Rubber City Review

The election’s over, so it’s time to drink. Heavily.

Which brings us to the second installment of our tribute to the Great American Drinking Song. And we’re using the same basic guidelines that applied to the first post:

1. No rugby songs or sea chanteys
2. Primary sources: honky tonk, R&B and blues
3. Extra points for referencing alcohol consumption in song title
4. Lyrics should convey hopelessness, denial and/or complete lack of higher cognitive activity
5. Accompanying music should be oddly uplifting to discourage impaired listener from blowing his/her brains out

So there you have it – five basic tips on how to write an effective drinking song. It also helps if the songwriter has firsthand knowledge of what it’s like to spend several hours in a dimly lit honky tonk, staring at a bubbling beer sign while listening to the finest examples of first-generation drinking songs by the likes of Hank Williams, George Jones, Wynonie Harris, Dinah Washington, Louis Jordan, Merle Haggard, Amos Milburn… Oh, and downing crappy cocktails that somehow taste better when the bartender’s yelling “Last Call!”

Of course, I’m assuming you have the time, inclination and energy to actually write a drinking song. If you’re like me, you’d rather have someone else go through all the trouble of coming up with these hard-earned odes to a life well wasted.

First up, a tune by the great blues piano player Memphis Slim. Apparently, Slim ended up with the beer-drinkinest woman in all of Chicago. We’re talking $45 of beer in one sitting – and that was back in 1940! Now, either this woman had her hand in Slim’s back pocket or he was slammin’ a few himself. Regardless, I don’t think this was a long-term relationship for Slim, who went on to record with numerous labels – Decca, King, Mercury, Vee-Jay and Folkways, to name a few – before making a permanent move to Paris (France, that is) in ’62. And that’s where he lived the good life for the next 26 years, far from the beer-drinking floozy who inspired this tune… Beer Drinking Woman/Memphis Slim

Guitar slinger Goree Carter came across a similar woman down in Texas. But instead of dumping her at the first opportunity, Goree realized that he loved his baby no matter how much she had to drink. I especially like the drunken rumba rhythm on this tune… Sounds like something the band decided to screw around with late at night, when they were sick of doing shuffles and just sober enough to play while sitting down. Goree’s guitar is just right, with enough grit and grease to give fellow Texan Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown a run for his money. You can find both of them on an outstanding collection we featured a few posts back – “Boogie Uproar: Texas Blues and R&B, 1947-1954.” Drunk or Sober/Goree Carter

Now let’s flip this around and look at it from a woman’s perspective. Most women know that a man who’s had too much to drink occupies roughly the same spot on the evolutionary scale as a brain-damaged chimp. And we know what chimps do when they’re pissed off. That’s why God made it difficult for drunks to walk upright (and God help the drunk who passes out in front of a woman done wrong). It’s safe to say Dinah Washington dealt with more than a few over-consumptive men during her turbulent life – married eight times, divorced seven, and many lovers on the side. And she gave as good as she got, as evidenced by this nasty couplet: “He’s a mess when he gets his head full of junk… and every time I kiss him he’s smellin’ like a skunk.” I’m guessing this next one was an “answer song” to Juice Head Baby by Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson. Another interesting side note: It features a young John Coltrane on sax. Juice Head Man of Mine/Dinah Washington

But just like the sad sack featured in that song, a hard-drinking woman can be a victim of her own doing. Take Helen Humes, for example. She was sitting in the corner just as high as she could be – so drunk, in fact, that the cops didn’t even notice her when they raided the joint. So if there’s a bright side to this cautionary tale, it’s probably this: “When in doubt, just pass out.” Hardly the stuff of self-help books… but it worked for Helen. They Raided the Joint/Helen Humes

Speaking of self-help messages, Merle Haggard came up with a great one on this next song. Merle’s baby just left him, so instead of wallowing in self-pity, he decided to act like a man and head straight to the nearest bar. Of course, the main reason to listen to this song is the masterful guitar of James Burton, who had just replaced another legend of hard twang, Merle’s original string-bender Roy Nichols. Burton joined Merle and band in ’66 to record “I’m a Lonesome Fugitive,” which included the title cut, Life in Prison, this next tune and nine other prime examples of the classic Bakersfield Sound (even though the album was recorded at Capitol Studios in Hollywood). Merle’s ‘60s albums inspired countless cowpunks and modern-day honky tonkers – from Dwight Yoakam and Steve Earle to Gretchen Wilson and Jamey Johnson. Long Live The Hag… Drink Up & Be Somebody/Merle Haggard

