are helpful in this way. These five years represent Willie’s first big wave of superstar success, so it is interesting to capture and freeze him at one of his peaks, Grecian Urn-like. As he always tries to freeze and preserve love and time, we freeze him freezing time, a sort of double-freezing or doubly deep freezing.

It's Magic (2007)

This is another of Willie’s “favor” albums. That is, an album where he pays back an old friend by recording with him. In this case, the friend is Don Cherry. The title track appears on the compilation “Joy.” I have reviewed that track on the blog for “Joy,” so I’ll start here with track #2, “What a Wonderful World.” Don Cherry is no Louis Armstrong, but Willie’s vocals are strong. If I could edit out Don Cherry and the syrupy strings, Willie’s vocal tracks would be worth the price of admission here, but I don’t think I’ll be revisiting this album much. “Summer Wind” is all Don Cherry. No sign of Willie. Skip it. “By the Time I Get to Phoenix” opens with Willie. “She’ll laugh when she gets to the part that says I’m leaving, ‘cause I’ve left that woman so many times before.” Funny how time and lovers slip away. Willie has more than fifty ways to leave his lovers. Best track on the album so far. This is not a bad duet, despite the sickening strings. Willie’s theme of time figures prominently here. In “Green Green Grass of Home” Willie waxes nostalgic for home along with the harmonica. His vocals are actually worth checking out on this track. An interesting Johnny Cash-like talking part in the middle. An interesting counterpoint to “On the Road.” The age old battle between home and road. “Again” is a fitting song for Willie to sing. When the “now and the here” disappear. “We’ll have this moment forever, but never again.” Now what can that mean? It will never happen again, and yet we have TIVO’d it in our memory, so we can replay it forever. So we don’t have it but we do. The paradox of time and memory. Followed, of course, by a version of “Sweet Memories.” Willie’s vocals are strong, but the syrupy setting and Don Cherry’s vocals detract from the overall effect. I prefer the other versions I have of this song. “You’ve Changed” is another fitting tune. The dream is that our love would never change. Permanent love. Yet “your kisses now are so blasé.” This track is all Don Cherry, though. No sign of Willie. A shame because I would love to hear Willie sing this one. Funny how time slips away. Funny how people change. “After the Lovin’” opens with Willie. Willie complains that he can’t express his love except in a song. “And I know that my song isn’t saying anything new, but after the lovin’, I’m still in love with you.” Which runs counter to so many of Willie’s song where he’s not in love with her after the loving, and he hits the road running in search of other loves. Here time doesn’t slip away, and he does love her forever, as promised. In this case, a promise is not just a lie in a better disguise. “Try to Remember” continues the focus on time and memory. Willie’s either trying to remember or trying to forget or both at the same time. “Try to remember the kind of September…” Of course Willie would remember September. That bittersweet, melancholy month of Autumn. He dwells on the sadness, wiggles and worries it the way you would a sore tooth. It yields a sadistic pleasure. “Deep in December our hearts should remember and follow.” Not sure what he means by “follow” here. Follow what? Follow your memory back in time from December to September? The strings cloy, but the lyrics, and Willie’s choice of songs, are revealing of Willie’s overall philosophy, which makes this album worth owning. In “Give Me the Simple Life,” Willie sings:

I don't believe in frettin' and grievin';

Why mess around with strife?

I never was cut out to step and strut out.

Give me the simple life.

Some find it pleasant dining on pheasant.

Those things roll off my knife;

Just serve me tomatoes and mashed potatoes;

Give me the simple life.

A cottage small is all I'm after,

Not one that's spacious and wide.

A house that rings with joy and laughter

And the ones you love inside.

Some like the high road, I like the low road,

Free from the care and strife.

Sounds corny and seedy, but yes, indeed-y;

Give me the simple life.

I think Willie wants to believe these lyrics, and maybe he does for brief moments, but it’s a hard sell in light of his many songs about the road. The restlessness. Again, the call of home versus the call of the road. The twin siren songs pulling him apart. “I used to have a heart, now I have a song.” Maybe that’s what happened from all this pulling. These lyrics do, however, confirm his hakuna matata philosophy of avoiding worry and strife at all costs and always looking on the sunny side like Dr. Pangloss. “Portrait of My Love” may push me over the edge with the cheesiness of the strings. And this one is all Don and no Willie, and thus not for me. Despite Willie’s strong vocals, I can’t recommend this album. That last track killed something in me.

