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Kickin Hippies Asses and Raising Hell aka These Were My Heroes Before I Even Knew Who They Were. Monger Mix Series, Volume Ocho:
I Can’t Leave You Jack Ingram -- This is a deceptive number. Its starts slow, and you think Radcliffe might have decided for the melancholy barstool style mongering; then the stall/drums/tempo shift/volume shift. And its basically about wanting to leave a woman, and not being able to. Trying to, but just not having the nuts. “I guess I’ll just play guitar and mow the yard, and have a drink.” Classic
If I’m Gonna Sink Neko Case -- Classic song. Unfortunately, Neko’s piercing voice would probably better suited to hollerin my name while I’m on top of her, instead of sucking all the soul out of this number. Fuh? Yep. New Pr0nographers? Yep. Neko Solo….not so much
Pills and Booze Green on Red -- Apparently, this is monger-mix staple Chuck Prophet’s former band. And, though his songs are usually played in the key of beer, this is missing the driving guitar work that is usually a signature of the genre. Not to say its bad, it’s the TRUTH. Pills and Booze. First you win, then you lose. Anyone who’s ever crushed two vicodin on their molars while killing a Bud Heavy Tall Can knows this mantra.
Gerald Ford Hadacol -- “I was standin in the corner, feelin just like Gerald Ford.” What a great opening line. I am not even sure I know what it means. I mean, it may as well be “My heart feels like an alligator!” But maybe it means, underappreciated, forgotten, or expandable. Like John Rambo. Rambo was awesome and so is this.
Honky Tonk Hell Webb Wilder -- Now, his name fairly screams monger. And this song lives up to it. Rollicking, mean, drunk, and whorehoppin (shit, goddamn). The funniest part is, he’s not in hell, he’s HEADED to hell. Important distinction.
Hank, Karen and Elvis Young Fresh Fellows – Something about this girl who calls out the names before the verses’ voice reminds of a hot 80s alternative rock chick. She would drink Bud Dry with you and listen to The Replacements, and then commit foul acts not seen since the 14th Century. And you wouldn’t know where you stood with her, and you wouldn’t care. The song is a hilarious take on a few country and rock icons. Hank being Mr. Williams, Sr. – I’ve seen the death car, and been yelled at by the curator of the museum. Karen being Ms. Carpenter. Tragic under-eater/ revionist indie hero whose brother couldn’t save her. And Elvis, of course, being Mr. Presley. I have a picture of his gun case from Graceland. He was a monster.
Hey Janeane The Hangdogs -- For probably too many years, this was my misguided vision of true love. “Ever wonder how we hate the same things, let’s get drunk, let’s get bitter, let’s get mean.” I met a girl once who liked to be insulted, do blow and drink tequila. If it had lasted longer than a few weeks, I’d’a been on the front page of the Athens Banner Herald, laid out with pennies over my eyes. Her name wasn’t Janeane, but after hearing this, it should have been.
Time to Get a Gun Fred Eaglesmith – If the last idea was my idea of love at 22, this song represents the reality of love at 29, with a home and a family (fuck you, I have a dog) to protect. When somebody has to walk into the night, it’s gonna be, and I may need the well grounded protection of a Smith and Wesson Home Defender 10 gauge shotgun. It’s also written in the key of monger. Something about the sparse instrumentation and “openness” of the sound makes it that much better.
Yes I Guess They Oughta Name a Drink After You John Prine -- Anyone who’s tried to drink their way through a problematic relationship understands this immediately. And John Prine has that timbre in his voice that makes you think he’s seen it all, and he likes it.
Long Time Coming Bap Kennedy – Nice piece of mid tempo monger. Dylanish, even. The title refers to the road to hell being paved with good intentions, and cleaning up your act has been a long time coming. Great song for anyone who has ever spent years lying to yourself to not feel like the open piece of shit monger bum you are.
Willin Steve Earle – First of all, just a fucking great song. The best music is timeless, and be it a knight, a cowboy or a trucker, the road and its endlessness has always been there. I’ve driven from Tuscon to Tucumcereh. And if you give me Weed, Whites and Wine, I’m Willin. And, what is monger country without Steve Earle?
Psycho Beasts of Bourbon – This song sounds like an outtake from Natural Born Killers. It is atmospheric, and evil. And I love it. I don’t care what your mama thinks, Radcliffe, I KNOW you’re a psycho.
Tell It to the Judge On Sunday The Long Ryders – Nothing that would make you stop in your tracks if you heard it on the radio or a jukebox, but a great piece of rockabilly that fits nicely right here. The sax in the background is a nice touch, that keeps the whole thing on track. Also, extra points for being from the perspective of an older con…which we all know any of us could end up as, given the lifestyle espoused herein.
