Guy Clark RIP

I first came across Guy Clark courtesy of Robert Forster, who sang – on his Danger in the Past album – about “Wondering who sounds better in the dark / Is it Townes van Zandt or Guy Clark?” All told, I’m inclined to believe it’s the former, but it would be a close-run thing … Anyway, the sad news is that Guy Clark died today, aged 74. My favourite track of his is Desperadoes Waiting for a Train:

I played the Red River Valley
He'd sit in the kitchen and cry
Run his fingers through seventy years of livin’
And wonder, “Lord, why has every well I’ve drilled gone dry?”

Take it away, sir …

His Horse Was Fast As Polished Steel

KT McCaffrey (right) and your genial host have been rapping back and forth, on and off, about crime fic song lyrics, with Townes van Zandt a particular favourite of yours truly, in particular St. John the Gambler and Pancho and Lefty. Herewith be KT’s take on Pancho and Lefty, with which I agree for the most part – although I tend to believe that van Zandt’s version is the definitive one. Take it away, KT …

A SONG FOR KEN

Reading Ken Bruen’s AMERICAN SKIN set me off on the song lyric trail again ... in a roundabout sort of way. Bear with me. You see, Ken and I go back some ways. In 2001, a review for my third book THE BODY ROCK appeared in the Evening Herald, and because it took up half a page and was a particularly good critique, I noted the reviewer’s name: Ken Bruen. I’d never heard of Ken at the time but then I got hold of THE GUARDS and we made contact. We have, over the intervening years, developed a mutual respect for each other's writing. Ken dedicated THE VIXEN to me and worked my name into the text of THE DRAMATIST, while I brought THE GUARDS into the narrative in my last offering, THE CAT TRAP.
  Fast forward to AMERICAN SKIN. Dade is, without doubt, the No.1 bad dude in Bruen’s hierarchy of baddies. Early in Dade’s career, while imprisoned, his cell mate knocks out his teeth, saying, “Don’t need ’em for blow jobs.” Six months later, Dade settles the score by extracting the guy’s eyes with a spoon. Could only have come from the pen of Bruen.
  At one point in the story, Dade, with one eye on the Mexican border, conjures up a line from Pancho and Lefty – ‘All the Federales say ...’ – but can’t remember what comes next. Well, that got me thinking. I unearthed Willie and Merle’s definitive version of the Townes Van Zandt classic and thought I might share the lyrics with y’all.

PANCHO AND LEFTY

Living on the road my friend
Was gonna keep you free and clean
Now you wear your skin like iron
Your breath’s as hard as kerosene
You weren’t your mama’s only boy
But her favourite one it seems
She began to cry when you said goodbye
And sank into your dreams

Pancho was a bandit boys
His horse was fast as polished steel
Wore his gun outside his pants
For all the honest world to feel
Pancho met his match you know
On the deserts down in Mexico
Nobody heard his dying words
That’s the way it goes

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him hang around
Out of kindness I suppose

Lefty he can’t sing the blues
All night long like he used to
The dust that Pancho bit down south
Ended up in Lefty’s mouth
The day they laid poor Pancho low
Lefty split for Ohio
Where he got the bread to go
There ain’t nobody knows

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him slip away
Out of kindness I suppose

The poets tell how Pancho fell
Lefty’s livin’ in a cheap hotel
The desert’s quiet and Cleveland’s cold
So the story ends we’re told
Pancho needs your prayers it’s true,
But save a few for Lefty too
He just did what he had to do
Now he’s growing old

A few grey federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him go so wrong
Out of kindness I suppose

“The Only Salvation That’s Mine For The Asking …”

Following on from the flummery of song lyrics as potential crime novels, as originally suggested by KT McCaffrey some weeks back, we herewith present St. John the Gambler by Townes van Zandt (right, holding his guitar – and there’s no other way of putting this – like a tommy-gun). Would it make for a great crime novel? Erm, no, given that no actual laws appear to be broken, although those “dead men laying deep ’round the door” might warrant some investigation. Still, crime fic or otherwise, it’d make a terrific read. We’re thinking CITIES OF THE PLAIN meets WUTHERING HEIGHTS by way of David Goodis and Gil Brewer. Any takers for a collaboration?

St. John the Gambler by Townes van Zandt

When she had twenty years she turned to her mother
Saying Mother, I know that you’ll grieve
But I’ve given my soul to St John the gambler
Tomorrow comes time leave
For the hills cannot hold back my sorrow forever
And dead men lay deep ’round the door
The only salvation that’s mine for the asking
So mother, think on me no more

Winter held high round the mountain’s breast
And the cold of a thousand snows
Lay heaped upon the forest’s leaf
But she dressed in calico
For a gambler likes his women fancy
Fancy she would be
And the fire of her longing would keep away the cold
And her dress was a sight to see

But the road was long beneath her feet
As she followed her frozen breath
In search of a certain St John the gambler
Stumbling to her death
She heard his laughter right down from the mountains
And danced with her mother’s tears
To a funeral drawn a calico
’neath the cross of twenty years

To a funeral drawn a calico
’neath the cross of twenty years.

