ALONG WITH STARDUST, HERE’S HALF A DOZEN MORE ESSENTIAL WILLIE NELSON ALBUMS, AS PICKED BY OUR WRITERS AND A FEW FAMOUS WILLIE NELSON FANS.
GEOFFREY HIMES, Texas Music contributor
Tougher Than Leather
COLUMBIA 1983
I rank the underrated Tougher Than Leather as Willie Nelson’s best record, not because it contains his most enduring songs — there’s nothing here as memorable as “Crazy,” “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground” or “Me and Paul” — but because it’s his most cohesive, most ambitious concept album. Most cohesive because all 11 of the originals advance the narrative. Most ambitious because it drives home the sobering message that no one — not the fastest gunfighter, not the most elusive rider — escapes death.
Not even reincarnation can help the protagonist, an outlaw who shoots down a young challenger on the Main Street of an 1880s western town, only to fall in love with the youth’s mourning lover. Old “Tougher Than Leather,” as Nelson calls him, dies “from the poison inside brought on by the wrong he had done,” but he’s reincarnated a century later and finds the reincarnated “Rose.” Before they can enjoy their reunion, however, the cowboy is arrested and put on Death Row. “Was it something I did, Lord, a lifetime ago?” he sings. “Am I just now repaying a debt that I owe?” The final track may be a lazy, charming waltz, but Nelson delivers the title line, “Nobody Slides, My Friend,” with an implacable fatalism that should send shivers through anyone paying attention.
Death was on Nelson’s mind because he had come close enough to smell it in 1981, when his left lung collapsed while he was swimming in Hawaii. Forced to stay off the road for a month while he recuperated in a hospital, Nelson suddenly had both the time and inspiration for the biggest, best songwriting spurt of his middle career. Tougher Than Leather was his first album dominated by new songs since 1975’s Red Headed Stranger, and his only one of the 1980s. No other album he ever made was as unflinchingly fierce in describing the price one pays for lost love and bullying violence.
Nelson suffered commercially for his approach. In the midst of the nine-year run that brought him 15 No. 1 country singles (from 1978 through 1986), the best Tougher Than Leather could muster was a brief appearance at No. 10 for the single “Little Old Fashioned Karma,” and the album was quickly forgotten by just about everyone. From the disappointing sales to the contrarian, low-fi production of Nelson and bassist Bee Spears, from the jazzy licks supplied by Johnny Gimble, Grady Martin, Mickey Raphael and Nelson, himself, to the dark, literary lyrics, this record is best understood as an early, never-bettered alternative-country album. Even if it was released by a superstar.
ROB PATTERSON, Texas Music contributor
Spirit
ISLAND, 1996
You can tell that Spirit is not just a special Willie Nelson album but a rare, unique, musically gorgeous and deeply affecting record from the very first notes of “Matador,” the instrumental that bookends it. With Nelson and his trusty gut-string guitar Trigger accompanied only by sister Bobbie on piano, Jody Payne on guitar and Johnny Gimble’s fiddle, it’s the Red-Headed Stranger almost alone in the ring, supported only by his most trusted musical picadors, battling and dancing a pas de deux with the bullish vagaries and challenges of life, love and the human soul. It’s not a bravura performance that elicits cries of ole!, but rather a testament to the Zen potency of subtlety, musical asceticism and contemplation. The sparse setting puts Nelson’s voice in all its rugged glory — as well as his lyrical fingers on the guitar strings — front and center within a set of songs that includes such nuggets as “She Is Gone,” ”Your Memory Won’t Die in My Grave” and “Too Sick to Pray.” Spirit is a genuine experience; one concentrated listen will prove to have an emotional effect that is truly soul stirring — if not life-changing.
ROSANNE CASH, Songwriter
Red Headed Stranger
COLUMBIA, 1975
“Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” had the same impact on me as “A Hard Day’s Night.” Partly it was Willie’s laconic vocal quality. I like singers who don’t give too much away, and he’s the definitive version of that. The song had this understated heartbreak that was so beautiful. It was one of those times when Willie’s voice and guitar became one thing. It was one of those songs where you can hear the whole record when you think of it. You don’t have to think, “How did that part go?” because it’s all still there in your mind. (As told to Geoffrey Himes)
DAVE ALVIN, Songwriter
Phases and Stages
ATLANTIC, 1974
I like the musicianship. I love “Bloody Mary Morning.” I like the ambition of it; he was reaching for something more than the usual country thing. Country music was singles-based then; it still is. This was the first of his concept records, and it had a vague R&B feel because Jerry Wexler produced it.
The thing about Willie is, he’s in that Merle Haggard and Bob Dylan area. All three have had long careers, and they’ve all had albums that aren’t 100 percent great but always have one or two great songs. As an artist, you only have certain moments where you know 100 percent that this is the right thing to do, and every note makes sense. Willie’s had a few of those moments, and Phases and Stages is one of them.
And in the same way Spring-steen’s a great songwriter who doesn’t get credit for his songwriting because people think of him as an icon, people get caught up in Willie’s image and they forget he’s a great songwriter. As a songwriter I admire the hell out of him. Phases and Stages is a tough record. Sometimes his records can get a little mellow, but that one had a little kick to it. Maybe it was knowing he was doing something that hadn’t been done before. (As told to Geoffrey Himes)
JOHN DOE, Songwriter
And Then I Wrote
LIBERTY, 1962
This is the one with the really young picture of him on the cover. I love the way he’s singing these incredible songs like “Hello Walls” and “Funny How Time Slips Away,” and, basically, as the actors say, “throwing it away,” letting the words do the talking and not giving a performance of them. It’s most obvious in his version of “Crazy.” It’s like he’s waiting for a bus and, “Oh, by the way, this just came to me.” It’s so off-hand. As a singer, that’s a very hard lesson to learn, to be that relaxed, that confident. You’re not overselling it; you’re letting it be. (As told to Geoffrey Himes)
SAM BAKER, Songwriter
Shotgun Willie
ATLANTIC, 1973
I like the way he works with characters, the way he allows them to live their own lives, to struggle with things, to take whatever direction they want to take. The characters feel like people I’ve known, or at least the archetypes of people I’ve known. He’s such a terrific writer; he goes into this place where he brings these characters out, the story develops and it all rolls up on top of you. “Whiskey River” stands out obviously, but I’ve always been drawn to “Sad Songs and Waltzes,” when he sings, “They’re not selling this year.” He’s saying they sell music like a commodity, and if you live on sad songs and waltzes, you’re out of step. But I love that out-of-stepness; it’s a staple in my diet. (As told to Geoffrey Himes)
