In a simpler, less neo-Nazi-infested time when I didn't refuse to set a solitary foot in the woman-subjugating, Klan-empowering garbagescape of Texas, I stumbled on an EP called Live Texas Radio by a band called The Highwaymen, and who were, to be clear, a DIFFERENT Highwaymen from the all-star aging-legend ensemble. I bought it on cassette, to give you an idea of the epoch, and it was, as its title suggests, recorded in a live-for-broadcast session on some station down there. It's an astounding record, both ass-kicking and eviscerating in places, and in the latter category was this song of which I have just done a respectful cover (attached). It was a good song then, but now, 30ish years later, it jumped into my brain out of the blue as I was trying to come up with a song for some dear friends' anniversary, and the lyrics now resonate so deeply that they having me rolling over things in my head that I'd thought long-buried. If you've got four minutes where you've got nothing better to do, might be worth your time, might not. Only one way to find out, I suppose.
"I remember you one stormy afternoon, the naked-light Best Western motel room
You looked in the mirror, said 'No one ever told me I was beautiful before,'
And I didn't understand the circles that you'd been traveling in
But you were beautiful forever right then"
"You said if we decided not to be together
That in that moment we'd be suddenly older
And that's what we did but in my dreams
We just get younger and younger
Don't mind the wrinkles most days
But I never got over your Best Western ways
Though the ache remains, as if the thing that makes us strong"
Add comment