Bakersfield Mourning

Sorry about that. Think I found enough bandwidth to get me through the rest of the month.

Time to close up the honky tonks. Buck Owens died this weekend. You'll never see his like again, really. A giant, one of the last vestiges of classic country,and still performing up until his last hours. I don't feel like being obscure or trying to be clever today. I just feel like listening to some seminal Buck. Proper eulogies can be found at yr favorite country music sites.



Buck Owens: Close Up the Honky Tonks (mp3)

Buck Owens: Streets of Bakersfield (mp3)

Saints Preserve

I know this is a day early. But the Mountain is very busy this week, and forget about getting anything out of me Friday.

This is hardly representative of all the great Irish music out there, from traditional to punk, and all points inbetween. I'm leaving too many great songs and artists out. But, I know all y'all got the Pogues, and that's a tad predictable from the Mountain anyway, innit? No need to remind me who and what I left out, I'm already working some Catholic guilt about it.

St. Patrick's not from Ireland. Shane lives in England. Mike Scott is from Scotland. But Phil Lynott was a genius, and Van's a mystic (or mystic fool). And Americans (that'd include me) act like the holiday was invented for them.

So enjoy a small drop in the bucket of tunes from folks from the Emerald Isle (or bands featuring folks from said territory). Have a pint, don't say "blarney" (you'll sound like an eejit), wear green only if you feel it validates you, kiss a redhead in Chicago (but watch out for his wife), and dance a jig like the drunken fools you are. Thanks for visiting.


Van Morrison and the Chieftans: Carrickfergus (mp3)

Clancy Brothers: Whiskey You're the Devil (mp3)

Dubliners: Drink Up Men(mp3)

Stiff Little Fingers: Alternative Ulster (mp3)

Thin Lizzy: Whiskey in the Jar (mp3)

Irish Rovers: Nancy Whiskey (mp3)

The Undertones: Teenage Kicks (mp3)

Shane MacGowan: Danny Boy (mp3)

Lord Knows

With the advent of the week leading up to my favorite holiday, I'm going to give one last go to a familiar theme. Well, not really a last go, but I really need to retire the theme for a bit.

One great thing about country music is the notion of never getting above one's raisin', as it were. No hoity toityness. I think I've inherited that notion from my Irish ancestors (whoever and wherever they may be) as well.

So, this is dedicated to the hypocritical religious right, and to the spineless left. And I promise I'm gonna put Bobby Bare to bed for a bit too.

Cal Smith: The Lord Knows I'm Drinking (mp3)

Bobby Bare and Lacy Dalton: Beer Drinking Christians (mp3)

Support your local, independent, house of worship and intoxication.

Slick Cheaters

Truth of the matter is, I've been known, on occasion, to take a bit of a piss on Country music of the 1970's. And I'll maintain there's much from that decade that's better left buried. To tell the truth again, though, I'd have to admit to a good amount of Country from the 70's that was pretty damn swell. It's easy to lose sight of that until one stares into the shiny bauble of crap coming out of Nashville nowadays (and the whole last decade). Going through my record collection, I'm always astonished how many albums I own from the 70's or how many artists I admire made their careers during the aegis of the Rhinestone years.

Of particular interest is the perfection of the cheating song forged to an art during the decade of key parties, discos, swingers, niteclub culture, deep throats, miss jones, and leisure suits. Along with dead dogs, pickup trucks, and beer, country has always been about the cheating, two-timing, doublecrossing deeds of bad men and wayward women. God bless 'em. But there's something about a cheatin' song from the 70's that adds a weary sigh to the knowing wink. Which is not to say the genre became a study in moralism. Quite the opposite, as the act was generally celebrated as a hedonistic last dance before the dawn of the 80's, and the rise of a virus some called the consequence of sin. Or something. But, to toss off any over-analysis, cheating songs have always some of the funniest lyrics in country, doing the tongue-twist like Dr. Seuss.

I like Moe Bandy. A honky tonk purist in the midst of urban cowboy Nashville, Bandy somehow managed to position himself among Music City's elite despite a disinclination toward the slick and overproduced. His thoughts never far from the barroom and the bedroom (someone else's), Bandy racked up song after song about drinkin' and steppin' out, all without sacrificing his country raisin' (he was born in the same town as Jimmie Rodgers). The 80's and beyond were not kind to Bandy (depending on who you ask, I guess), and he now sets up shop in that little town I like to think is as Hell's representative on earth, Branson, MO. But it's his 70's output that should put a smile in every honky tonk's purist's heart.

I can't guarantee I won't do another Moe Bandy post featuring his fine, fine, drinkin' songs, but today it's all about the cheatin'.


Moe Bandy: I Just Started Hatin' Cheatin' Songs Today (mp3)

Moe Bandy: She's Not Really Cheatin'(She's Gettin' Even) (mp3)

Moe Bandy and Janie Fricke: It's a Cheating Situation (mp3)

Support your local, independent motels. The kind with hourly rates.

Well It's Lonesome in This Big Town

I've only been to Houston once, and that was for a layover, so I never left the airport. I was still afraid I was gonna get arrested for not carrying a gun.

