I have often heard country music described as "three chords and the truth." And while my knowledge of the mechanics of music is a tad on the minimal side--I couldn't identify which three chords he played or even if he actually played more or less--I can say with certainty, that this week's artist is one of the most truthful songwriters of all time. His music, while classified as country, was so truthful it actually transcended genre.
As
you likely heard, the great Kris Kristofferson died this past week at
the age of 88. While he's primarily remembered as a country
singer/songwriter who was at the forefront of the "Outlaw" country
movement of the 1970s, as well as an actor who appeared in films
directed by the likes of Martin Scorsese, Sam Peckinpah, Guillermo del
Toro, and Tim Burton, he was so much more. I would even dare call him a
bit of a renaissance man.
In 1958, while a student at Pomona College, he was featured in the pages of Sports Illustrated
for his athletic talents in track and field, rugby, and (American)
football. That same year, he was awarded a Rhodes Scholarship to the
University of Oxford in the U.K. where he received a Bachelor of
Philosophy degree in English literature. It was here that he began his
long career as a songwriter and continued to distinguish himself in
various sports, which now included boxing.
After
returning to the States, he joined the U.S. Army, becoming a helicopter
pilot and completing Ranger School. While stationed in what was then
West Germany, he formed a band and continued songwriting. Ultimately he
decided to pursue that as a career as opposed to teaching English
literature at West Point. And while his family might not have agreed
with his decision, luckily for the rest of us he did.
I
first heard Kristofferson as part of the 1980s country supergroup The
Highwaymen in which he played alongside Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, and
Waylon Jennings--all of whom had covered his song "Sunday Morning Comin'
Down" at some point in their careers--with Cash having the biggest hit
with it in 1970. My dad bought their record when it was released in
1985 and it was played frequently in our home. I wasn't particularly a
fan of country music, certainly not at that time in my life, but I liked
his voice and I thought it worked well with the other three. Today,
it's one of my favourite country albums--even one of my favourite albums
of the 1980s--because of the good feelings of nostalgia it evokes
whenever I hear it. I'm still not sure if Waylon was a "dam builder" or
a "damn builder" in their hit title song.
Some
time after that, I became familiar with another staple in our house,
Janis Joplin. In exploring her music--very much blues-based rock and
roll--I was shocked to discover that her biggest hit was written by a
country artist. In 1971, Janis had a posthumous chart topper with "Me
and Bobby McGee" which Kris, a close friend of hers, had co-written with Fred
Foster. She not only turned a country song into a rock classic, but her
backing group, The Full Tilt Boogie Band, seriously lived up to their
name.
In the 2016 documentary, Love, Janis,
Kris talked about hearing a demo that Janis's producer, Paul Rothchild,
had given him of the song. "It was so exhilarating for me to hear her
make that her song. If you're a songwriter and somebody does that with
what you got, it's the greatest feeling in the world." Sadly, he didn't
actually hear the finished recording until after her death in 1970--54
years ago this week. He said, "It was very emotional for me. I could
just hear her saying, 'Wait 'til that son of a bitch hears this!'"
Songs
like "Me and Bobby McGee," "Sunday Morning Comin' Down," "Help Me Make
It Through the Night," "For the Good Times," and a handful of others I
would have the audacity to describe as standards--songs that can stand
alongside the works of Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Hoagy Carmichael, and
the Gershwins. Sometimes you didn't even need a full song--just a
title--to understand the basic human truth of the song... that you
didn't even need. I assume that this can be credited to his background
in literature, but when you have a song like "The Bigger the Fool, the
Harder the Fall," the title says it all--the rest of the song is just an
incredible bonus and, frankly, something of a gift. I can't think of
any other songwriter off the top of my head who could write like that.
I
was at work when I found out about his passing. I had a collection of
his greatest hits on my phone which I played during the last couple of
hours of my shift. When I got home, I pulled this week's album off the
shelf. I acquired it more than a decade ago when a friend of mine asked
me to go through a massive collection of old vinyl in his garage. I
took the album because I was a fan, but for some reason I had never
listened to it. I put it on the turntable last Sunday night and the
songs kind of spoke to me on an emotional level that I wasn't
expecting. I don't know why I waited as long as I did to listen to it,
but perhaps I just needed to hear it then--one of those weird, mystical,
magical qualities of music that keeps drawing me to it. So this week,
please enjoy the one and only Kris Kristofferson with his 1976 album Surreal Thing
which features one of my favourites of his ("If You Don't Like Hank
Williams") as well as two songs ("Golden Idol" and "Killing Time") that
had been released as a single in 1967 and were re-recorded for this
album. (SIDE NOTE: If anyone knows where I can get a CD of this for
less than $20, please let me know. What few copies I've been able to
find online are considerably more expensive.)
Until
next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember
that you're the only one that you are screwin' when you put down what
you don't understand.
Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!
The Reverend Will the Thrill
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