My introduction to Townes Van Zandt came in 1998 when I
first saw the Coen Brothers’ film The Big
Lebowski. Lebowski’s incredible
soundtrack featured Townes’ cover of the Rolling Stones hit “Dead Flowers” over
the end credits. It’s the only example of one of my favorite songs being
covered infinitely better than the original. The song was a revelation of sorts
for a teenaged me. At the time, I was mostly into metal and abrasive noise
rock. Townes showed me that folk music could be just as punk rock as, say,
Black Flag or Minor Threat. Townes dealt with subject matter that I related to,
such as addiction and loss, in such a brutal and intense way that it is often
hard to listen to without becoming emotional. I immediately bought as many of
his records as I could get my hands on. One of my favorites, and one that in my
opinion often gets overlooked, is his 1978 studio album Flyin’ Shoes.
Much of Flyin’ Shoes’ material was actually recorded in 1973 for 7 Come 11, the record that was supposed
to be the follow-up to The Late Great
Townes Van Zandt. This record was shelved, however, due to a financial dispute
between the head of Townes’ label, Poppy Records and the producer of the album.
This fact, coupled with the folding of Poppy Records that same year caused
Townes to detach from the music industry, withdrawing further and further into
drugs and alcohol. When Flyin’ Shoes
did come out, it was Townes’ first offering of new original material in five
years, and due to continued struggles with his addiction it would be another
nine years after that before he would release another one.
Many would say that Flyin’ Shoes suffers from overproduction
and studio trickery. I don’t disagree. It definitely isn’t his best sounding album and tends to lean more
toward the country & western side of his talents than the folk music side.
But what it lacks in rawness it more than makes up for in songwriting. Townes
pens some of his cleverest lyrics in such songs as the ambiguously funny “Snake
Song,” or the album’s opener, “Loretta,” an ode to a “barroom girl” whom we
have all probably met at some point. Flyin’
Shoes also offers plenty of Townes’ trademark melancholy on songs like the despairing
love song “When She Don’t Need Me” or the title track.
Besides his penchant for brilliant
lyrics, Townes also has a knack for creating some of the most beautiful
melodies ever recorded. “No Place to Fall” and “Dollar Bill Blues for instance
are among the best songs he’s ever recorded with melodies that stay with you. Personally
I think the record only really has one weak spot and that is his cover of Bo
Diddley’s “Who Do You Love?” which really isn’t bad so much as it is just kind of unnecessary and sort of disrupts
the natural flow of the record. But again, this is a personal and very minor
gripe, barely noticeable when listening to the record as a whole.
In 2007, I was on tour with my band
at the time and we played a show in Oxford, Mississippi. Oxford is home to Fat
Possum Records, who we were playing a showcase for that night. They had just
recently released a slew of Townes Van Zandt reissues and we got paid for the
show in promo copies. After our show we were offered a place to stay by some
locals who were in attendance. They lived in this development where there was a
common courtyard-type area where all the neighbors would sit around in lawn
chairs and drink. We partied there well into the morning and at a certain point
I got up and went into someone’s house
and crashed on the couch. I was sleeping maybe 40 minutes when I was awakened
by Flyin’ Shoes being blasted at the
loudest volume I’ve ever heard a stereo be capable of. Our hosts had found our
“payment” for that night’s show. I tell this story not only because it’s
amusing but also to illustrate that even at an unacceptable volume during an
aggressive hangover Flyin’ Shoes got me
back up and partying again.
-
Jonathan Eagle
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