My other personal “records”

The rest of the additions to my music collection since summer.

OH, yes . . . Old Bach and Old Biggs, playing a not-quite-so-old organ.  I grabbed this one for two reasons:  first, I didn’t have a recording of the D minor Toccata on the organ, and second, because of King Thomas (I know I’ve told that story before, even though it’s really L’s story).

“I wish I was in Austin, in the Chili Parlor bar / Drinkin’ Mad Dog margaritas, and not carin’ where you are. . . .”
“I loved you from the get-go, and I’ll love you ’til I die / I loved you on the Spanish Steps, the day you said goodbye.”

I don’t quite know how Guy Clark, who’s been happily married to Susanna since the ’70s, can still manage to write songs of such raw, emotional love lost.  But damn, can he do it.

I kinda got on a Traffic kick a while back, and picked these up as thirty years after-the-fact.  Fortunately, they don’t seem to have been injured by the long wait.

Butch is . . . well, Butch.  He’s by far the most prolific songwriter of the Lubbock Mafia, and the most idiosyncratic.

I missed this when it came out, for some reason.  It’s a bit up-and-down, even for Lyle, but I’ll forgive a lot in an album that has Willis Alan’s “That’s Right (You’re Not from Texas) (But Texas Loves You Anyway)” on it.

If I didn’t have the evidence right here in front of me, I would have told you that it was impossible for Guy Clark to make a mediocre album . . . but this one sure is.  I don’t think much of the songs, and I sure don’t think much of Rodney Crowell’s production here.

OK, this one is a rehash of material from the first several albums on RCA.  That’s all right; I mostly don’t own them, so I’m as happy to have a compilation.

Bliss it was in the dawn of doo-wop dancin’.  Fnord.