Country Music (2010)

Willie’s latest is one of his best. I hope he’ll live to be a hundred so he can record 20 more albums like this. At last count I own 93 Willie albums, and I’m not even scratching the surface of the 300+ that are out there. After only one listen, though, I can tell that this one makes my untenable top ten. Willie sings straight-up acoustic country with a crackerjack Nashville session band including bass, banjo, mandolin, pedal steel, fiddle, and harmonica. Mickey Raphael and Trigger are the only members of Willie’s road band to join him on this record. Jim Lauderdale sings vocal harmonies, which few have been brave enough to attempt. T. Bone Burnett produces this crisp, spare, no-frills recording.

Willie opens with his own “Man with the Blues.” The only other version of this song I own is from 1959, and I review it on the blog for the compilation One Hell of a Ride. Willie is clearly returning to his roots, to the earliest country music and blues he knows. This is a cheerful, upbeat blues, and he follows it with another blues tune: “Seaman’s Blues,” an Ernest Tubb song. This is the first time I have heard Willie do this song, and it is a nice addition to his repertoire. His voice meanders mournfully before and behind the beat. Interesting that he opens with two traditional blues songs. “Dark as a Dungeon” is an aching coal mining song with the banjo, fiddle, steel, and mandolin tastefully weaving in and out of Willie’s voice. So far this is a beautifully dark and melancholy album. It isn’t “Spirit,” but it sets a similar tone. Willie returns to his “On the Road” theme with the fourth track: “Gotta Walk Alone.” “Don’t know where, don’t even care. I just keep walking on and on and on…It’s a long and lonesome road I’ve got to walk alone.” The road is lonely, but he seems fated, destined for it. He can’t help it. He’s “gotta.” It’s his Dharma. Or his disease. “Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down” sounds like a gospel song Johnny Cash would sing, except Johnny would mean it. Willie sings it beautifully, but I just don’t believe him. Jim Lauderdale sings harmony as well as anyone has ever sung it with Willie. I can’t think of too many Willie albums with banjos, but this album has a bluegrass feel. Willie hasn’t, to my knowledge, done a straight-up bluegrass album, which seems odd, with his penchant for testing all genres. This may be his closest thing to a bluegrass album. This is the first time I have heard Willie sing “My Baby’s Gone,” but I know it from George Jones. George sings it better, but Willie holds his own on this track. At 5:06, it is the longest track on the album and my favorite so far. He adds a little flamenco touch in the middle and also gives space for the steel, fiddle, harmonica, and mandolin to solo. “I tried to tell my lonely heart it has to go on alone, but it cries…hold back the rushing minutes, make the wind lie still. Don’t let the moonlight shine across the lonely hill. Dry all the raindrops, hold back the Sun. My world has ended, my baby’s gone.” These lyrics remind me of W.H. Auden’s poem “Funeral Blues.” It’s the pathetic fallacy, I suppose, but it works in both cases nonetheless. Willie, as usual, is trying to control time, trying to “hold back the rushing minutes.” Or rewind them, pause them, TIVO his life, Keats-style, Grecian Urn style, Proust style, Fitzgerald style, Shakespeare’s sonnets style. It’s the same sentiment we find in Auden’s “Musee de Beaux Arts,” where Icarus’s feet barely show in the giant green sea, and the farmers go about their business, no one noticing the splash. Life goes on, though our life has ended, and we want the world to stop and take notice, but the phones keep ringing, the mail keeps getting delivered, and people go about their business. It’s a sad poem and a sad song. Which makes me think, why do sad people seem to write the best music? Willie’s voice seems to get better with each track, and Lauderdale makes a good vocal dance partner for Willie’s unpredictable, improvised half-steps. “Freight Train Boogie” gives Mickey a chance to show off on harmonica, and it lightens up the somber album with a fun, up-tempo story song. “Satisfied Mind” is a wonderful lyric I have heard before, but I can’t remember who sings it. It fits Willie’s philosophy perfectly. Time and mind. The conundrum that goes back to Augustine: why do some beggars seem happy and some rich people sad? The lyrics are worth reprinting in their entirety:

How many times have you heard someone say

"If I had his money, I could do things my way?"

