One More (?) Go Around: A Hundred Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50

#359) "A Country Boy Can Survive" by Hank Williams Jr. - Although I've always liked it, lately, I've started having mixed emotions about this song, and its message.  Don't get me wrong, it's not necessarily a bad message, at once a cautionary tale and affirmation of something seminal to our species which, while I can't relate to it entirely, I certainly acknowledge as truth. There's no denying that it's going to be "a country boy" who will survive when/if the shit hits the fan.  

But of course, this, like every other facet of American society, has become starkly politicized in recent years, thanks to our current president and those Americans who support him. "A country boy", and all that that implies and entails, has become this politically motivated (and painfully binary) red state v. blue state caricature in the 21st century. Less a matter of knowledge, vigilance and adaptability trumping (no pun intended) softness and entitlement, more something completely dumbed down, to the point of being silly and superficial: Toyota Prius drivers vs. Dodge Ram drivers. Wal-Mart shoppers vs. food co-op shoppers. Conservatives vs. 'libtards'. Recently, country music as a whole seems to have engaged and perpetuated this big time.

It shouldn't be this way. Nothing about our modern lives, nothing so serious in our lives, should be dumbed down to such depressingly one-dimensional terms, particularly in an age when we can't really trust what's being presented as unbiased facts - true hard news, devoid of spin - from any side.  But that's where we're at, and now, when I listen to this song, and for that matter, hear Williams' own public rhetoric over the years (which has become increasingly divisive...not for being conservative, but conspiratorial; real "Obama is a Kenyan-born Muslim extremist"-type horseshit, which I have no patience for), it reads a lot more self-righteous than it used to, and I just want to say, dude, simmer down, okay? Nobody wants to take away your Christmas tree.

And yet, again, there's no denying the song's truth.  I hope it doesn't come to this, pray the proverbial shit doesn't hit the proverbial fan, but if this big bloated technological house of cards, which keeps us fat and anything-but-happy on a gluttonous diet of wet-mashed glitter and sparkles ever collapses, really lurches straight down into its own footprint to the point where we've got a Walking Dead scenario on our hands (minus the zombies) ... a country boy will survive. And were that to happen, any individual with the ability to draw from the land and live without E! Hollywood True Story-style luxuries (or even Real Housewives of Canton, Ohio-style...) will simply have a better chance of surviving and adapting to long-term changes in our way of life, even the vanishing of our way of life. 

"A Country Boy Can Survive" has gone through some renovations over the years. Originally released in 1982 (making it a fairly prescient song, I'd say), it was covered by country artist Chad Brock in 1999 with altered lyrics to reflect the perceived threat of Y2K potentially rendering the entire world nothing but country boys, then again in 2001, by Hank Jr. himself in the aftermath of 9/11. Doubtless many fans (and Hank Jr.) would disagree, but I'm not down with that; not only because I've never been down with cover versions (even covers by the original artist), but also because the song stood on its own originally, answering something larger than mere politics and priorities of the moment, and should still stand, without having to be reconstituted.

"But he was killed by a man with a switchblade knife / For 43 dollars my friend lost his life..."

#360) "Turn to Stone" by Electric Light Orchestra - According to Jeff Lynne, the purpose of Electric Light Orchestra was to "pick up where the Beatles left off". A lofty goal, to say the least, but sometime before he was assassinated ten years after The Beatles left off, John Lennon completely validated this by calling ELO the "Sons of the Beatles", meaning, presumably, the heir apparent to the Fab Four's musical legacy. 

To be perfectly honest, I don't know that I would go that far. I think in their time they were innovative and harmony-rich enough to get Lennon's attention, however (and as always, it's just my opinion) whether a lot of ELO's music holds up 40 years later is open to debate.

And yet, "Turn to Stone" is one of those songs on this road trip list that seems to grab people's attention today just as it did in 1977. I've witnessed this first-hand, Millennials and Gen Y'ers at work responding to this song when it plays, asking me to turn it up. And I completely get why. With it's anxious-sounding harmonies, and subject matter, it's kind of timeless. 

