Naked Willie (2009)

I love the concept of this album. Mickey Raphael probably knows Willie’s music better than anyone besides his sister, Bobbie, or his best friend, Paul, so he is the perfect person to “un-produce” some of Willie’s oldest recordings. My kids love the shot of Willie in the bathtub, but I’m afraid I don’t think Willie’s voice is naked enough on this album. I guess I prefer the buck-naked sound of Crazy: The Demo Sessions. Even with the syrupy strings and cheesy back-ground vocals removed, these versions still aren’t as raw as those demo tapes. Nevertheless, I’m glad Mickey Raphael un-produced these as much as he could. Willie (my youngest son) and my wife liked “Bring Me Sunshine.” It reminded them of “Sioux City Sue” from Willie’s album with Leon Russell (One for the Road). Up-beat and danceable. I hate to keep bringing up Proust, but Marcel would love “Her memory is following me around.” We either try to live in the past or it chases us down and haunts us (see “The Ghost”). We’re either searching for lost time or it’s searching for us. “The Local Memory” and “I’m a Memory” deal with the same issue. Even in “Sunday Morning Coming Down” we have regret for the loss of something from the past. “Something about a Sunday makes a body feel alone.” What is it exactly? And why do we need to get stoned to avoid the past from sneaking up on us like that? That smell of chicken cooking in the back yard.

Funny that Willie doesn’t play guitar on these tracks. Chet Atkins and Grady Martin pick on several of these. “Where Do You Stand?” and “What Can You Do to Me Now?” hit on another theme that is emerging in Willie’s music: questioning, doubting, re-thinking. “I Let My Mind Wander” and “If You Could See What’s in My Mind” also suggest this notion of a roaming mind. Willie didn’t have a cork-lined room, but his lyrics create a cork-lined space within his mind to play Proust or Hamlet. I also like the understatement (or is it overstatement?) of “Happiness Lives Next Door.” On one hand, his lyrics are so spare. He treats words the same way he treats the beat. Less is more. And yet this sparseness is paradoxical. On one hand, it can be understated, compressed, subtle, wry. But on the other hand, it can feel raw, direct, blunt. I’m not sure how he conveys both sides of sparseness simultaneously. I’m only 83 songs and 4 ½ hours into this adventure, though, so I’ve got time to figure it out. It’s as if I am climbing into Willie’s head, into the past (his and mine), through his music. It’s not the Congo, but it’s a journey into a heart of darkness of sorts. Jack (my eldest son) just chimed in from upstairs (what’s he doing up at 10:30pm on a school night?). He jokingly (I think) said he hates me because he has a Willie Nelson song stuck in his head and he can’t get it out. It may be a long year for my family. The horror, the horror. And it’s only six days into it. 359 to go.