Founded by brothers Augustus and John Allen, who paid $1.40 per acre for 6,642 acres of land near Buffalo Bayou in 1838, Houston is named after Sam Houston, general of Texas army that won independence from Mexico, and president of the Republic of Texas. Some also call it "Space City, USA" (probably not it's locals though). It's the 4th largest city in the United States, and home to the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, the world's biggest rodeo. It's also home to Comets and Astros, Aeros, Hotshots, Rockets, and Texans. NASA's got a thing going there. Cowboy hats and oil rigs figure prominently in the skyline. The Geto Boys were from Houston. Kenny Rogers, Barbara Mandrell, Howard Hughes, and Tommy Tune have all been born or resided in Houston. According to the 2003-4 U.S. census, folks from Houston eat out more than any other city in the United States.

We're informative here at the Mountain.

But we're not really concerned with Houston the city so much as Houston the idea. Houston the song. One we're quite keen on here at the Mountain. A stumbling, shambolic western hymn to, ostensibly, losing oneself and finding, again, in the green, green, grass of home. Or something. Maybe it's not about that at all.

Here's another Mountain favorite(hell, they're all favorites, aren't they?), presented in glorious technicolor. One by the man who wrote it, one by the man who perfected it, 'nother by a country prankster, and the final by a savant genius. Enjoy.

Lee Hazlewood: Houston (mp3)

Dean Martin: Houston (mp3)

Bobby Bare: Houston (mp3)

The Fall: 41 Loop/Houston (mp3)

The Mountain is not planning on visiting Houston anytime soon, but if we do, we'd be inclined to check out their local, independent establishments. To get a proper taste of the character of the city.

Truck Me

Enjoy some good hot truckin'. We're all gonna head to Houston tomorrow. Several times. You'll see.

The Willis Brothers: Highway Patrol (mp3)

Red Simpson: I Got a Beaver on My Lap and a Bear on My Tail (mp3)

Dave Dudley: I Want a Woman With a Handle (mp3)

Dave Dudley: Rolaids, Doan's Pills and Preparation H (mp3)

Thank you.

Bring it all Back Home

Server's working again. The George Jones songs are back up, and tomorrow's post is just about done. I'll bring the Wynonie songs back next week as an extra special secret bonus. Sorry 'bout the delay, folks.

Playing Possum

I was cruising down the road on my lawnmower the other day, looking for a bottle of Jack, and wondered to myself why I hadn't done a proper raving post on old George Jones. Then I realized that, well hell, everyone knows all about George Jones. What could I possibly say about the man in a few short paragraphs that others hadn't spent whole articles and books detailing? Nothing really. Man's a legend, a bonafide living archetype. And thee golden voice of Country and Western. Figger I aint worth my salt if I don't at least give Jones a passing mention.

The list of classic Jones songs goes on and on to infinity, with big smash hits all over the damn map, and tales to tell. Here's a few swell tunes that may not fall into the top-of-the-pops chapter of Jones' life story, but I'm quite keen on them. More trash than country balladeering. "Tall Tall Trees" is a favorite no matter who does it. "Old King Kong" is, well, a classic in an alternate universe. And "Yabba Dabba Do" is the requisite drinking song, and a bit less silly than the title would suggest.

George Jones: Tall Tall Trees (mp3)

George Jones: Old King Kong (mp3)

George Jones: Yabba Dabba Do (mp3)

Thanks for considerin' buying your George Jones at your local independent record store. Gonna get Semi-regular on Friday.

Whiskey in the Well

Look, it's Coffin Ed and Gravedigger Jones. Nah, not really.

I've noticed an unintentional god'n'gospel-type theme running through the last few posts. Nope, I haven't been converted. Sometimes things just turn out that way. So I'm gonna take us into the weekend with a final song about a church service gone joyously off track.

Wynonie Harris is, well, he's just about the greatest thing since rye whiskey, aint he? If you don't have a little Wynonie in yr music collection, you need to remedy that situation. A blues shouter and stylist extraordinaire, Wynonie swings his ribald tales of booze, broads, and bawdiness with unparalleled joy. It's all about gettin' the action, and gettin' the party. And whether the party's in your pants, your house, or your bottle(or all three), Wynonie's your man. Fella knows about sinnin'.

And, speaking of sinning, Wynonie wants to tell you about how a church meetin' can be improved by tossin' a little something in the water supply. He also wants you to know how much he likes pudding. And, for god's sake, don't take his whiskey away. Start your weekend right with these fine selections.

Wynonie Harris: Who Threw the Whiskey in the Well (mp3)

Wynonie Harris: I Like My Baby's Puddin' (mp3)

Wynonie Harris: Don't Take My Whiskey Away From Me (mp3)


Thanks. Have a good weekend. Drink lots of water.

Lonely Weekends, Muddy Waters

Slacker. That'd be me. Sorry. I'll be getting back on track shortly. Though I'm beginning to wonder... if there's too many other great blogs out there, all the good songs are already spoken for, etc. Eh.

Here's a little something from one of the hundred or so artists that comprise my top ten favorite artists list.

Though his decline into bland countrypolitan in the late 60's is well documented, Charlie Rich began his career as a crackin' good honky tonker. Versatile in infusing a range of styles (blues, jazz, gospel) into the mix, and possessing one of the great country voices (influenced by Elvis, but I'll take Rich over Elvis any day), the sides he recorded for Smash and Sun Records stand as some of the classic tonkin' singles released in the 50's and 60's.

"Lonely Weekends" is my favorite Rich tune. A hand clappin' barnburner replete with swinging country gospel choir(fans of Evelyn Freeman's "Didn't It Rain" take note).

Charlie Rich: Lonely Weekends (mp3)

Charlie Rich: I Washed My Hands In Muddy Water (mp3)

Thanks for visitin' for a spell. Check out your local, independent establishments