I’d trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday

The popular music world is populated by many musicians who were brought up in musical households with parents who encouraged their interest in artistic expression.

But there are also hundreds of songwriters and musical artists whose parents had other plans for their children and strongly discouraged or even forbade them from pursuing a life in the musical arts.

If Kris Kristofferson‘s parents had had their way, we would have never experienced the pleasure of hearing his wondrous songs or viewing his compelling film performances.

Kristofferson’s father Lars was a major general in the US Air Force, and he wanted his son to follow his footsteps into a lifelong career in the military. For a while, it looked like that might happen when, at age 24, Kristofferson accepted a commission as a lieutenant in the Army and became a helicopter pilot, eventually reaching the rank of captain in 1965. Also a gifted writer, Kristofferson was slated to teach English at West Point, but he declined and instead traded that life to pursue his dream to become a country songwriter in Nashville. His parents were scandalized and disowned him for a while.

“Not many cats I knew bailed out like I did,” Mr. Kristofferson said in a 1970 interview. “When I made the break, I didn’t realize how much I was shocking my folks, because I always thought they knew I was going to be a writer. But I think they thought a writer was a guy in tweeds with a pipe. So I quit and didn’t hear from them for a while. I sure wouldn’t want to go through it again, but it’s part of who I am.”

Kristofferson, who died September 28 at age 88, didn’t experience a seamless transition from military man to songwriter, but he had the innate talent and a lot of perseverance. He had graduated with honors with a degree in literature from Pomona College, and had prizewinning entries in a collegiate short-story contest sponsored by The Atlantic magazine before being awarded a Rhodes scholarship to study English literature at Oxford.

All that formal training didn’t translate at first in the world of country music. His early songs read like classic poetry with perfect grammar, and he had to learn to adapt, using more conversational vocabulary with vernacular terms and real-life experiences. During his time as a janitor at Columbia Records, he absorbed a lot by sneaking into the recording sessions of major artists like Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash. “I had to get better,” Kristofferson said. “I was spending every second I could hanging out and writing and bouncing off the heads of other writers.”

He developed, as a New York Times writer put it, “a keen melodic sensibility and a languid expressiveness that bore little resemblance to the straightforward Hank Williams-derived shuffles he was turning out when he first arrived in Nashville.” He continued evolving over the next few years until he garnered the attention of publishers and artists in town who were impressed with songs like “Sunday Morning Comin’ Down,” perhaps the most poignant hangover song ever written: “Well, I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt, /And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more for dessert…”

His diligence paid off. Between 1970 and 1972, the name Kristofferson seemed to be everywhere. Singer Ray Price took his ballad “For the Good Times” to #1 on the country charts and #11 on the Top 40 pop charts, and soul legend Al Green made it a staple of his shows after recording his own version. Cash registered a Country #1 with “Sunday Morning Comin’ Down” a couple months later.

Most significantly, his iconic composition “Me and Bobby McGee” (first recorded by Roger Miller in 1969 and Gordon Lightfoot in 1970) became an international #1 hit when Janis Joplin’s recording of it was released posthumously in 1971. Years later, Kristofferson said, “I remember one of my songwriter friends said, ‘You’ve got such a good song going on there. Why do you have to put that philosophy in there?’ He was referring to the line ‘Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.’ It turned out to be one of the most memorable lines I ever wrote. So you’d best take your friends’ advice with a grain of salt.”

Concurrently, Kristofferson’s song “Help Me Make It Through the Night” topped country charts and reached #8 on pop charts with singer Sammi Smith’s delicate rendition, which won a Country Song of the Year Grammy for the songwriter.

Kristofferson’s second LP (1971)

All four of these songs appeared on “Kristofferson,” the songwriter’s own recording debut in 1970, but his gruff, uncultured singing voice wasn’t exactly embraced by critics or the public (one writer described it as “pitch-indifferent”). Kristofferson often knocked his own voice. “I don’t think I’m that good a singer,” he said in a 2016 interview. “I can’t think of a song that I’ve written that I don’t like the way somebody else sings it better.” Indeed, although he released more than 15 albums of his own, five of which charted reasonably well on country and pop charts, he had only one successful single, the country gospel tune “Why Me,” which peaked at #16 in 1973.

It turned out to be a fortuitous time to be a songwriter in Nashville, where Kristofferson found himself huddling with with like-minded writers such as Willie Nelson and Roger Miller. “We took it seriously enough to think that our work was important, to think that what we were creating would mean something in the big picture,” he said in a 2006 interview. “Looking back on it, I feel like it was kind of our Paris in the ’20s — real creative and real exciting, and intense.”

