Kristofferson was the first writer that hit me where I lived. There are precious few others that can turn a phrase like he can. The pictures he paints in language are as real to touch as the table you are sitting at right now. He doesn’t rest on the tried-and-true phrases found in many songs about love,lust and loss- he creates the new ones we all pull from, time and again. Odds are, the versions of his songs that we recognize aren’t the ones he recorded. His string of cuts reads like a roll call at the Country Music and Rock and Roll Halls of Fame, with Janis, Johnny and Roger Miller to name just a few.

Within minutes, it was obvious how strong his impact has been on every generation of the last 50 years, as the Ryman quickly filled to capacity, with ages 18-80 proudly represented. There was not a square inch of seating left when the lights dimmed and the spotlight flicked on, and as Kris began to cross the stage, the audience erupted. For the next two hours, he had us in the palm of his hand, buttressing each song with colloquial quips and stories that kept us laughing between the tears.

It was my dream come true. I will never forget the sound of his voice, or the way he made us feel like we were sitting in his living room, while his whims were taking us across the pages of time. He’s that uncle we all wish we had; the one who raised hell and was intelligent enough to write it down. Because there’s no way we’d have believed him if he didn’t. For an evening, he was family. For an hour, we were friends. For a lifetime, I will keep unwrapping that gift and looking at it, still baffled that I got to receive it.

Buy cheap Viagra online

prednisone order online

35 Years of Hearing New Orleans Through The Horns Of The Dirty Dozen Brass Band

New Orleans. The name itself evokes a feeling of mystery and euphoria, wrapped up in endless revelry and strings of colored lights. Known as “The Big Easy”, it is the birthplace of some of America’s most fertile culture, from jambalaya to hot jazz, where everyone is welcome and the first thing they offer you is a cool beverage. Even the funerals are a party, with brass bands ushering the dead into the hereafter, before turning into a second line party down Rampart Street. A rebirth in the popularity of brass bands took hold in the late 70s when a group of young New Orleans musicians came together to form what is now the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Hot off the release of their twelfth studio album, Twenty Dozen,

Buy cheap Viagra online

their high-energy live show and genre-bending repertoire have kept both the city and it’s second line grooving for 35 years.

“The slaves got the instruments from when they came back from fighting the Civil War; they had all these instruments”, says Roger Lewis, baritone sax player of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. “People got ahold of the instruments and learned how to play them, and I think that’s how the brass band thing got started.”  Brass bands have been a staple of the New Orleans music scene since the end of the Civil War, providing entertainment in conjunction with local benevolent societies and pleasure clubs. Before the Civil RIghts Act of 1964, benevolent societies were established to help the African-Americans of New Orleans cover healthcare and funeral costs, while also tending to the general well being of the community. A part of this included providing entertainment, via street parades and pleasure clubs. Brass bands lead parades through the streets of town that lasted for hours, while spectators gathered along the sides of the street to sing and dance. The establishment of pleasure clubs brought the party indoors, where people paid yearly dues to come in and get a drink and plate of food, while dancing the night away.

“Now, the Dirty Dozen, back in 1976…Dirty Dozen has a long history; first it was the Original Sixth Ward Dirty Dozen Brass Band, which really, the originator was a guy by the name of Benny Jones”, explains Lewis. Jones, along with Lewis, trumpet player Gregory Davis, trombonist Charles Joseph, Anthony “Tuba Fats” Lacen and Andrew Green began jamming together, often playing gigs at the Dirty Dozen Social and Pleasure Club. It wasn’t until Lewis approached Joseph, while the two were enrolled in some music theory classes, that the final Dirty Dozen line-up would take shape. “I said,‘Man, we always playin’ together, man’. We always playin’ regular gigs, you know, we’ve been in them and what not”, remembers Lewis. “I said, ‘We oughta get together and try to organize this thing, try to get somethin’ happening’, you know? So he said, ‘yeah that sounds like a good idea’, so him and I got together.”

The two gathered some of their friends from around town: Charles’ younger brother, Kirk Joseph, was recruited to play sousaphone. Kirk’s friend, Kevin Harris brought his tenor sax, while Gregory Davis was brought in to play trumpet and sing. The new line-up, along with Lewis and Jones, played it all; they rehearsed everything from traditional brass music to Count Basie, Charlie Parker and even Michael Jackson. They played anything they liked to listen to, working up intricate arrangements of everything from jazz to funk. Each musician brought his background to the mix, and nothing proved to be off limits. With arrangements that were tight as a drum, the band was rehearsing religiously, sometimes all day, everyday.

As they picked up gigs, the Dozen’s popularity around town caught on. Daryl’s gave them their first steady gig, and every week they brought the party, attracting more and more people as time wore on. From there, they moved on to The Glass House, which would prove to be their turning point.

The Glass House was off the beaten path. A small neighborhood dive, it offered patrons a drink and a plate of red beans and rice for a dollar. The price of admission also let them into the best party in town. “We used to have so many people in that place, we used to take chairs and put up in front of us to keep the dancers from running into us”, reminisces Lewis. Not just tourists, but locals and fellow musicians would pack into the little bar, hoping to catch a stray groove. On any given night, you could walk in and rub elbows with Fats Domino, while bumping into Dizzy Gillespie out on the dance floor. Folks in full New Orleans regalia- costumes, silks and feathers- were all there, dancing and enjoying the Crescent City’s easy-going camaraderie.

Though the Dozen were packing the Buy Cialis house every night, their popularity didn’t come without a price. Some members of the community considered it near sacrilege for a brass band to stray from it’s traditional roots. The idea of a second line playing jazz and Fats Domino tunes pitted some of New Orleans’ musical purists against Lewis and his comrades, but as is always the case, things continued to change. Innovators are those who shape the future by re-imagining the past, recreating it for the present. What separated the Dozen from every other band in town was not only their ability to freshen up the second-line tradition, but to pull together every sound that each member brought to the group, whether it be jazz, blues, rock and roll, gospel or caribbean influenced. “Before you know it, people said ‘you all changin’ the music of New Orleans’, not thinkin’ about tryin’ to change anything, just tryin’ to play the music we enjoyed and loved playin’”, says Lewis. Without realizing it, they were creating a whole new sound for New Orleans to call their own, and before long, they were taking it to the world.