As long as we’re doing the tonk thing, might as well walk around to the other side of the bar and see what it’s like to serve these losers. Even though George Jones spent much of his life at the mercy of the man serving drinks, he probably had a good idea of what it must’ve been like staring into the glassy, vacant eyes of hard-core drinkers for hours on end. So here’s George’s sad take on the plight of the bartender… Bartender’s Blues/George Jones

And while we’re at it, let’s look at what happens when the bartender has a little too much to drink himself. This guy ended up on the wrong side of the bar, cavorting with the very people he’s supposed to babysit. A great tune from the unfortunately named Asleep at the Wheel: Tonight the Bartender is on the Wrong Side of the Bar/Asleep at the Wheel

Bars don’t just cater to cognitively impaired rednecks. Great thinkers like to drink too… Scholars and poets like Dylan Thomas and Charles Bukowski. Not to mention the notable barroom bard Wynonie Harris. Before you go searching for the collected writings of Mr. Harris, understand that most of his poetry remains criminally ignored and undocumented. But RCR did manage to find this recorded evidence of his urbane and erudite witticisms – a loving tribute to the timeless vessel from which all wisdom flows. Quiet Whiskey/Wynonie Harris

No matter how much you try to dress them up with ferns, plasma screens and Purell dispensers, most bars remain highly democratic institutions. And none of them are immune to the occasional fight breaking out. Especially when O’Reilly’s at the bar. Must’ve been some character Dan Hicks came across when he was playing Bay Area clubs back in the late ‘60s with his band the Hot Licks. You can’t really blame O’Reilly for wanting to smash someone’s face – the guy stole his beer, for chrissakes! And assaulting a beer thief is a pardonable offense here in the Rubber City. O’Reilly at the Bar/Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks

Well, it’s closing time for this here missive – and obviously I’ve had a little too much to drink myself… so I’ll leave you with this six-pack to go:

A guy who plays a “guit-steel” double neck guitar is bound to apply the same dualism to other things, like party lights… Party Lights/Junior Brown

In our last drinking song post, we featured Ted Hawkins’ powerful version of There Stands The Glass. This one’s just as good… Happy Hour/Ted Hawkins

Sometimes, a great drinking song is simply a tribute to one’s favorite brand of booze (with Keith Richards on guitar and background vocals)… Tanqueray/Johnnie Johnson

I’m not from Texas, but I can’t resist a lyric like this: “Too much rum and rodeo got the better of your cowboy soul.” Rum & Rodeo/Heather Myles

Before O’Reilly hit the bar, there was this tune by New Orleans musical wizard Dave Bartholomew. Apparently, beer thievery is a serious crime problem… Who Drank My Beer While I Was In The Rear/Dave Bartholomew

Hank Thompson recorded the original back in ’52, but I think I prefer this version by rockabilly wildman Charlie Feathers… Wild Side of Life/Charlie Feathers

Here’s visual evidence that Dinah Washington knew how to deal with a man gone astray…

What kind of town do you live in, musically speaking? Is it classic rock, country, jazz, polka, Tuvan throat-singing? I’m not referring to the kind of music you hear on the radio. I’m talking about the songs that seem to make the most sense when you’re driving around town; that make you think, yeah, this sound starts to get at the heart of what this place is all about.

I, of course, live in Akron – a city that’s incredibly easy to live in, but over the last couple of years has taken on a little bit of the “suck factor.” Don’t get me wrong, I love it when we get a rare visitor or two and I can upend their perceptions of my hometown as a 60-square-mile Superfund site. I live about five miles from a national park… we have no traffic to speak of… and all of our self-inflicted environmental calamities are well behind us.

I remember when my friend Andy came to visit from NYC on one of those spectacular fall afternoons that turn my tree-lined street into an orgy of color. I interrupted our catch-up talk to fly down the road on a two-seat bike and pick up my daughter, who was walking home from school. When I came back, the blimp was hovering over our house. Of course, that never happened again and the weather went south right after Andy and his wife left town.