But little they know that it's so hard to find

One rich man in ten with a satisfied mind.

Once I was winning in fortune and fame

Everything that I dreamed for to get a start in life's game

Suddenly it happened, I lost every dime

But I'm richer by far with a satisfied mind

Money can't buy back your youth when you're old

Or a friend when you're lonely, or a love that's grown cold

The wealthiest person is a pauper at times

Compared to the man with a satisfied mind

And when life has ended, and my time has run out

My friends and my loved ones, I'll leave there’s no doubt

But one thing's for certain, when it comes my time

I'll leave this old world with a satisfied mind

Certainly Willie lived these lyrics when he lost everything to the IRS in 1991, and certainly he will leave this old world with a satisfied mind. How much of this is due to marijuana, I don’t know. And is getting satisfaction that way kind of cheating? But Willie certainly has friends, and he is certainly a good friend to many. He certainly is that one in ten with a satisfied mind. Another 5 star song. Then he does a Ray Price/George Jones song, “You Done Me Wrong.” “You got me cryin’.” Another cheatin’ and cryin’ song. But one you can two-step to with an up-tempo banjo and harmonica. Willie is back to the “Man with the Blues” and “My Baby’s Gone.” The old country, blues, honky tonk standard. Loss leads to such fullness in art. Emptiness leads to so much more depth. “Pistol Packin’ Mama” is another up-tempo song to break the somber mood. This time the woman is chasin’ the man for cheatin.’ Another autobiographical song for Willie. How many pistol packin’ mamas have chased Willie after catchin’ him with some young blonde. That mischievous fun-loving fool. So puckish but so hard to stay mad at. Willie seems to be trying out every classic country style on this album. In “Ocean of Diamonds,” Willie returns to classic themes from his oeuvre:

Some people drink champagne out under the stars

While others drink wine leaning over a bar

But all that I need, dear, to make me feel fine

Is to know that your love will forever be mine.

I'd give an ocean of diamonds or a world filled with flowers

To hold you closely for just a few hours

Hear you whisper softly that you love me too

Would change all the dark clouds to the bluest of blue

I don't drink their champagne and I don't drink their wine

So if you refuse me my poor heart will pine

I'll be so lonely till the day that I die

And as long as I live, dear, you'll still hear me cry

Here Willie simply wants to know that her love will forever be his. That desire he just can’t shake for permanent, everlasting love. If only she could be true, truer than true. But we know that she can’t, that nobody can, and that we will hear Willie cry till the day that he dies because time and love and even forever will slip away in their funny way. I knew I had heard “Drinking Champagne” before, and it turns out George Straight did this song, which must be where I heard it:

I'm drinking champagne, feelin' no pain till early mornin'.

Dinin' and dancin' with every pretty girl I can find.

I'm having a fling with a pretty young thing till early mornin'.

Knowin' tomorrow I'll wake up with you on my mind.

Guilty conscience, I guess, though I must confess

I never loved you much when you were mine.

So I'll keep drinking champagne feelin' no pain till early mornin'.

Dinin' and dancin' with every pretty girl I can find.

Havin' a fling with a pretty young thing till early mornin'.

Knowin' tomorrow I'll wake up with you on my mind.

It also sounds eerily like a Russell Smith song I can’t place. It could be “Third Rate Romance,” but I’m not sure. Here’s Willie once again trying to drink or sleep her off his mind, but he just can’t shake her. Running, fooling around, drinking, sleeping, numbing never works. He always wakes up eventually with her on his mind. She was always on his mind and she always will be. Willie slows this song down the way only he can, and he fools around with the phrasing and lets the fiddle weave in and out to make this another 5 star song. “I Am a Pilgrim” is another Johnny Cash-style gospel tune. Willie is a “stranger traveling this wearisome land, and I got a home in that yonder city, good Lord, and it’s not…made by hand.” Again, Willie sings it wonderfully, but I don’t believe that Willie believes that if he could only touch His garment it would make him whole. I think Willie’s weed makes him whole. Willie is indeed a pilgrim and a stranger traveling through this wearisome land, but I’m just not sure about his home in that yonder city. Is that really where he seeks his “satisfied mind”? Then he turns to a classic Hank Williams tune, “House of Gold.” It’s the exact same message as that in “Satisfied Mind,” but it gives a more concrete answer to the conundrum:

