A Yorkshireman of a certain age who likes most genres of music and most makes of old car. Travel is a joy, not least to escape the British winter. Travel by bicycle is bliss and if I’m not lost in music then I’m lost in a daydream about a hot day, tens of miles to cover and the promise of a great campsite and a beer. I like to think I’m always learning and becoming wiser. However, on the latter point evidence is in short supply.
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After leaving Texas’ most populous city, Houston, we stayed en route to the second most populous city, San Antonio, at Schulenburg. Anna’s research had identified this Interstate stop off as quaint with painted German churches. On arrival a quick drive around revealed a ramshackle settlement that may be described as a ‘one horse town’ but ‘ohne pferd’. (One for Google Translate.) Also no painted churches that we could see. On the evening we found an Italian restaurant close by the hotel and then had an early night.
Next morning the Interstate took us to the centre of San Antonio and the Downtown area that also housed the Alamo. The Downtown area is built up but it features an exquisite set of canals that dissect restaurants and hotels. In the sunshine it looked wonderful. It seems that all these hotels accommodate conference attendees that flood into the town and conference centres.
Come back!
Nearby the Alamo was a fort that was built by the Spanish, then occupied by the Mexicans and then the Texans or Texians (as the Republic of Texas knew its citizens.) The Mexicans via a siege in February 1836 and subsequent attack retook the fort and the church with all the Texian defenders killed. They then went onto murder other combatants (a total of about 200). This proved to be a call to arms for all Texians as well as men from outside the State for the next battle. Weeks later the Mexican army met the Texians at San Jacinto and this time the Mexicans were routed with considerable loss of life (650) but little for the Texians (11). Here the Texians, via treaty, gained their independence and the Mexicans struggled home. The reality was that the Mexicans thought they’d recover Texas in due course, of course we know they didn’t.
So this location is important to Texans as a vital yet bloody event in their achievement of independence. The ‘money shot’ is the outside of the church, in the then fort grounds. On this day there were many tourists and most spoke Spanish.
The Alamo church
In Texas any signage is in English and Spanish. In hospitality or retail the staff are South American. I say South American rather than Mexican because I think this Latino workforce comes from Central American countries as well as Mexico. Go into Walmart and the shoppers are Latino or go to an attraction the visitors are Latino. In one hotel I asked a member of staff for something and she didn’t speak English. She whipped out her mobile phone and we found the Spanish for ‘butter’ via a translation App. Employment here doesn’t demand the ability to speak English obviously. I once was told by an American guy whose family was from El Salvador that within decades Spanish would be the most popular language in the USA. I believe him.
Wondering around the centre we found an Indian restaurant for lunch before heading to the suburbs to our hotel. Driving in this city of 1.5 million people was no fun. Some of the roads and gradients wouldn’t be out of place in a theme park. Cars regularly took the ramps/turnings off or joined. It made you continually vigilant of vehicles swapping lanes at high speeds and trying to avoid being stuck on pesky exit roads when they diverted off the main route. After check-in I ventured out to sort out a SIM card problem and find a record store. Both were successful missions and I got some new country music vinyl at $8 and $3 each. In the UK this would be £30 a pop. It has to be said such bargains were unusual.
I asked Anna to take quick snap of flyovers under construction. Yikes!
The next day we visited the Botanical Gardens. These were meh! I love a botanical garden. Mainly for the trees, shade and non-indigenous blooms. This newer site had no trees bar a few in a Japanese garden and there were some flowers, especially the orchids and roses that looked lovely but otherwise it wasn’t a memorable garden.
The night was. We attended a concert about 15 miles away from our hotel and so another white knuckle drive on the road system took us there. Any music on a hot summer’s evening outside with a beer seems a great idea and this was a holiday highlight – Ashley McBryde.
(Anna and I have enjoyed taking in concerts when in the USA. The vibe is different and it’s often easier to see American acts that seldom appear in the UK. Ashley McBryde is a Grammy winner and major Country music artist, very much at the top of her game at the moment. We last saw her at Leeds University: this was a very different setting and certainly more of a party.)
McBryde continued her US nationwide tour after taking 30 days off to write and rehearse new songs. Despite this creative pause she said she’d missed being in front of a live audience. The rowdy folk of Helotes, a small suburb of San Antonio, and further afield made it clear they’d also missed her. It’s been an interesting month for her in other ways as her alma mater, Arkansas State University, awarded her an honorary doctorate in music which she collects in May. Dr. McBryde has an impressive ring to it.
Despite the time away to create new music McBryde worked her way through an existing catalogue bar one intriguing Don Henley cover, The Boys of Summer. This song felt so right on a sweltering evening where outdoors we sat in 27° and swigged our cold beer as everyone joined in the chorus. It’s plain to see she is loved: perfectly natural with the audience, comfortable with a band that you’d call her family and beaming throughout often interspersed with deprecating jokes and a genuine appreciation for us all turning out.
She covered songs from all her recent albums including the collaborative Ashley McBryde Presents: Lindeville. From this album we got the comical Brenda Put Your Bra On and on cue McBryde donned a special Texas flag variant that went down a storm.
The band is tight and over and above the guitars, drums and bass Wes Dorethy on fiddle and keys added some different colour and texture to the sound. Another stand out was the superb lead guitar of Matt Helmkamp. Inevitably, when individually introduced, the biggest cheer went up for the bassist, Caleb Hooper, a fellow Texan. As you might imagine Texans are proud of their State and its fellow countrymen. Dorethy, with his violin, stepped up to the front of the stage and McBryde introduced her latest hit, Ain’t Enough Cowboy Songs, by saying that she’d thought it was too country for radio (!) and nearly didn’t bother to release it as a single but lo and behold it had surprised and delighted her and her record label with massive streaming figures. Maybe this country music has a future?
There were the usual up tempo songs such as Rattlesnake Preacher, The Devil I Know, El Dorado, First Thing I Reach For and Whiskey and Country Music with some sonorous B3 organ. However, when the band took a brief break she played Girl Goin’ Nowhere: a true epiphany. When she got to the lyric “I hear the crowd / I look around / And I can’t find one empty chair” the crowd exploded. Pure magic. The slower songs seemed intimate and sentimental in this setting especially A Little Dive Bar in Dahlonega, Light On In The Kitchen and Sparrow. This gem is a long glance homewards with affection and gratitude to her parents and where her roots are firmly planted.
After 90 minutes the set was completed with Tired of Being Happy. You couldn’t disagree with her assessment of “where would country music be without a cheating song?” The open air venue was in a residential area and a 10.30pm finish may have been mandated and so no encore. It was a memorable and special experience and we trooped out past the $40 tour T shirts to Cliff Richard’s Devil Woman. From here we girded our loins to face the hectic San Antonio traffic back into the city.
