re: Jason Isbell is the best singer songwriter ever... Love Dylan, Young, Simon.

This song is terrible and you should feel bad for posting it.

You should listen to more songs....

 
When she had twenty years she turned to her mother
Saying Mother, I know that you'll grieve
But I've given my soul to St John the gambler
Tomorrow comes time leave
For the hills cannot hold back my sorrow forever
And dead men lay deep 'round the door
The only salvation thats mine for the asking
So mother, think on me no more

Winter held high round the mountains breast
And the cold of a thousand snows
Lay heaped upon the forests leaf
But she dressed in calico
For a gambler likes his women fancy
Fancy she would be
And the fire of her longing would keep way the cold
And her dress was a sight to see

But the road was long beneath the feet
She followed her frozen breath
In search of a certain St John the gambler
Stumbling to her death
She heard his laughter right down from the mountains
And danced with her mothers tears
To a funeral drawn a calico
'neath the cross of twenty years

To a funeral drawn a calico
'neath the cross of twenty years


Townes Van Zandt

I don't really have a snide comment to make. He's really good. Someone on here said he was better than Mayer on guitar which was really funny, but I don't think he's too far off from becoming an all time great writer. He's not on Dylan's level yet. Nor the likes of lightfoot, Brian Wilson, christopherson, Croce, etc. but I really like his lyrical format.

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My heart's in the ice house come hill or come valley
Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley
On a cold winter's morning to a church house
Just to shovel some snow.

I heard sirens on the train track howl naked gettin' nuder,
An altar boy's been hit by a local commuter
Just from walking with his back turned
To the train that was coming so slow.

You can gaze out the window get mad and get madder,
Throw your hands in the air, say "What does it matter?"
But it don't do no good to get angry,
So help me I know

For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
Wrapped up in a trap of your very own
Chain of sorrow.

I been brought down to zero, pulled out and put back there.
I sat on a park bench, kissed the girl with the black hair
And my head shouted down to my heart
"You better look out below!"

Hey, it ain't such a long drop don't stammer don't stutter
From the diamonds in the sidewalk to the dirt in the gutter
And you carry those bruises
To remind you wherever you go.

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quote:

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Station was empty
Trains were all gone
I reached in my pocket
Waited for dawn

The clock played drums
And I hummed the sax
And the wind whistled down
The railroad tracks

Hey three for a quarter
One for a dime
I'll bet it's tomorrow
By Rocky Mountain Time

I walked in the restaurant
For something to do
The waitress yelled at me
So did the food

And the water taste funny
When you're far from your home
But it's only the thirsty
That hunger to roam

And the clock played drums
And I hummed the sax
And the wind whistled down
The railroad tracks

Hey three for a quarter
One for a dime
I'll bet it's tomorrow
By Rocky Mountain Time

We'll build us a castle on Main Street
And pretend that we're down on the farm
Hell, we'll hold out as long as we have to
Then we'll twist off each other's arm

Christ, I'm so mixed up and lonely
I can't even make friends with my brain
Yeah, I'm too young to be where I'm goin'
But I'm too old to go back again

Station was empty
Trains were all gone
I reached in my pocket
Waited for dawn

The clock played drums
And I hummed the sax
And the wind whistled down
The railroad tracks

Hey three for a quarter
One for a dime
I'll bet it's tomorrow
By Rocky Mountain Time

By Rocky Mountain Time

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Ohh yes, love some John Prine. Gonna listen to his S/T right damn now.

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He and Isbell are in Huntsville, AL on October 2nd. Can't wait. It'll be my 10th Prine show.

quote:

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"Is this some local shite? It sounds like someone you'd go see at open mic night."

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to be fair, last i saw him was opening for john moreland at circle bar -- and the setting was essentially that.

but he was very good.

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As far as Neil Young and Bob Dylan go, you should really listen (and listen closely) to more Isbell songs if you haven't before calling me an idiot. If you are looking for a catchy song, then no... he's not your guy... if you are looking for poetry in music... he is by far one of the best...

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What in the holy frick are you talking about? Bob Dylan has more creativity in his little pinky nail and 10x's the mastery of the english language than Jason Isbell has displayed in his entire career. And that's no knock on Isbell. We get it, you like Jason Isbell; so do I(Though the new album bored me to tears). You look like an idiot though when you bring Dylan, Young, and Simon by name into this retarded debate.

You want poetry to song?

A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall



Desolation Row

They’re selling postcards of the hanging
They’re painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They’ve got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they’re restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy
“It takes one to know one,” she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he’s moaning
“You Belong to Me I Believe”
And someone says, “You’re in the wrong place my friend
You better leave”
And the only sound that’s left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortune-telling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he’s dressing
He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row

Now Ophelia, she’s ’neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession’s her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah’s great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They’re trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She’s in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
“Have Mercy on His Soul”
They all play on pennywhistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row

Across the street they’ve nailed the curtains
They’re getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They’re spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they’ll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom’s shouting to skinny girls
“Get Outa Here If You Don’t Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row”

Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero’s Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody’s shouting
“Which Side Are You On?”
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain’s tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the doorknob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can’t read too good
Don’t send me no more letters, no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row

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Anyway, I disagree that he is the best singer songwriter ever

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Well everyone keeps wanting to make it just about the song writing... and he is WAY up there... but when I posted this it wasn't just about song writing... The singer part plays in ... and Kris Kirstofferson sucks as a singer ... I was just at a Norbert Putnam panel discussion today where they were talking about him and after recording him they said "this guy sounds worse than Dylan"

There are and were some great song writers out there... some probably better than Isbell, but as far as a SINGER AND SONG WRITER... I don't think anyone touches him.

Also, I get tired of people saying he has put together two great albums... or acting like he didn't exist before Southeastern... Don't get me wrong.. Southeastern was by far his best album... But the guy has had plenty of great songs that never really got that much attention between leaving DBT and then southeastern...

Everyone seems to know Outfit, Decoration Day, God damn Lonely Love, TVA...etc that he did with DBT... but then act like the other albums he did immediately after leaving them sucked.. they didn't... They are really great.

Some of the best songwriting he has done is in streetlights... a song I hardly hear mentioned on here.

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In my pocket directions back across the railroad tracks to where I crash.

Maybe I should wave down a car, I won't be going far, and I have cash.

Think I blocked just a park away, but I can't really say, it's been all night.

How I wish you would call me here, but you just disappeared, it wasn't right.

And the streetlights help a little, but they're barely half alive I don't feel much like walking and I sure as hell can't drive.

Close your eyes and remember this. It won't be back again, it's almost gone.

Even times that don't seem like much will be your only crutch when you're alone.

Time moves slow when you're seventeen and then it picks up steam at twenty-one.

Pretty soon you'll remember when you could remember when you loved someone.

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The crack - get off of it.

Isbell seems like a nice kid and a rare example of songwriting talent in this new era.

But come the frick on...