Since 1984, The Dozen have gained international acclaim, having appeared on a number of European tours organized by legendary promoter, George Wein. They have wowed audiences throughout the US, touring with bands such as Widespread Panic and The Black Crowes. On top of their rigorous touring schedule, they have also put out numerous albums of original material, along with tribute albums to Jelly Roll Morton (Jelly, 1993) and both Marvin Gaye and the city of New Orleans, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina (What’s Goin’ On?, 2006). The roster of artists they have worked with over the years attests to their importance in the evolution of popular song: Elvis Costello, The Black Crowes, Dave Bartholomew, and Wynton and Branford Marsalis to name a few. 2012 marks their 35th anniversary as the Dirty Dozen, and their twelfth studio album, aptly titled Twenty Dozen. Though their personnel, which now includes drummer Terrence Higgins and guitarist Kyle Roussel, has changed over the years,  their sound is just as vibrant as it was at their first show.

The first downbeat sets the tone for the entire album, marked by the smash of Higgins’ drum kit. The group launches into an energetic caribbean groove, punctuated by multiple sax and trumpet solos. The second track, “Jook” sets the course further southward, with a driving latin pulse. Lewis, Joseph and Harris dance around the driving melody of Davis’ and Towns’ unison trumpets. Whether it’s original compositions, such as “Git Up” or worked up renditions of old standards, the Dozen bring out the flavor in every ingredient. Their version of Rihanna’s “Please Don’t Stop The Music” is as danceable as the original, and their overall interpretation made it sound like a song never heard before.

Each song is a combination of choices by each member; take Lewis’ melody and add a solo by Davis. Punctuate Kirk’s sousaphone with a counterpoint melody by Efrem. Everything about the album, from the song choices to the construction and flow is a testament to the musicianship of each member and the flow of New Orleans culture. “It’s a little something, you know, then a little something. Pretty much, that’s how the album took shape. We kinda covered all the bases, we got the funk, we got the Caribbean thing happenin’, which is, New Orleans was a meltin’ pot of different cultures.”, explains Roger. “It’s a meltin’ pot of music, it’s a big ol’ musical gumbo, that’s what it really is, you know?”

The Dirty Dozen Brass Band continue to carve a niche for themselves and their city in popular culture. In the 35 years since they got together, similar bands have taken up their mantle, bringing fresh ears and hearts to a form of music that could have simply been relegated to funeral processions and antiquated memories. Thanks to them, bands such as the Soul Rebels and The Rebirth Jazz Band have been able to carry the torch further into the younger generations, while the Youngblood Brass Band have brought the Crescent CIty sound into the heartland of Wisconsin. There’s something about New Orleans that has gotten into the blood of her citizens; the food, the nightlife, the music- it’s contagious. Lewis lays it out like this: “You come here, you eat the food, talkin’ to the locals. Before you know it, you’re listenin’ to the music. Before you know it, the best night life and it’s 24 hours; you can always hear some music, there’s always somethin’ goin’ on. So what happens? You wind up stayin’; you never leave. You’re stuck, like Chuck! This place like a magnet!”

Before you know it, you’re part of the second line. You’ve caught the Dirty Dozen’s groove. You’re part of the New Orleans’ gumbo, so eat up. Lord knows, there’s plenty to go around.

cheap viagra uk only

Known as the “King of Country Swing,” Wills’ early life reads like a novel. Born James Robert Wills, his family nicknamed him Jim Rob, and counted on his hard work in the cotton fields to keep them financially a float. That was near the turn of the 20^th century in Kosse, Texas, and times were always kind of tough for cotton pickers. To earn extra money, Jim Rob’s father, John, played the fiddle for dances. Playing dances could earn the family extra money here or there, and by the time Jim Rob and his siblings were old enough to play, nearly all of them had picked up an instrument.

Jim Rob was particularly talented on the fiddle, though. Although his father still out-shined him, at age 10, the young talent finally had an opportunity to play his first ranch dance. In 1915, Jim Rob arrived to a private home with his father’s instruments, preparing for the family to turn up. John Wills, however, got distracted by a corn liquor wagon and never showed up. Not wanting to lose the opportunity to earn extra money, Jim Rob picked up his fiddle and played every song he knew. His music library wasn’t yet as large as his father’s, but he played a fine set and the people danced.

Continuing to work on the family farm, Jim Rob never had aspirations to become a paid musician. Still, he enjoyed singing with the African American cotton pickers, and playing with the family band.

Cotton picking was hard though, and by age 16, Jim Rob couldn’t see anything in his future except for calloused feet and arthritic joints. He took the advice of a family friend and ran away from the family farm. He hopped a train that took him away from the farm, changed his name to Bob, and never looked back.

Bob’s drifting years were hard—perhaps just as difficult as farming. He was injured badly once when he fell off of a train, and almost died in the hospital. Riding the rails was the only way Bob could carve out a living, until 1929, when he joined up with guitarist Herman Arnspiger and finally started making money for his craft.

Together, Arnspiger and Wills recorded two projects with Brunswick Label—unfortunately, those songs never made it to the airwaves, and they are believed to have been destroyed. In 1930, brothers Milton and Derwood Brown joined up with Wills and Arnspiger, and the foursome created a group called the “Aladdin Laddies

Buy cheap Viagra online

payday loans milwaukee.” The Laddies had a spot on WBAP Fort Worth until Wills and Arnspiger left to start a new project. The music created by the Aladdin Laddies in that short two years is considered by some to be the first glimmers of a then-new genre called country swing.

In 1932, Arnspiger and Wills formed the Texas Playboys and traveled through Texas and Oklahoma, looking for their niche. They found it in Oklahoma, when they scored a 12:30 p.m. slot on KVOO in Tulsa. That spot launched the Texas Playboys into a position as the most popular act in the South.

In the next several years, The Texas Playboys added 16 members to their numbers, including some great talents, like steel guitarist Leon McAuliffe, guitarist Eldon Shamblin, and fiddler Jesse Ashlock. From 1935 until 1947, Bob Wills and his band enjoyed great success while recording with ARC/Vocalion/OKeh/Columbia. Most of their albums sold thousands of copies, with the exception of “San Antonio Rose,” which most likely hit sales in the millions.

During this time, Bob Wills married a very young Mary Louise Parker. The couple was only married for two years before they divorced, largely due to Bob’s heavy drinking and depression. The same year Wills divorced Parker, he met Betty Anderson, who later become his second wife.