Kyle Young, the CEO of the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, had this to say this past week: “Kris Kristofferson believed to his core that creativity is God-given, and that those who ignore or deflect such a holy gift are doomed to failure and unhappiness. He preached that a life of the mind gives voice to the soul, and then he created a body of work that gave voice not only to his soul but to ours. Kris’s heroes included the prize fighter Muhammad Ali, the great poet William Blake, and the ‘Hillbilly Shakespeare,’ Hank Williams. He lived his life in a way that honored and exemplified the values of each of those men, and he leaves a righteous, courageous and resounding legacy that rings with theirs.”

Author Bill Malone noted in “Country Music, U.S.A.,” the standard history of the genre, “Kristofferson’s lyrics spoke often of loneliness, alienation and pain, but they also celebrated freedom and honest relationships, and in intimate, sensuous language that had been rare to country music.”

I wholeheartedly agree. Consider these lines from his 1974 song “Shandy (The Perfect Disguise)”: “‘Cause nightmares are somebody’s daydreams, /Daydreams are somebody’s lies, /Lies ain’t no harder than telling the truth, /Truth is the perfect disguise…”

He could also be quite provocative, as in these lyrics from the title tune from his 1972 LP: “Jesus was a Capricorn, he ate organic food, /He believed in love and peace and never wore no shoes, /Long hair, beard and sandals, and a funky bunch of friends, I reckon we’d just nail him up if he came down again…”

Coolidge and Kristofferson at home in Malibu in 1974

In 1971, he developed a personal and professional relationship with singer Rita Coolidge, marrying her and recording a handful of albums with her (“Full Moon” in 1973, “Breakaway” in 1974 and “Natural Act” in 1978) that reached the Top 20 on country charts. The couple won two Grammys (Best Country Vocal Performance by a Duo) for “From the Bottle to the Bottom” in 1973 and “Lover Please” in 1975. They would divorce in 1980 but remained friends and occasionally performed together.

Said Coolidge last week, “Kris was a wonderful man and an extraordinary songwriter. He’s been a close friend of mine and the father of my daughter. We had a volatile marriage, but I have nothing but glowing things to say about him today.” In her 2016 autobiography, “Delta Lady,” she bemoaned his drinking, his verbal abuse and his infidelities, but concluded, “Everything we did was larger than life. I never laughed with anybody in my life like I did with Kris. When it was good, I was over-the-moon happy, but when it was sad, it was almost too much to bear.”

Kristofferson’s acting career took off in 1973 when Sam Peckinpaugh cast him as outlaw Billy the Kid in “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid,” in which Coolidge also appeared. Martin Scorsese concurred that Kristofferson’s rugged good looks and magnetism lent themselves to the big screen, and cast him as the male lead alongside Ellen Burstyn in the critically acclaimed 1974 drama “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.”

When Barbra Streisand was unable to secure Elvis Presley as her co-star in the 1976 remake of “A Star is Born,” her next choice was Kristofferson, who won a Golden Globe for his turn as John Norman Howard, a singer on the downside of his career who ends up killing himself in a drunk-driving incident. Kristofferson, who had described himself as “a functioning alcoholic,” said he was so disturbed by the scene where Streisand’s character tends to his dead body, he quit drinking in real life. “I remember feeling that that could very easily be my wife and kids crying over me,” he said in the 1980s. “I quit drinking over that. I didn’t want to die before my daughter grew up.”

He followed that experience with “Semi-Tough,” the sports comedy film opposite Burt Reynolds and Jill Clayburgh, but his movie career suffered in 1980 when he starred in Michael Cimino’s epic Western, “Heaven’s Gate,” one of the biggest box-office disasters in Hollywood history. Kristofferson fared reasonably well in the reviews, but the movie itself was so mercilessly panned that anyone involved with it found themselves unhirable for years to come. It would be another 15 years before he regained his footing in John Sayles’ Oscar-nominated “Lone Star.”

Kristofferson in “Heaven’s Gate” in 1980

He attracted a new generation of fans for his portrayal of mentor/father figure Abraham Whistler in Marvel’s first successful film, “Blade,” and its two sequels. Indeed, many superhero movie fans of the late 1990s and early 2000s had no idea that Kristofferson had another career as a singer-songwriter, which he found rather amusing. “I was doing a show in Sweden, and somebody backstage mentioned to me, ‘Hey Kris, there are all these kids out there saying, ‘Geez, Whistler sings?'”

