Train Train

Got stuck waiting for the train to go by today and remembered my summer by the tracks, which I memorialized in a TWANG! column...

TWANG!
That Empire State ain't mine
By DAVID REY

To borrow a line from eccentric country singer Victoria Williams – “I’d like to take this time to complain… about the train.”

Now without a doubt, trains are untouchable in the category of inanimate objects with the coolest songs written about them. Nothing else even comes close – boots and Cadillacs come in a distant second and third.

So why is it I hate trains so much right now? Might be because I just moved into a trailer that’s 50 feet from the train tracks.

Now every night is like the New Madrid earthquakes – with the vibrations from the iron horses forcing me to put my hand on the floor to stop from falling out of bed. Boxcar hookups at the siding just down the tracks are like the sound of an atomic bomb going off in a mountain of frying pans.

Keeerrraaaang! I’m not ready for that great atomic power.

Thankfully, this residency next to the tracks is temporary – just hanging out there until our new house is built in the north end of Cheney. Two months is all I have to share with the trains.

I’m thinking that by the end of the week I’ll be used to the noises and the trains will inspire a great burst of creativity. Maybe I’ve got a “Folsom Prison Blues” or “Mystery Train” in me.

Better yet, maybe the clickity-clickity-clack rhythm of the train will embed itself within my being. Then maybe I can play “Mystery Train” the right way. That song worked its way into its Elvis form out of blues and hill country tunes – the originator, whoever it was, must’ve had a shack next to the tracks.

I need to sit out on the porch and do like legendary bluesman Son House and his sidekick Willie Brown did. While Alan Lomax was doing one of his famous field recordings in Mississippi, with House and Brown on the porch of a mercantile store, a train choogled by while the duo was banging out some blues.

Undeterred by the sound invasion, House and Brown quickly adjusted their guitar timing to complement the train – hitting the downbeat on the clack and doing brushes on the clickity. It was a completely organic moment – like the opening of the first buttercup on a sunny early spring hillside.

That moment is but a part of the reason why trains inform the better nature of American music. The sound of the wheels turning on the track convey a natural shuffle beat – the burst of the horn emphasizing the chord change.

Moreover, the train is a powerful metaphor for escape, wandering, power and loss.

Along with that, everything associated with trains becomes more like a force of nature in American songs. From the out-of-control engineer Kassie (Casey) Jones, celebrated by bluesman Furry Lewis, to the footman who tells Son House he’d love to let him ride the blind, but alas, he can’t, because, “This Empire State ain’t mine.”

Now we know why Bascomb Lunsford sang, “A railroad man will kill you when he can and drink up your blood like wine,”in his 1928 song “I Wish I was a Mole in the Ground.”

But the train is also a celebrated sexual metaphor – the best example of this is served up by the Johnny Burnette Rock and Roll Trio’s “Train Kept A’ Rollin’” – where Burnette skips his stop at Albuquerque because the train kept a rollin’ all night long.

There isn’t enough space in this newspaper to contain all the great train inspired music – just like there is no radio that can contain the sorrow Robert Johnson emotes in his famous train song, “Love in Vain.” – “When the train, it left the station, with two lights on behind… The blue light was my blues and the red light was my mind… All my love’s in vain.”

So, I guess I should stop complaining about the train and see what it can teach me – of course, an uninterrupted night of sleep would also be nice…

My 6120 w/ Duane Eddy-style Bigsby handle 

Ode to the Bigsby

A wisdom-dipped friend of mine said he'd put a Bigsby on a Bigsby if he could. My brain can't wrap itself around the hypothetical sound of a vibrato being vibrato'd -- but I'm sure it would make your knees wobble a bit.

Since I came unto the joy of the Bigsby during my fling with a green-sparkl'd Gretsch Duo Jet, I can't imagine guitaring without the reassuring chromy handle tapping up against the side of my picking hand, awaiting the full-chord strum grip-down that seems to make its way into every thing I play now.

The sound noise makes when it passes through the loosen'd prism -- like being dipped in a pool just far enough for your ears to fill with water but having your eyes dry above the ripply surface.

Without it there would be no Rebel Rouser.

I think I may go with a fixed arm version soon -- which is so obtrusive that vibrato becomes sometimes accidental. There would be no ignoring it.

I wish I had it in my hand now.

It ain't bragging if it's the truth

I sired a thoroughbred...