"The dying embers of the night (a fire that slowly fades 'til dawn) / Still glow upon the wall so bright (turning, turning, turning)..."

Yet ANOTHER Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50

#217) "It's All Over But the Crying" by Hank Williams Jr. -  Recorded in 1968, "It's All Over But the Crying" pre-dates the "Bocephus" persona that distinguished Hank Jr. in no uncertain terms from his father, whom Nashville was hell-bent (hell bound?) on forcing the younger Williams to look and sound exactly like for most of the 1960s.

It's not surprising that he wanted to shake all that off and establish himself as an artist in his own right, but there's something to be said - a lot, actually - for the old country music sound, as thin and clear as the AM band it was broadcast over in the days when that's all there was.  It possesses none of the aggressive flair and flash pumping out of FM "Hot Country" radio today...it's really kind of an acquired taste, at this point. But it also doesn't inadvertently stereotype itself, as so many modern artists do by going out of their way to prove to the world how "country" or "southern" they are....it just kind of exists, a reflection of ordinary people, in ordinary towns, living ordinary lives fraught with joy, sorrow and turmoil. Honestly, it could be said classic country music is as much "folk music" as anything...which, in a way, makes "It's All Over But the Crying" a great road trip song, as the best road trips, the important ones at least, journey through the ordinary lives of ordinary people.

"It sounded so true when you said I love you / Now I'll say my good-byin', cause it's all over but the crying..."

#218) "Montana Cafe" by Hank Williams Jr. - This song is from the Hank Jr. era most people associate with him, the sunglasses, beard and bluster, but it's slower-paced, introspective, and illustrates his range as an artist, which too often gets overlooked. I like the sentiment a lot...the idea of escaping to a simpler life somewhere that almost seems like a simpler time and place...and I've always kept it a part of the ideal existence I maintain in my mind, and hope one day to get to.

A Montana Cafe still exists in the town of Darby. I'm not sure if it's the exact one Hank Jr. sang about in 1986...it does indeed seem to be "off Highway 93", but I think it may have been closed for a time, then re-opened under new ownership. In any case, it gets high marks on sites like Trip Advisor. Definitely a potential way point on 1/48/50. Hopefully it hasn't become too touristy and gimmicky.

Although who knows, maybe it was touristy and gimmicky when Hank Jr. was there (and Ernest Hemingway and Teddy Roosevelt, so the song goes...). Still worth a look. I suspect there's a lot in Montana, and out west in general, worth a look.

"I'm so glad I reached this point in my life, I finally got my priorities right / And I'm way out here, on the Idaho line..."

Yet ANOTHER Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50

#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..."

The NEXT Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50 (cont...)

#130) "Ridin'" by Chamillionaire feat. Krayzie Bone - A couple weeks ago, I lauded the satirical greatness of White and Nerdy by 'Weird' Al Yankovic, and I feel that recognition would not be complete without taking a moment to laud the greatness of its inspiration.

And yet, in doing so I feel self-conscious, feel like I'm going out on a limb. Too many times Ridin' has played on my phone at work and prompted someone to say, with eyes and mouth wide, "This song's on your phone? Really? Wow...!"

Yes, I'm 41, white, and Midwestern, mostly small town, have never had much direct contact with rap or hip hop culture, but by including this song on the soundtrack of my road trip, I'm not pretending to be something I'm not. I don't ride down the street with it blasting at top volume, slumped down in the driver seat, hand draped over the steering wheel, pants around my knees, hat cranked sideways, flashing symbols with my fingers. It doesn't perpetuate my image...er, wait, what image?  I'm not the least bit fly for a white guy, and perfectly okay with that. ;-)

I just like the song, the way it sounds, and it's disheartening to realize so many think of music in such narrow terms. Culture, style and race mean nothing to me. If something is good, it's good. If something grabs my attention and holds it, I'm going to jam to it. If it moves me in some way, any way, I just might want to bring it along for 14,000 miles.

