Concert Review: Holly Williams, The Bijou Theater, Bridgeport CT, April 24, 2013

[David Shasha]

Concert Review: Holly Williams, The Bijou Theater, Bridgeport, Connecticut, April 24, 2013

 

American Country music is rooted in the joys and pains of life as we live it each day.  The music of female artists like Kitty Wells, Tammy Wynette, Dolly Parton, and Loretta Lynn paints for the listener a complex picture of disappointment, hurt, happiness, shame, and fear; all tied to the everyday experiences of quotidian existence.  Marriage, family, work, intimacy, and ambition all fuse to create an image of who we are and how we plow through life.

 

Today’s Country music has sadly jettisoned this rich human tradition.  Whether it is the vulgar teenage clichés of Taylor Swift, the boorish frat-boy ephemera of Kenny Chesney, or the insipidly vapid traditionalism of a George Strait, Country music today is a vast wasteland of corporate trash that speaks to an audience whose sense of the human has been eroded.

 

Younger artists like Miranda Lambert with her Pistol Annies cohorts Ashley Monroe and Angeleena Presley; Caitlin Rose; Kacey Musgraves; Zoe Muth; Sara Watkins; and the more Folk-oriented Anais Mitchell have embraced the simple homespun values of the Country tradition and have been deeply aware of another confessional narrative tradition – that of the 1970s Singer-Songwriter.  In the work of Joni Mitchell – particularly her masterpieces “Blue” and “For the Roses” and Jackson Browne – his “Late for the Sky” is another important milestone in this tradition – we find the art of introspection finely honed to the point of naked aggression in the history of the Self.

 

We can enthusiastically include Holly Williams in this illustrious group.

 

Her debut album, 2004’s “The Ones We Never Knew,” announced the presence of a major musical talent.  From “Sometimes,” the first song on the record and the opening song of the concert, you know that something significant is happening:

 

“I wish I were a little girl, in this lie
No one could resist my little girl smile
I wish I were a baby, in this love
I'd be cradled in your arms day and night

I wish I were an old man, a scholar
With the wisdom of a 1,000 men before me
wish I were a funny dream that haunted
The people I love every time they were down

I wish I was a fine wine
I wish I were a good drug
Hey and if I were Jesus, maybe I could heal all of us
Just like a good lover, which one do you prefer?
In a world full of vices, I wish I were a little bird
Sometimes”

 

Here was a searcher; a young woman whose illustrious past – she is the grand-daughter of Hank Williams – is more apparent than real.  From a background that reads more like the lyrics of a Country song – broken home, family tragedy from accidents, struggling to make her way in the world – Ms. Williams sought to embrace her life and present her world in the words of her songs.

On her second album, 2009’s “Here with Me,” she speaks of her mother’s pain and triumph after the difficult divorce with Holly’s father Hank Williams, Jr.:

 

“You could've been bitter, you could've hated him
You could've talked about the whiskey and the women
He couldn've done better, but you loved him anyhow
Then you taught us all the power of forgiveness

Mama, you were smiling when you could've been crying all night
Mama, you made me believe everything was alright
Mama, you never wore your pain too thick
I'd like to thank you for this

You could've fought, you could've cut him down to shame
You could've told us that our daddy didn't want us
But that wasn't true, and you knew it all along
It was a struggle between the road and loving you “

 

Critically, she ascribes a primal strength to her mother that helped saved Holly and her siblings:

 

“You did more good for me than you will ever know
I've seen mothers fill their childrens’ hearts with hate
But you knew better than to drag me down with you
You let me love my daddy just the same”

 

This is a confessional art that is clearly unafraid to enter into the innermost precincts of life and to present this experience as a model for what it means to be human.  It is no dry philosophical treatise on ethics and experience, but an art rooted in a tradition of free expression and brutal heart-wrenching honesty.  These are songs that comprise an open book of human feelings that aim to touch us to our very core.

 

With the defiant bravado of a Loretta Lynn and the confessional power of a Joni Mitchell, Williams took the stage of the Bijou Theater in Bridgeport, Connecticut as a fully mature artist who was intent on breaking the chains of the corporatized world of contemporary popular music.  The intimate setting of this beautiful theater offered a perfect venue for a serious engagement with a confessional art that demanded the quiet and circumspection of the audience.  This was not a thoughtlessly rowdy music, but an introspective examination of the most important aspects of human life.

 

On her recently released album “The Highway” she turns to the battles of the road and of how we face life’s challenges:

“I've been sitting here wondering if I'll ever get
Back to those wheels, will I ever be
Changing those strings out before nine
I am wishing for the life that I used to live
Giving everything that I had to give
In a brand new city 'bout every night

Missing those nights, missing that sky, I been missing home
Missing their smiles, missing those miles, I been missing home

Out there on the highway, out there on the open road
Ooh baby will you roll with me, roll with me
Head down to New Orleans
I should be wearing out the blacktop
Out there with the boys I love
Everybody will you roll with me, roll with me
Running down this dream
And get me out there on the highway”

 

The embrace of the open road is fraught with difficulty and complication.  But it is the lure of the road that seduces and beguiles the searcher.  Williams’ longing for the road is deeply rooted in the American artistic temperament.  In our Western movies and in our Hippie literature, the artist always seeks to find freedom and enlightenment in the process of discovery.

