Sweet Memories (1979)

In 1979, music critic Chet Flippo had this to say about Willie’s 1979 compilation album “Sweet Memories”:

There'll Be No Teardrops Tonight and Sweet Memories are blatant attempts to cash in on Willie Nelson's present-day popularity by offering generally inferior older material. Both albums are heavily overdubbed with sticky-sweet string sections that make the artist sound like a Hostess Twinkie drowning in maple syrup. United Artists, heir to much of Nelson's best early work on Liberty, and RCA should know better. Especially RCA, for whom the singer recorded a string of brilliant LPs. If that label wants to reissue something, it should re-release Country Music Concert/Live at Panther Hall, Nelson's great performance in Fort Worth.

How ironic that record companies that didn't know what to do with Nelson when they had him, now know even less about what to do with what they've got in the can. I don't understand why they can't at least call up an expert (such as the present writer) and ask: "Hey, we got all this stuff Willie Nelson cut for us a long time ago. Which is the good oranges and which is the bad oranges?

Chet obviously knows more about this than I do, so it appears that this album is merely a compilation of previously-released material. As such, I won’t comment much on the specific versions or songs, since I have covered (or will cover) them in specific blogs about the albums on which these songs were originally recorded. That said, I love the title, and I love the thematic collection. Even though it is only seven songs, and not worth buying really, it does highlight Willie’s Proustian obsession with memory and time. On Kristofferson’s “Help Me Make it Through the Night,” Willie sings, “All I’m taking is your time…Let the devil take tomorrow ‘cause tonight I need a friend. Yesterday is dead and gone and tomorrow’s out of sight.” This is another version of Willie’s own song “Three Days.” All of his music could be summed up as an attempt to “make it through the night,” to face our finite position in time, in short, our mortality. Chet slams this album for being “heavily over-dubbed with sticky-sweet string sections,” but it actually doesn’t bother me that much. I’d be curious to compare this version to the original releases to see how much they doctored up the tracks. I actually like how the vocals are brought out front and center. So far, I only have a copy of “Buddy” on “Who’ll Buy My Memories,” so this is just one of two versions I’ve heard. Not sure where the song originally appeared, but this is a solid version worth owning till I can find the original. It has Willie cry, cry, crying: “I cry at the least little thing, Buddy.” I already reviewed the song “Sweet Memories” when writing about “One Hell of a Ride,” but that track was taken from this compilation, so I’ll need to track down the original. I have also reviewed it from the “Last of the Breed” album. This is one of the definitive, totemic Willie songs that sums up his entire project. “Swept away from sadness” by “clinging to her memories.” The passage of time makes us sad, and yet we cling to memories to heal and assuage this sadness. Isn’t that a bit like drinking to get over a hangover? This version of “Don’t Wake Me When It’s Over” is funkier than any of the others I have. I have versions from “Milk Cow Blues,” “Who’ll Buy My Memories,” and “The Early Years.” This version ranks right up there with these others. Each version has its unique strengths, but this one is worth owning. I’ll need to track down the source, but it doesn’t appear to be from any of those I just listed. I actually love the drums and bass on this version. I could do without the strings, but the organ and the rhythm section add a little spunk. Again, the contrast here is that Willie wants to cling to memories for healing, and yet here he wants to sleep through the blues, hoping they’ll go away. One of his many methods of dealing with the ravages of time: sleep, drink, memory, and the road. I’ve already reviewed “Little Things,” which also appeared on the compilation “One Hell of a Ride,” but I’m not sure why the compilers of that anthology used this version instead of the original. I’m still at a loss to know where this recording originally appeared. Welcome to the maddening process of trying to track down Willie’s discography. I have versions of “Will You Remember” on “Who’ll Buy My Memories” and “The Ghost” (which I have not reviewed yet). This seems to be a different version. I could do without the strings, but the vocals are different enough to make this worth owning. Memory is clearly the focus here. Again, this collection is interesting because of the way it focuses on Willie’s obsession with time and memory. “Sweet is the song” that is about “love that has stood the test of time.” Now that you have heard all the songs of love, will you remember mine? How will my love stand up against those in Proust, Petrarch, and the Troubadours? “Gone are the times I walked with you and held your hand in mine.” He sits under a tree and “A cool summer breeze blew away the sands of time. And thought of days when you were near. Remembering when you were mine.” So are Willie’s songs about how love can stand the test of time or about how it can’t? I’m confused? It seems that the source of all these songs is love’s inability to stand the test of time, and yet our stubbornly naïve desire that it would.