For my Midwestern white boy money, Chamillionaire sets the bar here for all rap music and rap artists. Ridin' is complex, at moments astonishingly so, the lyrics (especially Krayzie Bone's Verse 2) coming so fast they spin into an hypnotic kaleidoscope of sound that seems almost incoherent, but isn't. This, like what 'Weird' Al did in his parody, is not easy. Rapping well is not easy. Truth is, a lot of black artists are terrible at it. Why? Because it's not about race at all really, it's a skill like any other that not everybody possesses. It's relatively easy to merely assume the look and the style, wear all the right clothes and posture in just the right way. To be a wordsmith, as rapping was originally intended, and to insert those malleable words into music in such a way that creates an unforgettable hook that listening to feels like an experience, is something else all together.

Also, there's a message to the song, about racial profiling and/or police brutality, that shouldn't be ignored.  Once again, in no way can I pretend to be able to relate, but as the nation waits tensely for the grand jury ruling in Ferguson, Missouri, I've been thinking more about my own unnerving experience with the police, long ago.

When I was a teenager, I had a long, flowing mane of hair hanging all the way down my back, and this attracted the attention of police. I would be cruising up and down the main drag in my 1977 Chrysler Newport minding my own business, completely sober, totally going the speed limit, my only crime perhaps searching for someone to buy me beer (and even then, when/if I found someone, I was conscientious, never drank in the car, never drove while intoxicated), and yet I would routinely get pulled over for no reason.  They'd check my license, search my car, ask where I was going and where I'd been, then let me go without comment once they ascertained this long-haired, acne-ridden teen's only real offense was being unsightly.

This happened numerous times during the summers of  1989 and '90, enough for me to become aware of a pattern, to develop a Pavlovian response to the sight of a squad car pulling up behind me. Most of the time there was no problem. I wasn't a trouble maker, I just had long hair, and I've always found that 'Yes sir/no sir...yes ma'am/no ma'am' goes a long way with cops  But one time, I was pulled over by an officer who revealed himself to be a true pig. Seriously, I'm a law and order guy for the most part, a supporter of cops and a proponent of the difficult job they do. But this was ... really something.

I knew something was up right away: when he first clambered out of the squad car, he slammed his door shut. The impact echoed off the houses across the street.

He came up to the driver side window, this big, neck-less barrel of a guy, and barked, License.

I handed it over (I had it ready for him), and he snatched it out of my hand. I looked at the person I was riding with and she flashed my look of concern right back at me.

Whose car is this?

I told him it was mine. I sensed he did not completely believe me, or didn't want to, but what else would I be driving at 17 but a car with rusted out wheel wells and rear bumper barely hanging on? Better question: why would I steal this thing?

This your current address?

Also a dumb question. I was still a kid. I'd barely had my license a year. But his tone of voice was surly, had this kind of juvenile hostility to it, enough so to put me ill-at-ease.

I said yeah, it was my current address.

Those sunglasses prescription?

I should have lied, could have, I guess, and been reasonably sure he wouldn't rip them off my face to check. No, I told him.

You got a restriction on your license. That means you wear glasses when you drive. Do you understand that?

I said, I know.

Your glasses in the car?

I pointed to them on the dashboard.

Get 'em on your face! he yelled, loudly. A volume better suited for, Get on the ground!

As he stormed back to his squad, I reluctantly replaced my sunglasses with the eyeglasses I hated. My companion and I looked at each other again, surreptitiously, as if doing so was a crime. I wanted to think I was imagining all this, but every time I looked over, the look on her face confirmed I was not.

We sat there for several minutes, much longer than a run of someone's driver's license should have taken. Other motorists passed us slowly, giving a wide berth to the flashing cherries. Across the street a lady emerged on her front porch to water a hanging plant. A guy walked by with a dog, cast his own surreptitious (and seemingly scornful) look in at us. It was as if the cop was back there in his squad smoking a nice long cigarette, fleshing out our anxiety. When he finally came back, he asked a strange question.  You been stopped by an officer before?

I replied, "Yeah, it's been happening a lot lately as a matter of fact."