So waving goodbye to our Austin hosts, in fact we gave them a bottle of prosecco, we hit the Interstate heading east to Houston. However, the small compelling matter of consuming dangerous levels of unhealthy cholesterol for brekkie called and an early stop was scheduled. We stopped at Maxine’s on Bastrop’s Main Street.
Biscuits (scones to you and me) laden with sausage, two poached eggs smothered in ‘gravy’ with other veg lurking underneath and a small pot of salsa coming. The fried potatoes were magic.
Bastrop is a very old town (by American standards) and owes its importance to being sited on the Colorado river and a historic crossing point for a major road going east. The road was important for the Spanish and then Mexicans heading east (to parts of their possessions.) These two nations were the colonisers of this part of the globe. Spain first and then they got booted out when Mexico gained its independence in 1821. The Republic of Texas was formed when a Texan volunteer army beat the Mexican army to create the Republic in 1836. This Republic became the 28th US state in 1848. Still with me?
Main Street.
So why did Texas rise against the Mexicans? The Mexican regime was hostile to more Anglo/white immigration into Texas and by all accounts were not good masters. The Anglo/white population was mainly white European (Germans, Czechs, Irish and French) immigrants who’d moved here for the available land. It also helped that they could farm the land with the legal use of slaves. Mexico inconveniently banned slavery in 1827. There were initial concessions for Texas over slavery but when Mexico banned further European immigration there was conflict. Hence the war and subsequent independence. (The USA didn’t ban slavery until 1865 and you may recollect that that entailed the further death of over 600,000 to get that across the line in the American Civil War.)
This might explain all the Spanish city names and this considerable influence, to this day, on food, art and diversity of population in Texas, as well as the Spanish name itself. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Bastrop. It had a small magnificent museum down the street from Maxine’s and the history was told in great detail. It was fascinating, a little gem of a place. After a good look, on we continued.
The roadI can promise you that no small town US museum is complete without a selection of different types of barb wire. (Cross my heart and hope to die.)
Houston is a very large sprawl and frustratingly the Space Center was in the south east as we approached from the north west. However we found our Holiday Inn and checked in. Over the car park was a Costco, always carry your membership card, for cheap petrol and a mosey. The mosey included the purchase of an iPad for one of the son-in-laws. He’d identified that all Apple products were cheaper than in the UK. That and fuel are about it.
Hurry now whilst stocks last…
After this transaction a little detoxification ensued for dinner.
Plastic cutlery everywhere. Aaagh!
Visiting the Space Center was my idea. (Not the present Mrs Ives.) I’m not awfully scientific but I find the whole Apollo era engrossing. The adventure to a planet 239,000 miles away when technology in the western world still made this the best selling UK car in 1969 blows my mind.
Good old BMC. A Morris 1100“This is ground control to Major Tom…”
Houston was the ‘control’ but the launches were made in Florida at Cape Canaveral. However, here they had assembled a whole rocket and displayed it in a purpose built building. These parts are original: the Apollo launches had been planned to go up to Apollo 20 but the project was abandoned after 17; hence the left over rockets for the displays. One early Apollo mission left the three astronauts dead after fire during testing and, of course, Apollo 13 had to be aborted and the world watched as they adapted smaller rockets and components to get back to Earth. Otherwise they were all a brilliant success. To think, at launch, the 40 metre high rocket with three astronauts has about 500,000 gallons of liquid oxygen and kerosene as fuel on board seems lethal.
What also struck me was the intricacy of all the pipe work and electrics. A total ‘spaghetti’ of components all needing to work when you’re 90 miles from the surface of the Earth in a low orbit before being propelled to the Moon.
All the astronauts were former USAF test pilots. They had, no doubt, nerves of steel, familiarity with phenomenal speed, expert aircraft control experience and were trained to sit precariously amongst a whole set of prototype components on their first trajectory at thousands of miles per hour through thin air and then space.
They had a Space Shuttle (or Thunderbird 3 to those of a certain age) to look at.
So after rockets it was a visit to the Mission Control room where even Anna started to get excited. Here we received an introduction then sat through that moment of elation as we hear ‘the eagle has landed’. Eagle was the name given to the Apollo 11 craft. This included hearing the President (Nixon) talk to the astronauts in space . I loved it all.
A TV relayed this footageLive commentary from the landing
I loved less the hour and a half of driving through Houston motorways to get west again. If that wasn’t stressful enough juggling lanes at 55mph on motorways with many vehicles crossing behind and in front of you to take exits there was the commentary of Middlesbrough vs Leeds United to raise also blood pressure. Bless the TalkSPORT App. Two disallowed (good goals) and a last 15 minutes of hanging on to our slender 0-1 lead was nerve racking. However, they did hang on and we barrelled along to Schulenburg for the night before travelling on to San Antonio.
After Anna’s Austrian ankle break last August and the time she’s spent recovering holidays were put on the back burner. However, making up for lost time we arranged a couple of weeks in the Lone Star state. (By the way, Anna’s now very mobile and her recovery is a testament to the surgery/care she received and her diligent rehab regime.)
We’ve never been to Texas and as it’s as big as Europe and there’s plenty to see and do albeit with a little driving (understatement.) Austin appealed because it’s the state capital and country music! From here we’d take in the Space Center at Houston, then to San Antonio for a look and concert. Afterwards it’s down to the coast and a stay at Corpus Christi. Flying out of Heathrow meant hauling down to London from Yorkshire by train but this was compensated by a relatively cheap upgrade to ‘World Traveller’ from Economy with British Airways. For a nine hour flight the extra space is a boon.
Lubrication accepted
In Austin Anna chose an Airbnb for our three nights and this was on the outskirts of the centre. The first thing that hits you (again) is that the USA is no longer cheap. Historically you could buy in dollars what it cost in pounds or usually cheaper. Now it’s way more expensive including food/dining. Tipping is a usual demand starts at 15 or 18%. You even get asked this when inserting your card into the reader at the counter of a coffee shop for a take out! Austin is big and sits on the Colorado river. In the centre skyscrapers abound. We walked around (24,300 steps!) on our first day but when we went out for an evening music walking tour we took an Uber feeling very lardy. For the distance of a couple of miles we paid $23 but that cost was soon forgotten as a driverless Jaguar turned up. School boy thrill time! (When we did take a taxi with a driver it’s always interesting to learn where the driver originates from. One was from Afghanistan and got residency because he worked with the US military and the other was a large bloke from Cameroon.)
Jaguar taxi delightFelt great and very safe
The city sells itself as being the live music capital of the USA. I personally don’t think so after having been to Nashville but our guide, a musician herself, took us around some venues and even sang. She had a great voice and gave us a few bars of ‘Crazy’ by Patsy Cline as an illustration of one of the songs written by the city’s living legend, Willie Nelson.
