"Townes Van Zandt, best damn songwriter ever and I'll say that standing on Bob Dylan's coffee table in my cowboy boots."
Steve Earle was reputed to have said something like that; he has since admitted he might not have said it, but he stands by the sentiment. He named his son after Townes; that says where Townes rates in his eyes.
Townes Van Zandt was an amazing songwriter of epic proportions. That sounds trite and hackneyed as I type it, but it's the truth. His songs read like poetry because they are. He was a true wordsmith who burned bright and flew crazy like a bottle rocket, sparks trailing with a tail of smoke.
I walked into Soap Creek Saloon, a little bar/musical venue in Austin, about 1982.
I guess I was looking for something and though I wasn't sure exactly what it was, or even was quite aware that I was looking; somehow I knew it when I found it.
That night, Townes got up and played a mix of traditional blues, some Lightnin' Hopkins songs and his own originals and I had found it.
"There's two kinds of music: the blues and zip-a-dee-doo-dah."- Townes Van Zandt
I became pretty much a junkie for the man's stuff. My friends jokingly would ask if I was going to go see my "uncle" when Townes was in town. I never missed a show and some shows it wouldn't have hurt to miss.
Townes had a lot of demons and like so many others, it played out in ways that weren't pretty. He would get too "got" to get through the sets; his friends, Blaze Foley among them, would sometimes take over for him, singing their own songs or some of Townes'.
Blaze is a story unto himself and the two of them together had a lightning volatility fueled by ethanol and angst that attracted me like the proverbial moth to a candle, with similar results.
Guy Clark was Townes' lifelong friend, both have written songs that evoke images of America that are as alive as if they were on film. Pictures from words and music. Simple, yet completely complex and engaging.
There were often nuggets in those days, in amongst the chaff. Townes lived the blues he played. His songs are dripping in melancholy but they also have their share of dark humor. And he wrote some beautiful, sad love songs; tinged like Poe with a lush fullness of feelings unrequited love, empty even when fully fulfilled.
Never designed for popularity, his songs are written like they needed to be written in a sort of purging or He has long been well known and respected among song writers; Emmylou Harris covered "Pancho and Lefty" years ago. It's a haunting classic version . Willie and Merle covered it years later and it climbed the charts, got some mainstream notice. Townes played one of the federales in the video. Townes' used to joke onstage and call it a "medley of his hit".
The songs are carefully crafted works of words sewn together by someone who understood words, meaning, people, pain and life. They tell stories and like the best writers, the leanness of word to evoke the largest story is the mark of a master craftsman. Less is truly more.
Here's a Wiki. for some background for those who don't know of him.
There's a dvd called "Be Here to Love Me" that tells the story pretty well.
Townes died on New Year's Day, just like Hank Williams; there is a certain perfect irony there. He was 52 years old.
I didn't plan on writing this diary, I just got home from work and my son asked me if i knew today was Townes' birthday.
I did the finger math, he would have been 58; I turned 52 this past January.
So I thought a little something might be in order, cause there ain't never going to be another one like him.
He made damn sure to break the mold, that's how he lived it.
And that's too bad.
Happy Birthday, Townes.
I have to start with one of my favorites.
Rake
"Time was like water and I was the sea..."
Pancho and Lefty
Mr. Mudd and Mr. Gold, a game of five card stud, with a story.
Marie
Lungs, from "Live at the Old Quarter" in Houston, Tx.
Tecumseh Valley
To Live is to Fly
"Days up and down they come, like rain on a conga drum..."
Snowing on Raton, with Blaze Foley, Austin 1984
Flyin Shoes, Lyle Lovett singing; he played this at Townes' memorial service.
It's such a perfect version.
Rest in peace, you're definitely missed.
It all works out in the end; if it hasn't worked out, it isn't the end.
Peace, ya'll.