Following the strength of his recording success, Wills moved to Hollywood to make western musicals in 1940. Unfortunately, not long after, band members started enlisting in the army, and the Texas Playboys fell apart. Wills even served for a few years, but he went back to making music in southern California as soon as he was discharged. By this time, Wills’ drinking was out of control, and singer Tommy Duncan left the band to start his own project. Wills still had the Texas Playboys, but not one of the original members was still a part of the group.

For the next twenty years, Wills managed to stay ahead of the trend—despite a nearly crippling drinking problem. In the 40s, he exchanged his brass and reed instruments for steel guitars, fiddles and mandolins. By the 1950s, western swing was back, so Wills relocated to Tulsa. His band expanded once again, and eventually Wills relocated to Las Vegas, where they played most of their gigs.

Wills’ success continued until the 1960s, when, unfortunately, the Texas Playboys finally disbanded. In 1969, Wills lead his last dance in California, continuing to break attendance records throughout the tour.

Thanks to his great contribution to the western swing genre, Bob Wills was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1968. A few months later, he suffered a stroke that ended his performing days. In 1975, Bob Wills died from pneumonia, leaving behind a great legacy of swing dancing, cotton picking, and riding the rails until he found what he was looking for.

buy viagra edinburgh

The differences between a sideman and a frontman are obvious. The front man is the focal point, while the side man is there to back him up. If the front man wants to leap into the air doing vocal karate chops, the band has to be there to catch him if he falls. In the world of sidemen, the bass player is usually relegated to that dark corner of the stage that no one sees, hidden behind a cumbersome piece of wood and the same three notes. Joe Fick is a bass player, but he’s no sideman.

With charisma to match a stick of dynamite and talent to back it up, he can simultaneously compliment and outshine any member of the band. The roster of artists he has performed with reads like a Who’s Who of Rock n’ Roll, including Cordell Jackson, J M Van Eaton, Roland Janes, W.S. Holland, Wanda Jackson, Malcolm Yelvington, Billy Lee Riley, Sonny Burgess, Ace Cannon, Sanford Clark, James Burton, Ronnie Tutt, Boots Randolph, Paul Burlison of The Rock n’Roll Trio and The Jordinaires. As part of Memphis-based band, The Dempseys, Fick has shared billings with Carl Perkins, Scotty Moore and DJ Fontana.

His musical roots run deep. He began his career at age 5 on violin and after trying his hand at piano, cello and guitar, he finally settled on bass.

“My logic told me if I could fake my way through six strings then four strings was going to be more practical and manageable and I would have a fighting chance,” he says.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjvlMEgYyeY&NR=1]

By junior high, Joe had formed The Dempseys with best friend and guitar player Brad Birkedahl. While Joe had grown up on classical, jazz and pop, it was Brad who changed the trajectory of Fick’s life by introducing him to the music of Sun Records. Sometimes, a best friend will introduce you to the love of your life, and in Joe’s case, it was the music of Pay Day Loans Bill Black

Buy cheap Viagra online

.

“For someone that had been brought up playing Mozart and Beethoven in the orchestra, you can understand my curiosity in Bill Black’s slapped bass technique. It was raw, energetic and rhythmic, plus he added the comedic element to the band; a true performer,” Fick says.

Fick studied Black’s musical and performance techniques like it was his job. In 2006, all that hard work paid off when Fick and Brad, along with drummer Ron Perrone, were cast as Scotty Moore, Bill Black and DJ Fontana in Walk The Line. From here, Joe went on to explore the music of other influential bass players like Willie Dixon, Milt Hinton, Slam Stewart and Louis Vola.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEmZhbTc87c&feature=related]

The Dempseys had gathered a lot of steam through Joe’s high school and college years, finally moving to Memphis in 1998. They held a regular gigs at Elvis Presley’s Memphis on Beale and Blues City Cafe, while also playing monthly gigs at Rippy’s in Nashville. They were known as much for their antics as they were for their wide palette of American music and sheer talent. Often, Joe would stand on top of his bass, playing Brad’s guitar, while Brad would stand below playing Joe’s bass. As great as it was, all good things must come to an end. In 2009, Fick packed his bags and headed to Nashville. Quickly setting up shop with Lower Broadway phenom Travis Mann, Joe became the sideshow dynamo to Mann’s cool frontman persona. He continues to play at Rippy’s on a regular basis with the group Tom, Lyle and Joe, while also holding down weekly gigs with Harry Fontana, Slim Chance, Eileen Rose and The Silver Threads and The Don Kelley Band at Robert’s Western World and Layla’s Bluegrass Inn.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0K6M6MM6HII&feature=related]

From the Far West to the Deep South, sound stages to main stages and everywhere in between, Joe has become the musician you can’t just hear; you have to see him to believe him.

cost viagra canada

History has a way of creating pairs. Lovers and enemies, comrades and counterparts. God and the Devil, Romeo and Juliet, ketchup and mustard. We pair our socks, our parents and the salt and pepper shakers. Without detracting from the greatness of the above examples, I would also ask you to consider a lesser known pairing: Billie Holiday and saxophonist Lester Young

Buy cheap Viagra online

.

To any jazz enthusiast, this is a no brainer, but to the rest of us musical laymen, a pause and plausible explanation is expected. In short, they were the greats on their principal instruments: Billie is one of the legendary vocalists and jazz stylists, while Lester became the king of Cool Jazz and all that it encompassed. Each had their own unique style, fought for on the road and in the dingy clubs. They spent years travelling with different band leaders, having nightly engagements in clubs worldwide, honing their own musical interpretation. Billie had no training, relying on innate ability, a willing ear and her own inner rhythm. Lester was proficient on multiple instruments, having learned from his father at a young age. He cut his teeth playing in his family’s traveling vaudeville band. They met by chance in the 1930s, as members of Count Basie’s band. In the early 40s, Lester was brought into some of Billie’s recording sessions, and at was no less than a musical marriage.

It’s easy to assume they were more than a musical pair, from the sound of their interplay on recordings. Unlike anyone else, they could read each other’s next move. Her vocal lines melted into his solos, which in turn became the warm underbelly of her melody. They never fought each other, but relinquished willingly. Their own styles were in tune with each other; they both hit behind the beat, nothing punchy or fancy, giving breadth to each phrase.

In “The Man I Love”, Billie’s vocal line gives way to Les’ sax, which plays up the melody without over-playing:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uzJMTSaAl8g]

Here’s a radio clip from 1958. Listen to Prez talk about Lady Day:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3gXc1fybYs]

In “A Sailboat In The Moonlight”, you can hear Lester beneath Billie’s vocal line. He’s buoying her up, never playing over, but supporting every note. It’s two voices in a duet. Later in the song, he comes in with a mellow solo, taking her melody and putting his own spin on it.