Willie NelsonSinging guide!
In fact I think Willie’s done a lot to put the city on the map. The focus of the music nightlife is 6th Street. This is a pale shadow of Nashville’s Lower Broadway but the deal is the same ie. bars with live music. We bowled up to the San Jac Saloon where a couple of acts were strumming away fighting the inevitable rowdy background of the revellers. We enjoyed Bron Burbank who worked his way through covers and ploughed on despite the indifference.
The next day we returned to the airport to collect a car we booked. I’d wanted a BMW X1 for the 1,000+ miles I’d be driving but ‘or similar’ in the booking meant I stood a considerable chance of disappointment. Yup, no BMW but a Mercedes GLA came as the consolation. I absorbed the blow with good grace. First stop on our return to East Austin central was an American breakfast at Sawyer & Co for eggs, bacon, gravy and a biscuit. This was hip and I added about 15 years to average age in the busy Sunday morning restaurant. Fortified it was time for history and drove up to the State Capital building.
Texas State CapitalGuided tour insideThe rotunda ceiling
This contains the legislature of Texan senators, congressmen and the Governor. It’s a wonderful building and we enjoyed a tour up the various levels. The legislature only sits for about 140 days a year and apart from a flat salary of $7,500 a year they receive, in addition, about $220/day expenses. Needless to say they all have other jobs. (The Governor only receives around $150,000 pa.) It’s a very historic building and there are several paintings of 19th century notables who led Texas to independence out of Mexico. (More of all this in a later blog.) The grounds similarly have many statues of other Texan worthies.
Interesting neighbourhoodCinderella?A great album!
Back at our digs we discovered our intended honky-tonk destination was shut on a Sunday. That was the Broken Spoke, a little out of town. However our hosts said, in walking distance, was the White Horse, honky-tonk and maybe worth a visit. So venturing out the good news was that the large numbers of homeless men were not present who, frankly, carpet some streets. They never threatened us but their condition and presence was a miserable sight to see. It seems all major US cities have large numbers who simply seem to survive rather than live.
The White Horse was all I could have dreamed of from the neon signage, a full dance floor two-stepping and a fabulous band – Silo Road. They could really play and mixed originals with covers as couple span around in front of us. Before you ask, then ‘no’. I have the coordination of a pedal bin and most of these dancers were skilled. All the country music songs I know talk of dancing on ‘hardwood floors’ but this was concrete but bore the throng happily. Back at the Airbnb we packed as tomorrow we were headed east for rockets!
I think we all think we can see things coming. Up until the impact I had no inkling that a gentle drive to the doctor’s, to collect a prescription, would result in near death, if not for me but four others.
I approached a cross roads half a mile from home at around 5pm on a sunny dry day and as I gently pulled up to the white lines to check the road was clear in both directions I was hit, relatively gently, on the passenger side by an old Fiat on the wrong side of the road and in considerable disrepair.
Its caved in side was the result of having driven across the cross road and being hit side on by a BMW X3 probably driving at 50mph. (The speed limit was 60mph.) The BMW deployed its airbags, crumpled the front and came to rest. Two people staggered out. Their immediate concern was the toddler strapped into the back. The driver was fuming and shocked. Frankly he should have been grateful that he and his family were alive. Rightly he was urging his wife to get clear of the smouldering wreck in case of fire. As he’s shouting and looking bewildered the Fiat driver got of her car, again in one piece, and was hysterical. She sought out the driver to repeat through tears and distress “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry”…
Speaks for itself
I drove my car away 15 yards from the scene, not least to unblock one of the roads off the junction. Sadly it was not properly drivable and creaked onto the verge. This busy road was now blocked or impassable and rush hour traffic was piling up at either end of the crash site. However, folk appeared from nowhere to try and calm the Fiat driver, brush up the broken car debris and direct the traffic. I handed my mobile to the mother of the toddler who rang the emergency services. In what seemed a very short period of time we had two fire engines, two ambulances and four or five police cars there.
In the ambulances the two car’s occupants were checked out. All seemed in one piece and, maybe, whiplash might be an issue and bruising later. I was asked if I was hurt but frankly I was fine if not a little shocked. If the impact might have happened a few feet more up the road I might have been badly injured or worse as the out of control missiles/cars hit me. The Police shut all four roads and the traffic abated as it turned around or avoided the cross roads. I gave three sets of the same details to three different Police Officers. One was a statement for being involved in the crash and I was asked to blow into a breathalyser! Obviously this read ‘zero’ but having a drink later was certainly on my mind. The Police did a thorough job but three sets of details to three Officers, was it the best process? They’d come from two separate stations as well.
Our reporter at the scene
The senior Police Officer, after telling me he used to be our postman, advised that as there were no witnesses and no serious injuries that the Fiat driver would likely escape points on her licence and, simply, have to take a course as the punishment. I think the minimum might have been an eye test, medical and another driving test. Also was the car legal? However, he said it would all be reviewed but as ‘the courts were busy’ a prosecution was improbable. Her admission of being responsible from the ‘get go’ was helpful (and obvious) plus it took away any further future debate.
A neighbour collected me sometime after 7pm. (However, the Police did offer to drop me home but when that offer was made I was on the phone and couldn’t accept.) In the neighbour’s car and at home I embarked on reporting the accident to Aviva. Forty one minutes later I ended that phone call. The person I dealt with had a thorough process that took all the details and gave us re-assurance that we would not incur any cost or lose our no claims bonus. They also arranged for the car to be collected from the verge and be taken to a repair shop. That was less slick and the truck didn’t arrive until just past midnight. The recovery driver looked at the Ford and said “it won’t be a write off”. I laughed at his comment but he was serious saying that writing off was a serious consideration by the insurers. I’m still wondering whether he was loopy or knew something I didn’t.
Sad Ford Focus
During the evening I received texts and emails from Aviva and more curiously texts from the Fiat driver’s insurer – Hastings. Hastings also rang me before 9am the next morning offering £250 to let them repair the car. There was also some other deal about a courtesy car as well (which we had, in any case.) I heard him out and declined before he advised that, in fact, he could increase the offer to £300. It seems that the costs that Aviva would seek from Hastings were inflated and that Hastings and probably other ‘guilty’ insurers pursued the claimants to incentivise them to switch garages. I was irritated by this but I can imagine the traumatised BMW driver would be furious at this call, although maybe his car was a write off and that wouldn’t suffer the mark up?
