Tougher Than Leather (1983)

From the first strum of the 38-second track “My Love for the Rose” that opens Willie’s 1983 album “Tougher Than Leather,” you can tell this is Willie at his best, maybe at his peak. “Changing Skies” is as good as anything on “Redheaded Stranger.” Willie has his road band plus Johnny Gimble on fiddle; he’s producing himself in his own Pedernales studio; he’s doing a concept album on straight-up Texas Western themes; he’s got Mickey Raphael’s on harmonica; and he’s got the perfectly spare backing that he should have on all his albums. In the title track, “Tougher Than Leather,” Willie’s telling a tried and true story. One might complain that it holds no tricks or surprises, but it had the opposite effect on me. I found it pleasingly straightforward. But of course Willie is just setting us up for the curveball, the changeup, on track 4: “Little Old Fashioned Karma.” What self-respecting Texas cowboy tough guy knows anything about Eastern religion and karma? A Hindu John Wayne? A honky tonk Hari Krishna recording in an Austin Ashram? Willie makes karma sound like a little old fashioned moonshine. And yet, the cosmic sense of justice found in karma does fit with the black and white vigilante justice of the wild west. What goes around comes around, and you’ll get yours soon enough. But who could picture a guru doing the Texas two-step. Only Willie. This song seems to be almost the same tune as “Sister’s Comin’ Home.” Instead of the “jeans fit a little bit tighter thsn they did before, than they did before,” we have “just a little old fashioned karma comin’ round, a little old fashioned justice goin’ down.” And Johnny Gimble’s fiddle works its usual magic in between verses, as does Mickey’s harmonica. Sister Bobbi’s piano and Willie’s gut-stringed trigger do the same. “If you’re gonna dance you gotta play the band.” “Somewhere in Texas (Part 1)” is a 54-second gem that mentions Bob Wills and polkas and Waltzes. Just as “Tougher Than Leather” mentions the phrase “Changing Skies,” which links it back to the previous song of the same name, this short track looks forward to the next one: “Beer Barrel Polka.” So far, I can’t see any reason this album isn’t as well known as “Redheaded Stranger.” “Beer Barrel Polka” is an up-tempo solo piano piece for sister Bobbi. Willie is connecting to his dance-band roots. “Summer of Roses” slows it back down. This song also appears on Willie’s 1971-release “Yesterday’s Wine.” I think I prefer the earlier version to this one, but Johnny Gimble’s fiddle is a nice addition. Not quite sure how Willie is blending this image of a cowboy tougher than leather with all these roses and delicate, weepy fiddle and harmonica strains. Then back to the narrative filler of “Somewhere in Texas (Part 2)” with a shout out to “bad karma” and a reprise of “My Love for the Rose.” A wonderfully recursive and self-referential concept album. Willie showcases his storyteller credentials. “The Convict and the Rose” is another strong narrative track. I guess this album just doesn’t have the obvious singles like “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” And then a brief reprise of “Changing Skies.” Willie’s dreamin’ of his lover from his prison cell. “Little bird, have you heard: freedom lies, freedom lies. Love like ours never dies. Changing skies, just changing skies.” Now what can this possibly mean? Is freedom a lie? Is it just “some people talking.’” Will our love really last forever, and will the scenery just change? Or is Willie lying here when he says that love will last forever? Willie claims in the next song, “I Am the Forest,” that “I’ll always be with you, for as long as you please. For I am the forest, but you are the trees. I’m empty without you. So come grow within me…And the heavens need romance, so love never dies. So you be the stars, and I’ll be the skies. And should enemies find us, let them be forewarned, that you are the thunder and I am the storm. And I’ll always be with you, for as long as you please.” Or until time slips away, or till I hit the road again. Which could be in fifteen minutes. How long will forever last this time. And what kind of trees, what kind of love, could possibly fill Willie’s restless heart? Willie’s dark forest within (see D. H. Lawrence). And Willie ends with this wisdom: “Nobody Slides, My Friend, it’s a truth on which you can depend. If you’re living a lie, it will eat you alive…You can try it but you’ll never win. You can scream, you can shout, but it all evens out…You can run you can hide, but it’s still waitin’ inside.” Justice, Karma, right and wrong. For a man who made a career out of being an outlaw, he sings a lot about justice. “Whiskey for my men, and beer for my horses.” Willie somehow insists on both the rigid, unflinching integrity of the code of the west AND the all-tolerant, pluralistic, come-what may hippy Eastern religion attitude. How can he have it both ways? All in all, this is one of Willie’s most consistently pleasing albums, but it just doesn’t have the memorable hits to make it a great album. The story just isn’t as compelling. Every song is executed well. I can’t fault the production or the band, but the lyrics just aren’t as believable. This is rarely true for Willie, but I just don’t sense he means them. Maybe future listens will disabuse me of this initial review, but something does seem to be missing. I should like this as much as “Redheaded Stranger,” but I’m not sure why I don’t.”