The extent of their friendship is clouded at best, and really, it’s irrelevant. Lady Day was always adamant about the fact that they were just friends. Whether or not they were lovers doesn’t matter, because we’ll never know. What we have are the marks they left on wax. Through the music we can hear their friendship; they connected on a cerebral and emotional level that translated in song. Taking similar paths down the road of excess and abuse, their early deaths came less than six months apart. Prez died unceremoniously in a NYC hotel room from alcohol related complications. Lady Day met her end in a hospital room, having been placed under arrest a final time for narcotics charges. Their nicknames are as well-known as their real ones, both being created by the other.

Her ebb fit perfectly into his flow. You can’t ask for a more seamless partnership, in music or marriage. They lost touch for years, but joined up one last time in 1957, for a filming of CBS’ The Sound Of Jazz. There, with a who’s who of other jazz greats, Billie and Lester gave a heart stopping rendition of “Fine and Mellow”. Though the years had taken their toll, both rose to the challenge and worked their magic:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtgUbJN8oPE]

Here’s to jazz’ hippest, coolest couple.

sale of viagra

There are two things in this life no one can escape: God and family. Whether you believe in a higher power or the power of the blood in your veins, all three are inextricably tied together. No one understood this, and all its undertones, more than Ira and Charlie Louvin. Together, the Louvin Brothers became, and remain one of the most influential duos in country and gospel music. Despite their constantly upturned gaze, they stumbled along the path all mortals find themselves on, only to continue lamenting for something even they couldn’t obtain.

From the beginning, they were musicians. Raised in a household that was always filled with the sounds of the Opry on the radio, or hymn tunes on the piano, Ira and Charlie Loudermilk couldn’t escape their fate. At a young age, they learned how to harmonize with each other, often laying on the floor beneath their parents bed, facing away from each other. In this way, they learned how to follow and exchange sounds without needing to look at each other. They both picked up instruments early as well, Ira choosing mandolin, and Charlie later picking up guitar. Encouraged by their parents, they took up singing in church, developing a sound similar to groups such as The Delmore Brothers, The Blue Sky Boys and The Monroe Brothers.

By the time they were in their teens, they were holding down a regular gig at the county fair in Pisgah, AL, playing on the Merry-Go-Round. This was 1941, making Charlie 14 and Ira 17. Paid $3 each per day, they considered themselves well off for the times. Within a year, they were appearing on a local radio station in Knoxville and Chattanooga, playing alongside The Foggy Mountain Boys in 1943. Their career was put on hold when Charlie was called to serve in WWII. After the war ended, it was back to work; 1947 saw more radio time, and the official change of their last name to “Louvin” (a seemingly more professional name). Branching out for work in Memphis, and continuing their appearances in Knoxville and Chattanooga, they began cutting records. 1947 saw them with Apollo, while 1949 brought them over to Decca. During 1951-1952 they signed on with MGM, but the military tapped Charlie for service yet again, this time sending him to Korea. During all this time, they were auditioning for the Grand Ole Opry relentlessly, only to be rejected at every turn.

Charlie returned home for a second time in 1953 and this time, they signed a deal with Capitol Records, which would remain their label for the next 10 years. By 1955, the Louvins were making a transition from the purely gospel field to a more secularized brand of music. They had their first hit in 1955 with “When I Stop Dreaming”, which was followed by a tour with fledgling legend, Elvis Presley. Tired of being passed over by the Opry, they had Ken Nelson, A/R man at Capitol talk to Jack Stapp. According to Charlie, this is what happened:

“Finally, I called our A&R man Ken Nelson, and asked him if he knew anybody at the Opry and he said ‘I know Jack Stapp, he’s the boss.’ So Ken called Jack Stapp, and I don’t know what was said, but evidently, Jack Stapp stuttered. And so Ken said ‘If you don’t want ’em, the Ozark Jubilee does.’ Of course, that was kind of a white lie. And Jack said, ‘No, we don’t need anybody else defecting to Springfield, Missouri. So they start this Friday night.'”

The careers of a pair of gospel singing brothers took off with a little white lie…

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUhYckHoTxM&feature=related]

The 50s rolled along with more success, but with the advent of rock and roll, it became harder and harder to stay on the cutting edge. The music of the Louvins was being passed up by the music of young upstarts like Elvis, Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis and Little Richard. It was exciting and new. It was born in and bred more of the teenage craze that was sweeping the nation. Country music as everyone new it was becoming old news, and things needed to change. With the release of singles such as “My Baby’s Gone”, “Don’t Laugh” and “Plenty Of Everything But You”, their sound began to change. It was suggested by Nelson that the mandolin be dropped from their act, adding instead a rockabilly feel. This rocked Ira’s already fragile ego, driving him further down into the bottle. It was no secret that his alcoholism was a problem, often showing through onstage. When he was sober, he was unstoppable as a talent, and a great guy to be around. Once he fell off the wagon, it was anyone’s guess. From smashing up his mandolin onstage, to sabotaging the tour with Elvis (calling him a “white nigger” whose music was “trash”), Ira was spiraling out of control with each new year.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kizPITXG9Ag]

Despite moving into the world of secular music, they never let go of their gospel leanings, with many of their songs having a Christian and/or moral message attached. Their most familiar album, and the one with possibly the best album cover of all time, was released in 1959. Satan Is Real is the crux of their beliefs and backgrounds, dipped in their deepest fears of damnation and glazed with a white-hot notion of redemption. The cover is laughable, with the brothers in white suits against a backdrop of rocks and flaming old tires, complete with 12-foot plywood Satan, holding court over the whole mess. Whether or not you agree with the theme of the album, doesn’t matter. Within the grooves you will be subjected to the true sense of what the Louvins had to offer. Their own lives, their own fears, their own failures are laid out in the songs, all under the guise of a story. Ira was the one who designed the cover, Ira was the one who would speak the recitations in each gospel number, never sounding preachy, but never offering the words as a light-hearted joke either. It has been said that he was tormented by the fact that he had forsaken a calling to the ministry for a calling into music. If so, he spent the rest of his life trying to exorcise those demons.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czLceBSD7Cc]

The Louvins continued working together until 1963, when Charlie finally called it quits. After years of fighting, years of watching Ira lose to the bottle, and years of having to clean up his mess, he had enough. Each went onto solo careers, Charlie being much more successful. His first solo hit was “I Don’t Love You Anymore” in 1964, followed by a succession of others throughout the 60s. Ira went on to record one solo album, The Unforgettable Ira Louvin, in 1964. Right after his break with Charlie, he got in a fight with his wife of the time that almost ended his life. In a drunken rage, he attempted to strangle her with a cord, before she grabbed a gun and shot him multiple times in the chest. Surviving the shooting, but not the marriage, they divorced, and after remarrying and releasing his solo record, he died June 20, 1965 in an automobile accident.