Rey runs at record pace
Mike Saunders
Correspondent
May 12, 2005

Call her the Priest River Rocket.
Spartans junior AshLee Rey is tearing up the track this season – and tearing up the school record book along with it.
Rey, who confessed she doesn't really enjoy the grueling 400 meters, broke PR's record in the event three weeks ago and added another record in the 200 the same day.
For Rey, it seems like all this success is happening pretty fast.
"It's really exciting," said Rey, who also plays soccer and basketball for the Spartans. "I remember when I was a freshman, I would look at those records and think, 'Wow, I'll never break any of those, or get anywhere close.'
"It was surprising to me that I did, though, and I feel honored to be part of the school history."
What's not surprising, though, with the 3A District I meet scheduled Friday and Saturday at Timberlake High School in Spirit Lake, is that Rey has set some pretty lofty goals – for herself and for her teammates.
"This year, our girls' team has a really good chance of placing at state," Rey said. "And I want to try and help that happen as much as I can. … It would be kind of cool to get (an individual) state championship, of course."
This season, Rey has twice defeated defending 400 state champ Jamie Brower of Kellogg.
But what's up with this aversion to a race at which she's so good?
"I really don't like the 400 at all," Rey said. "It's HARD. I don't know, it's just the thought of it, I guess. The 200 is my favorite race – it's like the perfect distance, but my coaches got me started in the 400 relay and now I run it."
Combine that dislike with what Rey referred to as "world-class butterflies" and it would seem she couldn't possibly succeed.
For Rey, though, two negatives apparently make a positive.
"I get nervous, so I try not to think about it," Rey said of competing. "I think when I do get the most nervous is when I perform the best – it must be the adrenaline.
"I haven't thrown up yet, but I always feel like it."
Rey said she couldn't do any of it without the help of her parents.
"They always support me," Rey said. "I don't live with both of them, so getting to practices and meets can be hard for them.
"But they always make it there.
"I really want to go to a four-year college," added Rey, who thinks architecture or forensic science would be interesting majors. "I'd like to get a scholarship to run track, for sure."

Linkie: Spokesman Review

Exile Redux

While I was going through my old TWANG! columns I came across my favorite one -- and ode to the Stones' "Exile on Main Street." I thought I'd post it up here.

I truly do classify Exile as one of the most dangerous of Rock and Roll records -- it is so engaging that it really isn't usable as background music. If you are going to listen to it, make sure you can give it your undivided attention, or you risk bodily harm...

TWANG!
Driving Stoned
By David Rey

There are few activities more dangerous than operating a motor vehicle under the influence of “Exile on Main Street.”

I found this out during a routine two-hour drive back from Idaho on Tuesday night. After some innocent singing along with a Lucinda Williams disc, I popped in the Rolling Stones’ devil music and just one minute into the opening song, “Rocks Off,” I nearly drove into the ditch.

It was like having my finger shoved in and out of an electrical plug-in. My eyes glowed yellow, my teeth began to grind and my toes twitched uncontrollably. And I liked it.

That record, released when I was a mere two years old, is the definition of a Rock and Roll record. It’s got all the necessary elements – it’s loud, it’s raw, it’s somewhat ill mannered and it shouts “yes, yes, yes!” when mom is saying “no, no, no.”

Energy of the sort pouring off of that record is found in just a few Rock and Roll records – “Highway 61 Revisted” by Bob Dylan, Johnny Burnette and the Rock and Roll Trio’s mythic album on Coral Records and “London Calling” by The Clash – to name three.

I managed to keep things under control and between the lines – despite shouting “The sunshine bores the daylights out of me,” at the appropriate time.

After 20 miles, I finally made it to song two.

The record shifts into a boogie mode for the next few songs, allowing the listener to relax a bit before getting knocked over by the “Tumbling Dice.”

The instrumental break in the middle part of that song is pretty near perfection. It’s hard to concentrate on the road and catch every word Mick Jagger is mumbling. Thankfully, I had listened to the record enough times that I could keep half my mind engaged on driving.

Everybody that loves that record has their favorite track. Mine is “Stop Breaking Down,” the best remake of a Robert Johnson song – ever.

A guy on the Internet’s Telecaster Discussion Page said every time he hears the raw opening riff of that song he wants to “hock a big loogie on the nearest wall or Republican.” It certainly isn’t a George Bush kinda song.

Not with lyrics like “Stuff is gonna bust your brains out baby, gonna make you lose your mind.” You know, it’s not bragging if it’s the truth.

Rolling Stone magazine critic Paul Nelson once called “Exile on Main Street” aural film noir. I think that pretty much captures it.

I made it home unscathed but not untouched. My wife gave me a strange look when I got home from work today and the first words out of my mouth were, “Don’t move your lips, just shake your hips.”

Also…

I just finished reading “Country: The Twisted Roots of Rock ‘N’ Roll,” by Nick Tosches. It’s an underground classic that I’d been meaning to pick up and read for the past few years.

All the things you didn’t want to know about early country music and its roots are in this book. Of course, the things you didn’t want to know are the most interesting. The passage that talks about Western Swing pioneer Spade Cooley murdering his wife is alone worth the price of the book.

You’ll never listen to country music the same again after reading Tosches’ work. If you’re curious, you can pick up a copy on Amazon.com for $12 new or $7 used. I highly recommend it.

Dave’s Top 5 Car Stereo Songs for Jan. 3
1. “Rocks Off” by The Rolling Stones
2. “Drug Store Truck Drivin’ Man” by The Byrds
3. “Country Blues” by Dock Boggs
4. “Walking the Floor Over You” by Ernest Tubb
5. “Baby, Let’s Play House” by Elvis Presley

Feathers revisited

I drove home for Mother's Day on Sunday, armed with nothing but rockabilly music to guide my steering hand for the 90-mile trip.

