The Top 10 Americana Songs of All Time: Paul Kerr

Jeez! You sign up to Americana UK, thinking you’re on the road to hobnobbing with the stars in the VIP area at gigs, and then you’re thrown a curveball. Your top ten americana songs? First off, none of us know what americana is. Secondly, given that I’ve been listening to “americana” related music since the beginning of the 1970s, how on earth could I (or anyone else) distil 60 years of music into ten songs? However, inspired by Sisyphus and Hercules, your intrepid writer took on the task.

Next came another conundrum. What exactly constitutes a great song? The words, the playing, a combination of the pair? What if one of the best songs is by someone I loathe? Do I play it safe by just grabbing a song each from my all-time favourites (another different and equally impossible list)? Or do I just calm down, spend a couple of days rifling through my memory banks and my record/CD/cassette/download collection, and then come to the realisation that this is just another list? So, here is a distillation of what turned out to be more than a few days thought. If I were to do this again in a couple of weeks’ time, it would probably be markedly different.

Number 10. The Band Of Blacky Ranchette ‘Moon Over Memphis’ from“Heartland” (1986)

It’s a given, really, that just about any list I contribute to will feature Howe Gelb in one of his various guises. Here he is, way back in 1986, with the original version of the grouping he christened The Band Of Blacky Ranchette, as opposed to his then-day job in Giant Sand. Blacky was more attuned to classic country music than Giant Sand, although both shared a maverick approach to the songs. Integral to the early Blacky recordings was the wizardry of the late Rainer Ptacek on “slide guitar, dobro and howling” as listed on the sleeve notes to “Heartland”. Gelb and Ptacek were on fire on this album, and just about any of its 10 tracks can be considered classic as the band lock in and deliver a supremely exquisite mesh of cantina fiddles, fiery guitars, bar saloon piano and Huck Finn romanticism. Whomp this onto your stereo, crank it up to 11 and prepare to be blown away.

Number 9. Cindy Lee Berryhill ‘Elvis of Maryville’ from”Straight Outta Marysville” (1996)

One of the pioneers of the “anti folk” movement back in the 80s, Cindy Lee Berryhill moved on to release a couple of idiosyncratic albums in the shape of “Garage Orchestra” and “Straight Outta Marysville” in the 90s, albums which saw her deliver a mutant, garage version of Brian Wilson’s grandiose Beach Boys’ productions. ‘Elvis Of Marysville’ is a song which has intrigued me since I first heard it, and it’s one I return to frequently. First off, it’s a tremendous performance; the band is in total sync with Berryhill’s voice, words and performance as they vamp and rock with a sticker marked “cool as fuck” on their lapels. Berryhill, meanwhile, delivers this extremely odd parable with some style, somewhat reminiscent of Patti Smith but much more innocent. Deciphering this song is almost impossible; suffice to say it’s worthy of inclusion here.

Number 8. Dave Alvin ‘Harlan County Line‘ from “Eleven Eleven” (2011)

Alvin’s one of the touchstones these days for americana music. Via The Blasters, his solo career, and his recent foray into psychedelic jams with The Third Mind, he’s irrepressible. Choosing ‘Harlan County Line’ for this list is just sheer indulgence, as it hits all of my buttons. Stinging guitar, drop-dead hip vocals and an almighty groove all coalesce into a quintessential listen. Alvin might have better songs in his pocket, but this one just soars.

Number 7. John Murry ‘California‘ from “The Graceless Age” (2012)

A wayward talent, derailed and bedevilled at times via addictions, John Murry triumphed on his magnum opus “The Graceless Age”, released back in 2012. The album’s a deep and claustrophobic dive into the state of mind Murry was in. ‘California’ has a solid, fuzzy bass line underlying it, almost like a heart monitor throbbing throughout. It pulsates away as chaotic washes of guitar and keyboards weave in and out while Murry rails against the smoggy miasma which envelops the land of dreams. It’s the highlight of a set of songs which plunge the depths of despair but which also signalled a rebirth of sorts for Murry, aided by his producer Tim Mooney of American Music Club. Mooney’s tragic death (of a heart attack) prior to the album’s release added a sour poignancy to the tolling bells which herald the song.

