Listening to Willie Nelson’s latest album Last Man Standing reinforces my unstinting affection and admiration for the man – not something I can say about many creative talents, even others that have been iconic in my love of the arts. At age 85, he’s still writing strong and fine songs. In some ways he sings them as well as ever, his voice deepened in both timbre and emotional strength alongside a delivery that’s as organic as a flowing river. He also continues to play some 100 shows annually.
As he ruminates in the title track, many of his pals and peers are no longer with us. It puts him in a position where he can’t help but ponder: to carry on or not? In the song’s last line, he admits that he maybe is OK with being the last man standing.
The album’s music – old school yet still relevant country with a spry jazz and swing accent on many of the numbers – is delightful. As long as he can keep making albums this winning, no reason he shouldn’t continue doing what he does so well.
I’d like to think his continuing vitality as an artist is to some degree fueled by the kind of man he is: in a word, good. And in a few more: unpretentious, honest, gracious and real. I could go on. ... It’s not hard to find nice things to say about Willie.
The time I’ve spent with him doing two interviews – plus another hour or so socially on his bus consuming his favorite recreational substance – have been as enjoyable as any I’ve spent with the many hundreds of creative artists and entertainers I’ve encountered over the years.
One fun afternoon back in the late ’90s at his nominal HQ and golf club outside Austin, Texas, where he has a home (though he mainly lives in Maui when off the road), Nelson did something that showed me how different he is from almost any other musical artist. He was telling me about how he had recorded a reggae album, and I said how I look forward to hearing it. So he slipped a cassette of it into the bus’s stereo system. As I went to turn off my recorder, he told me I didn’t have to. “That way you can listen to it later.”
Any other artist would have guarded his unreleased music like the gold in Fort Knox. (The album, Countryman, wouldn’t be released until a few years later.) But Willie loves to share, as witnessed by the words we kept hearing from his pals as we drove around that afternoon in Nelson’s truck on a guided tour of what is often called “Willieworld” by folks here in Austin: “Hey Willie. Got any weed?” (He always does and is happy to share.)
Through both living in Austin and doing work for his longtime publicist, I’ve gotten to know many of his clan. I did PR writing work for his piano-playing sister Bobbie, who was so warm and giving she came to feel like a second Mom to me. Her son, Freddie Fletcher, who owns two recording studios, is what I’d call a professional friend, and a great guy. Willie’s son Lukas, whom I also did PR writing for, is a fine young man who inherited much of his father’s talent. I’ve known his daughter Paula for years, and she is a dear, lovely woman. As it would also seem to be true of her sister Amy from the times I’ve met her.
Another time I interviewed Willie was also revelatory. It was on his bus again on Austin’s Sixth Street entertainment district after a show he did at a club there. Towards the end of our talk, I asked him if there was anything about him that his fans might find surprising.
“Yes,” he replied. “I have a really bad temper and have to work really hard to keep it in check.” That somewhat surprised me, especially as some who interact with Nelson often refer to him as “The Yoda” and “The Buddha” for his wise and peaceful presence. But as someone who, when younger, had my own temper issues, it also resonated with me.
Not long after that confession, Nelson said he had to wrap up the interview because he had to meet with his fans, a number of whom had been knocking on the bus door and hollering for him throughout our talk. And I then watched him in a very perceptible way steel himself to ensure that he wouldn’t in any way get miffed by the frequently irksome demands of rabid fans, and remain gracious. After all, as he understands, they are the final source of his longtime success.
So I’m glad Nelson is the last man standing and still making great music. Too many other celebrities that treat their fans with callousness and even disdain could learn a valuable lesson from him. And anyone who truly wants America to be great should behave more like Willie and the rest of the Nelson clan – genuinely good people.
TV Series: Better Call Saul (Season Three) – This “Breaking Bad” spinoff has generated a strange yet wonderful life of its own. The third round of episodes continues a run of superior characterizations and imaginative plotting that make it one of the real gems of modern television.
TV Documentary: Gringo: The Dangerous Life of John McAfee – After making millions with his computer antivirus software, McAfee moved to Belize, where for most people life would be one of leisure. But as the documentary details with investigative flair, the Internet innovator’s time in the tropics includes allegations of two murders, a rape and drug trafficking. After fleeing back stateside, he tried to run for president on the Libertarian ticket. The Netflix film rides along the razor’s edge between eccentricity and psychopathy with gripping skill.
TV Mini-Series: Manhunt: Unabomber – A satisfyingly accurate and credible dramatic portrayal of how the FBI finally identified and caught Ted Kaczynski, thanks in good part to profiling. Fans of “Mindhunter” and “Criminal Minds” will enjoy.
Rob Patterson is a music and entertainment writer in Austin, Texas. Email orca@prismnet.com.
From The Progressive Populist, October 1, 2018
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