The administrative slog wasn’t yet over as we had to find our way to a car rental company to pick up a courtesy car the next day. Anna didn’t like the attractive Mazda SUV – “can’t park it at Waitrose…” and so the assistant disappeared back inside the office to get the keys to a Fiat 500. However, she reappeared with a Mercedes key fob. Cooking on gas I thought! However, Anna had decided, that despite being unwashed, the Fiat 500 would be excellent in supermarket car parks and it was more than acceptable grubby or sparkling.
I was now contacted by the Aviva garage after being asked to send photos of the damage. By this stage I’m wondering whether I’m being ‘courted’ because Aviva might be worried I was tempted by Hastings. Anyway the texts and emails have kept coming. Lastly, the prescription wasn’t ready for collection and had I been able to get through to the surgery on the phone (“you are fourth in the queue”) I would never have gone out and/or picked Anna’s car that was blocking my own in. I’m off to Texas now. We hope the Focus will be restored on our return and I hate the Fiat 500.
After Anna’s ankle break it’d been a while since we’d got abroad and when we did we added another Canary Island to our tally, Gran Canaria in February. It was grand (geddit??) to get abroad and out of the British winter. The island follows the usual pattern of being a big parched rock (in the middle) and towns on the coast. We stayed in Las Palmas, which is quite a large settlement (ninth largest town in Spain) with some attractive bits. I got along the northern coast on one day on a rented bike.
(breathing in…)
Meeting up with some friends holidaying there was delightful but soon we were heading back to Blighty. We’ve got lots of trips now scheduled for the year, starting with Texas in April. Did I hear Yee haw?
Anna, Jude and Peter
My football addiction is still a problem and Leeds United torture me with their possibility of getting promoted. As they say it’s the hope that kills. The present Mrs Ives and myself have been down to the shrine to see a couple of games. One was the unbelievable 7-0 victory over Cardiff City. Leeds United had last won so convincingly in 1972 beating Southampton 7-0. I was there as well. We have more tickets to go and hopefully they’ll keep the promotion show on the road.
Anna’s research, as previously noted, has found some cousins, three in fact. These are folk who I’ve either never met or not talked to for fifty years. Delightfully we all came together in London to have a meal. It was rewarding to bring all together and be amongst the youngest.
Sadly though, I’m not that young. I clocked up 70 at the beginning of the month. How the hell that’s happened I have no idea. For some reason Facebook dropped my birthday details from my profile and I avoided getting hilarious comments about getting a telegram from the King and any birthday cake being a considerable fire risk. It seems to be an age that people celebrate and cards and WhatsApp’s were lovely to receive although it’s only through the insistence of the family that any celebrations were held! The festivities included a family meal with close relatives and, earlier, a trip to the theatre and a meal at one of our favourite Indian restaurants (Bundobust) in Leeds. ‘Calamity Jane’ was fun at The Grand although being barked at by an usher to stop taking photos was unsettling for those around me in the dark!
Quick snap before the Gestapo arrived…
I treated myself to a new record turntable as my present to me. You’re uncomfortably into four figures for a good one and the main trick on this model (Rega P6) is the glass platter the vinyl spins on. It’s all about taking out the vibrations and movement so you hear everything that’s in the grooves. Needless to say I’m having a wonderful time spinning records.
The gateway to joy
Talking about records I’ve been selling a number of records on eBay for a good friend who’s disposing of the surplus discs she doesn’t want to keep. Up to press the gross figure for 29 sales is £700. Ever concerned to avoid complaints I meticulously check and play the records before listing, take and publish ample photographs of the vinyl and sleeves and then despatch with sufficient packaging to ensure a safe revival.
I appreciate that you have an interest in my TV viewing habits, thank you, and it’d be selfish not to share my enthusiasm for ‘Outback Truckers’. Here rough and ready Aussies, usually rough, drive enormous American trucks around the country often with several trailers (road train) through rain, floods and impossible mud. Each story usually has a deadline or mishap. One trucker had a 25 ton car crusher press on the back of a trailer, which enabled him to compress the vehicle before loading it on another trailer. I can imagine you’ll be tuning into the ‘5 Action Channel’ (Channel 33, one of those innumerable channels you never knew you had.)
Isabella continues to delight and I leave you with a photo of her departing to bed, fully laden.
Folk/roots musicians are getting more mainstream recognition of late. Billy Strings, Rhiannon Giddens and Molly Tuttle come to mind but Hull could easily join this pantheon. Her talent on the mandolin, with an attractive voice, has already garnered awards but she’s not prolific and this is her first album in five years. Here she’s written or co-written ten songs and co-produced this acoustic record as a self release. Often the decision to release an album independently is the artist’s only option but after decades on Rounder Records Hull wanted the freedom that route gave her.
On A Tip Toe High Wire she’s added tunes that aren’t solely from a pure roots tradition and it’s lifted the whole experience. The intricacy and deftness of bluegrass in the musicianship, however, has been maintained. The quality of the playing strikes you immediately and Hull has used her touring band in the studio. Their empathy and familiarity with each other are evident as the solos and arrangements seem organic to the structure. Let’s Go is as intricate as a piece of jazz with different paces and rhythms. Her vocals, back in the mix, enable you to focus on some sensational playing. Come Out Of My Blues is a positive lyric about seizing the day. It catches fire after her initial verse. Tim O’Brien (Hot Rize) helps out and the band cut a rug with some memorable fiddle from Avery Merritt.
From earlier in her recording career she attributes her growing confidence to lead a band to advice from Béla Fleck, who urged her to step forward. On E Tune, as one of her heroes and influences, he joins the band on banjo for this instrumental. Again a sophisticated rhythm grabs your attention and the drama builds as the song progresses. She’s a capable lyricist and takes inspiration from her family. Spitfire is a homage to her grandmother who’s triumphed through many adversities. Muddy Water is a beautiful ballad that reminds you, for its gossamer wing fragility, of Alison Krauss. It’s a sweet melody that her voice nails and its lyric of finding strength within ourselves, when the time comes, captures a sentiment of support and affection that runs through many of the compositions. Not least she brings her mandolin to the fore whilst Erik Caveney, on bass, anchors the whole piece. Similarly, Redbird is a cathartic melodic starburst that arrives toward the end of the album. I have to repeat myself and say that if you’re a fan of Alison Krauss this is another track you’ll love.
This release is very much a collaborative affair, which summarises Hull’s approach and I’ve found the whole album gives up more on repeated listens. It seems I have one for my end of year list already.