People cheat, they steal and lie

For wealth and what that wealth will buy

But don't they know that on judgment day

Gold and silver will melt away

And I'd rather be in a deep, dark grave

And know that my poor soul was saved

Than to live in this world in a house of gold

And deny my God and doom my soul

What good is gold and silver, too

When your heart's not good and true

So sinner hear me when I say

Fall down on your knees and pray

Jesus died there on the cross

So this world would not be lost

Sinner hear now what I say

For someday you´ll have to pay

The old conundrum: do you want to eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow you die? If this life is all there is, then make the most of it, carpe diem, seize the day. And yet, if there is another city that is better than silver and gold, a city that won’t fade away or rust, would it be worth forsaking the gold and silver now? Pascal’s wager. Delayed gratification. Does Willie really believe in it? It would be hard to square it with his life, but he certainly sings it well. It’s beautiful, but it’s not like Johnny Cash’s last albums. They were truer. Willie certainly takes responsibility for the choice, the bet, in the haunting closing tune: “Nobody’s Fault But Mine.” He knows the odds; he knows what’s at stake. He knows the “Winning Hand.” And he won’t blame anyone else if he bets wrong. The question is, where has he truly laid his chips? The fiddle shines on this track. And this album is as good as it gets. Classic country and classic Willie.

The Winning Hand (1982)

At the end of this blog I will paste a helpful review from an Amazon customer about the nature of this album. I don’t know how Peter from Leicester, England knows what he knows, but I know he knows more than I do. And it just confirms that Willie’s music is sort of like sausage: it sure tastes good, but you might not want to know how it was made. Many of the Willie tracks on this album are new to me and quite good, but it bugs the heck out of me that the liner notes give you ZERO information about the recordings. I have listened to some baffling compilations, but this may be the most baffling of them all. Mash ups of previously recorded Dolly and Brenda with updated Willie side-by-side with re-issued Willie tracks? Oh well. Here goes. Willie’s first track is “You’re Gonna Love Yourself (in the Morning),” a “duet” with Brenda Lee. I could do without the cheesy strings and electric guitar solo, but Willie’s vocals are worth the price of admission. The version of “You’ll Always Have Someone” is new to me. It may be my favorite to date. The other three sound like the same recording with different mixes on different compilations. This may come from another album, but not one I have reviewed yet. The setting is spare, with fiddle and harmonica and light drums and bass. I give it a 4. I never would have thought I would enjoy hearing Willie singing “Happy, Happy Birthday Baby,” but his vocals shine. I am not crazy about the spliced together nature of this recording, but it’s worth owning. Ditto for this version of “You Left Me a Long Time Ago.” “To Make a Long Story Short, She’s Gone” cracks me up. I’d like to hear other versions of this song with just Willie, but this is a pleasant discovery. Willie’s vocals are as strong as ever. Dolly’s “Everything’s Beautiful” certainly fits with Willie’s optimistic Buddhist philosophy. Hakuna matata. Don’t worry, be happy. This is a different version of “I Never Cared for You.” Not my favorite, but interesting nonetheless. Willie sings back-up to Kristofferson on “Casey’s Last Ride.” I’d rather hear Willie sing it straight. Willie sings the second verse. Rhymes “pint of bitter” with “mirror.” Only in country. Can’t believe I’ve never heard “King of a Lonely Castle” before. This may be my favorite track on the album. “Best to pretend with a storybook end.” Some synthesizers in the background are insulting, but Willie and Trigger are in rare form, and that must be Mickey haunting around on harmonica like a local memory. All in all, this is worth owning, but I need to track down the details about the recordings. Till then, Peter from England will have to suffice:

Peter Durward Harris "Pete the music fan" (Leicester England)

“This album features four singers who could each be classed as a true original, but the album is not quite what you might expect. It features some newly recorded material, some old recordings and some tracks that mix up the two.

