Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Greg Brown performing "Jesus And Elvis"
CD Review
the poet game, Greg Brown , Red House Records, 1994
Revised December 19, 2008
The first two paragraphs have been used in other reviews of folk musician/singer/songwriter Greg Brown’s work.
Greg Brown is a particular kind of folk singer who before I listened to his “Greg Brown-The Live One ” album reviewed elsewhere in this space I had not really paid attention to since the days of my early youth when I listened intently to Woody Guthrie whose songs were seemingly forged from the very heart of Americana. As a child of the urban folk revival of the 1960’s I got caught up in listening to the more political message songs provided by the likes of Bob Dylan or Phil Ochs. As a poet/singer/songwriter Greg has come out of the heartland of America, like Woody, in a fury to write and sing his tales of love, remembrance, tragedy, desperation and, on occasion, just pure whimsy. He is thus in very good company, and belongs there.
His songs evoke, under more modern conditions to be sure, the days gone by when the community spirit of small town life meant something. A strong bass voice grainy with the trials and tribulations of life lend authenticity to his words, as does strong guitar playing when necessary. Needless to say the variety of topics covered in his songs speak for themselves from Grandma's food cellars to vanishing Iowa family farms to sweaty nights of lovemaking entwined with the up and down battles of love and, of course, the ubiquitous bouts of fishing that gain more than a nod in his albums.
Outstanding here, although the whole album from start to finish is probably the highest quality that Greg attains in one album, are the lyrically rich title track “the poet game”, the seamy, steamy ‘ballingall hotel”, the nicely counterpoised (maybe) "jesus and elvis”, the elusiveness of “my new book”, and "driftless". As always Greg is on top when singing about the seamy side of life, love and the mysteries of human existence out in the heartland.
"The Poet Game"
Down by the river junior year
walking with my girl,
and we came upon a place
there in the tall grass where a couple
had been making love
and left the mark of their embrace.
I said to her, "Looks like they had some fun."
She said to me, "Let's do the same."
and still I taste her kisses
and her freckles in the sun
when I play the poet game.
A young man down in hill country
in the year of '22
went to see his future bride.
She lived in a rough old shack
that poverty blew through.
She invited him inside.
She'd been cooking, ashamed and feeling sad,
she could only offer him bread and her name -
Grandpa said that it was the best gift
a fella ever had
and he taught me the poet game.
I had a friend who drank too much
and played too much guitar -
and we sure got along.
Reel-to-reels rolled across
the country near and far
with letters poems and songs..
but these days he don't talk to me
and he won't tell me why.
I miss him every time i say his name.
I don't know what he's doing
or why our friendship died
while we played the poet game.
The fall rain was pounding down
on an old New Hampshire mill
and the river wild and high.
I was talking to her while leaves blew down
like a sudden chill -
there was wildness in her eyes.
We made love like we'd been waiting
all of our lives for this -
Strangers know no shame -
But she had to leave at dawn
and with a sticky farewell kiss
left me to play the poet game.
I watched my country turn into
a coast-to-coast strip mall
and I cried out in a song:
if we could do all that in thirty years,
then please tell me you all -
why does good change take so long?
Why does the color of your skin
or who you choose to love
still lead to such anger and pain?
And why do I think it's any help
for me to still dream of
playing the poet game?
Sirens wail above the fields -
another soul gone down -
another Sun about to rise.
I've lost track of my mistakes,
like birds they fly around
and darken half of my skies.
To all of those I've hurt -
I pray you'll forgive me.
I to you will freely do the same.
so many things I didn't see,
with my eyes turned inside,
playing the poet game.
I walk out at night to take a leak
underneath the stars -
oh yeah that's the life for me.
There's Orion and the Pleiades
and I guess that must be Mars -
all as clear as we long to be.
I've sung what I was given -
some was bad and some was good.
I never did know from where it came
and if I had it all to do again
I am not sure I would
play the poet game.
"Lately"
We closed that bar and we closed that town.
The sun looked different coming up than it did going
down.
That was long ago - do you still love me or do you
hate me?
I wouldn't know - I haven't seen you lately.
We could have died dancing in each other's arms
or driving home close and warm out through the
little farms,
or in the bed, holding on and shaking.
But we did not - and where you been lately?
I can see your eyes, so dark and knowing,
and I wonder where that distant train is going.
If I found you, would you smile - would you take me?
I only know I miss you so much lately.
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