The nave was brightly lit in the 19th century East Yorkshire church where the duo delivered a beautiful set of 16 songs of American roots music dipping into country, folk and swing jazz. Ashley Campbell, the daughter of Glen Campbell, and Thor Jensen have been a duo since 2021. My awareness of Campbell came via a documentary (Glen Campbell:I’ll Be Me) about her father’s later life and his developing Alzheimer’s. It was an emotional roller coaster for those around him, not least of the joys, yet trials, of his touring with a failing memory. My other recollection of her came when she released 2020’s Something Lovely, a tuneful country folk release that was quite contemporary. Her sound, now, is very much of a talented acoustic guitar and banjo player singing less contemporary but more folk roots music. Jensen, in many ways her foil on the night, is a virtuoso guitarist with an attractive tenor who’s been immersed in the New York jazz scene yet plays several genres. Instrumentally they complement each other and their easy humour was a pleasure to hear as they talked about Yorkshire, the USA and Northern Ireland.
The latter place is where they recorded their debut album Turtle Cottage. It’s from here that most of the songs played on the night come from. Jensen’s slightly jaw dropping talent comes in his guitar playing. When not playing chords he picks with outstanding dexterity and subtlety; you can imagine him in full flight playing Django Reinhardt gypsy jazz. Turtle Cottage is just the pair of them playing and so the replication is complete here. Campbell’s voice is light, warm and intimate and the night starts with A Song By Vampires For Vampires that’s surprisingly a love song (!)
Two instrumentals are included that add to their credentials as great players (Edge Of The World and Exit Zero) but the whole set is usually the intertwining voices usually replete with harmonies. Perfectly Alright is a highlight of this. Goodbye Cowboy is the nearest we get to 60s country with some captivating Latin guitar picking that documents a sad parting. The audience of over 100, who’ve enjoyed the church having quite regular eclectic concerts including Bernard Butler, make an audible sigh of pleasure as Campbell starts to pick the opening notes of Gentle On My Mind. Whether said or not it seems a tribute to her father. Tank and Babe is an energetic romp about a relationship that failed despite the best of intentions. It has a Joni Mitchell Raised on Robbery vibe of breathless levity and neat couplets telling of the couples’ shortcomings.
Asking the audience, for the encore, whether they wanted a Tom Waits or Willie Nelson cover was only going to get one answer wasn’t it? Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain closes the evening and we shuffle out into the dark and dank evening warmed and having been entertained in the presence of this accomplished pair.
Isbell is a busy boy and seemingly peripatetic. Late 2024 saw him performing at the Democratic National Convention to nominate a US Presidential candidate. From here it was over to Europe for some gigs (including appearing in front of me in Stockton with his band, the 400 Unit, in late November.) Next year sees him embark on a long international solo tour including London and finishing in Australia. In October he spent five days in New York at the legendary Electric Lady Studio (Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Wonder, David Bowie, Adele and Taylor Swift) recording a solo album. You’d worry that the quality of his creative output would slip with his schedule but the needle is still well away from the red zone on the gauge judging by this release.
Isbell delivers eleven songs of heart torn melancholia and contemplation on a 1940 acoustic Mahogany D-17 Martin guitar. I’d grown used to him shredding his Telecasters or Gibsons with the 400 Unit and creating some epic, layered and dramatic rock: here it’s the voice and the tunes that attract your attention. Such is Isbell’s talent on an acoustic six string that when coupled to the arrangements he could have released these tracks as instrumentals and you’d still be engaged.
Lyrically there are first person conversations or reminisces that reflect a state of mind rather than tell you a complete story. After the ending of his marriage in 2023, to Amanda Shires, it’s not unnatural to think they influenced the work. Each song gives up more after several listens as you try and interpret the story. Some are plainer to understand such as Good While It Lasted, a love song drips regret or the chipper Don’t Be Tough that lists situations and how you should respond, usually with less judgement and more giving. Foxes In The Snow is another love song where both parties evaluate the other. Gravelweed offers probably the strongest tune with a sublime chorus but there isn’t a weak moment on the album musically.
I’ve long thought that Isbell is amongst the current family of Americana royalty. He’s received many awards and I feel, in his case, they’re well earned. As for many others I often feel other recipients are propelled to the podium by large record company budgets. This comfortably slips into his current canon and doesn’t push the envelope to new areas in terms of his established vocal delivery, lyrical naval gazing, types of tune and song structure. It’s a continuation but stripped back with less pyrotechnics. Outstanding.
Recently the snow fell and the news channels ramped up the advent of Armageddon for all living creatures with an ‘Amber Warning’. The snow basically lasted a morning before melting and we were left with some patches as the temperatures fell later that week. It seems that all my summers were sunny and hot when I was a child and then I do recollect my early years of driving were regularly in ice and snow. Something heavier and more dangerous than our recent fleeting flurry. Such was my proficiency I managed to drive my Triumph Spitfire into another car as my windscreen refroze. Does anyone remember that de-icer spray that worked for 5 minutes before turning, again, to ice! I then drove a Ford Sierra, with my nephew in the car, through a fence into a field fortunately missing two large trees. I achieved my hat trick of icy misadventure by spinning a Jaguar XJ6 on black ice using a fence as my brakes. The damage was considerable. This catalogue of errors did mean that when this sprinkling fell I was careful and expert. In our village most folk seemed to stay home and where others did venture out skidding was de rigueur. Climate warming means our preparedness and driving skills are poor when it snows. Another reason to keep our planet cold (?)
The end of the world as we know it
I was thinking that Elon Musk’s been successfully sullied by the British media and a lot of politicians because they don’t like what he says. However, why should we care what Musk says or really thinks? Undeniably the boy Musk is a loose cannon living on the spectrum with too much money and a selection of occasionally difficult political views that offend those who wish to be offended. He puts his thoughts out by X (formerly Twitter).However when we talk about his platform then how many of your family are on X? Are many/any of friends on X? If you went up the street and did a survey of your neighbours, would you find one person on X? To me it just seems only those who are political or politically inclined and in the media hang onto his every word and then relay it to the rest of the country. From here Musk gets the influence he sought.
I’m not a particular TV ‘Who Dunnit’ fan but Slow Horses was recommended and we ended up bingeing all four series. It is exceptional. This spy thriller is blessed by having Gary Oldman as the lead and Kristin Scott Thomas alongside. We had a ‘window’ of owning Apple TV after buying a mobile phone to do this. Frankly having a subscription to Netflix, Disney, Sky, Apple TV, Amazon Prime etc. is impossible and not worthwhile as it seems they seldom have a full selection of programmes to keep you interested. Don’t get me started on football being spread over five channels…
Whilst we’re talking about ne’er do wells then in Anna’s digging into my forbears we found a cousin, Malcolm. In my twenties I met him as he visited my father and sister in Leeds. I mainly recollect him being a bit flash and hiring a big car to bring him and his family up from London. However, at a young age he’d emigrated to New Zealand where he ran a ladies’ hairdressing salon until leaving for Australia to study and qualify as a lawyer in his forties. This I knew but never enquired or understood his branch of the law. It seems that the Australian police did and there’s quite a lot written up about him. The Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia set up a Royal Commission of Inquiry into Drug Trafficking, which reported in early 1983. The narrative says that he was the lawyer who moved money around for one of the ‘Mr Big’s’ in this organised trade of importing narcotics from the Far East into country. Apart from enormous sums of money involved this activity involved many players, some of whom were convicted for murder. Malcolm, was interviewed by the authorities and his nefarious actions identified. I would like to track things further to see if he did time but our trail has gone cold. If he’s alive he’s 88 years old.