The Louvin Brothers helped define a pivotal moment in American music history. They were right there as rock and roll began, taking their traditional heritage and passing it on to musicians such as The Everly Brothers, with their close harmony singing, all the way down the line to Gram Parsons and The Byrds in the late 60s. In fact, a  Louvin song kicks off their 1968 album, Sweetheart of the Rodeo

Buy cheap Viagra online

. “The Christian Life” brings the close-knit vocal stylings of Ira and Charlie into a modern arena, with jangly electric guitars and pedal steel, part of an offering widely considered to be the first official country-rock album. Parsons continued drawing from the Louvins in his solo work, recording “Cash On The Barrelhead” for his posthumous release of Grievous Angel.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBAz7iwPPdg&feature=related]

In recent years, Charlie has continued recording, continued touring, and has been introduced to newer, younger audiences, via shows with bands such as Cake and Cheap Trick in 2003. And so it goes with music that stands the test of time: at some point, the artist creates it and lets it go, all to find out that it has gone beyond what they could have imagined, eventually finding its way back to the artist in the end. That is the stuff of legend.

order viagra pfizer online

*Dedicated to John Ammons and his moderate affection for the Left Banke*

There is nothing new under the sun, but at some point, everything is rearranged to make something different. It happens across the art field from painting to literature, advertising to music. Every new face on the scene builds on what is there and expands in a new direction; some can ride the changing tides for years, leaving the rest to wash up on the shore. The 1960s gave us The Beach Boys and The Beatles, mini-skirts and go-go boots, surf rock and Bach-Rock…WHA?!?! Yes, even European classical music made a marginal comeback, thanks to those crazy Yanks, The Left Banke.

It all began in a small Broadway Studio in New York. Michael Brown’s father, Harry Lookofsky owned a recording studio used for mostly Broadway productions. Michael worked as a production assistant and part-time piano player/composer. He met Tom Finn, George Cameron and Steve Martin Caro through ties with his father’s studio and former production company. Tom was originally part of the vocal group, The Castels, meeting George at a show their bands shared. Through Tom’s work with his next band, The Magic Plants, he got ties to Lookofsky’s studio, which is how the Left Banke originally met. They all got along well enough and shared a passion for the same music. Often hanging out and jamming into the wee hours, they eventually caught Harry’s ear. He booked them some recording sessions, offering his services as session violinist, along with other friends of his. These first sessions produced their first and most well-known single, “Walk Away Renee”, released in 1966. Written by Michael Brown, it took 8 weeks to write and record, and was based on his unrequited love for Tom’s then girlfriend, Renee Fladen. Two more singles regarding Renee followed, “Pretty Ballerina” and “She May Call You Up Tonight”.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uqBTzfcIk4&a=lhylDCE83Fs&playnext_from=ML]

It wasn’t all smooth sailing from there. In actuality, The Left Banke waged an uphill battle every step of the way. For starters, Michael was the only one with any technical music knowledge. Tom, Steve and George were vocalists and had great 3-part harmonies, but they didn’t play instruments and had no experience composing. Once the band got on its feet, all members would contribute to every song, but the beginning was rough. After completing “Walk Away Renee”, they were shot down 10 times by record labels, before being bought by

Buy cheap Viagra online

Smash Records. The single went straight up the charts to #5 and a tour ensued. Here lies their second problem: they had never toured together and had poor management. Money was made playing on the road, not from record sales. They couldn’t keep it together, personality wise, clashing from the word “go”. They hit the road that same year, with their first full album coming out in January 1967. By this time, Michael was already tired of touring, wanting instead to be a studio musician. The band brought in Emmett Lake to play Michael on the road. The division between Michael, his father and the rest of the band came to a head later that year, when Michael released a single, “Ivy, Ivy” with all studio musicians, going under the name of Left Banke. Naturally, this didn’t sit well with Tom, George and Steve; once the single was pressed, the rest of the band petitioned the Left Banke fan club, asking them not to support this imposteur band. They raised enough cain to cause the record label to drop all support of it, while also confusing radio stations nationwide, ensuring the demise of “Ivy, Ivy” and most Left Banke releases in the future.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeYzV74Il-8&feature=related]

Putting this behind them later in 1967, Michael, Tom, George and Steve went back into the studio to record a new batch of material, including the song “Desiree”, which barely made Billboard’s Top 100. After the big SNAFU earlier that year, no one was willing to put much effort into pushing the new music. Sales dropped, singles never charted and members were replaced. Michael quit by the end of 1967, being replaced for a time by Emmett Lake and finally Tom Feher. Tom took over half of the writing for the band and in 1968 they released a new album of material, The Left Banke, Too. Interestingly enough, this album saw the additional background vocals being provided by a young Steven Tallarico, who would become Steven Tyler, of Aerosmith fame. 1969 saw them all hanging on by a thread, still touring but falling apart at the seams. The Left Banke officially called it quits in 1969, from lack of popularity and money. They would temporarily resurface in the late 70s with a new album that faded, once again, into obscurity, Strangers On A Train.

Despite being a train wreck from day one, The Left Banke left a unique resonance in the pantheon of 60s pop. Often compared to The Beach Boys in relation to their tight harmonies, they also brought in a strain of classical composition and instrumentation that set them apart from other bands of the time. Thanks to Michael Brown and his father, who was a successful session violinist, the band created a new form of rock, often called “Bach-rock” or “baroque rock”. Their use of strings and harpsichord bring a tasteful element to their already beautiful harmonies. While Spector had his “wall of sound” and Motown was churning out girl groups like they were going out of style, The Left Banke was giving pop rock an aristocratic edge.