When he experienced a dry spell in both acting and songwriting in the early ’80s, he found solace in his friends in the music business. Kristofferson teamed up with Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson and Cash to record “Highwayman,” Jimmy Webb’s marvelous song about a soul with four incarnations in different places in time and history. It became a multiplatinum hit that inspired a full album by the foursome, who came to be known as The Highwaymen. They capitalized on the favorable commercial and critical response by recording more albums and touring multiple times over the next decade. Kristofferson later marvelled, “I always looked up to all of those legends, and I felt like I was kind of a kid who had climbed up on Mount Rushmore and stuck his face out there!”

He often talked about how grateful he is to the established songwriters and singers in Nashville who took him under their wing when he was new to town. In comparison, he noted, “Those shows like ‘American Idol’ are kind of scary to me. They wanted me to be on one of those panels one time, and I said it’s the last thing in the world I’d ever want to do. I would hate to have to discourage somebody.”

Cash and Kristofferson on TV in 1977

His legacy as a songwriter is cemented by the number and diversity of artists who have admired his material enough to record it. In addition to Johnny Cash, Janis Joplin, Ray Price, Rita Coolidge, Roger Miller, Gordon Lightfoot, Sammi Smith and Al Green, you can hear strong covers of Kristofferson songs by The Grateful Dead, Frank Sinatra, Willie Nelson, Gladys Knight and The Pips, Elvis Presley, Dolly Parton, Wilson Pickett, Charley Pride, Olivia Newton-John, Ronnie Milsap, Tina Turner, Glen Campbell, Bryan Adams, Joan Baez, Jerry Lee Lewis, Emmylou Harris, Michael Bublé and Thelma Houston.

Streisand said recently, “At a concert in 2019 at London’s Hyde Park, I asked Kris to join me on stage to sing our other ‘A Star Is Born’ duet, ‘Lost Inside Of You.’ He was as charming as ever, and the audience showered him with applause. It was a joy seeing him receive the recognition and love he so richly deserved.”

Kristofferson was married to his third wife, Lisa, for more than 40 years, from 1983 until his death. He had a total of eight children from his three marriages, and seven grandchildren. When asked about his family in 2016, he said, “When I was thirty, and a long time after that, I felt like I had to leave home to do what I had to do. Now, it’s just the opposite.”

Kristofferson in 2017

Bypass surgery in 1999 slowed Kristofferson down, as did an extended bout with Lyme disease in the decade that followed, but he remained active into his 80s. On his final album of new material, 2013’s “Feeling Mortal,” the title song sums up Kristofferson’s feelings near the end of his life: “Here today and gone tomorrow, that’s the way it’s got to be, /God Almighty, here I am, /Am I where I ought to be? /I’ve begun to soon descend like the sun into the sea…”

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I’m gonna tell you a story…

images-11For probably a thousand years or more, great stories of myth, legend and history have been told in song.  To tell a story in a compelling way is an art, and to do it to a melody often makes it all the more appealing.

In the past century, the country, folk and blues genres have told hundreds and hundreds of stories of heartbreak, stories of war and famine, stories of love and tradition.  These story-songs had characters, a plot, and a message, much like a well-crafted short story in literature.  Not surprisingly, they tended to last five or six minutes or longer, which largely prevented them from making the pop charts, where the average song lasted no more than three minutes, hardly enough time for the lyrics to say much of anything beyond “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” or “I want to hold your hand.”

Still, some songwriters  — country, pop, rock — through the decades have shown a fine talent for telling riveting stories in a succinct enough way that they ended up as chart successes, with a beginning, middle and end, even if they went beyond the conventional song length.  I’ve selected roughly two dozen tracks that offer a healthy cross section of story-songs from the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s.  Some topped the singles charts, some were far more obscure tracks by major artists, but all are fascinating stories set to song.

“Taxi,” Harry Chapin, 1972  

The key to a great story-song is painting an aural picture, a visual place where we can understand what’s going on with the lead characters.  In this case, it’s Harry, the cab driver, and Sue, the wealthy lady who was once his lover.  They meet again by chance when she hails his cab, and they have an uneasy re-meet.  “She was gonna be an actress, and I was gonna learn to fly…”  Neither one achieved their dreams, evidently, and he seems happy just driving a cab while she’s unhappy in whatever wealthy enclave she ended up.

