Volume 44 - No. 47
December 4, 2014
by lyle e davis
The world’s greatest poets have mostly been found from amongst our troubadours.
Those somewhat rare individuals who can wrap words around an idea that permeates the hearts and minds of those in the audience. T’was true in days of old . . . and it’s just as true today. John Lennon and Paul McCartney of The Beatles had that magic. So does Kris Kristofferson. So does Merle Haggard.
Not only did these artists tell a story, they told it in such a manner that they embraced you as they told it . . . and you, in return, embraced them back. A magic bond was formed and magic happened.
Merle Haggard is coming to Escondido on December 10th, along about 7:30pm, at the Center for the Arts, Escondido.
Evelyn and I will be in the audience, paying homage to a natural born and bred legend - a poet who had a little hungry in his voice . . . an anguished cry, a whole lot of emotion . . . and years of experience, not always happy ones. Not only does Merle Haggard have the talent of putting his poetry down on paper . . . but he then sings it in his own inimitable style.
As Chris Heath said in a GQ Magazine article back in 2005: (Haggard does) the hardest and most wonderful thing a song writer can do—join together a handful of simple, commonplace words in a way that somehow makes them new and true and eternal, their wisdom and poetry hidden in plain sight.
You hear a couple bars of his music and you don’t need an announcer to tell you who’s singing . . . when you hear “Hag” you know it. And you savor it . . . like the first squeezin’s of moonshine.
He’s getting on in years, Merle is. He’s at an age, 77, when most folks would think he’d be retiring from the road. He also recently beat lung cancer. The Paper - 760.747.7119
website:www.thecommunitypaper.com
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Though he’s had some serious health issues, he’s not about to retire.
He may cut back some . . . but if he gets an idea for a poem . . he’s soon busy crafting another song . . . and then he starts singing it . . . and magic happens all over again. Those of us who love Merle Haggard, and we are legion, follow him and live the hard scrabble life he lived vicariously, which is the best way to live a rough life. Haggard knows hard living, uncertain love, and a lot of the rough stumbles in life. He’s lived them.
Mr. Haggard—who will perform Wednesday, December 10th, at the Center for the Arts, Escondido — was born and grew up in Bakersfield but soon got into trouble with the law in the 1950s, landing in prison after trying to rob a roadhouse. As an inmate at San Quentin, he was in the audience in 1958 when Johnny Cash performed
there, convincing Mr. Haggard to take his talents more seriously when he was released in 1960. Even after prison life his road was a bit on the bumpy side. He played honky-tonks and honed his craft, singing other people’s songs . . . but, within him, a growing need began to grow . . . to write and perform his own “stuff.”
He was one of the chief architects of the Bakersfield sound music that was earthy - sometimes rebellious, sometimes plaintive, but always touching the heart and minds of the listener.
This music drifted away from the highly polished Nashville sound . . .and came to be known as “outlaw country.” A cult following began to develop and they lusted after the music of Hag, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash, and Willie Nelson - the “outlaws.”
The others were pretty much already established stars in country music . . . and its newest product, ‘outlaw country,’ but Hag was coming up fast on the inside lanes.
This man who sometimes had a plaintive cry in his voice, other times a voice that went way down into the deeper register that just murmured you into that cozy, easy feeling of drinking fine musical poetry just as much as sippin’ fine Tennessee whiskey . . . well, he was somethin’ special and word began to spread . . . and audiences began to take notice. As did the recording executives. And so, our national poets have become our national troubadours . . . those rare individuals who have the talent to take their wordsmithery, find a melody to suit it . . . and to tell a tale that will break your heart, make you laugh, or let you relive the rough patches they have traveled.
I remember attending a Kris Kistofferson concert a few years
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