 

But discovery is a dangerous thing.  Seeing our lives in the mirror of artistic expression exposes the faults and tragedies that cause us so much pain and discontentment.

 

In the harrowing tale of her friend’s addiction, “Giving Up,” we see how painful living can be:

 

“17 years with a wedding ring
The saddest damn story you ever seen
2 little kids and a good-hearted man
Trying to save her if they can

I tried myself, I cried with her
I held her hand, we talked to the Lord
But we're only human and we can't change
Somebody's will to leave their ways

The doctor said you'd die, if you had another drink
Well I wonder if it scares you, yea I wonder if you think
About the daughter that you're leaving, the man you used to love
And the son that cries for you, oh yes, that child that cries for you
Well I guess this is it, oh yea, you must be givin' up

You put us all through a living hell
A thousand excuses for your liquor trail
But my compassion is fading fast
Another rehab and you break another glass
Bottles in dryers, bottles in shoes
There were even bottles in the baby's room
You're losing everything that you ever had
Your life is one thing all that money can't buy back”

 

Delving deep inside the brittle crevices of life, Williams’ performance sought to enlighten and inspire us with tales of desperation and struggle. 

 

On the new album’s final song, “Waiting on June,” we are treated to the moving story of her maternal grandmother’s death.  Speaking in her grandfather’s voice, we hear all the heartache and joy of life’s rich tapestry:

 

“We were slower than we used to be, the nursing home told June and me
That we'd have separate rooms side by side,
Oh what I'd give for one more night of sleeping with my wife,
Since '45 I've touched her skin in the middle of the night
So I'm lyin' in this single bed until they cut the lights,
That's when she'll sneak in and I'll be fine

Waiting on June, so we can kiss goodnight
Waiting on June, I'll hold her hand so tight
Waiting on June, I'll love her 'til I die
It's bittersweet when love grows old and you really miss your wife
Waiting on June

Well they buried me last Tuesday morn,
The good Lord came, He took me home,
I closed my eyes and quickly went away
But the angels let me see her everyday”

 

These are stories that ring true because they tell of the most intimate parts of our lives.  Little details become universal truths that teach us the power of maintaining our moral principles and going the extra mile to fulfill our commitments to our loved ones.  The heroism of everyday life can be found in the ordinary moments that we experience rather than the illusion-filled fantasy world that so permeates our contemporary popular music.

 

A simple family trip to the cemetery offers a glimpse of the extraordinary reality of the quotidian in “Gone Away from Me”:

 

“July 3rd was a dreaded friend of mine
We'd all go down to the family plot in the Louisiana pines
Staring at that little baby's grave
Stella was as young as she was brave

And what I'd give to go there again
Kiss my daddy's face, hold my mama's hand
Little did I know soon they would be
Lying right beside her, gone away from me
Gone away from me

They always made us kneel by grandpa's grave
Mama was a-wailing asking God if he was saved
I never liked to see my daddy cry
I guess I'll never know how grandpa died

And what I'd give to go there again
Kiss my daddy's face, hold my mama's hand
Little did I know soon they would be
Lying right beside him, gone away from me”

 

Shot through with images of death and disaster, the idea of the song is to embrace the good with the bad and to take whatever life has to give you with dignity and grace.

 

This is the classic Country music tradition: telling stories of life’s triumphs and tragedies; accepting and learning from experience in a way that shows intelligence and courage at every moment.

 

One of the evening’s highlights was a tearful and harrowing performance of “Without Jesus Here with Me,” a song about Williams’ near-fatal car accident that features a stark picture of her sister’s pain and tragedy:

 

“I don't talk to him that much
I know I never pray enough
Oh but I don't know where I would be
Without Jesus here with me

I don't know why I'm still here
Or why I lived that Wednesday morn
They were raising hands and screaming holy
Jesus was right there with me

I gladly would have died that day to save the child who went away
But you can't trade a life like that, I guess it's part of the master plan
My sister fought, my daddy cried, my mama begged him for our lives
And I don't know where I would breathe
Without Jesus here with me

The preacher tried to make me learn
I memorized his favorite verse
But Hank's words they taught me everything
Thank God I saw the light for me”

 

This beautifully-realized song looks to God for guidance and to Hank Williams for inspiration.  At the very critical moment in this process of self-realization we see the twin figures of Jesus and the legendary Hank, a fusion of faith and expression.  The ghost of Hank Williams – a man that Holly never knew personally – permeates the songs as an absent presence who acts as an artistic model of excellence and who paves the road of despair, joy, and passion that has grounded her brilliant songwriting.  This connection is part of a hard-scrabble life that aims to uncover the freedom that lies at the heart of the American myth.

