The Road He's On: the transcript (3 of 3)

Sony Landreth photo by Terri Fensel

Along those same lines, what's all that commotion going on in the background of "Juke Box Mama?"

That's some wild stuff. I should back up. I have to leave that to my own insanity. He's rubbed off on me, he and Tony.

Actually, to back up - you'll never use all these stories of all this shit - but my friend Jack Spencer came down, and here's the actual manifestation of what I had in mind (pointing to the photo of Sonny's profile, guitar and a jukebox in the booklet of the new CD) and on the other side of the page were the lyrics.

When Jack came down and we did the shoot, he fell in love with this Creole joint outside of Abbeville, Gracie's Lounge. We did the rest of the shoot there. I knew, when he got that intense and shot that much in one place, that that was where it was going to be. So I looked at the jukebox and I said, "Man, you know I want to get a shot of my old '66 Strat, right up against that jukebox." It was so cool, and it had such incredible music on it. So we set this up and took a shot. Then when we got the proofs back, Megan (Barra) and I were looking through everything. What had happened was that day I felt the song coming on. We had already finished everything. We'd mixed. I wanted for once in my life to keep a deadline. That was another goal and here comes another song. I had narrowed it down to 11 tracks. It was a done deal. We were finally through, and here comes another song. The rest of the day we came back into Lafayette to do some more shooting. (Points to the photo on the back of the CD) That's where we did this, across the street from Dwyer's. And then this shot (points to the photo of his silhouette in a mud puddle) is in that little parking area. So as this shot's being taken, the words, what's coming into my brain was this. So the whole time he's shooting the shot, this started coming on. I called Tony and said, "I've got another song." He said, "Great!"

I knew that I wanted it to be acoustic so I brought the old National in. At first we tried making a loop and all this other crazy stuff, and it just didn't feel right. That's when I really decided to let go and trust the moment. Here's all that I've been yapping about. Well, live up to it. Here's something that's happening, and I've never turned it down before. Just because there's a deadline there's no time to stop now. I've never let it stop me before. So I came back with these lyrics.

I started tapping on the back of the National, which is a resonator guitar which has its own little speaker in there. It's very reflective. The sound is metallic. That was one thing. Then I just raked the strings. Tony took that and dropped it down an octave or two. Then all that other kind of percolated harmonic thing I'm doing on the guitar is just a guitar technique. Neither one of us had real boots on. (Tony) went and dug in Primeaux's closet, got one of his boots, put it on, got a wood block, set it on the floor, stomped on it, and that's our kick drum. So then I went ahead and played it, then sang it. I didn't play and sing at the same time because I didn't know the words. I was still in there finishing the words as we were doing the track.

So we set up the old RCA mic of David Rachou's. I love that mic because the harder you sing, it breaks up. It's an old-timey microphone, and it sounds amazing. Then I got Mike Burch to come, and he played this old, deep wooden snare. He immediately reacted to the song and the nuances. He did a great job of picking up on everything. He was doing the brush in one hand and tapping on the back end of the rim which gave it that tap dance feel. I told him I couldn't believe he did that. It just sounds likes somebody tap dancing.

Then I flashed back (to) once upon a time, many years ago. I played in this, shall we say, less than reputable establishment in Opelousas with less than reputable people working there. There was this cool little black dude that would dance to the jukebox, he knew all the numbers. He was like the Creole Bojangles. He knew all the songs on the jukebox, and he tapped dance to all of these songs on this jukebox. That was the one shining moment of this gig we used to play regularly. So I said that it reminded me of that. This whole thing came about because of this jukebox in a Creole bar outside of Abbeville. I love when things like that happen. That's the kind of magic I was talking about that we wanted to hopefully summon up. I could never go back and do all that. There's no way. So we just threw it all down as it came to us, and it turned into this really happy mess of a song with all of these wild little things (that) added something to the gumbo, so to speak.

For the most part, the musicians backing you on this album have appeared on your other albums, but there are a couple of new names.

