Amy Haugesag wrote:
> The prospect of a new Kimmie record and our own Sir President Joe Gracey
> Sir back amongst us is almost too much good news to take in at once.
> Luckily, there's no heat in my apartment (er, that is, the one room of my
> apartment that's habitable), so I can't get *too* happy all at once.
>
> Welcome back, Joe. You've been missed.
>
> --Amy
did you say "dissed"?
It is currently 95 degrees in Austin.
God-damn, I had forgotten about the pedal steel guitar. Yesterday at
Jimmy Day's funeral (made fragrant by the odor of band bus fumes wafting
through the room when the doors would open, fittingly) I remembered.
Jimmy Day, possibly the greatest steel player of all time, was buried
yesterday in a little town south of Austin. There were a bunch of people
there, overflowing out into the front yard, a testament to how much love
and respect he engendered.
Jimmy and I went back to the early seventies when he was in Willie's
band and I was a progressive-country DJ and music writer. I remember the
first time I noticed him much; Willie played at a Ford dealer's here (in
return for a new station wagon so they could get around) and I suddenly
noticed what a beautiful sound he created around Willie's voice. I
subsequently became a producer and used him every chance I could on
sessions. Kimmie and I brought him into our Texas Swing band for several
years, then he turned around and started a band and pretty soon we were
in it, traveling around Texas doing gigs. We'd play a dance hall down in
Bandera that Wills and Willie and Bush had consecrated, turn around and
drive back home at 4 AM and Kimmie would be up two hours later to go to
her job in town.
Having Jimmy in your band was pure joy. He was always the one you could
turn to to give you a rock-solid intro, even if he had only heard the
song one time three years before. You could always lean on him for a
great solo, with a perfect handoff into the chorus. His pickup notes
would be cues to everybody else in the band so they all knew where it
was headed next.
Sessions were the same. He defined "pro". He came on time, sober, didn't
talk about his problems, kept his mouth shut unless asked for his
opinion, and played totally useable, brilliant stuff, normally on the
first take. He wouldn't write a chord chart; he would just play through
the song a couple of times, memorize it (no matter how tough the changes
might be) and nail it. He said he learned his studio chops doing demos
at Tree Music, where they got paid ten dollars per demo. This encouraged
speed and not screwing up, since the more songs you got cut in a session
the more money you got paid.
Later I got to record several records for him. They turned into great
projects, with guests like Johnny Bush and Willie and Rodriquez. One of
them transmogrified into a Willie Nelson record because Willie came in
to sing a song and stayed for four days. Not long after that Willie and
I recorded "Spirit", so I have Jimmy to thank for that. I considered him
to be a soul brother, something far beyond a professional relationship.
If I was still a hippie I'd say I'd known him for a thousand lifetimes.
There is debate, of course, on who is the best. I have worked with Tom
Brumley (Buck Owens, Rick Nelson), Buddy Emmons (Ernest Tubb,
everybody), Leon McAuliffe (Bob Wills), Herb Remington (Bob Wills), and
a lot of other players, including getting to watch Lloyd Green do a
session with Gene Watson, and to my way of thinking Jimmy had the
ability to project more of his spirit into his playing than anybody.
Obviously all of those guys could play their asses off, and most people
probably give Emmons the nod as to technical proficiency, but for pure
searing blue soul, it was Jimmy for me.
Jimmy's Blue Darlin' steel and amp were set up and turned on next to the
casket, ready to be played, at the funeral. This was pretty tough, but I
was OK. But then they started to play some of his famous records- Crazy
Arms, Patsy Cline stuff, Willie, George Jones, and finally some of the
stuff we did together for his last sessions. The enormous depth of
feeling in his playing hit me harder than ever before and I couldn't
help but cry like an idiot then. Man, steel is such an emotional
instrument in the right hands. (Sometimes when people would say
something about how great his steel sounded, he'd hold up his long,
beautiful hands and say "These help..." as a gentle, humourous reminder
that it was the driver, not the hardware. He was not falsely modest, nor
did he hold forth on himself. He just recognized that he was a
single-purpose instrument and he had accomplished what he was supposed to.)
I am glad that Jimmy Day played on our most recent recordings. He played
on every record that Kimmie and I have made. We recorded one of his
songs, "Home John", on "West Texas Heaven". I almost wish I could die
right now just to hear Jimmy Day play steel with Bob Wills and Hank
Williams. I am honored to have known him and loved him and recorded his
otherworldly art. Sometimes when I question my daily existence I
remember that I was the man lucky enough to be at the console to put his
music on tape and that is reason enough for me.
Smoke 'em if you got 'em, boys and girls. They don't last forever.
Thanks, Jimmy.
--
Joe Gracey
President-For-Life, Jackalope Records
http://www.kimmierhodes.com
