Bad things happen at night west of the Rio Grande. Descendants of the Aztecs are trudging across the sands of Sonora to Arizona, happy yuppies are returning from their Mexican holidays with “powdered” noses, and the ghosts of Ambrose Bierce and Frida Kahlo are dancing in the sky above them. The vulture hisses: “nunca mas”, imitating the raven. Even the cacti here ooze dark poetry, fueling the outlaw-country style. The style of the outlaws, gallows and troubadours of the Wild West. Billy Don Burns, the owner of a drooping mustache and fourteen stab wounds, fits any of these definitions.
Born about seventy years ago in Arkansas (that’s how he pronounces this toponym, in the French manner), Billy Don was initially a good beardless guy, but his military service came at a difficult time in the late 1960s. Returning slightly pale, Demob went to sunbathe in California, where Merle Haggard noticed him. Bourbon and a strong word – in 1971, Burns woke up hungover, mustachioed and with the first single in his arms. But success will diligently avoid the Billionaire’s fumes for many years, occasionally throwing up banknotes from other artists, including Willie Nelson, Sammy Kershaw, and others.
But there will be motorcycles, brothers on motorcycles, medications, motorcycle trips for medications, taking medications… But also touring and studio work. In 1983, Arkansas Governor Billy Clinton, already Hillary’s husband but not yet Monica’s boss, declared March 27 Billy Don Burns Day. And yet Billy Don is always in the shadows or on the road, and in between he gets stabbed with knives or put in jail in Kentucky. His hoarse voice can tell funny and scary stories, reminiscent of Lemmy Kilmister singing honky tonk. His poems are poignant, his pea jacket is worn, his mustache is gray and solid.
The new album, consisting partly of new arrangements of old Burns songs, was named “Country Blues” not for the style, but for the mood of the angry and reckless longing of a pharmacy cowboy on his way to Mexico. Put on your helmets, Moon Dogs, it’s going to be a dangerous journey.
Don’t enter Texas from the south under the Runnin’ Drugs Out Of Mexico – border control may pick up some hints in the chorus. A broken mandolin, Cajun violin and other ingredients of real country music are in stock.
“I crossed the border like a UFO,” one of the verses sings, it is unknown whether this refers to the method of transportation or the effect of the transported substances.
Mexican Woman depicts amorous gringo vacations. The juicy trumpet of a wide-brimmed Mariachi is woven into the arrangement, the sultry senorita enthusiastically sings along. Where the gringo got the snow in such a heat and how it ended up on his nose is unclear from the text. No Shortage Of The Blues is a stomp for a rural ball at a special tempo, which I call “Estonian polka”. Vaqueros dance with their thumbs tucked into their belts, driving their heels into the floor with each strong beat.
Damn Cryin’ Shame is the soulful waltzing blues of an abandoned male. The mood is accentuated by a gentle keyboard playing.
“It’s a disgrace, darling, what you’ve done to my heart”-it would have been better if Byron hadn’t said it either.
Stranger is a song of traveled roads and gray experience. It’s getting harder to recognize yourself in the reflection every day. Well, at least the mustache is in place. The Prison Song is autobiographical, heartfelt, filled with warm sadness. It’s not such a long way from my mother’s hem to prison (Willie Nelson wrote a letter to the governor of Kentucky asking him to release Billy Don on bail, but Governor Gubuki was adamant).
Rambling Gypsy is a refreshed old hillbilly first recorded by Burns back in the eighties. About the natural pursuits of a gypsy. Well, you know… You Lied Our Love Away is hillbilly again, aged in the best oak barrel of mossy demiurge. “You ruined our love” – what is the epithet!?
Billy Don Burns loves women, casinos, Vegas, Reno, and more. But most of all, I Like Trains, he admits. The song has a hidden power, like an accelerating locomotive. And a sinister laugh at the end, making the text less clear. The disturbing tex-mex No God In Juarez could have been a great soundtrack to Cormac McCarthy’s “Blood Meridian” if someone had dared to film this scary book. The pipe is howling frantically, trying to drown out the coyotes. Vultures have already flocked in anticipation. El sicario rides from the southern hills…
The amazing Wild Dogs was performed again for this album. A piercing violin part. The endless expanse of prairies. Words about love, death and rebirth. Distant twinkling suns. (The song about Wild Dogs was also performed by Colter Wall, the hero of one of our recent articles). Honky Tonk Boots is designed for wild dancing and friendly face-off in any saloon north of Ciudad Juarez. The main problem of the lyrical hero is to pull on his boots, other shoes, as you know, are unacceptable in this elegant society.
Epilogue: Modern country music breeds its own “stas vaengi” in designer torn jeans, with musical material of the appropriate kind. It is all the more joyful that lumps like Billy Don Burns do not give up their positions and produce such large-caliber albums in their spare time from the motorcycle. We wish Mr. Burns many fruitful years and rare arrests. The canyons turned scarlet, the Moon Dogs…