As is the case with so many musical endeavors, The Left Banke had a short but memorable career. Personnel divisions, inexperience and a string of bad luck brought a premature end to a band that has continued to leave a mark on the American music community. Among their champions are Alice Cooper and Susanna Hoffs of The Bangles, each having covered their own versions of Left Banke material. It’s true that there is nothing completely new to be created, but occasionally a few discerning individuals have the guts to look at a puzzle and rearrange the pieces.

generic viagra mastercard payment

You can go as far as you want without a passport. Whereas a piece of government-endorsed paper can only put you across country lines, the expanse of a creative soul can transport itself and others over time and space parameters. A string of rhyme and strummed chords can take you from coast to coast, bouncing from the punked out streets of LA to the deepest delta ditches. A well placed riff can turn a rock club in San Francisco to the city streets of upstate New York. Peter Case has traveled the universe over, all while walking the streets of America. From his early days hitchhiking to California, to moderate success in a punk band, and coming full circle as itinerant American, his crooked mile has turned out refreshingly straight.

It all began with two older sisters and an Elvis record. Peter was born April 5, 1954, 10 minutes and right down the hall from Rock n’ Roll. Under the tutelage of his older sisters, he fostered a love for Elvis, Chuck Berry, Fats Domino and the like. In 1964 it grew to include the Beatles and Bob Dylan. 1967 found Peter in a local library, discovering a dusty copy of an old Mississippi John Hurt record. That moment changed everything; “‘Today’…that one changed my whole outlook…”. At 15, he dropped out of school, joining local bands, playing local clubs, and generally cutting his musical teeth. From 1969 to 1973 he traveled from place to place, never settling, always playing. His songwriting career had begun, but had yet to make an impact. He finally came off the road, settling on San Francisco, CA. There, he hit the streets, playing for tips and passers-by, often catching the ears of local homeless characters. In fact, he remembers being followed around by every crazy person on the streets of town. Many songs were created around the facts of these almost fictitious characters.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zq__35cqLCQ&feature=related]

He banded together with Jack Lee and Paul Collins to form The Nerves, in 1976. They enjoyed success around the area, taking place in some of the first punk shows in California. Their song, “Hanging On The Telephone” would later be recorded by Blondie. Eventually they broke up and Peter migrated to warmer climates in LA. In 1980 he formed The Plimsouls. Enjoying more success than his previous band, their single “A Million Miles Away” was featured in a movie called Valley Girl. By the time their single took off, the band had already broken up, lasting until 1984. Despite their brief career, The Plimsouls had an effect on punk rockers that would come later on. As important as Case’s early career was, his solo work has proven to be the most expansive and influential.

Teaming up with T Bone Burnett in 1986, his first self-titled solo album was released. Some of his most well-known songs appear on this first effort, including ‘I Shook His Hand”. These next few albums take on a more stripped down approach, as opposed to the punk-rock he was putting out before. This is where Peter morphs from aggravated punk to itinerant blues man. Traveling troubadour, identifying life from all angles and pushing the truth as far as he can. More recognizable songs stem from the next album, The Man With The Blue Postmodern Fragmented Neo-Traditionalist Guitar, such as “Poor Old Tom”, “Travelin’ Light”, “Two Angels” and so forth. He rides the line between gritty pop and raw acoustic power, continuing through the 90s and early 2000s. He was signed to Vanguard records in the 90s, after a stint with Geffen. In 2001, an album of previous recordings, Thank You St. Jude was self-released. It features Peter and fiddle player David Perales, who did a series of small club dates together. In the span of a few days, between gigs, they popped into a studio and laid down a handful of acoustic tracks, which became the first Peter Case album I purchased.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRXS6V_LPf4&feature=related]

Along with making his own music, he has become a music preservationist. He created the music program at The Getty Museum in LA in the late 90s. One of his larger projects involved producing and playing on a tribute album to his hero, Mississippi John Hurt. Avalon Blues: A Tribute To The Music Of Mississippi John Hurt was released in 2001, receiving a Grammy nomination in 2002 for Best Traditional Folk Album. Peter also received a Grammy nomination for his song “Old Blue Car” off his self-titled debut. He has been teaching songwriting classes around his home in LA for years, and is a staple at McCabe’s, a local LA venue. Along with his memoir, As Far As You Can Get Without A Passport, 2006 also brought on the release of a three disc tribute album called A Case For Case. Among contributors were John Prine, singing some of Peter’s best-loved compositions.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZIBShjwtZE&feature=related]

A health scare temporarily sidelined him in 2009, finding Peter in the hospital for open-heart surgery. Being without health insurance, a foundation was established to cover his medical costs, Hidden Love

Buy cheap Viagra online

, plus a string of benefit concerts were put on in LA and Nashville, with many friends and compatriots coming out to support Peter. He is now back from the recovery stages, with a new album being released, Wig!, and a new tour putting him on the road through the summer. All in all, there are no signs of slowing down for the itinerant observer.

Peter Case has seen it all and was intelligent enough to write it down for the rest of us. His work has spanned from the early fringe of a counterculture movement to the deepening roots of early American song. He champions the everyday man, and writes from a soul steeped in the ideas of truth at any price. At times it is beautiful and at others it is grotesque, but it is always honest. Peter Case has carried the torch of the wayfaring stranger for most of his life, and someday he will pass it on to the next person willing to step into his shoes. For now though, the coast is clear with no signs of stopping.

viagra sale canada

Robert Johnson’s life began at a crossroads. In true Faustian form, he crossed paths with the devil, taking him away in his fingertips. The legend of Johnson is more well-known than the actual footsteps he took, and what information we have been left with has more holes than a piece of Swiss cheese. Thus, the mythological figure is born. An illegitimate sharecropper’s son, he became the defining perpetrator of the delta blues, traveling between town and country, picking for quarters and pints of whiskey. Naturally, his early and untimely death has done much to perpetuate the hazy mist surrounding his existence. That and the lack of a paper trail.

Robert Johnson was born in Hazlehurst, MS

Buy cheap Viagra online

on May 8, 1911. As a young boy he lived in levee camps and on plantations around northern Mississippi. He moved with his family to Memphis in 1914 and by 1918 was sent to live on the Abbay and Leatherman Plantation, near Robbinsville, MS. As a young man, he picked up a skill for the harmonica and jaw harp, which would lead into a fascination with the guitar in his 20s. He met and played with Willie Brown and Charlie Patton, accompanying them at local gatherings and parties. Through this he also met Son House, one of his early influences. Brown, Patton, House and Johnson began traveling together, playing where they could, with Robert as the odd man out. He had yet to become a guitar player, so he packed up and went back to Hazlehurst.