Beyond the occasionally dicey weather, the minus column includes a few more recent entries. Despite what some financial experts are saying, the economy has yet to turn the corner… The Black Keys have made Nashville their new home base… and the Cleveland sports scene has hit rock bottom. I’m beginning to think that professional sports teams should only exist in the four or five metropolitan areas big enough to support them. Cities like New York, Chicago and L.A. would have dozens of football teams that you’d watch on television, using some sort of digital contraption to place your bets.

I’ll leave the sports musings to the experts, like Gary Benz. We’re here to talk about music, and I’ve decided that the most appropriate soundtrack for driving around Akron is stone-cold, tough-as-nails honky tonk music.

That might speak volumes about the parts of town I tend to cruise. It also might add some logic to the lure of Music City USA, which stole the hearts of Dan and Pat (a city seemingly at odds with their heavy rock swagger, but I can assure you Dan is a big fan of classic honky tonkers like Lefty Frizell, Buck Owens and Merle Haggard). But I think it has more to do with the thousands of folks from Kentucky, Tennessee and West Virginia who came to Akron to work in its massive rubber factories – and the kind of music they listened to in the small corner bars they called home.

So if you happen to live in the Rubber City, or plan on visiting America’s Newest Vacation Mecca anytime soon, I encourage you to slap these tunes on a CD and head down Kenmore Boulevard. You’ll quickly fall in love with the idea of a city that’s blissfully out of synch with the rest of the world.

Unlike our neighbors to the north, we’re a fairly hopeful lot here in Akron. When the Tribe drops six games in a row, we don’t start ranting about “The Curse of Rocky Colavito.” We just stop making the 30-mile drive to Progressive Field and head over to Canal Park, where you can watch the pros play and save a little cash too. On the political front, we have a few bad seeds, but none facing hard time in prison like virtually half of Cuyahoga County’s elected officials. We’re like the Buck Owens to Cleveland’s Johnny Paycheck – and some of us don’t even own guns. So when things start to look bad, we can just put a little more spring in our two-step with Buck and his Buckaroos: We’re Gonna Let The Good Times Roll/Buck Owens

But some problems are a little harder to ignore, like a bad housing market. And many of the stories behind those padlocked doors and sheriff’s auction signs can be pretty heartbreaking. I’m sure most of this hard luck has to do with a lost job or an investment gone awry. But a few can be traced back to a more basic form of heartbreak – that is, the final stop in a dead-end relationship. Nobody has driven down that cul de sac more often than George Jones. I don’t care if country music isn’t your thing. If you’re not moved by George’s Grand Tour of his empty house, then you have a small, black heart that’s barely beating. The Grand Tour/George Jones

For those older folks who are fortunate enough to sell their homes, the next stop is usually a trailer park in Florida. But a surprising number decide to ride it out in the Rubber City, where the relative lack of traffic makes it easier for octogenarians to navigate their sturdy land-yachts down the exact center of our streets. Then there are the characters all of us know who never make it to old age – who take Buck’s advice to the next level and decide to party their way into oblivion. No need to bother these folks with retirement plans or the value of investing in low-risk savings bonds. They’d rather blow it at the bar and leave beautiful memories. Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young/Faron Young

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the bold, spirited women of our town. Women who refuse to turn the other cheek and are willing to fight for what they believe is right. Women like my mom, who came here from the Deep South and left a long trail of busted-up Yankees in her wake. So if you’re one of those painted floozies hoping to come here to steal our men, think twice (or call first). Because you’re about to take a one-way trip to Fist City… Fist City/Loretta Lynn

As this song might suggest, towns throughout the Midwest are well-populated by folks who – how do I say this carefully? – have a certain penchant for sleeveless T-shirts, filterless cigarettes and instant lottery tickets. Oh what the hell… I’m talking about white trash. And no one has chronicled the lifestyle of the Appalachian transplant longer or more lovingly than Akron native David Allan Coe. He rode with the Outlaws motorcycle gang and did time in the Mansfield Reformatory, which later served as the backdrop for the movie The Shawshank Redemption. And he channeled those experiences through songs like The Ride, Take This Job and Shove It, and this next one, which seems to describe the parts of town where being “off the grid” is not a desired outcome. If That Ain’t Country/David Allan Coe

