Mamas dont let yer babies grow up to be cowboys
A tribute to Waylon Jennings R.I.P
Waylon was not just a man, he was a man amongst persons who called themselves men among men, especially in the sauna or whilst driving their pickup trucks to their limos.
His deep soulful voice, by turns burning with the rich passion of a life led in the depths of 7 failed marriages and three divorces. At other times his voice had an emphasemic quality one finds on the outakes of tom waites records where the singer breaks down in fits of gutteral coughing, a range unmatched outside of his own caravan.
His first album, "these here truckers are my buddies", a bold concept for its day, told tales of failed love, heavy drinking and changing tyres, barely bruised the face of country. His second, "Run the Bitch over good trucker buddie", confirmed even less, marking him down as yet another good old boy who like to change tyres while drunk.
1972 saw the passing of the flames of c/w royalty, none expected waylons contribution, his subsequent arson conviction nor his eventual induction into the country music hall of fame. His third album, "Mitt Conte De Cozzi Fanne Solielie, Good Buddy", pushed country to uncharted territories, seemlessly blending Mozarts The Magical Pink Oboe with good old boy tyre changing rollicking tunes, a critical failure at the time it sold in the millions, pushing Waylon onto a larger more lucrative stage.
Sadly his then third wife, Brenda Lee, was accidentaly shot by Waylon when his gun discharged while unloosening a nut on the wheel of his truck, sending Waylon back into the studio to record his next majestic opus, "How to save on Alimony", a tribute to Brenda Lee and a plea for Smith & Weston to add a drunkproof safety to thier Hairtrigger 2000 range of pistols. None could doubt the mans courage, voice or ability to overcome tragedy.
Yet tragedy was to follow him throughout his life, his personal secretary whom he dictated his songs was sadly dyslexic, leaving Waylon with nearly three hundred completely unusable songs. This didnt stop the man releaseing nearly twenty five albums a year for pert near to twenty years.
Each an individual work of genius. Each unmistakeably Waylon. Each about changing tyres and drinking heavily, interchangable and yet becoz they all contained at least one song about his current wife, or about the differing alimony payments, or about the sad fate his pregnant fourteen year old lover, each can viewed as just different enough to discourage being sued by his own record company for trying to pass off the same three songs nearly a thousand times.
Life did eventually become better for Waylon, on the day he died, he looked up at his best frend and tyre changin drunk good buddy, Willie Nelson and said "Willie Im sick of livin, Ive changed my last tyre good buddy, its all over fur me, Ive drunk my last slug o bourbon and I've married my last woman. Hell my last marriage was over so quick I hadnt even gotten outside the church before I wuz married agin. Willie good buddy, I am gay."
Willly tears in his eyes from losing such a good buddy, pulled out his portable sawn off shotgun and killed him in a fitting tribute to a life of a man lived amongst men who can only think of being men whilst around other men changin tyres.
We sure gonna miss ya, good buddy.
A tribute to Waylon Jennings R.I.P
Waylon was not just a man, he was a man amongst persons who called themselves men among men, especially in the sauna or whilst driving their pickup trucks to their limos.
His deep soulful voice, by turns burning with the rich passion of a life led in the depths of 7 failed marriages and three divorces. At other times his voice had an emphasemic quality one finds on the outakes of tom waites records where the singer breaks down in fits of gutteral coughing, a range unmatched outside of his own caravan.
His first album, "these here truckers are my buddies", a bold concept for its day, told tales of failed love, heavy drinking and changing tyres, barely bruised the face of country. His second, "Run the Bitch over good trucker buddie", confirmed even less, marking him down as yet another good old boy who like to change tyres while drunk.
1972 saw the passing of the flames of c/w royalty, none expected waylons contribution, his subsequent arson conviction nor his eventual induction into the country music hall of fame. His third album, "Mitt Conte De Cozzi Fanne Solielie, Good Buddy", pushed country to uncharted territories, seemlessly blending Mozarts The Magical Pink Oboe with good old boy tyre changing rollicking tunes, a critical failure at the time it sold in the millions, pushing Waylon onto a larger more lucrative stage.
Sadly his then third wife, Brenda Lee, was accidentaly shot by Waylon when his gun discharged while unloosening a nut on the wheel of his truck, sending Waylon back into the studio to record his next majestic opus, "How to save on Alimony", a tribute to Brenda Lee and a plea for Smith & Weston to add a drunkproof safety to thier Hairtrigger 2000 range of pistols. None could doubt the mans courage, voice or ability to overcome tragedy.
Yet tragedy was to follow him throughout his life, his personal secretary whom he dictated his songs was sadly dyslexic, leaving Waylon with nearly three hundred completely unusable songs. This didnt stop the man releaseing nearly twenty five albums a year for pert near to twenty years.
Each an individual work of genius. Each unmistakeably Waylon. Each about changing tyres and drinking heavily, interchangable and yet becoz they all contained at least one song about his current wife, or about the differing alimony payments, or about the sad fate his pregnant fourteen year old lover, each can viewed as just different enough to discourage being sued by his own record company for trying to pass off the same three songs nearly a thousand times.
Life did eventually become better for Waylon, on the day he died, he looked up at his best frend and tyre changin drunk good buddy, Willie Nelson and said "Willie Im sick of livin, Ive changed my last tyre good buddy, its all over fur me, Ive drunk my last slug o bourbon and I've married my last woman. Hell my last marriage was over so quick I hadnt even gotten outside the church before I wuz married agin. Willie good buddy, I am gay."
Willly tears in his eyes from losing such a good buddy, pulled out his portable sawn off shotgun and killed him in a fitting tribute to a life of a man lived amongst men who can only think of being men whilst around other men changin tyres.
We sure gonna miss ya, good buddy.
posted by the bluhamster at 4:51 PM
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