Upon arrival, he began playing with local bluesman Ike Zinnerman. This is where the crossroads legend came into being. From the time Johnson left House and the boys, to the time he reemerged as a guitar player he was off the radar. In less than two years, he had become a master of both the delta and country blues styles, picking up repertoire from the radio and other players he came across. Zinnerman’s playing captivated him, and so he copied Zinnerman very closely. By the time he met up with Son House again, he could play circles around him, making it seem as if he had literally struck a deal with the Devil himself, just to be able to do so.

In one respect, his music was oddly similar to other guitarists of the time, such as Peetie Wheatstraw, Scrapper Blackwell, Skip James and Kokomo Arnold, but different simultaneously. He took all of these different styles and mashed them together, laying rhythms on top of slippery leads, giving voice to a whole range of emotions and depths. It wasn’t so much that he created new ideas, but rather gathered up a bunch of used techniques and reorganized them, creating a new sound entirely. He mimicked the sound of two guitar players, while being only one, fooling even Keith Richards.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkftesK2dck]

He was a wanderer. He was known for packing up halfway through a performance and leaving without so much as a tip of the hat. His itinerant lifestyle lead him all over the South, through the delta, up through Chicago and the midwest, back down through Texas and beyond. He made friends in every town, found women to put him up, drank too much and couldn’t through a punch to save his own skin. He was married more than once, the marriage licenses being some of the only written proof of his existence. He had some children, the first of which died during birth, along with his first wife. Lucky for us, he found time amidst all this to cut 29 of the most influential blues songs ever recorded.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MCHI23FTP8]

His entire recording career can be summed up in two sessions, one of which took place on November 23, 1936. In a small room at the Gunter Hotel in San Antonio, TX, he sat in a straight-back chair facing the wall. What came out was “Come On In My Kitchen”, “I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom”, “Kind Hearted Woman Blues” and his biggest success, “Terraplane Blues”. He would only live to see the success of “Terraplane Blues”, which sold 5,000 copies regionally. The second session was held in Dallas, TX, June of 1937. 11 more songs were cut, all of them being cut twice. Who knows what else he would have come up with, had he survived 1938.

The story of his death is muddled, although there are basic facts that surround every version. The most popular version is that he was poisoned at a juke joint, by the owner who found him closing in on his wife. The story goes that he was poisoned with strychnine, poured in a bottle of whiskey, which the man gave to his wife. She unknowingly offered it to Robert, who gladly accepted. Three days later he was dead, having painfully convulsed his way into the ever-after. Other stories say that he was flirting with said married woman, but she was of no relation to the juke joint owner. In his book, Crossroads: The Life and Afterlife of Blues Legend Robert Johnson, Tom Graves uses toxicology reports to argue against the use of strychnine. Apparently, the smell and taste of it can’t be masked, even with hard liquor, which means that Robert would have known something was wrong. Also, it would take a good amount of strychnine to have a fatal reaction, and such an amount would bring death on in a matter of hours. As it was, Johnson didn’t even feel sick until hours later, and didn’t actually die for a few days. So the stories surrounding his death are as mysterious as his venture to the crossroads.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wC4M4eQlz5I&feature=related]

Johnson was lost to American ears for almost 25 years before he was found again. Beginning with John Hammond, who tried to find him and add him to a show at Carnegie Hall, and continuing with Alan Lomax, who put him amongst a series of other artists catalogued for the Library of Congress. A full length album was put out, Robert Johnson: King of The Delta Blues, in 1961 which found its way across the pond and into the hands of burgeoning guitarists Brian Jones, Keith Richards and Eric Clapton. His popularity was cemented mostly in jazz and white music historian circles, spreading into the blues and rock worlds throughout the 60s. Today, he is looked at as the reigning king of Delta Blues, passing along the spiritual gifts to some of today’s other mythological guitar gods, and whether or not he actually shook hands with Satan himself is now immaterial. The magic is in the music, the philosophy in the playing, and who really cares how it happened?

generic viagra available in canada

Buy cheap Viagra online

Outlaws have been romanticized in stories since the first story told. Every culture has their own breed, wearing tall leather boots, a gun on the hip and a knife in the boot, and wide-brimmed hat to cover their brooding eyes. The American cowboy has captured the imagination of the world through radio, movies and syndicated television, but to have them walk through a bar nowadays is more than a little rare. Though they are a “dying breed”, there are a few still roaming around, sniffing out freedom in the wind, reminding us where we came from. Kris Kristofferson has spent a lifetime writing about freedom, and the road few realize exists. He should know; he helped to pave it.

Brownsville, TX bore him but couldn’t hold him. He joined this world on June 22, 1936, born to an Army Air Corps Major General and his wife. As with many military families, they migrated to whichever base needed them. He grew up on the fly, finally landing and graduating from San Mateo High School and attending Pomona College. In 1958, he graduated with a bachelors degree and crossed the sea to attend Oxford, on a Rhodes’ Scholarship. Military service was in the cards for Kris, as it had been for most of the men in his family. Upon graduation from Oxford in 1960, he joined the US Air Force, being stationed in West Germany.

Throughout his high school and college careers he fostered an urge to write. Having a creative literature degree, he honed his songwriting craft through Hank Williams records and William Blake poetry. He excelled in the military, making the rank of Captain, learning how to fly helicopters and even putting a band together. By the time his tour was over in 1965, he had two choices: he could become an English professor at West Point Military Academy, where he had a position waiting, or he could pack up his songs and fly them to Nashville. All but one person told him to avoid Nashville; when he told a general he knew about his dreams of writing, he simply told him “follow your heart”. Much to the chagrin of his friends and family, he packed his pens and paper, clothes and memories, one step behind his heart all the way.

In between college and the military, Kris married his high school sweetheart, Fran Beir, with whom he had two children. They were together through the move to Nashville, but the burden of living hand-to-mouth, coupled with the resulting medical bills from a birth defect in their son was too much for them. They divorced soon after.

Like all other starving artists, Kris picked up a handful of jobs to pay the bills. Bartender, janitor, helicopter pilot were just a few, but eventually even these would pay off in interesting ways. He got a job at Columbia Studios sweeping the floors, leading to a meeting with Johnny Cash, himself. He was a fan of Cash’s before meeting, and a close friend from then on. Cash mentored him in the business and gave him his first few major breaks, encouraging him to keep writing and pushing. He was there while Bob Dylan was recording Blonde On Blonde, in 1966, but kept his distance for fear of pissing Bob off. He was also flying helicopters to and from oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico. Many of his songs were written while sitting on top of an oil rig, or driving back to Nashville. In between jobs he was shopping his songs, hanging out in the bars listening to other songwriters. Just in case anyone is wondering, it is not a glamorous life. It’s comparable to living like a peasant in the feudal days, except in this case, you’re slave to your craft. It’s the most freeing and entrapping feeling, lived simultaneously. Kris lived it well.