“Paradise By the Dashboard Light,” Meat Loaf, 1977

The entire “Bat Out of Hell” album was worthy of a Broadway stageplay, with multiple stories sung by numerous characters conjured up by lyricist Jim Steinman and his pal, Mr. Loaf.  None was more cinematic than “Paradise,” the vivid story of a teenage couple debating about whether to have sex (“What’s it gonna be, boy, yes or no?”  “Let me sleep on it”) and what it all means.  It’s still acted out all these years later by boomer men and women at bars and parties every Saturday night.

“Papa Was a Rolling Stone,” Temptations, 1972  

Even Motown took a stab at the story-song, when the Temptations hit it big with this urban tale of a family who struggled to move on after their deadbeat father flew the coop and then died (“on the Third of September”).  It was recorded as an epic 12-minute track with multiple instrumental passages (including a nearly 4:00 introduction), and even the single version clocked in at nearly 7:00.  The vocal group’s final #1 set the tone for many more soul-story records over the next decade.

“Uneasy Rider,” Charlie Daniels Band, 1973

This song goes on and on with thirty (30!) triplets that tell the amusing story of a hippie from L.A. who’s stuck in Mississippi with a flat tire and has to do some fast talking to avoid a beating from a gang of rough rednecks.  Standard country fare, perhaps, but it ended up on the mainstream Top 40 at #9 in the summer of 1973.  It helped expand the appeal of country rock beyond the confines of the Deep South, with numerous country-rock groups hitting the Top Ten over the next several years.

“Copacabana,” Barry Manilow, 1978  

Disco was all about instant gratification, and mindless dancing to a relentless beat, but this song, one of Manilow’s biggest hits, told the tragi-comic tale of Lola and Tony, and how their time in the limelight was ultimately destined to fail.  It had more of a point to it than most disco tracks, not unlike the film “Saturday Night Fever,” which is remembered for its disco dance songs but is really a sad story of death and loss.

“Rocky Raccoon,” Beatles, 1968

By the time of the “White Album,” the Beatles had tried just about everything in the way of song structure, so it only seemed right to try a story-piece like “Rocky Raccoon,” with Paul McCartney front and center singing the country-western yarn about rivals Rocky and Dan, and the girl Magill (“who called herself Lil, but everyone knew her as Nancy”).

“A Boy Named Sue,” Johnny Cash, 1969

The late great Johnny Cash was deeply rooted in country music but periodically blew over into the pop music scene, most notably with his #2 hit “A Boy Named Sue” in 1969, which tells the story of a boy whose father left his family but not before naming his son Sue to make him strong and defiant in the face of adversity.  The boy hated the name, naturally, and eventually learned why his father had done this, but vowed to name his own son “Bill, or George, or any damn thing but Sue!”

“Hurricane,” Bob Dylan, 1976

Dylan has written so many story-songs through the years that I could do an entire column just on his work.  But perhaps his most notable is the one about Reuben Carter, a real-life boxer who was far from a saint, but got unfairly caught up in a homicide rap, and Dylan was sufficiently moved to write a lengthy piece that told Carter’s story.  It’s a sordid tale of institutional racism at its worst, and Dylan is almost libelously specific in his accusations about the prosecutor and his questionable testifying witnesses.

“Me and Bobby McGee,” Janis Joplin, 1971

Kris Kristofferson wrote this superb story in 1970, and in the original version, Bobby was a woman, but when it was recorded by Janis Joplin only a few weeks before she died, she changed the genders so Bobby was a man.  Her version went to #1 posthumously, but it doesn’t really much matter — the story it tells is of two drifters (male and female) trying to make something of their hardscrabble lives.

“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” Gordon Lightfoot, 1976

Canada’s folk hero had been recording and touring for ten years when he scored his biggest chart success with this #1 ode to the sunken freighter.  It struck a chord with Americans and Canadians alike who live near the Great Lakes and know all about the ferocious storms that have laid claim to dozens of vessels through the years.  It’s a great story but, frankly, a pretty boring song, featuring only three chords stretched out over seven long verses.

“American Pie,” Don McLean, 1972

Not so much a story as a historical treatise, “American Pie” explained, in rather enigmatic language, the evolution of rock and roll from 1955 to 1971, when the song was written.  It has earned a place as one of rock’s true anthems, with its references to icons like Buddy Holly, Bob Dylan, The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, and how they changed both popular music and popular culture.

