Garcia/Hunter/Curley, songwriters

Many years ago, while I was a student at Sonoma State College, I had the "responsibility" of hosting Grateful Dead Lyricist Robert Hunter while he played a solo concert in the Student Union. At the time, he was half of my favorite songwriting team, (Jerry) Garcia / Hunter.  They crafted the excellent songs that powered the Dead, and that still provide The Dead and Company with material that we all love and adore, and hum and sing, some 50 years later (WTF!?!).

The concert promoter was Bill Bourland, a fellow student and a good friend of mine.  He billed it as a "Pillow Concert", and folks were encouraged to bring soft comfy things to lay on the carpeted floor while my good friend, Bob, played his acoustic guitar. In his raspy, pirate like voice, he played the hits, including "Ripple", "Truckin'", "Sugar Magnolia", and his own "Tiger Rose". It was thrilling to hear rough solo versions of tunes we had all heard performed dozens of times by the band.

It was a little odd to be "responsible" for Robert Hunter. He was not unfriendly, but we were both a little uneasy.  After all, I was to hang with Hunter, and he was stuck with me.  But I had planned ahead, and proposed that we commit a small criminal offense before he took the stage. Luckily, he thought that was a grand idea!

While committing this crime, we engaged in small talk.  He spoke of living out on the River, and I told him that I played the guitar.  He was unimpressed.  Thankfully, it was soon show time.  Hunter opened his case, took out his guitar (a Martin D-35 if I remember correctly) and left my realm of "responsibility".

That's about it, not much of a story.  So now I can start making shit up.  I told him that in about 40 years there would be this person running for President who had absolutely no business doing so.  I also told him that I was going to be in a band called The Cork Pullers, based over the hill in Sonoma.  Hunter became excited, and shared some lyrics that he had written on a legal pad and stashed in a Peachee. They were to a song called "Wave that Flag", and were just a bunch of common phrases tied together musically.  He suggested that I add a verse to his song,  one about this jackass who was to run for President.  That sounded like a great idea, so I did.

( this part is true ) "Wave that Flag" eventually became "U.S. Blues", and last night while The Cork Pullers played our second set at the fabled Murphy's Irish Pub in Sonoma, that added verse was revealed to the world. The verses to "US Blues" are rollicking, and the chorus anthem-like.  Fun stuff.  The crowd usually really enjoys the song, and last night was even better than usual.  If you don't know the song, give it a listen…and imagine my verse tacked on to the end after the final chorus, followed by another chorus.

                                                       Burkha black, scarlet Fez
                                                       Time of year, to elect a Prez
                                                       Cast your vote, don't let it pass
                                                       Donald Trump, you can kiss my ass!

The Passing of Another Great Musician

Guy Clark died today, at his home in Texas, at the age of 74. Simply enough stated, and definitely sad enough. Another one gone.  This has been a tough year for music fans. No need to list all who have passed on, but his one is hard for me.  I am going to miss Guy Clark.

That didn't really sink in until my daughter, Molly, wrote to me, "Sorry you lost one of your guys." It was then that I realized that not many days go by that I don't sing a line of his, or think of something I heard him say - to me- on the few, precious times that I saw him perform live. He was one of my guys.

"Texas singer / songwriter". No, he was not just a singer songwriter.  The words to his songs, they weren't "lyrics", too high falootin' a term for Guy, were genuine and honest and very straight forward.  Silly at times, his "Homegrown Tomatoes" and "Picasso's Mandolin" are downright infectious in their simplicity.  "Desperadoes Waiting for a Train" is so sad it drips. "LA Freeway" is disdainful and gorgeous, and "I Don't Love You Much Do I" is one of the best love songs I have ever heard.

I might be wrong about this, but the treatment he gave his songs never included an electric guitar, long a staple of Texas music.  Instead, he and his musical partner Verlon Thompson laid down undeniable acoustic guitar grooves, and the songs did not suffer the absence of the Tele. Vocal harmonies that were the envy of the trade were tastefully scattered around the verses.

A few years ago at Hardly Strictly, he told me…me, a story about an crotchety old man who made his own bullets. I am sure that Guy Clark did not make his own bullets, but he was his own man.  He was a "hero of our Country", and I loved him.  Always will.