RIP Guy Clark, Who Was There for Me When My Father Slipped Away
A few years back, when the shebeen was new, I wrote about my great affection for the work of Guy Clark, the Texas singer-songwriter who was instrumental–yeah, I see what I did there–in the great circle of Austin tunesmiths that included the late Townes Van Zandt and Steve Earle, among many, many others. We lost Guy today. He'd been ill for quite a while, or so the rumors said. Per the Austin American-Stateman:
While in Nashville, Guy wrote "Desperados Waiting for a Train," "L.A. Freeway," and "That Old Time Feeling." By the time Guy released his debut album in 1975, he had written several soon-to-be classic songs including "She Ain't Going Nowhere," "Let Him Roll," "Rita Ballou," and "Texas 1947." He scored a No. 1 song with Ricky Skaggs's take on "Heartbroke" in 1982 and broke into the Billboard country chart with "Homegrown Tomatoes" in 1983. Clark released a string of folk and Americana albums with Sugar Hill, Asylum Records and Dualtone Music Group during the next 25 years, including his final 2013 Grammy-winning album, "My Favorite Picture of You."
He was a craftsman in all the best senses of the word–in the way he created his songs, and in the way he told his stories, and in the places the music took you, twilights in west Texas, with the reddening sun filtering through curtains of dust as evening fell on the Green Frog Café. He built his own instruments, and he was quick to connect the craft of songwriting with the craft of creating the tools that made it possible.
"Love," he once wrote, "is a gift that's truly hand-made."
Clark was open and warm and very funny, in a dry, sneaky way. (At Townes Van Zandt's funeral, he memorably began his performance by saying, "I've been rehearsing for this gig for 15 years.") The last time I saw him was a few years back, when he appeared at the Somerville Theatre with his longtime sidekick, Verlon Thompson, a picker of formidable skill. He ran through a great portion of his songbook, taking requests with a smile. Here, let the man speak for himself:
This is about taking pride in your work.
So is this.
This is meant to get you very hungry.
This one's for this political year–"Lord, you'd think there's less fools in this world." Whole country's gone dumb ol' Cousin Willard.
And this one, well, this is the one I listened to over and over again while my father slipped away after a decade fighting Alzheimer's. It means more to me than just about any piece of music in the world. It paints me a hole in the light of day.
The lights will be dim tonight in the Green Frog Café. Godspeed.