That's all I said, and with no attitude at all. There was no need for attitude, it was just a truthful remark. It had been happening a lot lately.

His response was even stranger, and kind of outrageous. I bet it has, he smirked. And with his pointer finger and thumb, he flicked my license back at me. It hit my chest and landed in my lap.

He flicked my license at me.

I know it's a G-rated version of that kind of story, but it easily could have been much worse. And it happened, though I wasn't doing anything wrong (except driving without wearing my glasses), with no mention made as to why I was pulled over in the first place. That cop was loaded for bear about something that could not possibly have had anything to do with me. Any number of adult world stressors might have been eating him alive in that moment, and I was just unfortunate enough to cross his path at the wrong time. Maybe he was fighting with his wife, or his son was giving him grief. Maybe he was being foreclosed on, or hadn't had a drink yet that day, or maybe he just hated all kids because he wasn't one anymore.

Doesn't really matter; he had no right to take any of it out on me no matter what. But the scary part is he could have. With the law on his side, that silver badge punctuating his 'right', he could have escalated that traffic stop, and who knows where it might have led. Looking back twenty-five years later, I wonder how much separation there actually was, emotionally and mentally, between flicking my driver's license at me and grabbing me by my long greasy hair and pulling me out of the car onto the pavement, just because he felt like it, just because he was having a shit day?

I wonder how he'd have acted if someone else hadn't been with me.

And that experience was just a one time thing. It does not hold a candle to what many African-Americans, whether they're doing something wrong, have to deal with every day, the Pavlovian response they endure when they see that squad car pull up behind, hoping sometimes beyond hope the officer (s) will observe the thinly traced boundaries implied - if not spelled out - in their charge.

"They see me rollin' / they hatin' / patrolling they tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty..."

#131) "Women I've Never Had" by Hank Williams Jr. - This song also comes up fairly frequently on some of my playlists at work, and one time, a girl, in her mid-20s, listened to a few measures, looked at me with a kind of hybrid smile and roll of her eyes, and said, Is this your jam, Jared? 

She meant it playfully. Women I've Never Had - musically at least (if I'm to go by what she played when she was allowed to plug her phone into the radio) - was nothing she'd probably ever heard before. She was no fan of country music in general, this was certainly not Brad Paisley, and she was goofing on me a little, as if to suggest that I might be as quick to strike a pose with this song as I would with Ridin'....only instead of anything 'gangsta', it'd be a huge pair of sunglasses, huge collar, jeans and a belt buckle the size of an old vinyl record...or maybe a polyester leisure suit, doing little gunshots with my fingers....er, something.

Without missing a beat, I looked her right in the eye and said, You may find this a difficult pill to swallow, but this is every man's jam.

She wasn't entirely thrilled with my response (I can't imagine any woman would want to hear that). It too was meant primarily as a joke, of course, but there's truth there, for sure. Common sense, a sense of decency, maturity, these things keep good men grounded in their lives, keep them from making mistakes. And the bottom line is, sleeping around, especially those who will sleep with anything that moves, doesn't do anyone any good, male or female. But the impulse made evident in this song? Speaking honestly and candidly?  In the most fundamental sense? Oh yes, it's every man's jam. And in deep, unconscious ways, down where the stuff of human behavior that changes very little over millennia is buried, it's part of what enables our species to propagate successfully.

If nothing else, Women I've Never Had is an addictive song. Its whole New Orleans funeral horn section is kind of goony, but hey, humor is one cornerstone of sexy.

"I am into to happy and I don't like sad / I like to have women I've never had...."

#132) "Mary Jane's Last Dance" by Tom Petty - I suspect this is what people might think would be on my phone, although I'm okay with being pegged that way. Tom Petty - at this point - should be on everyone's phone. He's achieved living legend status, and really, how cool is his music from the late 80s and early 90s? Mary Jane's Last Dance is also very much 'every man's jam' at one time or another.

Tired of myself, tired of this town, indeed.


"Well I don't know, but I've been told, you never slow down, you never grow old..."