Around Creston, Charlie Feathers' time had arrived. As I listened to the Hillbilly Symphony I harkened back to the time I wrote about Feathers in my music column a couple years ago -- which I've decided to reprint here, as I will do with my old TWANG! columns now and again...

TWANG!
The Forgotten King -- Charlie Feathers
By DAVID REY

A four-year search ended last week in Seattle’s Tower Records when my trembling hands plucked “Get With It: Essential Recordings of Charlie Feathers (1954-69)” from the shelf in disbelief.

A compendium of all of Feathers’ recordings done in his early and later career, the CD is part of the ultra-cool lineup of low print offerings from Revenant Records. The Feathers CD has been out of print since its initial pressing in 1998 and has become almost impossible to find.

Yet, there it was in a megastore.

I heard “One Hand Loose” about a year after the Revenant disc was released and was completely smitten. The song was cut from the same stone that gave us Elvis’ classic Sun Records rockabilly tunes.

Elvis and Charlie Feathers were contemporaries at Sun Records destined to head the same direction musically but the opposite direction in every other regard.

Fate is very fickle, and Feathers, like fellow unrecognized rockabilly titans Billy Lee Riley and Sonny Burgess, ended up getting the short end of the stick while Elvis turned into, well, Elvis.

Part of Feathers’ problem was that he had one of the greatest natural country music singing voices walking the planet. Sun Records producer Sam Phillips heard Feathers sing and decided he had the second coming of Hank Williams on his hands.

Consequently, he only allowed Feathers to record country tunes at Sun while Feathers was itching to create rockabilly noise.

“He really had it, but he was a little difficult, and that was how I never managed to get the best out of him.” Phillips said of Feathers. “He could’ve been the George Jones of his day – a superb stylist.”

The four-hour ride from Seattle back to Cheney provided plenty of car stereo time to get through all 42 tracks on the disc – to the dismay of my 15-year-old daughter.

Phillips wasn’t stretching things in his estimation of Feathers’ talent to sing country music. Any skepticism was splatted like the Kittitas Valley bugs on my windshield when the opening track on the collection, “I’ve Been Deceived,” sauntered out of the car speakers.

Pure brilliance.

Feathers was not only one of the true purveyors of rockabilly, for which he is now recognized, but he turned out to also be possibly the greatest country singer nobody has ever heard.

It’s truly a shame that a man of his talent could not find his way to the spotlight while lesser mortals sidled up to the stardom trough.

Feathers spent the last decade or so of his life holding court at the Hilltop Lounge in Memphis, doling out earthshaking rockabilly and plaintive country howlings a half-hour at a time to the regular patrons and the rockabilly freaks that traveled thousands of miles to see him in the flesh.

Peter Guralnick vividly captures the modest Cult of Feathers in a priceless passage of “Lost Highway,” his seminal literary exploration of American roots artists.

Guralnick called a Feathers performance for the gathered believers at the Hilltop “An informal symphony of hillbilly soul.”

Oh Mama! The CD is the best I could do, but I would’ve loved to get in on some of that informal symphony music. How could I resist hillbilly soul?

Dave’s Top-5 Car Stereo Songs for Aug. 21
1. “Lonesome, On’ry and Mean” by Henry Rollins
2. “Stephanie Says” The Velvet Underground
3. “I’ve Been Deceived” by Charlie Feathers
4. “You Make Me Real” by The Doors
5. “Sway” by Alejandro Escovedo

Reyes DeLeon

I'll admit that I was a bit curious as to what the make up of a Kings of Leon concert crowd in Spokane would look like -- actually, I was curious as to whether there would even BE a Kings of Leon concert crowd in dynamic ol' Spokane...

Well, people did show up -- and they looked fairly close to what you'd see at a Chiefs hockey match -- with a few stringy-haired distant-eyed folks mixed in (which is how I expect the target demographic for the KOL's first record actually typically appears.)

I may not be in the KOL target demographic, but I do like their tunes -- have ever since I accidently stumbled across them a bit over a year ago in a Napster "recommended" link.

Just to get the review of the show out of the way...

It was damn good -- though they gypped us out of the obligatory encore, which I hadn't seen a band do since the early 90s when a pissed-off Billy Corgan cut short a Smashing Pumpkins set after about six songs, nearly starting a riot...

The show was so strong though, that I think KOL got away with it -- though I'll surely hold it against them enough to figure out a way to not have to buy their new record, while still getting all the songs for my personal use...

One thing that I really noticed about their live show vs. the "Youth and Young Manhood" record that was engineered by Ethan Johns -- the record totally underutilizes their strong rhythm section.

Nathan and Jared Followill know how to ride a groove and it was very evident during the live show -- it's not so much on the Y&YM record. Plus, Jared plays that way badass Thunderbird bass...

Encore or not, it was worth the 17 bucks...