Live and Kickin' (2003)

A Side: “On the road again, just can’t wait to get on that road again”

B Side: “Homeward bound, I wish I was…”

These are the flip sides of Willie’s life. The twin conflicting desires. The tides, the tugs, the forces pulling him this way and that, emotionally and musically. He seems to desire both the road and home with equal intensity. He seems to vacillate back and forth between these twin poles of longing. At times, he seems to merge the two and possess them simultaneously. Siddhartha-like, he transcends the home-motel distinction and he is on the road at home and at home on the road.

Forty albums in I can already tell that Willie’s complete works resemble Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. Whitman essentially wrote one book over and over again. It grew and evolved organically over time, staying the same and yet changing. Willie revisits the same old songs, but as we see on this live album, he can redo them country, folk, blues, jazz, rock, pop, and even reggae; he can redo them with new bands; he can redo them with new duet partners; he can redo them in new studios, with new producers; he can redo them live, or solo, or while eating Green Eggs and Ham. Willie is the Sam I Am of song.

On “Wurlitzer Prize (I Don’t Want to Get Over You)” with Nora Jones Willie asserts, “I don’t want to get over you.” Except, of course, when I do. I do, but I don’t. I do AND I don’t. On one hand, Willie asks, Help me remember (I’m afraid I’ll forget). On the other hand, he asks, Help me forget. His voice sounds as fragile and as falling apart as I have ever heard it. In 2003 his voice may be at its most interesting. You could classify his voice like Bordeaux vintages. 2003 Willie versus 2009. The way his voice ages and mellows as if in oak casks, different features, new complexities, arise.

“To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before” live, in reggae-rap style, with Wyclef Jean, may be my new favorite Willie song. Number one out of 541 songs loaded onto my 8 gig Nano over the past 40 days. This may be the trippiest, spaciest, edgiest, grooviest thing Willie has done. And it works. It’s fun. Just when you think Willie can’t surprise you with where his voice is going, Thelonious Monk-like, he does. He always has somewhere new and surprising to go. That’s how he makes the same old songs interesting at age 77.

Singing and strumming with Clapton on “Nightlife” makes for a bluesy live version that won’t be my favorite, but one I’ll revisit with pleasure.

“Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” with Shania Twain won’t ever displace the definitive version on Red-Headed Stranger, mainly because Shania pretty much sings the whole thing. Willie seems like he doesn’t want to interrupt her. It is sort of hard to cut in on a powerful voice like this, or even sing harmony with it. Not that anything Willie does could be called harmony. Harmony implies smoothness, and everything Willie does has rough edges.

I may have to recant what I wrote in an earlier blog about Willie doing Paul Simon songs. This duet ranks near the top of my all-time favorite Willie duets. Willie sings it straight-up Paul Simon style, but his voice wobbles and meanders in such interesting ways that he makes it new and fresh even as he stays true to the original. Simon seems into, too. He sounds as good as he did in the 1980s concert in Central Park.

“Beer For My Horses” is not as good as the studio version.

Diana Krall and Elvis Costello are interesting choices for “Crazy.” This version shows up on the 2009 compilation Lost Highway (see blog on 2/9). I can’t even guesstimate how many versions of this song Willie has recorded.

Willie closes out the show with ZZ Top (unremarkable), Shelby Lynne (very strong on Willie’s “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground”; she’s got pipes, but I’m not sure Willie’s even on stage for this one; I didn’t hear him at all), Ray Charles and Leon Russell (Russell’s “A Song For You” is the perfect choice for Ray, who’s still got it good, his voice meandering and wobbling like Willie’s), John Mellencamp (weak vocals; no sign of Willie on this one), Kenny Chesney (strong; “Last Thing I Needed First Thing This Morning” is one of my favorites; Chesney sings too pretty and smooth, but it’s a tasteful and respectful version; he sings nice and slow at Willie pace, which I think is now too slow for country radio; fans today don’t have the patience for Willie’s voice anymore; maybe that’s why I like Willie’s music so much now; in an ever speeding up world, Willie refuses to hurry; you can relax with him and Mr. Rogers, and that’s about it; everything else is just too busy; Pooh-like Willie resists busyness; he’s all slow and spare; slow enough for the steel to work its moody magic between lines), Ray Price (“Run That By Me One More Time” is just another version of “Funny How Time Slips Away”; “tell me how you’ll never cheat on me, tell me that you always will be true, dear”; come again, are you for real? Surely not. But humor me. Reassure me anyway. I’d rather believe a lie than know the truth), and Stephen Tyler (“One Time Too Many” may be just enough for Willie and for Proust; they can never have too much time, for remembering or forgetting). Mickey Raphael is Willie’s only road band member to join him on this live show, but he performs with his usual virtuosity. I liked this one a lot more than I thought I would. It surprises and gives pleasure (which are often the same thing). To do this at age 70 is something. Still trying new things, new combinations. Still open. Still is still moving, and still opening.