Lastly, Over Christmas and the New Year we saw a lot of our daughters and husbands over in York. It was lovely but I did reflect that many years ago, when they started courting and boyfriends visited with them, I was unenthusiastic (and out voted by Anna) that they should share a bedroom, let alone a bed, whilst under our roof. I need not have worried, things change. With the priority of actually sleeping, conflicting types of bed preferences and a light sleeping baby they split up and utilised all our bedrooms as they all slept alone!
Someone who was always sleeping by herself had a lovely Christmas and her favourite present was Grandma’s pan drawer.
Gosh, it’s time, slightly belatedly, to tell you about my best picks for 2024. As usual I received a steady flow of download MP3 files of country and americana music from Country Music People or from various US public relation companies who randomly sent their client’s music to me. Added to this was music I purchased, nearly all of it was from previous years and decades. In this category I mainly bought second hand or new vinyl plus a few CDs and the odd download. I don’t subscribe consistently to a streaming service: I just can’t get along with curating my music that way.
Frankly this all adds up to about 170 albums. That’s between 5 or 6 full days of sound. How do I listen to them all? No I haven’t yet! I will eventually get through them all and some won’t be worthy but I diligently try to listen to all I receive. I remember a phrase applied to an album was that it was a ‘grower’. Frankly I’m sure I’ve got many albums I’ve played only once and maybe with more listening i might have elevated their rating, but hey ho there are only so many hours in the day. So here is my flawed highlights of the year…
Silverada
Texan Mike Harmeier’s metamorphosis from Mike and the Moonpies’ straight country to the country rock/americana of Silverada was ‘light the blue touch paper’ moment for me. This combination of epic grooves, squally guitar solos and interesting stories with country tinges was completely my bag. Loved it all year.
2. Johnny Blue Skies – Passage du Desir
I was sceptical of the publicity that accompanied Sturgill Simpson’s release. However, this is a stellar release that made it worth the wait and his sojourn to Paris to find some wonderful tunes, rock vibes, muscular guitar playing and blue eyed soul was a great detour.
3. Heather Little – By Now
This singer songwriter release alighted in my inbox and I was captivated from the first play with the mellifluous vocals, fine arrangements and melodies. Apparently she’s a songwriter for others but she has all the talent to be the main act.
4. Maggie Rose – No One Gets Out Here Alive
After 100 appearances at The Grand Old Opry this Nashville stalwart has moved toward americana/soul; her voice is a siren and the album was so sumptuous and drenched in melodies that I couldn’t resist.
5. Beyoncé – Cowboy Carter
No, never a country album, however, all the fuss about it drove it into my orbit and I had a good listen. This icon really is steeped in many genres and this album illustrated many of them from a little line dancing to straight soul often with many beguiling stops in between. Truly a crafted opus.
6. 49 Winchester – Leavin’ This Holler
A tight country rock delight with excellent tunes and lyrics from mainman Isaac Gibson. He tells a variety of love songs and tales of life on the road. The band coalesce around his lead and make one of my most enjoyable listens this year.
7. William Alexander – The Singing Stockman
He makes a living moving cattle in New South Wales. Here, he picks up his guitar and beautifully sings Western. His simple arrangements place you in the middle of the Outback dealing with blistering temperatures, brutal hours and dreaming of weekends.
8. Glenn Campbell Duets – Ghost On The Canvas Sessions
One of Campbell’s last releases was reworked with inserted duets. The fine tunes, arrangements and production add to the pathos. He sings of his impending drift away and its impact on loved ones as Alzheimer’s takes him over. Brave and touching.
9. Billy Strings – Highway Prayers
Our Bill is now a major international draw with his complex and expert bluegrass. Who thought banjos, fiddles, mandolins and acoustic guitars could sell out stadiums? This high energy mix of finger frenzy and country tunes has considerable charm and stands clear of the pack.
10. English Teacher – This Could Be Texas
A Mercury Prize winner is usually a turn off as an uncommercial indulgence by those music critics who live on the fringe of anything interesting or remotely durable in appeal. However these winners made a complex and densely packed rock record that was worthy of slotting in beside Steely Dan, The Editors and Moloko. Something to explore and extract more pleasure from on each listen.
Here’s my year through letters of the alphabet although dreaming up a skirmish with a zebra for the ‘Z’ did prove elusive! As always it’s been a good year, but ‘A” does begin the alphabet with a fall…
Austria certainly changed the year. On a forest mountain path, near Hinterglemm, Anna stepped onto a tree root and broke her ankle in two places. From here mountain rescue retrieved her and we eventually got to York District Hospital five days later, at 4am, to start the proper treatment. Anna has worked hard, recovered really well and is making great progress. This journey was blogged – click the link.
Books. I’ve read Slow Horses (Fiction – M Herron), A Bit Of A Stretch (Prisoner journal – C Atkins), Abroad In Japan (Living in Japan – C Broad), We Need to talk About Xi (China Politics – M Dillon), Decline & Fall: Diaries 2005 – 2010 (Politics – C Mullin), Hundred Year Marathon (China Politics – M Pillsbury), Why Can’t We All Just Get Along (Social musing – I Dale), Politics On The Edge (Politics – R Stewart) and Becoming (Biography – M Obama.)
Cousins meet up. Anna has been enthusiastic about genealogy and researched both sides of our family in. On my side an illegitimate child and a criminal have come to light but more pleasing but maybe less exotic some cousins have been found. My mother was one of six and the youngest. Anna found two cousins from my Uncle Jack who I had known albeit I think I last saw and spoke to them fifty years ago. From my Uncle Bert, a man I have no recollection of having met (and if he met me then I was a baby/toddler) came Bernice. Our meet ups have been nostalgic, educational and informative. Here’s to more relatives!
Departed. This year has been light on deaths but I recollect a call to a friend (Lyndon) in London, when beside the road on my bike leaving Mildura in Victoria, Australia at 5am, to learn the chap who introduced me to publishing album reviews had died. His website and podcast were The Americana Music Show. Calvin was 58 and lived in North Carolina. The other news came via a Facebook post. Duncan Warwick, the owner, editor and main contributor at Country Music People also succumbed to cancer after a very short illness. This is the magazine I write for. He was 63 years old. I knew he had health challenges but didn’t anticipate this.
