Sheila is away this weekend and I
have the house to myself for the first time in what must be over a decade. Maybe
I’ll eat some food that’s very bad for me, like a bag of Dorito’s, or watch
horror movies or even just listen to music that annoys her (Nightwish? Capercaillie? Jethro Tull?).
It should be exhilarating (hey, I’m
easily amused) but it is also a weird and empty feeling. I’m determined to enjoy
some alone time but damn it, I already miss her.
Disc 762 is….Cold Dog Soup
Artist: Guy Clark
Year of Release: 1999
What’s up with the Cover? Half of my Guy Clark albums have
some version of this album, which is basically Guy Clark and his guitar. This
cover also features a dog that seems very happy to see Guy. Obviously the dog
is not aware of the alarming implications of the album’s title.
How I Came To Know It: As I noted when I reviewed
“Somedays the Song Writes You” back at Disc 655 (click to see Guy and his guitar, pose #2), I listened to all of Guy
Clark’s albums through his homepage, and liked six of them. “Cold Dog Soup” was
one of the four I ordered online. I feel bad about that, but I do give my local
record stores plenty of my love, as well as every opportunity to stock
something before I look elsewhere.
How It Stacks Up: I have six Guy Clark albums.
“Cold Dog Soup” is OK, but it is still in the bottom half. I’ll put it fourth.
Ratings: 3 stars
The title track of “Cold Dog Soup” is about the penurious
and sometimes unrewarding life of the writer. Not that Guy is penurious; he’s
got so many songs made famous by other country singers that I’m sure his
royalty cheques keep food on the table. In terms of direct fame and fortune,
Clark is as my coworker recently coined him; a songwriter’s songwriter. If you
love the art of the song, you probably know him, and if you just like to hear a
pretty voice, you probably don’t.
“Cold Dog Soup”
sums up the lonely frustration of a writer by pointing out that deep down they
are a loose fellowship. William Butler Yeats, Tom Waits, Townes Van Zandt,
Ginsberg, Kerouac and Ramblin’ Jack Elliott all get mentioned. As the chorus bemoans:
“There ain’t no money in poetry
And that’s what sets the poet
free
I’ve had all the freedom I can
stand.
Cold dog soup and rainbow pie
Is all it takes to get me by
Fool my belly ‘till the day I die
Cold dog soup and rainbow pie.”
Despite such mild complaints, it is clear Clark
loves what he does, and also clear that there’s nowhere he’d rather be than
picking a guitar and composing a song. He also has a clear appreciation for music
history. In the title track he traces his lyrical style all the way back to
Yeats.
On “Sis Draper”
he shows his love for the Arkansas fiddle, as seen through the eyes of a wise
and wild old fiddler from that state. The fiddle on this song seemed eerily
familiar and then I realized it was almost exactly the same tune as Michelle
Shocked features on the song “Arkansas
Traveler.” Together, Clark and Shocked helped me triangulate yet another
great fiddle tradition.
Not a great vocalist, Clark sings with conviction
and the guitar work on this album are pretty. When he covers Steve Earle’s
elegy to Townes Van Zandt, “Fort Worth
Blues” he puts heartfelt feeling into the song that more than makes up for
his lack of vocal chops.
Sadly, “Cold Dog Soup” is uneven as an album. None
of the songs are bad, but there is stretch through the middle of the album of
about five or six songs that mosey around rather than go anywhere. Clark is
like your affable uncle; for every good story he’s got in him has another one
that doesn’t really go anywhere.
“Men Will Be
Boys” is a hijinks song about how men are often immature kids at heart, but
it isn’t engaging unless the observation is used to explore something deeper,
and Clark clearly isn’t interested in doing so.
“Indian Head
Penny” is a cleverly written story about its title subject, but it feels
like Uncle Guy has pulled a penny out of his pocket and is busy enthralling the
kids’ table with a yarn after having one too many Miller Lite’s at the family
barbecue. I got off the damn kids table at the earliest age I could manage, and
much preferred the tales drunken uncle Guy told at the adult’s table. Then and
now, hearing about a shiny old penny doesn’t hold my attention.
Fortunately, the album finishes with a strong trio
of songs, the best of which is “Red River.”
This isn’t about the Red River in
Manitoba that Canadians will immediately think of, but rather the north of Clark’s
home state of Texas. I’ve never seen the river, but Clark’s song about it, and
the people who love it, is damned pretty. Ever the true Texan it is no surprise
that the song’s chorus is:
“Red River, I know you of old
You have filled up my pockets
with quicksand and gold
Susanna oh Susanna when it comes
my time
Bury me south of that Red River
line.”
One day that’ll sadly happen, but for now I don’t
want to lose my adoptive musical uncle. He sometimes makes me sigh and roll my
eyes at his corniness, but there’s no denying his power to tell a tale, and set
it to a song with a tune you with a prettiness you can’t resist.
Best
tracks: Cold Dog
Soup, Sis Draper, Red River, Be Gone Forever
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