Steve Earle pays tribute to old pal Townes Van ZandtPUBLISHED BY PETER COOPER ON AUGUST 21, 2009
Tennesean.com
Steve Earle has been telling Townes Van Zandt stories for decades.
There’s the one about “Wabash Cannonball,” and the one about War and Peace. There’s a sad and insane story about Russian roulette, and there’s myriad other tales.
Unlike many of the yarns that spin about the late, great Van Zandt, Earle’s stories are true. He was there, first as a young buck who studied Van Zandt’s exacting, ethereal lyrics, later as a music star who shared Van Zandt’s weakness for drugs and alcohol, and finally as a staunchly sober recovering addict who watched his mentor wither and die at the age of 52.
The newest story is the one in which a Townes Van Zandt album makes Billboard’s all-genre Top 20 chart for the first time, 12 years after Van Zandt’s death. The catch to this one is that the album is Townes, a 15-song collection that features Earle singing Van Zandt gems such as “Pancho and Lefty,” “To Live is to Fly,” “No Place to Fall” and “White Freightliner Blues.”
“The last time I had something come out to be completely, 100 percent what I imagined it could be was the bluegrass record,” Earle said, referencing 1999’s The Mountain, an album he made with the Del McCoury Band. “People’s reaction to this one, it hurts the singer-songwriter’s feelings a little bit. I mean, as I writer I do okay. But this record with Townes’ songs came out really strong.”
Reality can be harsh
In death, Van Zandt’s life and art have been much chronicled. The singer-songwriter has been the subject of biographies and of a documentary film, and his songs are oft covered on stages and on recordings. In life, he was more of a cult favorite, though he scored country hits with Emmylou Harris and Don Williams’ duet version of “If I Needed You” and with a Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard cover of “Pancho and Lefty.”
“Mickey Newbury was probably the first person to really champion Townes, very early on, and Mickey is the godfather of all of us Texas writers,” said Earle, who moved from Texas to Nashville in the 1970s, and who now spends much of his time in Greenwich Village. “The last time I talked to Mickey was the day Townes died, and Mickey was crying, and very angry. He was already sick himself (Newbury died of emphysema in 2002), but he was hurt and angry that people were going to come to Townes and Townes’ music after Townes was gone. But Newbury saw Townes as the victim, and I don’t. Townes shot himself in the foot at every opportunity.”
Though no stranger to firearms, Van Zandt’s foot-shooting was done with dope and booze. In his early years, Van Zandt’s finger-picking and singing were tack-sharp, his performances riveting. In the 1990s, while he remained capable of writing songs of uncommon poetry and compassion (“Marie” and “The Hole” among them), his concerts were often shambolic affairs, with sloppy guitar work and slurring rambles.
“On stage, Townes was exceptional,” Earle said. “He was incredible. What you saw at the end was nerve damage, caused by chronic, late-stage alcoholism. I had the same disease. There was a point in my life when I told myself I was doing OK, ‘cause I was doing better than Townes. But it eventually got me, too. There’s no small amount of survivor guilt involved in making a record like this.”
Entering familiar territory
To make the bulk of the Townes record, Earle sat in his Manhattan apartment and played Van Zandt’s songs as best he could remember them, though he recorded a few tracks in Nashville with backing from Dennis Crouch, Tim O’Brien, Darrell Scott and others. For “Mr. Mudd and Mr. Gold,” he sang a duet with son Justin Townes Earle, himself a leading Americana artist these days.
“The major revelation is that I’m more Townes than I thought I was,” Earle said. “I watched him play these songs, and I know how he played them, and I’ve taken them all in. It was pretty frightening how easy and familiar this was. There were several goosebump moments, especially on ‘Pancho and Lefty’ and ‘Marie.’ ”
Earle recalled hearing the harrowing drifter’s tale “Marie” for the first time, at a time when Van Zandt was bumping up against behavioral guardrails with regularity, and Earle was perhaps even further out of bounds.
“I heard that song and was pretty floored,” Earle said. “In that song, you can see Townes’ capacity for empathy, particularly empathy for people who didn’t have anything. He played ‘Marie’ for me when he came out to my place to give me . . . well, to give me a temperance lecture.”
Pages: 1
Ten Great Texans (Read 3,890 times)