Number 6. Guy Clark ‘Instant Coffee Blues‘ from “Old No. 1” (1975)

Guy Clark’s debut, “Old No. 1″, was a huge part of my introduction to what we now call americana. Back then, when it was released, it was most likely filed under singer/songwriter alongside the likes of James Taylor, but several enthusiastic reviews in the weekly music inks led me to search the album out, given that I had by then been converted by the likes of The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Mike Nesmith to seek out authentic American music. The album was a revelation, its rough-hewn stories played as if Clark was sitting on a porch surrounded by a bunch of stellar pickers. I was fascinated by it and “Old No. 1″ remains one of my favourite albums. Its familiarity led to a problem – which song to pick to celebrate it? After several listens on this occasion, I’ve plumped for ‘Instant Coffee Blues’, a perfect miniature which pitches a one-night stand between a trucker and a waitress. There’s no romance, just a bare-boned account of a brief liaison, but Clark imbues the song with a wealth of instant snapshots and a wealth of regret.

Number 5. Townes Van Zandt ‘Poncho And Lefty‘ from“The Late Great Townes Van Zandt” (1972)

There’s little to say here which could add to the adulation this song has gathered over the years. I first heard it via Emmylou Harris, and her version led me to seek out the original telling. It’s a song which has been covered endlessly, but Townes’ original remains the best. It’s storytelling at its best; the song runs like a movie, a parched equivalent to the then-popular “Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid,” but more akin to the violent escapades of Sam Peckinpah. Anyhow, as Van Zandt tells the tale of these two desperadoes and the betrayal implied, he digs deep into the American myth, the cowboys, the border, the western romance and dissects it with his poet’s scalpel.

Number 4. Lyle Lovett ‘If I Had A Boat‘ from “Pontiac” (1988)

Again, we’re in the realm of American myth here as Lovett references Roy Rogers, his horse Trigger, The Lone Ranger and Tonto in this superb song. Aside from its excellent delivery, the guitar sparkles over an evocative pedal steel, while the band ebbs and flows like a tide; Lovett captures a childlike wonder in his lyrics. Apparently, the song is based on a real event when the singer rode a pony through a pond, but in the telling here, it’s a path to freedom as he places himself in the role of the solitary frontiersman. He imagines himself as Roy Rodgers, not wimpy enough to get saddled with a wife but man enough to ride the range on his horse, or as the intrepid native American Tonto, The Lone Ranger’s subservient aide who gets the chance here to tell The Lone Ranger basically to fuck off as Lovett sings,” But Tonto he was smarter/ And one day said kemo sabe/ Well, kiss my ass, I bought a boat/ I’m going out to sea.” Just wonderful.

Number 3. Terry Allen ‘The Girl Who Danced Oklahoma‘ from “Lubbock (On Everything)” (1979)

There are several songs on “Lubbock (On Everything)” which could have made this list, but I’ve chosen this one for the sheer audacity of its delivery. On the face of it, Allen is singing about a “housewife” who yearns to escape from her domestic drudgery, her “honky tonk mind” looking always to the wilder side of life. She does escape, only for the narrator to find her, ten years later, sitting naked in an artist’s house and performing the titular dance. The song is in two parts. The first half the drudgery, and then, after a lengthy piano vamp (which apparently had original vinyl listeners wondering if the record was stuck), the music shifts a gear as Allen spells out Oklahoma and ends up singing “LA OK“, indicating that our heroine has merely transferred her drudgery from her rural beginnings to the shallowness of the Sunset Strip.

Number 2. Whiskeytown ‘Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart Tonight’ from “Strangers Almanac” (1997)

Sometimes you just want to listen to a simple song which harks back to the country heartstrings of love and regret, especially if it’s delivered in a melodic but somewhat ramshackle fashion. Here’s such a song from the days when Ryan Adams was like a blast of fresh air instead of the somewhat dodgy figure he presents these days. It’s quite glorious, hitting all the buttons one might expect for such a song to be welcomed on a jukebox in a country dive, the late-night slopers deep in their drinks while a few hardy souls still try to dance to its undeniably doomed sense of romance. The ace in the hole here is when Alejandro Escovido takes over the lead vocals towards the end, adding a degree of urgency to the heartbreak; his intervention transforms the song.

Number 1. Jim White ‘A Perfect Day to Chase Tornados’ from”The Mysterious Tale Of How I Shouted Wrong-eyed Jesus!” (1997)

Taken from one of the best ever debut albums, ‘A Perfect Day to Chase Tornados’ is Jim White at his best, laying down a mesmerising backdrop which weaves and flutters like leaves in a breeze, although there is an overlying sense of trepidation and perhaps doom towards the end. His voice is both close and distant, at times distorted with multiple versions of White singing in unholy harmony. He says of the song that he wrote it in a bad space, ill and depressed, figuring that “I wrote that song as a sort of goodbye gesture to planet earth. Something for loved ones to find when they were sorting out what to do with my few belongings; my guitar, some cassette tapes of me singing a few songs like this one.” Fortunately, he recovered and recorded the song with the lyrics coming across as some bad trip descent into a Flannery O’Connor-like fever dream.