Dolly did not actually take part in the project, though I assume she gave permission for her old Monument recordings to be used. If you have heard any of her old Monument recordings, you will know what to expect - but some of the tracks here are not available in their original form. All except one of the tracks featuring Dolly were converted into duets by adding one of the other voices. Willie took part in the project but some of his old recordings were also used. I believe that Willie newly recorded all the duet parts, but the solo tracks were old recordings. I also believe that all the recordings by Kris and Brenda were new. Given all that, it is remarkable that the resultant album sounds as good as it does, but it is also no surprise that Brenda shines the brightest of the four.

This album is worth five stars for its curiosity value but only three for the quality of the music - if all four had been in the studio doing completely new recordings, the results would have been far better. Committed Dolly fans will want this for Ping pong (with Kris) and What do you think about loving (with Brenda) - these songs are (as far as I know) not available anywhere else in any form. I've seen both of Dolly's duets with Willie on other compilations, though I don't know if Dolly's solo recordings of any of those four songs were ever released. Similarly, committed fans of the other three will have their own reasons for wanting this.

Unless you're a committed fan of one of the four (or fairly keen on at least two of them), you may not find enough to get excited about. Each of them has recorded better music individually.”

Live From the Last of the Breed Tour (2007)

I’m going to focus strictly on tracks 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 15, and 16. These are the only tracks on which Willie performs. Track 7 is Merle’s “Okie from Muskogee.” Merle starts the song off, but after he sings the line “We don’t smoke Marijuana in Muskogee…we don’t let our hair go long and shaggy like the hippies down in San Francisco do,” the crowd goes crazy, I’m guessing because Willie walks on stage as Merle utters that ironic line. Merle would seem to be singing this song against people like Willie. And yet Willie proudly sings it. Willie is proud to be an Okie from Muskogee, but he is equally at home in San Francisco. The paradoxical cosmic cowboy at his contradictory best. A living contradiction. Emerson would be proud. A genius. Like Ray Charles. Unafraid of contradiction. Frost said the sign of genius was being able to hold contrary ideas in your head at the same time without losing your sanity. Eliot called it negative capability. Whatever you call it, Willie is doing it on this track. Embracing it, basking in it, smiling beatifically, Siddhartha-like. Then Willie opens “Pancho and Lefty” on track 8. Willie sounds good for 2007 and 74 years old. It’s a duet with Merle, but Willie seems to carry the lion share of this song. The guitar work features prominently between verses. Merle’s voice sounds surprisingly strong as well. Track 9 may be one of my favorite versions of “Always on My Mind.” I give it 5 stars. I have a half dozen versions, but this live one is special. It opens with just Willie’s voice and a little understated guitar and piano, then the steel kicks in and the drums and bass and Mickey’s harmonica. The song gathers momentum and rises pleasingly to a crescendo. “Ramblin’ Fever” with Merle on track 11 has a nice, relaxed yet bouncy tempo. Willie “caught this ramblin’ fever long ago.” And “if someone told you I ever gave a damn, they damn sure told you wrong.” Here’s the hakuna matata Willie. He simultaneously cares and doesn’t care at all. And you can’t believe either. And yet it’s hard to get mad at him. He seems to believe both with such gusto. His art and music somehow persuades you that both can be true, at least in his songs, on his albums. Mickey’s harmonica joins the jam toward the end of this 4:53 track. Amazing that Willie is starting to explore these Grateful Dead kind of jams so late in his career. They seem to be more of a young man’s game. Willie then joins Ray Price on track 12 for Floyd Tillman’s “I Gotta Have My Baby Back.” Willie’s gotta get drunk or he’s gotta have his baby back or both. “Alone in a tavern,” Willie is listening to “songs of memories making me blue.” The sax fits the mood of this piece nicely. It’s always good to hear Willie sing with Ray. This is, I think, the 12^th version of “Crazy” I have, and it ranks up there with the best. Ray joins Willie and Mickey’s harmonica. And then a fun version of “On the Road Again.” Willie plays with the phrasing. Mickey’s harmonica seems to be singing back up. Willie lets Merle solo on guitar. A lot of energy in this closing number. I’ve got a half dozen versions of this song, and this one isn’t the best, but it’s strong.