 

In what I think is her greatest song, “Let Her Go” – sadly not performed at the concert – she makes clear how this process of self-discovery works:

 

“These things are always difficult between a father and a daughter
It's always very delicate it makes it so much harder
If you look into her eyes you'll see you've always been her world
Even though she's growing now she's still your baby girl
I know it's hard

To let her go, let her go
Let her fall let her fly
She wants to touch the world with her own hands
Let her go, let her go
Let her love and let her cry
If you trust her soon you both will understand
She'll come back home if you let her go

I know you want the best for her I know you're just afraid
One day she's gonna leave you for a boy who is the same as
You were in the 60's careless as the wind
She's beautiful like her mama we know where that could end
I know it's hard”

 

These beautiful and incisive words construct the model of an artistic aesthetic grounded in freedom and independence.

 

Rather than sugarcoating the bitter pill of reality, this is a musical tradition that fully embraces that reality in its full transparency.  Joined to the naked truth of confessional songwriters like Joni Mitchell and Jackson Browne, the classic mountain tradition of Country music – from the Carter Family to Hank Williams to Kitty Wells to the Louvin Brothers to Johnny Cash – expresses life with all its unsightly warts and rich beauty.

 

When we hear a song like “Without You” we understand that it is not just some maudlin, treacly love song, but a richly rewarding articulation of our human triumph; a victory over the often cruel vicissitudes of experience:

 

“I'm packing up to sing my songs, all these towns blend into one,
I'm somewhere in Madrid.
I got here on crowded trains with old guitars and a famous name,
Running like a kid, I'm running like a kid.
I carry 'round this old backpack full of CD's and Kerouac,
Living on the road.
I left my heart on the coast of Wales with the boy I met at The Last Hotel
But I had to let him go.

And that's when I was searching, I'm not searching anymore
And that's when I was learning about the things worth living for
Before I was open, before I knew I couldn't live a day
Without you”

 

We see here the transition from loneliness and hurt to the joy of love and passion.  It is not a simple or easy process.  It takes guts and devotion to the truth and moral principle to elevate us over these difficult challenges.

 

Watching Holly Williams perform on a very ordinary Wednesday evening in Connecticut I was reminded of how brilliant life could be when we just apply ourselves.  It is the very opposite of the mechanized, corporatized, lifeless music that all too often permeates our culture.  It was an opportunity to see one human being stand in front of an audience and pour out thoughts, experiences, values, dreams, and emotions that expressed the life she has lived in a profoundly moving way that often brought me to tears. 

 

It may sound simple, but successfully achieving such an emotionally-laden art is very difficult and complicated.  We do not often see our contemporary artists open themselves and their hearts to the realities of life as we live it.

 

These fears are perfectly summed up in “Alone,” a song Williams performed on the piano, unaccompanied by her backing musicians:

 

“Maybe I give up too easy, maybe I don't fight enough
Maybe my heart is afraid of falling in love
Maybe I'm too scared to find out what it feels like to hurt
Maybe I worry I'll land with my face in the dirt

If I don't try I won't know
These walls that surround me they're strong and they're tall
I could slip and fall with no one to catch me at all
And end up alone

An honest heart tried to love me
But I had nothing to give
I just wanted to see how much I could get
We're all guilty of wanting the very thing we can't have
The more that we take the sooner that we crash

Something's changing inside me, something here wants to break free
I thought love was a blind spot, I believe
I don't want to end up alone”

 

Such a brutal honesty allows us to share Williams’ experiences, her successes and failures, in an intimate way.  In this way she is able to connect back to the great figures of American music, the Carter Family, Hank Williams, Kitty Wells, Loretta, Tammy, and Dolly, but more importantly it affords her the opportunity to inscribe herself into this pantheon.  It is one thing to be influenced by great artists, quite another to triumph over your forbears and create something brilliant and memorable.

 

On her three albums Holly Williams has given us a bracing and warmly melodic and inviting musical legacy that we would do well to pay close attention to.  We live in an age when working musicians are struggling to find an audience and recognition for their art.  It is all too often the case that musicians choose to market themselves as mere product rather than focus on the things they are saying and the musical language that they choose to say it in.

 

Holly Williams is one of a growing number of young Country artists who have thrown caution to the wind and chosen to embrace the older values of loyalty, honesty, integrity, and justice in her work.  She is brutally frank in her music and has created a soundtrack for those who wish to embrace life’s complexity without shying away from the pain and difficulty we regularly face.  She writes of the courage she has witnessed, in herself and in others she loves.  She is not afraid to speak in religious language and is equally unafraid to enter the precincts of death and tragedy. 

 

As we continue to see the sad degeneration of our culture, it is in artists like Holly Williams that we will be able to find inspiration and sustenance.  Her wise words speak the truth in a way that is both comforting and frightening.

 

It is such an art that we must all applaud; an art that speaks to what it means to be American, what it means to be a human being at this time.  These are the perennial values that we must articulate and celebrate.

 

 

 

 

David Shasha