Since I retired from teaching over a decade ago, I’ve spent some time interviewing musicians and freelancing pieces about performers touring through our area, people like Judy Collins, the amazing Rhonda Vincent, or our own sorely-missed Paradise neighbor, Norton Buffalo, who now has a music and culture venue dedicated to his memory just off Pearson Rd.
I’ve had the good fortunate to have seen a lot of great musicians in the span of my lifetime, from Pavarotti to Miles Davis, from Doc Watson to B.B. King, from Cesaria Evora to Janis Joplin, in venues from Paris to Paradise.
One top notch player I’ve seen more than a few times is Dave Alvin, a founding member of the Blasters and the head of several great musical aggregations since then. He’ll be appearing with Jimmie Dale Gilmore at the Sierra Nevada Big Room down in Chico, on Sunday, July 29th, just a few days after my 75th birthday. I’ll be there for that show.
If, by chance, you haven’t heard of these two musicians, I consider it a public service to clue you in. Jimmie Dale Gilmore was born in Amarillo, with a Texas tone and timbre that almost makes Woody Guthrie sound like an East Coast urbanite. His cover of the Hank Williams classic “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” plumbs new depths of the lonesome in that song. And some of his own songs are on my list of memorable faves. (“You’re just a wave, not the water” is about as devastating a kiss-off line as I ever heard.)
I spoke with Dave Alvin recently in one of the more pleasant and interesting interviews I’ve done, asking about the political undertone of some of the songs on Downey to Lubbock, the new album that includes covers of The Youngbloods’ “Get Together,” the old ’60s anthem, and “Deportee,” the heartwrenching Woody Guthrie song that has so much relevance in these days where maltreatment of our neighbors to the south is once again disgracing our country.
“Even love songs can be political,” he said, “but you don’t have to preach, or be dogmatic. You just try to tell a story and maybe point a direction.”
(“Gary, Indiana, 1959” is a song Dave Alvin wrote that illustrates the power of storytelling as well as any song I know. If you have a blue collar background, or if you have witnessed the changes in this country since 1959, I’d urge you to check out that song on Youtube for how a story can say more than a dozen newspaper columns or political speeches.)
I mentioned James McMurty’s recent appearance here in Paradise. “James is a devastating songwriter. I did an acoustic set with him once. He’s a terrific storyteller, his lyrics are so powerful, and he plays acoustic guitar with subtlety and nuance that really impressed me.”
How, I wondered, did he and Jimmie Dale Gilmore decide to record “Get Together.”
“When Jimmie and I started doing shows together, he just gave me the key to play in, then started singing the first line. I thought, ‘hey, let’s record this.’ A hit record like that can have a big impact on a culture or a society, but once it becomes a hit the meaning gets sucked out of it by repeated hearing. Jimmie’s vocal went right to the essence of the song. He sings it with such feeling and sincerity, and that speaks to people. There’s a similar thing with “Deportee,” the Woody Guthrie song on the new album. Jimmie wanted to record it, but I wasn’t sure. I must have listened to 80 different cover versions on Youtube, and I couldn’t see how we could do something that hadn’t already been done. No accordion, no mandolins. My take was that Jimmie’s voice, his sincerity, was the dominant thing, making people listen to the lyrics. Half way through the first take I knew we had it. The guitar stuff I add is just moody, with hints of norteno border music. I was just helping him dramatize it. It’s like somebody’s telling you the story in a dream. And the sentiment in that song sure seems appropriate these days.”
As we talked, I became increasingly aware of his humility and modesty. I mentioned it to him while offering sincere compliments on his guitar playing and his own chops as a singer. “I’m pretty good, I guess,” he said, in his characteristic drawl, “but I saw Jimi Hendrix play when I was 12, and I thought right then that what he was doing was about as good as it could be done. That memory keeps me humble. Back in 1981, I had a sizeable ego, but I’ve had my head handed to me so many times. I just try my best. What I can say is that when you hear me, you know it’s me. I’m enthusiastic about the music. That hasn’t changed over the years. I love playing live. I still have stage fears, but playing live is my addiction. My whole reason for living is the sense of community and connection between artist and audience.”
Which is, in a nutshell, why people like me show up to hear him do what he does so well.
