Clint Black may have said it best when he wrote:
“Ain’t it funny how a melody can bring back a memory
Take you to another place in time
Completely change your state of mind”
Music has that effect on us. It transcends all space and time.
Good music with good friends is a cure-all, and I was reminded of that last week when I stopped off after work for a trip down Memory Lane.
Slaid Cleaves is one of my favorite songwriters. I caught his show in Denton Thursday night at Dan’s Silverleaf.
He is a native of Maine. He moved to Austin in 1991 after honing his craft busking in Ireland and New England.
According to Cleaves, he read about a new music festival called “South by Southwest” in Rolling Stone magazine where a $25 arm band could get you a week’s worth of entertainment.
It didn’t take much more than that to sell him on Austin.
In 1992, he was a winner of the prestigious New Folk competition at the Kerrville Folk Festival, an award previously given to such artists as Nanci Griffith, Robert Earl Keen and Steve Earle.
Since then, he has split time between Texas and Maine.
He and his wife Karen spend their winters at home in Wimberly and then head north to retreat from the summer heat.
Six albums and countless open mics throughout the 90s led to his breakthrough record “Broke Down” in 2000.
This was when he first came on my radar.
“Broke Down” got a lot of play on KHYI 95.3. I was 17 and that station was stuck on the dial of my Ford pickup.
I saw Slaid for the first time at Hot Summer Nights in Sherman. It was the summer of 2001, and I had just graduated high school.
He worked with a group that night at the Municipal Lawn.
He had a man on upright bass named Ivan and Eleanor Whitmore on fiddle.
I thought I had arrived as a musician a few years later when I worked a show with Eleanor’s sister Bonnie.
They are Texas music generational talents— the daughters of the legendary Alex Whitmore.
But I digress.
Hot Summer Nights was different back then. The crowd was still huge but the music, dare I say, was better.
I saw acts like Ray Wylie Hubbard, Max Stalling, Jim Lauderdale, Jack Ingram, Charlie Robinson and the Gourds at Hot Summer Nights— back in those days.
The top among them was Slaid Cleaves.
“Broke Down” still holds up as a veritable masterpiece and he played the entire album that night.
I was struck by his writing and enamored by his coolness.
I still am.
I’m not sure why I waited 25 years to see him again, but I am glad I made the time on Thursday.
He sounded better than he did back then and, back then, he was astounding.
This time, it was just him and a sideman— Scrappy Jud Newcomb— a prominent Austin based guitarist, songwriter and producer known for his work in rock, roots and blues.
Newcomb is a staple in the Austin scene.
He is a member of The Resentments and also fronts Scrappy Jud and the Appaloosas.
In addition to Slaid, he has toured with Patty Griffin and Ian McLagan and has worked with Todd Snider, Ray Wylie Hubbard and Bob Schneider.
He was amazing Thursday night. The seamless transition between plucking e-string bass grooves with his thumb and slide melodies on the rest of the guitar was something to behold.
So, the stage was set and Slaid came out on fire.
He opened with “Horseshoe Lodge”— a classic off the “Broke Down” album.
Then he followed with “Drinking Days” from the 2004 record “Wishbones.”
It tells the story of a guy who has sobriety chosen for him after a drunken brawl with a cop landed him in Huntsville.
It’s a poetic ode to making the wrong decisions:
“My drinking days are over
No more nights at the Carousel
My buddies say they’re gonna miss me but
Who could ever tell
I never knew what time it was ‘til closing time came around
My drinking days are over, but I’m still trouble bound”
Hereupon nostalgia set in.
“Horseshoe Lounge” sent me back in time to that June concert in Sherman a quarter-century ago.
We were young and enjoying our last summer before life took us different directions.
This was before 9/11. Several of my friends who were with me that night were in basic training a few months later when the towers fell.
After that, they all made multiple detours overseas.
Thank God they all made it home— though some in a better head space than others.
(Check out Slaid’s 2013 album “Still Fighting the War.” He tells the story better than I ever could).
And then, “Drinking Days” took me back to my 21st birthday which I celebrated in the same place as a I was on Thursday— Dan’s Silverleaf in Denton.
That night, we were watching Chris Knight, not Slaid Cleaves, and we were doing what 21-year-olds do.
I remembered all the beers we drank that night and looked down at my diet soda.
I guess my drinking days are over, too.
From there, we were on our way. Like I said, music transcends and Slaid did just that.
He gave us plenty of the old songs as well as a few from his most recent, self-produced records.
He is a craftsman. His craft is words and his use of historical storytelling in songwriting rivals the likes of Harry Chapin and Gordon Lightfoot.
Much of Thursday’s setlist included requests pre-submitted via email among his followers— genius marketing.
He obliged us with some masterworks by fellow Austin songwriter Karen Postman, and we even got to hear Scrappy do one of his originals, too.
The gist of which revolved around the hook, “When did everyone forget how to be cool?”
Slaid Cleaves has not forgotten how to be cool.
He played almost a full two hours and closed with the same song as he did 25 years ago— “One Good Year.”
Also from the “Broke Down” record, it tells the story of a guy down on his luck on New Year’s Day:
“Just give me one good year
To get my feet back on the ground
I’ve been chasing grace
But grace ain’t so easily found
One bad hand can devil a man
Chase him and carry him down
I gotta get out of here
Just give me one good year.”
It is a timeless perpetual wish. No matter how good things are going, we always seem to find ourselves wishing for one good year.
And then it was time for an encore, so Slaid and Scrappy unplugged and busked around the room, among the audience, singing another classic “Key Chain.”
It was a fitting end to a great night after which Slaid sat at a picnic table out front and visited with every fan who cared to say hi.
“I first saw you 25 years ago in Sherman, Texas,” I told him. “You were great then and even better tonight.”
He smiled with recollection.
“I remember that,” he said. “We were on a big gazebo and that crowd was huge.”
I thanked him for another great memory.
I am not sure where 25 years have gone. Time speeds by much like the metaphor evoked in another Slaid Cleaves classic:
“60 years ago, boys
I rode for the diamond team
Sailing by, eight feet high
On horses quick as dreams”
Time flies by “quick as dreams” and music sometimes helps us slow it down— if just for a moment or two.
Music also brings us together. Heals us. Unifies us. Transcends.
The late Greg Isles reminded us of that in his seminal work “The Bone Tree” when he wrote: “I’ve known very few men with music in their hearts who hated their brothers and sisters.”
So, I challenge you. Turn off the news and turn on the radio.
Dig out that old record you haven’t listened to in years— and listen to the entire album. Don’t just ask Alexa for samples.
Music slips past the boundaries that divide us, carrying emotion and meaning where words often fail.
It binds memory to melody, allowing us to revisit the past while momentarily escaping the weight of time.
In it, we find a shared human language— one that transcends difference and reminds us we are not alone.
Go see a concert. Put down the phone and revisit an old favorite like Slaid Cleaves.
You’ll be glad you did. I know I am.
Austin Lewter is the owner and publisher of the Whitesboro News-Record and director of the Texas Center for Community Journalism. He can be reached at [email protected]