Belted Galloway Cows in Easton, Maryland
Been too long!
Flew across the country. And you never know what those airplane magazines are going to reveal to you. Amidst all the buy this and you haven’t been there and you ain’t hip enough yet, I ran across a he’s-got-a-new-album-out piece about Merle Haggard. But what really took my eyes out of their sockets was the revelation that Haggard had written a song for Hillary Clinton during her Democratic Party nominee campaign. And it wasn’t a rundown. Instead, Miss Pant Suit got the thumbs up from a dude who was pardoned by Ronald Reagan. This drop of knowledge got the wheels spinning about what Hill might say about Merle’s "Are the Good Times Really Over (I Wish a Buck was still Silver)", especially the line “Before Microwave ovens when a girl could still cook, and still would.”
Merle Haggard - Are the Good Times Really Over (I Wish a Buck was Still Silver) [buy] [emusic]
Now it's possible this particular line is some more of that fly over your head irony, as found on “Okie from Muskogee” - when Merle’s tongue was a bit too buried in his check and apparently only hippies got the joke, except when they were getting the shit kicked out of them by those who thought Merle was preaching the gospel. But if the line is flying-high irony, it lands with a thud. (Thom Jurek's allmusic review inadvertently nails it by homophoning the quoted lyrics’ "would" with "wood.") But on “Are the Good Times Really Over” I just don’t hear any of the quick laughter that’s not so hidden on “Okie.” Here's Merle chuckling his way through the song:
Instead “Good Times” straight-on laments the loss of what to Merle (and many other post-1960s Americans) were defining characteristics of a once great nation: honor abroad and at home, hard-working men, women who knew how to cook and would, and well-built Chevys. Which brings me to Michael Hurley (who also seems to share a fondness for the Chevys of old).
I was over at Snock's website the other day and took a look at his online jukebox. And what did I find there but Hag’s “Are the Good Times Really Over.” Now if Michael Hurley is giving it the thumbs-up, then who the hell am I to question it? I definitely can’t question Hurley’s snoozing on the backporch genius, which on album after album re-grooves the world to its proper speed. There's plenty of nonsense lyrics in "Eyes Eyes," but Hurley sings them with break your heart tenderness.
Michael Hurley - Eyes Eyes [buy] [emusic]
And then I flew back to journey with pb down to the Eastern Shore of Maryland. We stopped in at Rabbit Hill, J. George’s record & musical instrument house.
And even though more than a few weeks have passed since Record Store Day, I want to cast my belated vote for Rabbit Hill. If you are traveling down Highway 50, be sure to stop by and see the big Rabbit (and get yourself fresh corn and tomatoes in his front yard). Then it was onto the shore where PB’s pops told us tales of hanging-out with Wade Ward and journeying deep into the West Virginia mountains to meet old-time fiddlers and banjo players and write-down traditional songs and tunings. Seems that if you wanted to gain the respect of the mountain men and women you hoped to learn from, it was best to carry a banjo or fiddle as a sign of legitimacy and seriousness. One old-timer met them at the door with a .45 and a shotgun, only to tell them to come on in once he saw the banjo cases. As he told these stories he played us Roscoe Holcomb singing high and lonesome on “Moonshiner.”
Roscoe Holcomb - Moonshiner [buy] [folkways]
Photo from Bob Adelman's thicket-dense photo-history of early 70s Camden, Alabama, Down Home.
Last but not least, back in the Hub I worldwidewebbed myself to a great music blog, Naturalismo (from where I snagged the Hurley photo). If you dig Devendra, Hurley, and Joanna Newsom, then you definitely want to type your way to Naturalismo. Cheers!
A far, far aside. In June 2010 GM, excuse me, General Motors sent a memo to require Chevrolet to be used in official communique, then a few days later something changed their collective mind. Complaints? Nostalgia? The Bluebird Sing blog? We'll never know.
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