“We Didn’t Start the Fire,” Billy Joel, 1989  

Also not actually a story, but more of a litany of headlines of news events from 1955 to 1989, when the song was released.  Social science classes in middle and high schools have used this song to help today’s students understand the impact of the major and minor milestones of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s that affected societal changes during those years.

“Ode to Billie Joe,” Bobbie Gentry, 1967  

This sleepy, sultry number about a Deep South drama would’ve been perfect in the soundtrack of the movie from the same year, the Oscar-winner, “In The Heat of the Night.” As it is, the song’s lyrics do a marvelous job of telling the fictional story leading up to poor Billie Jo MacAllister’s suicide at the Tallahatchee Bridge.

“Alice’s Restaurant,” Arlo Guthrie, 1967  

Perhaps the longest story in popular music, this one tells the tale of a bizarre Thanksgiving Day littering arrest, apparently a true story that happened to Guthrie in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, during the Vietnam War protest years.  It’s mostly comic and whimsical in the telling, although the underlying message is one of sadness at the folly and absurdity of the justice system’s overreach.

“Same Old Lang Syne,” Dan Fogelberg, 1981

This tale tugs at the heartstrings, as many Fogelberg songs do.  The narrator runs into his old girlfriend in the grocery store one night during the Yuletide season, and they end up drinking a six-pack in her car while recalling the good old times…but they say their goodbyes and, presumably, never cross paths again.  It struck a chord with many people as they recalled past flings and relationships.

“Goodbye Earl,” Dixie Chicks, 2000

One of my very favorite country songs is this jewel by the Dixie Chicks from 2000, which tells the dark comic tale of a woman who copes with an abusive husband until, with help from her girlfriend, concludes that “Earl had to die” and decides to poison his black-eyed peas.  It’s said to be motivated by the popular films “Fried Green Tomatoes” and “Thelma and Louise,” which both involve the consequences of redneck husbands beating up their wives.

“Take the Money and Run,” Steve Miller Band, 1976

“This is the the story ’bout Billy Joe and Bobby Sue…”  Steve Miller came up with this tale of two young outlaws on the run from their various crimes, a la Bonnie and Clyde.  Film director Quentin Tarantino has said he modeled the depraved murderers in “Natural Born Killers” after Miller’s couple.

“Jack and Diane,” John Cougar Mellencamp, 1982

“Little ditty ’bout Jack and Diane…”  Another story of a couple who just didn’t have what it took to succeed in life.  Based on the Tennessee Williams play “Sweet Bird of Youth,” Mellencamp sexed it up and made it more contemporary for the ’80s audience.  It was one of the biggest hits of 1982 and still gets a ton of exposure today.

“Cortez the Killer,” Neil Young, 1975

This 11-minute opus tells the story of Hernan Cortes, the Spanish warrior who fought the native Aztecs to conquer Mexico for Spain in the 16th Century.  Young had been reading historical biographies during this period and was moved to write about Cortes and his exploits.  The turmoil of the many battles won and lost is symbolically represented in the fiery guitar solo that dominates the track.

“Incident on 57th Street,” Bruce Springsteen, 1973

The Boss has written many story-songs over the years, but perhaps none as dramatic as this under-the-radar number, “Incident on 57th Street,” in late 1973.  It tells the tragic tale of Johnny and Jane, a couple who live in a New Jersey walk-up with a minimalist view of New York City, and how they try to make do in a rough-and-tumble world in which Johnny feels an undeniable need to prove his manhood in the streets.

“Shooting Star,” Bad Company, 1975

Even the Brits knew how to write a story-song now and then.  Witness this minor classic from Bad Company’s second album, which tells the story of Johnny, the kid who is inspired by The Beatles to become a rock star, has a hit single, becomes famous, and then dies as a victim of the excesses of the rock and roll lifestyle.  Singer Paul Rodgers has said this is among his most favorite in the Bad Company repertoire, and it might seem almost cliche, but it strikes a chord with many people (fans and musicians alike).

“Blaze of Glory,” Joe Jackson, 1989

This one, from Jackson’s extraordinary but underrated 1989 song-cycle “Blaze of Glory,” tells the story of a young musician named Johnny (so many Johnnys in these songs!) who made it big, but then “the ride started to go too fast and Johnny conveniently died.” Jackson, a New Wave iconoclast who was only briefly a mainstream artist (1982’s “Steppin’ Out” in particular), has produced some incredible work in the ’80s, ’90s and beyond, even though no one has seemed to notice.

Popular music is full of great stories.  Keep them coming.