Expedition. I loved another long bike ride from Sydney to Canberra and then onto Adelaide. This was through the Australia I liked: working folks, big distances, big skies, great campsites and unbelievable memories. My February and March 1,100 miles are much covered elsewhere on this website. Click the link there are several blog from beginning to end.
Flight. A memorable visit was to the Duxford Air Museum. Apart from many exhibits of aircraft from bi-planes, military vehicles to Concorde there was a Spitfire and Hurricane taking off and landing on the runway. The vastness and breadth of the exhibits was engrossing. Having driven past it so many times on the M11 it was about time we popped in. Fabulous.
Gigs. There were plenty and even a couple in the USA. The list included Molly Tuttle, Tommy Emmanuel, The Average White Band, Julie Roberts (in Nashville), Lionel Richie (In Memphis), Kiki Dee, Guy Davis, Blackberry Smoke, Crowded House, Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit. Which was best? I enjoyed them all bar The Pretenders but Nathanial Rateliff and the Night Sweats bordered on astonishing.
Holidays. As retired folk then this is always on our mind and you’ll see the 2024 ones listed here. 2025 has already got Texas and France booked. France will be in the Morgan via the ferry, thanks to one of P&O’s promotions.
Isabella Isla. Our granddaughter continued to delight and she clocked up 12 months on Planet Earth in early December. A beautiful child with a lovely temperament being brilliantly brought up by her hard working parents. Her smile can melt away a number of problems although as she now becomes mobile she’s generating a few! Next year will be another interesting year.
Journey. Cycling keeps me fit, lets me see the world and provides great pleasure. Inevitably I get a number of injuries to keep the local physios busy; the main worry I always have is whether I can get back on my bike asap! Since 1994 I’ve cycled over 103,000 miles. In 2024 it was 4,200 miles.
Kangaroos. On February 23rd I truly lived the dream. It was an 84 miles ride between Temora and Narrandera in NSW, Australia and it was all through flat farm land with nothing to see. I pedalled for 8 hours listening to podcasts or music wandering what the town ahead offered? As I’m deep in my own world having not seen a car or person for what seemed like hours I spied in my peripheral vision two kangaroos bounding past me silently in a parallel field. (They can move at speed!) After they got past me they crossed the road and disappeared into a wood. That’s why I do it.
Last Guide Tour. I enjoyed my time as a tour guide. It got the adrenalin flowing and I’ve seen much of Yorkshire, Northumberland and The Cotswolds. Most of the guests were interesting and fun to be with. The company I worked for veered between supportive and kind to disorganised and deceptive. This is why I ended the work, however, I learned a lot and have some great memories.
Madeira. We were there for a few nights in April. What a lovely island. I’d thought it may be very similar to the Canary Islands but it was quite different with more to see. A super break. Highly recommended.
Narrandera. This small town in New South Wales was a stopover as I headed from Sydney to Adelaide. With the use of the Talksport App I was able to listen to Leeds United vs Leicester City as I cycled the next morning. I listened to live commentary of an evening match. We won this table top clash but from here our season drifted into disappointment. If there was one addiction I could kick then supporting this damn team would be the one!
Peeved. So many of these entries are significant events but one thing that stuck with me from the year was a testy conversation with a bar owner in Rome. With Neil and Paul I entered a bar close to our accommodation and ordered drinks. The barmaid who took the order didn’t pour our drinks but, behind the bar, washed glasses, moved things around and then disappeared! After some time I got frustrated and suggested we leave. So we ambled down a narrow street home when a short woman appeared asking why we’d left the bar after ordering the drinks? Here was a small woman facing up to three men in the dark; it seemed unusually brave. We told her clearly about the lousy service and she countered that it was being sorted but in an adjacent room! I was impressed by her ‘front’ if not their service and so we wandered back to have a drink.
Older. As I clocked up 69 years in March I was now older than both my father and paternal grandfather when they died. It seemed profound. Let’s hope I can stretch the gap!
Qatar Airways. The bastards stopped me boarding a flight to Doha, and then onto Sydney. The reason was the condition of my passport. Anna had washed it in Queensland but despite being a little weary it’d since got me in and out of New Zealand, through Australia and in and out of Spain and Portugal since it’s ‘wash’. To find that you’re bounced at Check In was devastating. I had to reschedule and rebook at considerable cost.
Records. I never threw away my vinyl records when from the 1980s they went out of fashion. Viva the CD! However, they’re back and riffling through racks in second hand stores is a joy whether in Yorkshire, Australia or the USA. This year I acquired a further 47 discs. I think I will do a blog on this next year.
Sightseeing. A trip in October to Rome with Paul and Neil was to see the Vatican, Colosseum, Pantheon, Tiber etc. As very old friends we’d started meeting up in London for a meal and then progressed to a few nights in Malaga. This year it was Rome. See the blog on the website – click the link.
Tennessee – In late May Anna and I flew to Nashville. Here we saw the sights and heard a little music before driving to Memphis to do the same. I was last here in 2015. Later we flew out to Georgia to see my niece and family before driving back to Nashville via the Smoky Mountains. It was good to get my regular dose of America. This is written up elsewhere on the website – click this link.
Victoria. Amongst my annual highlights was to ride a bike in Savannah, Georgia and then back in Yorkshire later in the year with my niece. The first time. The USA ride was on the flat at pace on a titanium framed bike her husband, Ben, provided. The UK trip was around our house. Such a memory. Oh yes, she’s a lot better than me!
Writing.My monthly album reviews keep me sharp and working to deadlines. I write at least three reviews a month. Most of the artists I’ve, frankly, never heard of before which means lots of research to knock out c350 words per record. All this is for Country Music People. It’s part of my life.
X Factor. A surprising but complete delight was a visit to Leeds Playhouse to see Opera North’s My Fair Lady. Lerner and Loewe’s adaptation of a George Bernard Shaw play hit Broadway in 1956 and was one of the golden age of musicals. This cast did a wonderful job and re-ignited my enthusiasm for live theatre.
Nashville based singer songwriter, Liv Greene, possesses a siren of a voice that she puts to good use on introspective, sentimental and revealing songs; accompanying herself on acoustic guitar. Whilst still in her mid-twenties she’s created a career and been on a journey of discovery and developed growing confidence about herself, her sexuality and as a musician.
What we have here are ten tender melodies mainly about her feelings on romance and nascent relationships. In Deep Feeler she tells of her own emotional proclivities and the effect it can have on others. However, for all the interesting words it’s a stunning musical start. You’re introduced to her beautiful voice that can tug you in various directions depending on the story. She says she wanted to create an album that showed her as vulnerable in a sparse landscape. It’s certainly all that and whilst the acoustic instrumentation is light her voice is a seductive sound that you’ll want the opportunity to concentrate on.