1966 continued on with glimmers of promise. Dave Dudley cut on of his songs, “Vietnam Blues” , which brought mild recognition. At long last, he put his own voice on tape, cutting “The Golden Idol”/”Killing Time” in 1967 on Epic Records. If you’ve never heard of it, don’t feel bad; it went straight to the bottom of the toilet. Kris’ resolve was strengthened and his writing became ferocious. He broke out in 1968, getting a cut with Roy Drusky (“Jody and The Kid”). This was followed by a slew of cuts from Roger Miller, Jerry Lee Lewis and Faron Young.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ba_LHj23OG0]

After years of demo pushing and miserable failing, he convinced Cash to record one of his songs. In a particularly brazen move, he dropped a helicopter into Johnny’s front yard, hand delivering an acetate demo to his front door. June thought it was the IRS, finally catching up with them, but when Johnny saw it was Kris, he was impressed. “Sunday Morning Coming Down” was recorded and Kris was asked to perform a couple of songs during Cash’s Newport Folk Festival appearance. The deal was sealed at that moment. It encapsulated both writer and performer in a few deft lines. Johnny Cash is as known for his tumultuous lifestyle as for his music, having been to the bottom of the barrel and scraping what he could before rising back up to the top. Kris also was no stranger to hardship, having looked the devil straight in the eyes. “Sunday Morning Coming Down” is redemptive, having nowhere to turn but towards the light, knowing it’s the last thing deserved but the only thing needed.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6w9F7zf_2mM&feature=related]

A self-titled album, Kristofferson, followed in 1970. It did fairly well, with songs such as “Me and Bobby McGee” found between the grooves. It was re-released and retitled in 1971 after the passing of Janis Joplin. Before her death on October 4, 1970, she secretly cut a version of “Me and Bobby McGee” on her album, Pearl. Released posthumously, it skyrocketed to the top of the charts, becoming her only #1 hit, and only the second posthumous #1 issued, after Otis Redding’s “Sittin’ (On The Dock Of The Bay). Her version became the song of a generation, the battle cry of every homeless, rootless soul riding the salty wind. His words painted the picture of love that everyone had felt without being able to describe it. Having dated on and off before her death, she hadn’t even let him know what she was doing; he found out on October 5, when it came on the radio. Subsequent albums followed throughout the 70s and 80s, some doing fairly well, others failing miserably. Notable releases include The Silver Tongued Devil and I (1971), Jesus Was A Capricorn (1972) Border Lord (1973).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FMhnl0__Vo]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BG2kq-4dM98&feature=related]

The thing about Kris is that while none of his albums did that well commercially, his songs have been winning awards all along. He himself is not very commercial, but when another artist who is gets a hold on one of his compositions, it’s earth shattering. You might be able to deny his performance style, his simple guitar playing, his gravel-eating voice. On the other hand, his songs are of another world. I try to keep myself out of the articles I write, but in this instance, I am too much of a fan to keep quiet. I can’t deny the presence of a living, breathing, loving, hurting God when I listen to a Kristofferson song. To be able to paint such vivid pictures, calling on images that most people would rather stuff into the furthest recesses of their minds, and touching a part of the soul that is best left alone…that is a gift that comes from a place no human can access on their own. He is as honest about a one-night stand as he is about falling at the feet of Christ, things most of us would try to separate, but should possibly be considered in the same breath. Now that I have properly fallen through the soap box I was standing on, I will continue with the article.

While writing songs, recording albums, pursuing an acting career and winning awards, Kris met and married fellow musician Rita Coolidge. They had one daughter, Casey, two duet albums, Full Moon (1973) and Breakaway (1974), and a handful of happy years. They divorced in 1980, amidst a tidal wave of increasingly unpopular albums for Kris and plummeting movie reviews. Up to this point, his movie career had been climbing, peaking with his 1976 performance with Barbara Streisand in A Star Is Born, while his album sales were flagging. His performance in Pat Garret and Billy The Kid was among his best, but the music he composed for the film out-shined his onscreen appearance. Other films have followed over the past 30 years that have rounded out his acting career.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CcadC-S8-E]

In 1982, Kris was part of a combo release with Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton and Brenda Lee of material they had recorded for Monument Records over the years. They performed together on a variety show hosted by Johnny Cash later that year, where Kris and Willie got to know each other. Becoming fast friends, they were cast in the movie, Songwriter. Both the combo release and the Songwriter soundtrack did well on the charts, putting Kris back out in the spotlight. 1985 saw the formation of The Highwaymen, Kris, Willie, Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash. The country super group was a traditional answer to the new wave of contemporary country sweeping the nation. They go on to tour major venues around the world, their self-titled album becoming a huge hit.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P637ok6pwVU]

The late 80s and 90s saw Kris continuing with The Highwaymen, but also becoming a social activist. Through his music, he has championed for the release of Nelson Mandela, and for political awareness around the world. Having served in the military himself, he has broadened his line of sight to explore the underbelly of America’s foreign relations. It’s a fine line that we have drawn in the sand, between fighting for freedom and pushing our cause to the brink of destruction. Kris has taken up the duty of talking about it frankly. It’s not done to bolster political opinion; it’s something he sees as a matter of right and wrong. Writers pen what they know, what they believe. Sometimes it’s a hard pill for others to swallow, and it doesn’t always win friends, but it’s the mark of integrity. This awareness continues to ring out of his current material, along with the same vivid images of life’s soaring highs and shameful lows.

If you were to look at a stack of records, you would find Kris Kristofferson somewhere between Hank Williams and a copy of Jean Shepherd Reads The Poetry of Robert Service. He is equal parts reckless and reserved, witty and world-weary, brazen and observant. In an age where most would rather give lip-service, he chose to speak his mind. Despite falling from grace more than once, he continues to seek out the narrow gate spoken of in the Gospel of Matthew; the narrow gate that leads to promise. The narrow gate few will bother to find. And as swiftly as a tumbleweed will careen through the open desert, his music will  continue to cut a path through the gritty winds of life.

viagra cialis cost comparisons