Of course, our city’s elders have decried the continued exodus of Akron’s best and brightest to other communities, mostly those that offer warmer climates. Then again, no one’s asking David Allan Coe to move back… but certainly the recent departure of Dan and Pat has left a void. I think there’s more than a little denial in all this hand-wringing. And I wonder how many of those same elders would stick around if someone handed them all the cash generated by The Black Keys’ latest album, “Brothers”? Even if you don’t have a pot to piss in (let me rephrase that: especially if you don’t…), it makes perfect sense to long for a life far away from where you live. And that’s true no matter what town you call home. It’s all about that age-old yearning for a new start, expressed by the protagonist of this Steve Earle song: Someday/Steve Earle

Truth be told, most people in this town are refreshingly free of attitude and live here because it’s a solid, stable place to raise their kids. They work hard all week, get a little over-served on Saturday nights and usually practice a form of religion that doesn’t involve snake handling. And they didn’t lose any sleep over LeBron’s “Decision.” So this last tune is for them. It’s a little gospel number by someone who wrestled with more than a few snakes during his 29 years, the Right Reverend Hank Williams: I’ll Have A New Body/Hank Williams

“Enjoy Akron” t-shirt courtesy of Rubber City Clothing.

Penn Says David Allan Coe is bat-shit crazy… This is good stuff – and who would’ve thought that Coe was a big influence on Penn & Teller’s act? There’s another funny clip on youtube of Penn talking about bringing Coe backstage at one of their Vegas shows.

I’m guessing the first drinking song was written not long after the first alcoholic beverage was served. Something about draggin’ stone for the pharaoh – and my baby left me too. In other words, not that different from the drinking songs we enjoy today.

Let’s set aside for now those endless folk songs sung by British rugby teams at the corner pub. That’s a participatory sport that requires more focus than I can muster after five or six beers.

We’re talking about those perfect songs you might hear in a crappy little dive that’s dedicated to the consumption of hard liquor. Not a fern in sight, and no wine selection – unless you’re choosing between red and white. Just a couple shelves of the hard stuff, a jukebox, and a few sad sacks hiding from whatever ails them beyond those swinging doors.

A good drinking song might not bring a roomful of drunks together, arm-in-arm, singing at the top of their lungs… But it helps create a sense of community among those who usually have little in common except for unhealthy lifestyles and bad attitudes. So consider these tunes a form of group therapy – without all that messy “sharing deep, dark secrets with complete strangers” business.

As I put together a playlist of my favorite drinking songs, it became clear that they spring from three basic genres of music – honky tonk, rhythm and blues (circa ‘40s and ‘50s) and blues. Once again, I’m giving short shrift to the Brits, and the Irish too… but when it comes to drinking songs, I’m no different from the average schmoe at the Dew Drop Inn – I don’t like to roam too far from home.

What constitutes a great drinking song? It’s really quite simple. First, it helps to reference alcohol consumption in the title or main chorus of the song. Remember, this is not a subtle form of music – these songs are written for people whose cognitive functions often resemble those of small children (or large ash trays). Second, these songs should convey an overall sense of hopelessness…Think “if drinkin’ don’t kill me, her memory will,” or “what’s the use of getting sober,” or even worse, “tonight the bartender’s on the wrong side of the bar.” Most people don’t drink by themselves just to kill time (then again, maybe that’s the whole point). Third, the music itself should be oddly uplifting, in stark yet effective contrast to the hopeless lyrics. After all, if these songs were sung as dark, minor-chord dirges, you’d just blow your brains out then and there… and who would pay your tab?

With these essential guidelines in mind, the management team and our “subordinassociates” at Rubber City Review are proud to offer you this thoughtfully compiled 12-pack of our favorite drinking songs – based on years of exhaustive, dedicated research. (This time I’ve ganged together the samples at the end of each section – creating separate 6-packs of listening pleasure, if you will.)

Amos Milburn, drinkologist

Amos Milburn: Let Me Go Home Whiskey. Along with being a legend of jump blues, Amos Milburn has written at least four of the world’s greatest drinking songs – Bad Bad Whiskey; One Scotch One Bourbon and One Beer (made famous by John Lee Hooker and, later, George Thorogood); Thinkin’ and Drinkin’; and Let Me Go Home Whiskey. Not sure why I’m partial to the last one… I guess it’s because the lyrics deliver a powerful one-two punch of pathos and denial – I’d come home, baby, but this booze won’t let me go! That, and the fact that the unfortunately named Asleep at the Wheel did a great cover of this tune back in 1975. Also, my sister Caroline sings it at family gatherings, after which sister Mary usually collects sharp objects and pharmaceuticals.