I wanted to work with the band we had out on the road. The summer before last, that was Mike Burch on drums and then it was Brian Brignac. We use both Mike and Brian. Mike played on some of the tracks, and Brian played on most of the tracks.

Dave Ranson is on bass, of course. He and I go way back. Another thing I love about this album is how much that comes out in the mix to me. He's brilliant. No one plays like him. He's the best. Tony and I talk about that all the time. Bobby Field has the best description, "It sounds famous." Dave is the "Duck" Dunn of South Louisiana. Donald Dunn played on all of those great songs that are classic and timeless. And that's how (Dave) plays them.

Danny Kimball played rubboard on "Gemini Blues." Danny's the guy who studied under Cleveland Chenier. He learned from Cleveland, that whole approach, that whole style, that unfortunately these kids missed out on. They're doing a whole different thing. And I like it. Don't get me wrong. It's just that it's a whole different approach. It's a lot more complicated and rhythmic in a way. That's what I love about it. I love that sound, and it brings me back to when I was playing with Cliff's band.

Then Zydeco Joe Mouton played on "Gone Pecan." He's bringing in his style with his spoon on the rubboard, a kinetic frenzy that's so powerful and a deep groove that's perfect for that tune. We almost kept it threepiece, but I could just hear Joe on it, and he really added that bit of spice we wanted.

Then there's my dear friend, Steve Conn. I regretted that we couldn't have him here with us when we cut the songs, but it was just a matter of logistics. He had his album he was working on at the time back in Nashville, and I don't know who we could have gotten to get a (Hammond) B-3 organ up those steps past the Dumpster anyway. So I thought, well, there's Stevie back at home, and he's got his studio with the coolest keyboards known to humankind. He's probably got two of each, his B-3, the Leslie (speaker) and all that stuff. I just sent him the tape. And that's the other part. I totally trust him. I know I can send it to him. He's going to pick up on the songs and the feel and do the magic he always does. I love the work he did, especially on "A World Away," the way that he builds it up. And on "Falling for You," it just really brought the track to another level.

But when I was out playing gigs, out trying to pay for this thing, left to their own devices, Tony got Marc Broussard to come in, and he and Bobby produced the background vocals. Here's the other thing you always hope: that there's one gem of a surprise, you have no idea where it's coming from. Well, that's "Natural World" for me. Of all the least thought-out songs, it was the least of the least. I didn't have a big arrangement for it or anything like that. So we went in, and we just blasted that thing down. Everything's all improvised. We had the riff, and Bobby helped us zoom in on that to come up with an arrangement that defined it, using that riff. So when we came back, they played this for me. They had mixed it, and Marc came in and did the background vocals, this real spooky, breathy chorus which really gave a vibe to the song we wanted. I listened to it, and I thought it was perfect. There was nothing I wanted to do to that. That was right about when Bobby had to leave. He had to split. But to me that one's outstanding, as a production piece. Much of it was on the fly.

So what's that being said at the end of "Juke Box Mama?"

That's Tony. I sang the track and he's sitting right there in front of me. That's a tight tuck in that operation up there, which is what I wanted. It's great. He's sitting right there in front of me at the console and behind him with the big mic. As soon as I finished that last verse, in that true form to Beau Jocque style, he busted that one out. Of course, he didn't want that in there. I said, "Are you kidding me? That will teach you to jump in while I'm singing here."

What's he saying?

"Hey there, Sonny. Get 'em again." We played it down a little bit. From where he was on the other side of the mic, it made the mic kind of distort. I have such a light voice. If I could sing as loud as Tony could talk, then we'd really have something going.

When you get down to these lyrics, there's a lot of misery there, even when there's humor. It's refreshing in a way, especially when you consider the standard Nashville fare these days.

It's real life. How do you deal with that and how do you transcend it? The blues is grace in the face of adversity. That's at the core of all it for me. It affects every aspect of it. Part of it too is humor. I absolutely love, as a hero, Sonny Boy Williamson. So much of his sarcastic wit sneaks in the lyrics. As you're listening to it, there's a vibe about it. You realize he's making fun of the situation, and at the same time he's surviving the situation. That's part of it. Who else could come with "Fattening Frogs for Snakes," about show business execs? But that's part of it too, and that's influencing me.

