Thursday, October 20, 2011

Where Old Champ's Still on the Guitar

Based on early returns, the older of the two gifted children who my wife raised while I drove the car and otherwise tried to stay the hell out of the way, did yesterday what she flew to Texas to do: she blew the doors off of the people who interviewed her. Even a non-agrarian like me knows enough not to count chickens pre-hatching the risk of skipping forward through a few commercial breaks and the always too-long second act, methinks this film ends with Suz changing time zones and postal codes. Not to mention learning how to end all of her sentences with, "Y'all."

Hearing (figuratively speaking as I was actually reading text messages on my phone) how the day transpired caused me to think about one of the things I like most of all about Texas: Lyle Lovett. Another one of those things is James McMurtry - for the unfamiliar, Google McMurtry and once you locate him on-line buy as much of his music as you can afford. You will not be sorry....y'all. (Man is it fun to end a sentence that way.)

Lovett is a musical genius - a man whose innate ability to marry words and music is second to none. And in case you are wondering I care not one whit that Katy Perry sells more records in a month than Lovett does in five years. Popularity and ability are sometimes mutually exclusive concepts. In Ms. Perry's case, to quote the immortal (or at least they should be) words of Joe Jackson, "there goes your proof."

Among my favorite Lovett songs is one that leapt into the forefront of my mind upon learning of Suz's initial successes in Texas. I realize that he did not write it for her (the reference to his girl coming from down in Georgia suggests that he had a Pretty Woman in mind in at least one of its verses), but it certainly appears to fit Suz to a "T".... in "Texas". Where she is not from, but where - as the song says - they certainly appear to want her anyway.

And who can blame them?


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