The Ghost (Part 2) (2005)

The liner notes say these tunes come from the late 1950s and early ‘60s. Kurt Wolff also adds, “It’s a treat to know there’s still material out there for most of us to uncover and hear for the first time.” Amen. I’m over 80 albums in and still hearing stuff for the first time. Willie’s oeuvre seems bottomless. These liner notes, though, are maddening in that they don’t tell me where these recordings originally appeared. I have a half dozen versions of “Half a Man,” but this may be one of my favorites. Piano, bass, snare, and Willie’s voice. A touch of steel, but no acoustic that I can discern. Vocals are even stronger on this version of “The Last Letter.” This song appears on the early Liberty recordings, but with syrupy strings. This recording is spare with steel, snare, bass, piano, and a touch of acoustic. An understated combo that lets Willie’s vocals shine. I’ve got to find out what albums these recordings are coming from. This is my first taste of “Pride Wins Again.” “One time she loved you, and though you still feel the same, love is always the loser when pride plays the game.” Another song of love and time and lies. The fickleness and impermanence of love. Why can’t it last? This one’s a bit more up-tempo with almost a ragtime piano and a marching snare mixing with the steel. This is also my first exposure to “Building Heartache.” “When you say you love me, we both know it’s a lie, and just a dream from which I must wake, and each sweet word you tell me, is a heartache in disguise.” Promises are lies in disguise. When you say you’ll love me “always,” we both know it’s a lie. Yet we keep telling these sweet lies and keep believing them, too. Why? “Face of a Fighter” is another first for me. Willie faces lost love the way Rocky Balboa faces Apollo Creed’s fists. And he suffers the scars and heartaches like a fighter absorbing blows. He won’t go down, though he’s hanging on the ropes. “Pages” may be my new favorite Willie song. It’s a hidden gem. “Last evening I turned back the pages of time, and tore out the chapters when you were mine. I attempted to cut out the memories of you. And paste in some new ones far better and true. True. I searched through the chapters referring to hearts, for the one with the caption ‘till death do us part.’ I ripped at each letter and I tore at each word. I screamed at your memory and nobody heard. But your memory’s determined and chances are few of my ever finding a replacement for you. It desperately clings to the floor of my mind. And fights for its place in the pages of time.” Wow! Willie is like the government in “1984.” He wants to re-write the past. Cut and paste the good parts. Like Jefferson with his bible, Willie wants to edit the story of his life. This may be the most direct and blunt statement of Willie’s view of time. In this song he screams at memories. Shouts at time. Mostly piano and vocals with a little guitar. This is Willie as Simon and Garfunkel. Willie’s vocals are as stark as can be, but the guitar and piano are kind of funky and jazzy in the background. An odd but pleasingly off-kilter combination. This version of “I Hope So” is close to the one on the early Liberty recordings, but I don’t think it is identical. But then where the heck do these recordings originate? This is turning out to be one of my favorite albums for Willie’s vocals and the understated accompaniment. This version of “Everything But You” also appears on “Night Life: Greatest Hits and Rare Tracks (1959-1971).” I’ve got everything but you, which means I’ve got nothing. “They give me memories that last a day or two.” But I want love that will last longer, like Keats’ Grecian Urn. This version of “A Moment Isn’t Very Long” also appears on “Crazy: The Demo Sessions” (see my review on the blog for that album). Another version appears on “Me and the Drummer.” Here it appropriately follows a memory that lasts “a day or two.” “Some Other Time” is another first for me. “I’ll forget you and start my life anew. But not just now. I won’t forget you. ‘cause I’ve spent too much time loving you. I know I could forget you if I wanted to. But there’s still 10,000 dreams I dream of you. Some other time I’ll stop remembering the love that came my way.” Willie wants to turn his memory on and off like a light switch, but every one of his songs is about how this doesn’t work. Much as we would like to cut and paste and control memories to suit our needs, it never works that way. Again, I swear I’ve reviewed “I Feel Sorry” before, but I only see it showing up on Love and Pain (the same version as this). Only Willie could feel sorry for the guy whom his latest lover left for Willie. Willie’s been on the other side so often, he feels sorry for the guy, but not sorry enough to repent. Like Claudius. Like being “Always On My Mind,” it doesn’t count for much. This version of “You’ll Always Have Someone” appears, with different mixing, on “Love and Pain” and “Night Life.” That word “always” is so problematic and so central to Willie’s thinking. Always is always a lie, and yet Willie says it as often as he disbelieves it. I’ve reviewed a different version of “Any Old Arms Won’t Do” on “One Hell of a Ride” from 1968, but this version must be earlier. The key idea is that Willie wants a perfect love, like Petrarch and co. Anything less than perfect, unconditional, eternal love, agape, won’t do. “Slow Down Old World” also appears on “Who’ll Buy My Memories,” and that version may be my favorite, but this one’s worth owning. “And So Will You, My Love” is new to me. “Nothing lasts forever except forever and you, my love.” “Your memory’s always near. Wherever I am found. Your memory’s still around.” Another “always” song. This version of “Things to Remember” also appears on “Crazy: The Demo Sessions.” Ditto with “Undo the Wrong,” except it’s called “Undo the Right” on “Crazy.” “Home is where you’re happy,” and yet Willie’s always running away, always on the road. So if he’s happy on the road, the road is home. Wherever his lover is becomes his home. And yet isn’t that one of Willie’s fundamental problems? True homes can’t always be happy. It’s the problem with the “pursuit of happiness.” It implies that you run away from unhappiness, but that’s a form of cowardice, an avoidance of responsibility. “Why Are You Picking On Me” also shows up on “City of New Orleans.” “I’m well aware of this game you’ve learned, to love me and leave and show no concern.” And yet awareness means nothing, because I will still keep playing.