There are some great solos on this record, but there also seems to be a move back to the fundamentals of rhythm.

Again, that's what I wanted. When you strip it down, every instrument has its own rhythm. John Mayall did a whole album without drums, on that very assumption. When you strip it down to a simpler form, you let that breathe and it comes out more. That was Cliff. The groove was the thing with him. I learned so much about that from him. He's my point of reference for that, thinking, now what would he do on something like this. I do that. What would Little Walter do with this? What would Muddy Waters do with this? But Cliff is probably first in line for me.

The other thing is I like to dance. I've always liked to dance. If you like to dance, it affects how you think rhythmically as well. It affects how you treat the rhythm for that song. I always thought that kind of came through. When we had Bayou Rhythm, our goal was to have a dance band that you could listen to. The two don't always come together, if you know what I mean. Some groups are great to go and get down to, but when you sit down in your chair and you listen to it by itself, it's not really all that great. A couple of beers and out on the dance floor is what it's supposed to be. So there's a little bit of that in there as well.

How long are you going out on the road for this new record? Are you going out on one long stint? I'm not going to say the word tour here . . .

You know that always brings me back to David Ackerman, my dear friend in Colorado. He was from New York, living in Boulder, and he was a fixture on the scene for years. He had that New York vibe and attitude about him. He was just great. He could come up with these one-liners. He was one of our regular hostels, where we could land and camp out in his back yard. Those were our options in those days - camp out or have someone's house we could go stay at. That would have to be somebody we really liked or at the very least could put up with us. And we're in his back yard. Everybody's getting their gear out, getting ready to lay our sleeping bags under the trampoline or whatever. Mel (Melton) made the mistake of saying, "This tour is going to be taking us on out to Crested Butte." Ackerman goes, "Wait a minute. You said tour. Aren't you using that term loosely?" You know, as we're rolling the pots and pans out of the trailer, the skis and boots and poles and camping gear, rolling our sleeping bags out under his trampoline, I thought perhaps touring is not quite the word. Maybe we should come up with another description here.

So what's the word? An extended trip?

Man, for me, it's just the road. However you go down it. Whatever way you can get there, it's just the fact you're doing it. It doesn't really matter.

The best thing that works for me now is that we fly to all the gigs. Quite frankly, the bus tour thing is so enormously expensive. This way we've got our stripped down unit. A lot of times it's just three of us - guitar, bass and drums. Kenneth Blevins is back out with us again. It's been great. That way we can segue right into the Hiatt thing we do. We'll do that for a few months out of the year, but for the rest of the year, we'll be out there doing these gigs for us.

So I wouldn't say touring for that either. Somehow that conjures up this whole road manager, production manager, stage manager, merchandise truck and all of my gear that I want to play on every night. On the plane, I take one of my amp heads. Dave advances everything. He is the road manager. He makes all the calls. He books the hotels. He works with my manager assessing everything and getting all the logistics in place. Included in that is calling the promoters and doing the best you can to make sure they have what we want there when we show up. Believe me, it's not that easy. They'll tell you anything. Also, if you book a room and you have a confirmation number, that means really nothing. You better call back at least two or three times and make sure they're still there. That kind of thing. You'd never think of all this stuff.

So I don't really think of that as touring.

So you have dates booked, but you're not going out for an extended period?

Exactly. I like that. I like to come home. Before, in 1995, we were out ten months. In 1996, it wasn't a whole lot less. We'd be out for six weeks at a time, sometimes two months. Sometimes longer. I did a seven week tour in Germany. That was too long. I don't want to do that anymore.

I like to go out for a bit of time, but then come home. It's good to come home. I like it if I can spend at least two days out of the week at home, hopefully more. Sometimes we'll just go out for the weekend and come back.