I Love Them Whores / They Never Judge You

The Grand Viz and KT McCaffrey have been rapping back and forth about songs as condensed crime fiction novels – stripped-back and pared-down narratives about losers, loners and the kind of suckers who never caught an even break. Bruce Springsteen’s album Nebraska could be considered a mini-library in that respect, although there’s a couple of Townes van Zandt (right, foreground) numbers – The Ballad of Pancho and Lefty, and Waiting ’Round to Die – the CAP Towers crew wouldn’t mind reading as fleshed-out tales. It’s been done before – nine years after Bobbie Gentry’s Ode to Billie Joe (1967) hit the top of the charts, Herman Raucher was commissioned to write a novel (Ode to Billy Joe) based on the lyrics, which then went on to become a best-seller.
  Meanwhile, the Grand Viz went stark raving crazy on his holidays and bought two – yes, two! – new CDs, one on the advice of John Connolly – the new Joan as Policewoman collection, on which the jury remains out – the other a best-of compilation from Jane’s Addiction, whom the Viz hadn’t really listened to since his college days but has been playing off the stereo for the last week. Jane’s Addiction, for those of you unfamiliar with this particular pop combo, were a scuzzy, gutter-friendly surfer band of reprobates and ne’er-do-wells who – much like The Pixies – did all the hard work breaking ground only to see some half-arsed wasters (take a bow, Nirvana) steal all the glory. Cheese-wire guitar licks, a seismic rhythm section, Perry Farrell’s plaintively whining vocals, and lyrics to die for (“I love them whores / They never judge you …”) all added up to a speed-fuelled, head-banging package that was just too hardcore for MTV – imagine Jean Genet writing the score to an unusually melodic earthquake and you’re halfway there. What Jane’s Addiction well might prove to be, however, is the perfect retro-soundtrack for a novel currently spinning its web around the darker caverns of the Grand Viz’s skull … we’ll keep you posted.
  Anyhoo, here’s KT expanding on his song-to-novel theory …

“I collect ‘story lyrics’ like others might collect first edition books. Because of my involvement in crime fiction writing, I have a particular interest in lyrics that contain a crime-related plot, tell a self-contained story and provides a dramatic twist or punchline. So, on this visit to my collection, I’d like to share with you some lyrics that supply all the above in spades.
  “The Road Goes On Forever, written and recorded by Robert Earl Keen, packs a punch worthy of a Martin Scorsese movie and has a killer punch-line that’s guaranteed to make all red-blooded males go - ‘Ouch!’”

THE ROAD GOES ON FOREVER

Sherry was a waitress at the only joint in town
She had a reputation as a girl who’d been around
Down Main Street after midnight with a brand new pack of cigs
A fresh one hangin’ from her lips and a beer between her legs
She’d ride down to the river and meet with all her friends
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

Sonny was a loner he was older than the rest
He was going into the Navy but he couldn’t pass the test
So he hung around town he sold a little pot
The law caught wind of Sonny and one day he got caught
But he was back in business when they set him free again
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

Sonny’s playin’ 8-ball at the joint where Sherry works
When some drunken outta towner put his hand up Sherry’s skirt
Sonny took his pool cue laid the drunk out on the floor
Stuffed a dollar in her tip jar and walked on out the door
She’s runnin’ right behind him reachin’ for his hand
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

They jumped into his pickup Sonny jammed her down in gear
Sonny looked at Sherry and said lets get on outta here
The stars were high above them and the moon was in the east
The sun was settin’ on them when they reached Miami Beach
They got a hotel by the water and a quart of Bombay gin
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

They soon ran out of money but Sonny knew a man
Who knew some Cuban refugees that dealt in contraband
Sonny met the Cubans in a house just off the route
With a briefcase full of money and a pistol in his boot
The cards were on the table when the law came bustin’ in
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

The Cubans grabbed the goodies and Sonny grabbed the Jack
He broke a bathroom window and climbed on out the back
Sherry drove the pickup through the alley on the side
Where a lawman tackled Sonny and was reading him his rights
She stepped into the alley with a single shot .410
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

They left the lawman lyin’ and they made their getaway
They got back to the motel just before the break of day
Sonny gave her all the money and he blew her a little kiss
If they ask you how this happened say I forced you into this
She watched him as his taillights disappeared around the bend
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

Its Main Street after midnight just like it was before
21 months later at the local grocery store
Sherry buys a paper and a cold six-pack of beer
The headlines read that Sonny is goin’ to the chair
She pulls back onto Main Street in her new Mercedes Benz
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

  “As one-time Taoiseach Albert Reynolds might say - ‘That’s wimmin for ya.’ If you haven’t heard the song, it's worth a spin. Some of you might be familiar with a version by the Highwaymen (Waylon, Willie, Johnny and Kris). Meanwhile, I’ve got a bunch of other lyrics that fall into this ball park so if I detect any interest out there, and if Declan’s in the mood, I’d love to share them with you.” – KT McCaffrey

KT McCaffrey’s THE CAT TRAP is published by Robert Hale