It was cool to find out today that
I inspired another guitar virtuoso early in his career with a song called “The Vigil”, by Blue Oyster Cult. Of course all I did was hand over a recording
of the song; guitarist Buck Dharma did the rest of the inspirational part, and
the student at the time (Vaughn) put in the time and talent to master the
instrument. Still, it felt cool to play
even a small role in the formative process of a now accomplished guitar player,
especially since I’m at the formative end of the process myself.
In fact, I’m just back from my first
ever guitar lesson. Despite still seriously
sucking at the guitar, it was a damned good time. A big shout-out to my teacher, Josh, who is
both patient and talented and I fear is going to get me deeply addicted to
bluegrass. Also, he is one hell of a gifted singer. I’m looking forward to
absorbing as much knowledge from him as I can - likely more so the guitar than the singing, I expect.
Josh ended the lesson by giving me
a few songs to try to learn, and hearing about my abiding love for Townes Van
Zandt, he happily tossed out the usual Beatles song approach for “If You Needed Me.” Which, given this next review, brings us full
circle again. Life can be a crazy wheel,
man.
Disc 484 is… Live at McCabe’s
Year of Release: 1995
What’s up with the Cover? I’m not sure if this is a photo of Townes Van Zandt
or some random hobo. I’m going to go
with Townes because although disheveled, the clothes look like they are
quality. Whoever it is, they have a nice
warm hat for a cold winter day.
How I Came To Know It: I have most of Townes’ studio albums and another
live one as well. “Live at McCabe’s” was
just me picking through his section in the music store for something new and
seeing this, cheap and available.
How It Stacks Up: As of today I have eight studio albums by Van Zandt,
but I’ve only got two live ones (neither being the classic “Live at the Old
Quarter”). I have this one, and “Live at
the Bluebird Café, which he recorded the same year alongside Steve Earle and
Guy Clark. I prefer the Bluebird Café
album, which I reviewed back at Disc 231.
Rating: 2 stars
Listening
to “Live at McCabe’s” inspired me to go in search of some of the studio tracks
I heard on it that I didn’t own yet, but this was only partly because Townes’
brilliant songwriting inspired me. It
was also because I wanted to hear the song played better than it was here.
“Live at
McCabe’s” is the best and worst of Townes Van Zandt. Recorded in a small music store in Santa
Monica, California that is famous for its intimate concerts, Van Zandt’s
magnetic personality is present in spades.
The banter on the recording (a staple of any good live record) is warm
and real, and you can feel that whether Van Zandt is introducing a song,
telling a joke or just struggling with trying to locate dobro player Kelly Joe
Phelps so he can get him up on stage, he has the audience in the palm of his
hand.
That
said, banter is a very delicate balance on a live album. You definitely want a little, but a little
goes a long way. “Live at McCabe’s” has too
much of this stuff, and Van Zandt’s self-deprecation may be heartfelt, but it
also comes in places where he interrupts his own song to mention it. This is particularly true at the beginning of
the record, whereas on the back half he settles down and plays a bit more, and
talks a bit less, which is a big improvement.
Also the
dialogue tracks are not separated from the songs, which I don’t like. Funny as it is, I want to be able to skip the
“drunk and his lost car” joke after I’ve heard it a half-dozen times.
On to
the music which is played fairly sloppy, despite the very resonant and vibrant
acoustics present in McCabe’s. Townes
may be intentionally dirtying it up a bit, but I think it needs a bit more
polish so the songs can shine through. I
must have half a dozen versions of “Pancho
and Lefty” – at least three of them by Townes – and this is the worst of
the bunch. That said, “Pancho and Lefty” is still an amazing song,
such that even the weakest version in my collection is still a joy to listen
to.
I had no
other versions of Townes singing “Snowin’
On Raton” or “Banks of the Ohio”
however, and both were beautiful. They
come at the end of the album, where Townes has settled down into his own
musical spell and gets caught up in the emotion. At this stage of his career, Townes is less
than two years from his own untimely death and the weight of the world is heavy
in his voice. On “Snowin’ On Raton,” you can almost hear him hunched over the mike
when he sings:
“Bid the years good-bye you
cannot still them
You cannot turn the circles of
the sun
You cannot count the miles until
you feel them
And you cannot hold a lover that
is gone.”
Townes
has felt a lot of miles at this stage, and if his guitar and voice both sound a
little worn out, you can’t blame him.
All you can do is sit with a mixture of pity, envy and awe as he
awkwardly works up the courage through the course of the concert to honestly
tell you about it through music.
The two
tracks featuring Kelly Joe Phelps are both nearer the end of the record. His dobro gives a nice light tone on top of the
heavy strumming of Van Zandt’s guitar.
On “Banks of the Ohio” it
provides a strong balance to the tragedy of the song, and then it holds together
“Walbash Cannonball” (a song Van
Zandt insist every folk singer learn to play) even as Van Zandt loses focus
near the end of the song, and lets the rambling monologue sneak back into his
performance.
This album
is really only for people who already appreciate Townes’ stronger work, whether
studio or live, and can appreciate him for his faults as much as his genius. However, if you’ve got everything else, and
think you can handle hearing him stripped down one more layer, then give this a
listen. It is not a good record on its
own, but Townes makes it so with his talent, his songwriting and his good-natured
willingness to play host to his own impending tragedy.
Best tracks: Snowin’ On Raton, Katie Bell, Banks of the Ohio,
Marie.
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