#215) "All My Rowdy Friends (Have Settled Down)" by Hank Williams Jr. - Born of country music royalty, Hank Williams Jr. probably wouldn't want to hear this, but I think as an artist he has far outpaced his famous (and deservedly legendary) father, and I give him props for the personal demons and the stigmatization he overcame to get where he is. He's not the son of Hank Williams, he's Bocephus. Whether you like his music, it cannot be denied he's an American original, a living legend in his own right, and that doesn't often happen to the children of legends.
As the years have passed, Hank Jr. has found a political voice, like a lot of artists. Ultimately, of course, that's fine. That's what being an American ("original" or otherwise) is all about. But personally, I don't like when artists get political and start shooting off at the mouth. To be clear, it doesn't matter if their views are conservative or liberal, I don't like the distraction of knowing how they're going to vote, or how they'd prefer I vote, when I'm trying to dig on their music.
There was a time when "All My Rowdy Friends (Have Settled Down)" was easily applicable to my own life, and when I listen, I simply want to remember being twenty-five, standing on the precipice between young adulthood and...not middle age, but something else...pre-middle age...and realizing, with some shock, that everyone I know has or is about to leave the college years behind, get on a career path, get married and start having children, and that I'm seconds from being left behind, becoming "that guy" who has nothing going on. Not to mention the disillusionment that comes with realizing that despite what you dreamed about in the days and months and years leading up to turning twenty-one, the bar scene is actually pretty lame, and becomes exponentially sadder (as in pathetic) with each year that passes, once you start crowding thirty.
It's a unique milestone in life, with a unique set of emotions. And it doesn't really matter who the president is when it's happening, or whether it's happening in a red state or a blue state.
"And the hangovers hurt more than they used / And corn bread and ice tea's took the place of pills and 90 proof / And it seems that none of us do things quite like we used to do..."
#216) "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues" by Danny O'Keefe - Another song about trying to stay young too long and allowing time to slip from your grasp, "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues" takes a more somber approach. In fact, no other song I've ever listened to better exemplifies the experience I had as a young adult in my hometown, or captures the quiet but potent angst of a small town Sunday afternoon (and all that that implies).
I lived in the perfect town for that angst to be especially acute. It's gotten better in recent years, but twenty years ago, my hometown was locked in the glacial ice of despair, a thirty-year hangover separating it from the "good times", which, when they ended, left not a lot in the way of jobs or opportunity. For a few years, from about age 22 to 25, I was lost, schlepping through the despairing days and nights, bumping from one dead end job to another, where my path would cross the paths of other losers who hadn't bothered to go to school, and were exiting the "college years" in name only...
For a better explanation of what my town was like, and a sense of how significant "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues" was (and why), CLICK HERE
I've grown up since then, snapped out of my malaise by refusing to let despair turn into self-pity, but this song still haunts me, for what could have been, and was for a short while.
"You know my heart keeps telling me, you're not a kid at thirty-three..."
