Song of the Day-Lungs

Damn! Just wrote a long appreciation on Townes Van Zandt and the song of the day, which is "Lungs" from his 1969 self-titled album. Then, a wrong key struck on the typewriter, and off it goes somewhere in the ether. Grrrrrr! Don't feel like re-writing it.

But Townes was a remarkable songwriter. And a great influence on many who achieved more success than he did, sometimes with songs Townes wrote.

In April 1996 he played the old Ark in Ann Arbor. I have clipped out the review from the No Depression website archives by that fine musician (and Facebook friend) Will Stewart. The only detail I will add is that Guy Clark greeted the audience before his set with "Townes dark enough for you?"

But he was, and is, a fascinating character, and it is worth surfing over to his wikipedia entry to read about him. And if you have a chance, get over to Spotify or whatever music server you use, You Tube, Rhapsody etc and check out some Townes. A great influence on country and folk of the last 50 years. And check out today's song of the day!

Townes died in 1997, on New Years Day. Forty-four years to the day Hank Williams died. Townes died of withdrawal and detoxification from long term alcoholism at the age of 52.

Here's Will Stewarts fine piece on Townes and Guy Clark's show from 15 years ago:


Guy Clark • Townes Van Zandt
The Ark (Ann Arbor, MI), April 14, 1996
By Will Stewart
“I think I’m going stark, raving mad,” announced Townes Van Zandt by way of opening his portion of a double bill with old friend Guy Clark at Ann Arbor’s venerable folk music club.

“For real.”

Anyone familiar with Van Zandt knows the demons that have haunted him for decades are never far from the surface — particularly when he’s onstage. But his 45-minute set before a sold-out audience was an unmitigated disaster, even by his standards. Watching this show was like seeing someone have a complete mental breakdown. Like a train wreck, it was tragic yet impossible to look away. Shaky to the point of teetering on his stool, Van Zandt started his set with “Loretta”, which was rendered incomprehensible by Van Zandt’s mixed-up verses and forgotten lines.

The set really disintegrated during abortive versions of the Stones’ “Dead Flowers”; “Katie Belle Blue”, an original tune for his young daughter; and Lightinin’ Hopkins’ “My Starter Won’t Start”. By the time he got to “Pancho and Lefty” midway through the set, Van Zandt was so lost that the song crumbled into fragmented verses that caused it to lose all its impact. Two-thirds of the way through, he quit playing the guitar and tried to recite the rest of the song before wiping tears from his eyes at its conclusion.

A spoken-word reading of a song-in-progress, “Sanitarium Blues,” offered some insights into Van Zandt’s mental state. The song tells a harrowing tale of commitment to a mental hospital and was meant to be funny, he said. It wasn’t. It was tragic, as was Van Zandt, who appeared to be plagued more by melancholy than by drink.

Van Zandt had to stop “The Ballad of Ira Hayes” mid-song in a failed effort to collect himself after yet another botched verse. Surprisingly, he pulled himself together enough to conclude his set — after he’d already unplugged his guitar — with a stunning version of “Marie”, the stark tale of a homeless couple that perhaps added more clues to Townes’ emotional state. The set ended with Van Zandt sitting on the edge of the stage, head in hands, sobbing.

Guy Clark, flanked by his son, Travis, on acoustic six-string bass, lightened the mood considerably with a 75-minute set that was highlighted by the playful, harmonic interplay between father and son. The set kicked off with “Baton Rouge” before threading through a sampling of Clark’s 20-year recording career. Standout moments included “Homegrown Tomatoes”, “Desperados Waiting for a Train”, and “Baby Took A Limo To Memphis”, as well as standbys such as “Let Him Roll”, “L.A. Freeway” and “Coat from the Cold”.

Unfortunately, all of Clark’s upbeat banter and first-rate musicianship wasn’t enough to lift the collective vibe of despair that Van Zandt left behind onstage only an hour before.