We’re very excited to have the legendary Steve Earle playing a January residency here at City Winery Nashville all month long! Joined by Langhorne Slim, Colter Wall, Buddy Miller and Emily Earle, each show will be solo, acoustic and absolutely unforgettable. Meet & Greets are available for each show, too! Click here to purchase tickets!
Almost twenty years ago, Steve Earle and I took a ride through South Nashville. It was down those mean streets that Steve had spent his famous “hiatus” in the early 1990’s mostly shooting dope. It was a crazy, unprecedented thing. Here was a guy – the supposed “new face” of outlaw country – who had already put out a near unbroken string of instant classics, including chart hits like “Guitar Town,” “Someday,” and the immortal “Copperhead Road.” And he just up and disappears, drops from sight for four years, making no records, playing no shows. Many thought he was dead.
By the time we met, Steve was on the way back, through his sixty-day stint in the Davidson County Jail, firmly in recovery. He’d already released a couple new discs, the masterly acoustic Train A Comin’ and the defiantly electric I Feel Alright. But you could tell, he wasn’t all the way back. Clean and sober can be a transitory thing, the ghosts of the old days are far from fully vanquished, if they ever will be. Steve wasn’t sure he wanted any more of South Nashville, but being Steve, which is to be an adventurer and a sport, he agreed to take the tour.
In matters of the heart, Steve Earle has always been an optimist. There are several better-known tunes on the “Guitar Town” album, but when it comes to young(er) love all you really need is “Fearless Heart.” With Whitmanesque exaltation of his own resiliency, the singer sings: “I got me a fearless heart/ strong enough to get you through the scary part/ its been broken many times before/ a fearless heart just comes back for more.” Whatever happens, he’ll bounce back; all previous failures are only recon so as to guide His Own True Love Of the Moment across the “scary part.” Back then, Steve had faith in his ability to fall in love again, no matter what. It was a strange dichotomy. With an unmatched talent to describe the heartbreaking (as with the doomed Billy Austin, “twenty-nine years old, quarter Cherokee I’m told”) the singer largely avoided his own heartbreak.
“I’m patient, but I’m focused. There’s a lot to do. I’d like to write a musical, I’m working on a country record. I think a lot people this age feel like this. And if there’s one thing I know about songwriting, it doesn’t matter if it’s a love song, a song for my kid, or about an issue, something I saw on TV – people don’t give a fuck what I think about it, what they do give a fuck about is what experiences we have in common. As a songwriter, that’s where I want to go, to touch that place between me and you.”
Then, simply because Steve has too much hellraiser in him to leave it like that, he invoked the name of Willie Dixon, writer of some of the greatest modern blues songs, tunes like “Back Door Man,” “Hoochie Coochie Man,” “Spoonful,” “You Can’t Judge A Book By The Cover,” which were recorded by people like Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and Bo Diddley. Asked why he wrote and played the blues, Dixon, three hundred pounds and crusty sharp, reputedly said, “money and women, what else is there?”