Lost Highway Jason and The Scorchers -– Covering Hank, Sr. is always a risky prospect. Then again, Ringenberg, et al, have actually improved on a Dylan song, and not embarrassed themselves covering The Stones. The way they rip this bugger a new one makes me question why they even bothered with originals, and re-iterate my call for Lucero to cover “Sam Stone.”
Hurt by Love – Country Dick Montana w/ Katy Moffatt – A #1 Duet on the country charts in the bizarre world of Texlahoma? Perhaps. A simple rockabilly number? Perhaps. The sound of a time/dimension where no means yes? Definitely.
Lost Weekend The Beat Farmers – These guys would not seem out of place in matching tuxedos, greased back hair, and sippin white lightning, opening for Buddy Holly all across Texas in the 1950s. A deceptively simple sound, with a great cadence to it that will stick to your mind like peanut butter to the top of your mouth.
Cry The Vroys – I fucking love the ringing guitar, and the “uu-uh-huh, oooh yeahh!” This is what the ‘Mats would have sounded like with a little production values, and a more cowpunk sensibility. Great dark tone. Maybe the most underrated song on this mix.
No Ass Tattoos in Heaven Jerry Jerry -- Jerry Jerry is one of those dudes that I think Radcliffe is the only guy around who would know or care about. This is kind of joke-a-billy by numbers, but funny and a good time nonetheless. Extra points because I hate tattoos, and ass flowers are the worst of the lot.
Up Against the Wall Redneck Mothers A friend of mine’s dad, an upstanding small town lawyer, used to request this number from wedding bands after a fifth or so of bourbon. If it were anything but tongue in cheek, it would be excruciating, like Democrats talking about values. Just admit you like killing babies and move on. But Ray Wiley Hubbard nailed the details, and Cracker nails the tone. Also, even though they aren’t really condoning it, there is almost nothing better than hoisting a beer in the air and screaming ‘Kicking Hippies Asses and Raisin Hell.”
Take This Job and Shove It Buck Owens, Bobby Bare, Jr. and Jeff Tweedy – I was just beginning to wonder why D.A.C didn’t make this tracklisting, but I guess he did, since he wrote this number. It apparently caused several hundred misguided dolts in camoflagued trucker hats, to spit Redman on the floor and tell the foreman to do just that. This version is good, because it takes on a different perspective with each man’s voice, and because I imagine Buck Owens and Bobby Bare, Jr. trading stories, sipping bourbon and whooping it up, all the while making Tweedy hold Ol Buck’s pocket.
Tie My Pecker to My Leg Mojo Nixon – The beat and verse sounds iconic, almost like the country monger Bo Diddley Beat. And then he starts in about grandma and the ear of corn, eating yards of shit, and “me your mama and some other whore.” Schlock country at its very best. They take what could be dumb and awful and make it dumb and awesome – so much harder to do than anyone realizes.
Piss Up a Rope Ween -- Ween can do almost no wrong. 2 fucking freaks from Philly decide to make a country album. They make it weird, and they make it work. I used to walk into my office and crank this song loud as hell on a campaign I worked anytime I was in a fight with the campaign manager. It always makes me smile at my insolence, and also the prospect of telling a woman that she can wash your balls with a warm, wet rag.
Motel Time Again Bobby Bare, Jr. – BBJ has come on a like a true modern hard core troubadour. His songs are funny, poignant, and downright great. I think this is a cover, but it is an inspired choice. HE doesn’t know where he is, why he is so drunk, and he doesn’t care. He has enough scratch that he doesn’t have to sleep in the gutter, and that’s juuuuust fine.
Honky Tonk Cunt This is good based on the title alone. Who cares how it sounds? The sounds is a little sparse, and you can probably guess the subject matter, but a work of genius nonetheless.
King of the Hoboes Country Dick Montana – Wow. An actual kidnapping anthem. If it wasn’t so funny, it might be troubling. Who am I kidding? I should be calling the cops on myself for listening to this. As near as I can tell, it’s a little ditty about a homeless dude, an underage girl, and scoring booze and pills…uppers or downers, it doesn’t matter…Uncle Dick needs his medicine.
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Throughout his life, from childhood until death, he was beset by severe swings of mood. His depressions frequently encouraged, and were exacerbated by, his various vices. His character mixed a superficial Enlightenment sensibility for reason and taste with a genuine and somewhat Romantic love of the sublime and a propensity for occasionally puerile whimsy.
harry Wrote: I understand that you, of all people, know this crisis and, in your own way, are working to address it. You, the madras-pantsed julip-sipping Southern cracker and me, the oldman hippie California fruit cake are brothers in the struggle to save our country.
FT Wrote: LooGAR (the straw that stirs the drink)
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