The mood throughout is mainly reflective as she strums and the upright bass pulses behind her, however, on Katie the voice delivers the tune but some blue tinged picked notes show her musicality on six strings to give this real warmth and some sparse violin waits in the shadows to enhance the sweetness. Given she produced this then evident is a real talent, not least as an arranger. I’ve Got My Work To Do is straight country with a little electric guitar and it possesses a lot more verve. Here she’s joined by Sarah Jarosz on mandolin and harmony vocals. Jarosz is also found on You Were Never Mine,another song of angst with a chorus that delights.
This second album should provide a platform for her to get a bigger audience. There are many women singer songwriters over the last 50 years who’ve provided a template for Greene but Olive Klug, Jaimee Harris and Courtney Marie Andrews come to mind as talented contemporaries. I think we’ll be hearing a lot more of her and hopefully on our shores before too long.
For those tracking Anna’s rehabilitation after breaking her ankle on an Austrian mountain side in August then she’s been signed off by her consultant and is doing well. Her independence has returned i.e. can drive. Predictably, her ankle still needs physiotherapy and dedication to a regime to continue the improvement in flexibility and strength. She’s been stoic and patient and her rewards are now plain to see. Hopefully this will enable us to plan a little more and get some holidays booked.
An important visitor came to Chateau Ives and is now becoming highly mobile!
Son-in-law, Harry, received his Master’s degree in Engineering in the wonderful setting of The Bridgewater Hall in central Manchester last month. He’s worked hard and gained another qualification, well done! He’s musing about a doctorate now.
Sadly, a man who played an important part in my monthly schedule died after a short illness at the age of 63. The editor at Country Music People magazine, Duncan Warwick, passed away after a short illness. In 2017 I made a speculative call to him and after he checked my writing I was reviewing for the magazine and on the news stand. I enjoy the monthly work with its need for research and deadline requirements. It also kept me nicely abreast of what was happening in Country music and Americana. Given that Duncan was the editor, owner and main contributor there is a large gap to fill.
Next magazine cover
My last post was an article I wrote for my first company’s (Aveling Marshall) magazine. This prompted me to travel to Newark in early November to look around a heritage tractor show. Not only were there Marshall tractors on display but Ford ones as well. After I left Aveling Marshall I went directly to Ford Tractor Operations and spent six years there. It was fascinating to look at tractors that still had components on them that I bought from the UK, Germany and Spain back in the day. Very nostalgic.
Over the last few weeks there has been plenty of live music to report. Crowded House at the O2 in London were exceptional. The songs, including new ones, were fabulous and the banter fun. The Pretenders in Nottingham was plain disappointing. Chrissie Hynde was fully intact and arsy at the majestic age of 73. She bashed through lots of newer thrashy stuff and was parsimonious with the ‘hits’. I wasn’t the only disappointed attendee. Guy Davis an old black bluesman played Selby Town Hall. On acoustic guitar he worked through a catalogue of his own tunes and some blues standards. He had lots of personality and managed an obligatory pre-election rant about Trump. (I’ve heard several from the stage over the years.) Needless to say that went well didn’t it! Savannah Gardner, an aspiring country singer at a small venue in York was terrific and then we drove up to Stockton to see Jason Isbell. Maybe a name not known to many outside of Americana and Country circles, however, a major star who delivered a fabulous rock fuelled collection of observations about America and relationships. I will be knocking up my Top 10 shortly.
Lastly, I am not a foodie but we had a delicious lunch in North Yorkshire at the Abbey Inn at Byland Abbey. I do like a nice meal with the first wife but we seldom push the boat out. Given the festive time of year it was truly time to propel the vessel toward the water and in biblically wet and gale force weather we drove up the country lanes north of York. It’s a Tommy Banks’ establishment and after smoked mackerel pâté on sourdough, as a starter, I chose one of his famous pies. (He recently had a van stolen with 2,500 of them in it. The loss was terrible but the publicity priceless on TV and radio.) Mine was a sumptuous braised beef and blue cheese one with vegetables. Needless to say this would have got stuck in my throat without a little lubrication. This was overcome with a draught pint of blonde ale from Helmsley Brewing Co. Still finding room I couldn’t resist a dessert, a chocolate delice. This outing won’t cheer the daughters. Paying for it meant denting their inheritance with a hefty clout. But hey, you only live once!
A new record from Johnson is an exciting event, not least because it’s his first solo release in 14 years. He didn’t feel the need to record but the recent passing of Toby Keith brought home the fact that he wouldn’t hear any new music from his friend and maybe he should add to his own catalogue? He’s a staple of the country music scene despite his solo recording reticence and he’s regularly found on tribute albums (John Anderson and Johnny Cash) or duetting (Blackberry Smoke and Julie Roberts). He’s a ‘go to’ artist with a voice that places him alongside Chris Stapleton with his sauntering yet soulful baritone that exudes gravitas and presence.
The title track is the first indication that you’re in the presence of greatness. A rueful heartbreak song about a lover who’s moved on is on his mind as he drives into the night. A delicious chorus over an easy rhythm that places this somewhere a couple of decades back in sound. Johnson is never hurried and he considers and lives every word he sings.
A couple of the songs cover his current condition and state of mind. Sober is a slow and bluesy ballad with a lachrymose harmonica about his continuing battle for sobriety. I’m Tired of it All with Randy Houser is a classic touring showman’s weary assessment of his life and its waning attraction. With that emotion 21 Guns mines his own military experience: he was a US Marine for six years. The lyrics are beautiful and relate to a soldier’s funeral – “And there ain’t words to say / How proud we all are of you, son / Nothing says job well done / Like twenty-one guns”.
It’s not all downbeat and Saturday Night in New Orleans, a co-write with Chris Stapleton and Tony Joe White, is an atmospheric Southern swamp funk with words that paint a picture of debauchery as a trumpet wails. Doctor John would have been proud. Most of the songs are co-writes but Trudy is a Charlie Daniels cover and blissfully rolls like Little Feat. Some funky rhythm and brass accompany a complicated story about a card game and an importune accusation of the meanest man in Dallas of cheating. Needless to say he was not impressed and our hero now fears for his life.
Johnson exudes a certain insouciance with What You Answer To. It reflects on the names you get called. There’s a play on words with being called, whether on the phone or as a name. The answer to this variety of greetings is simply to respond to the name you accept.
For all his lack of records he tours regularly and can be found criss-crossing the USA but having new material is a boost. It’s good to have him back. Let’s not leave it so long next time?
Tony Ives’ Blog 