Childish Things

I'm at a party, and people are talking about the kinds of things people talk about at parties, and I blurt to a musician friend that I've been listening to the same album over and over for like two weeks. Maybe that's not so unusual, but my intuitive friend starts telling me about James McMurtry, a singer-songwriter he's been listening to, and by the time I walk out to my car a couple of hours later, he's handing me the CD for "something to listen to on the way home."

James McMurtry tells a helluva story. He also sings with a strong voice and plays a mean guitar. But it all comes together in the songs, which, like all good poetry, somehow fuse tone, rhythm, melody, and texture with an emotional, moral, and political narrative. The CD is the kind of Austin-based alt-country I would easily pass by if all I heard was the first line on the radio, but it gets better every time I listen to it. Gven Golly likened it to Warren Zevon's writing and wry humor.

Some of the songs on "Childish Things" bring my son to mind, and there's a recurring father-son theme, along with other family issues both bitter and sweet, often set in holiday celebrations honoring war and sacrifice in between driving to grandma's and pass the potatoes. Sometimes he writes in the young man's voice and sometimes in the old man's voice. I'm told James McMurtry is the son of the novelist Larry McMurtry; maybe that explains something. I also hear echoes of Neil Young and Lou Reed.

In addition to the coming-of-age songs, there are critiques of globalization and a song about a bear that reminds me of a story by William Faulkner. Lines like "I keep to myself, I like the language." My favorite so far is "Restless" wherein the narrator pretends to talk about the moods of a horse he's fond of, as the Byrds' "Chestnut Mare" did in another era.

It's too hard to sum them up because the songs range pretty widely (I almost typed wisely), and I will have to hear them many times over, meaning I'll have to buy it or burn it, so I can return the CD to the insightful person who put it in my hand.