Loretta Lynn: Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ On Your Mind). A cautionary tale for anyone who hopes to get it on with Loretta Lynn after a night out on the town. As Cavs announcer Austin Carr likes to say after LeBron blocks a shot, “get that weak stuff outta here!”

Wynonie Harris: Don’t Take My Whiskey Away From Me. Wynonie Harris is another jump-blues giant who sang more than his share of drinking songs. This tune probably was recorded at King Studios in Cincinnati… It offers a stern warning to anyone who tries to mess with his drink (and Harris seemed like the kind of guy who would deliver on a threat).

The Kentucky Colonels (with Clarence White): Chuck-A-Lug. Consider this one a bonus from our last post. It’s tailor-made for the skewed bluegrass of the Kentucky Colonels – with a solo by Clarence White that should’ve been pulled over for reckless op.

Otis Spann: Going Down Slow. Technically, this isn’t a drinking song… but it sounds to me like St. Louis Jimmy Oden wrote it about someone whose health problems were self-inflicted. It’s been covered by artists ranging from Eric Clapton to Aretha Franklin. St. Louis Jimmy sings this one himself, with sympathetic backing from Otis Spann and Robert Lockwood Jr. (who lived and played in Cleveland for many years). Brother Jack likes to play it at family gatherings… Kill me now. Pop a Top Let Me Go Home Whiskey Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ On Your Mind) Don’t Take My Whiskey Away From Me Chug-A-Lug Going Down Slow

As they say on late-night TV, “But wait… There’s more!”

George Jones: If Drinkin’ Don’t Kill Me (Her Memory Will). With this number, we’ve covered the Holy Trinity of drinking song stylists – Milburn, Harris and George “No Show” Jones. There’s nothing quite like a George Jones drinking song… in fact, it probably merits its own genre. A friend of mine likes to point out the difference between pathos and bathos, the latter used to describe the most desperate attempts to gain someone’s pity. Based on this definition, Jones has made bathos an art form… It’s hard to resist a line like this: “With the blood from my body, I could start my own still.”

Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys: Bubbles In My Beer. Music doesn’t get much merrier than Western Swing, which makes this tune a surreal treat. I get the sense that bandleader Bob Wills isn’t too worked up about the fact that singer Tommy Duncan’s life has been a failure… Oddly enough, Duncan eventually was dumped by Wills for complaining about his boss’s drinking problem!

Ted Hawkins: There Stands the Glass. Hawkins just tears me up… partly because I know he had such a rough life. He struggled with heroin addiction and spent years in jail, but eventually was discovered playing for spare change at Venice Beach. Hawkins was able to enjoy some success and recognition late in life, but his voice always betrayed a deep sadness – especially on this number that honky-tonker Webb Pierce first recorded back in 1953.

Tammy Wynette: Your Good Girl’s Gonna Go Bad. George’s former wife knew a thing or two about living with an alcoholic… which is why she decided to take a different approach from Loretta Lynn by threatening to show up at the bar herself, ready to party. George’s worst nightmare?

Ross Johnson: Wet Bar. Of course, we know that some drinking songs, like some drinks (and drunks), are hard to categorize. This one seems like it came from Satan’s rec room – which is basically the case, because It Came From Memphis. That’s the title of a highly entertaining book by Memphis/roots-rock aficionado Robert Gordon, as well as a companion CD that plucked this twisted little number out of some deep, dark hole. Allmusic calls Ross Johnson “a maverick who’s eccentric even by the standards of this subterranean scene.” Sounds like drinking is the least of his problems.

Slim Harpo: Blues Hangover. I’ll close with a talking blues from the great Slim Harpo… Every bar in America should crank up Blues Hangover at closing time. If Drinkin’ Don’t Kill Me (Her Memory Will) Bubbles in My Beer There Stands the Glass Your Good Girl’s Gonna Go Bad Wet Bar Blues Hangover