Songwriter Spotlight: Dave Loggins

In Songwriter Spotlight: Dennis De Castro, Music Lessons and the Lessons of Music I described how the man who taught me not just to play, but to love the guitar would accommodate my musical interests rather than following conventional guitar teaching methods. But even before Dennis showed up in my parents’ driveway the first time there is the story of how that moment came to pass. It all started with the late, great Dave Loggins.

As I approached the momentous event of graduation from 8th Grade at Hickory Elementary School, I had a few friends who were taking guitar lessons from Dennis’ brother, Greg. They were getting pretty good and were clearly obsessed with their weekly lessons. (One of them, Ryan Hedgecock, went on to eventually form the band Lone Justice that achieved some notoriety in the early 80s).

Greg and Dennis had a band at that time called Skye and my friends managed to get the student council to hire Skye for our 8th Grade graduation dance. There were a few grumbles that Skye didn’t play Led Zeppelin, Grand Funk Railroad, Rolling Stones and other staples of the day. But, for me, Skye was a complete revelation. The music that night was not that far afield from the country and country rock albums I had been listening to, alone, for most of my Southern California youth. In particular, they played a song called “Please Come to Boston” which, as most folks now know, is not considered one of the great dance numbers from the 80s. But, it was a terrific song that I had never heard before. And it spurred me to ask my parents to let me take lessons from Greg too.

When Mom checked with Greg about giving me lessons he said he had a full slate of students but his brother Dennis was starting to teach as well. That worked fine for me because Dennis was the one who sang “Please Come to Boston” for Skye.

At one of our first lessons I told Dennis that I wanted to learn “Please Come to Boston.” He dutifully wrote out the chords and lyrics. It was a bit more of a challenge than I anticipated but the extra chords were intriguing enough that I stayed with it.

When Dennis came back the next week and I played “Boston” for him as best I could, he asked, “Have you ever listened to the whole album by Dave Loggins?” I assumed “Loggins” meant Loggins and Messina so I said no but that I’d heard Loggins and Messina before. Dennis chuckled and said, “No, this is Dave Loggins. I think he and Kenny Loggins are cousins or something but it’s a different guy and he’s amazing. You should listen to the album.”

At this point there really wasn’t much that Dennis could recommend that I wouldn’t follow through on so I went to the record store the next day and bought the album “Apprentice in a Musical Workshop” by Dave Loggins. I took it home and played it. The first time I listened I loved “Please Come to Boston,” but the rest of the album was “OK.” Nonetheless, Dennis said it was good so I listened again and I noticed how most of the songs had an unusual chord change or feature to them that I hadn’t picked up on before. So I listened again. By the time Dennis arrived the next week I was addicted to the album.

Dennis and I sat and listened to the album for most of that lesson as Dennis pointed out things that Dave Loggins did as both a performer and songwriter that set him apart. Most significantly was that the album was predominantly country in orientation though not like Nashville or Austin, but somehow incorporating aspects of both. Traditionally, most country hits employ the 1-4-5 chord structure which is as simple as it gets. Virtually all of Dave Loggins’ songs added two to four chords that kept things interesting.

Dave Loggins also wrote lyrics that failed to follow country or pop rigidly. He could be very gifted with metaphor and imagery (as my high school friend Dave pointed out, however, Loggins was susceptible to the occasional clunker lyrically—Dave was always good at helping me temper my obsessions). The thing that Dennis loved most about Dave Loggins though, was his vocal range. I have tried to play many of his songs over the years and usually the thing that defeats me is a high or low note that I can’t pull off.

That Dennis and I were not alone in our admiration became clear at the 1985 Country Music Awards when Dave Loggins, as far as I am aware, made his only appearance on that Awards show. He did not perform one of his own songs but sang a duet with Anne Murray of a syrupy crossover pop song called “Nobody Loves Me Like You Do.” The song ended up being a huge hit for her but didn’t do a lot to expand Dave Loggins’ following. The audience response that night when he walked on stage, however, far exceeded the typical 1980s country music crowd. Most of America may not have known Dave Loggins, but the stars of country music clearly adored him. It is one of my few regrets in life that I never got to see him play live.

Dave Loggins passed away last summer so I’ve spent a lot of time revisiting his albums this year. “Please Come to Boston” was his only hit as a solo performer. He made three more albums after “Apprentice.” I had the same reaction to each of them the first time I heard them—a little disappointment followed by growing infatuation with each subsequent listen. I came to appreciate that Loggins’ gift was his ability to write songs that stood out for their deceptive intricacy that rewarded those who stuck with them. He ultimately had a string of country hits by other artists over the years. I was almost always able to spot one of his songs when I heard it on the radio because of some unexpected chord change or lyric that did not rhyme when I expected it to, but that I ultimately realized made the song better in some subtle and significant way.

“Country Suite” and “One Way Ticket to Paradise” are my favorite Dave Loggins albums but my favorite song was on “Apprentice.” I have been playing “My Father’s Fiddle” for almost fifty years. Loggins’ version features a beautiful pedal steel guitar and a wonderful fiddle solo. Recently, JC and I played with it. I am including the lyrics and video below.

My Father’s Fiddle

 Country music was the backbone of his life
Any song, you choose it, he'd play anything you like
Most every evening, you could find me by his side
Where I'd lend a third part harmony to Mom and Dad’s duets
Until lullabies hung from my eyes and I wandered off to bed

And I can see my mother in this country home
I got a sister and two brothers all my own
And believe me, family unity was ever so strong
When I heard my father's fiddle play
Some good ol' country songs
(When my father's fiddle played)

Country neighbors, they say that he's the best around
He played their favorites at every Friday night hoedown
And late in the evening with the neighbors homeward bound
His closings were as customary as turning out the lights
A quarter for my pocket, a love song for his wife

And I can see my mother in this country home
I got a sister and two brothers all my own
And believe me, family unity was ever so strong
When I heard my father's fiddle play
Some good ol' country songs

 Ah, but where, oh, where has the time gone?
It's been years since my ears have been played upon
I heard the fiddler lost his tune in some barroom
And his family to another town
It must be lonesome wishin' all you've lost could somehow find you now

And I can see my mother, she lives all alone
I got a sister and two brothers but they're all grown
And believe me, family unity was ever so strong
When I heard my father's fiddle play
Some good ol' country songs

Words and Music by Dave Loggins

Ode to the Pedal Steel

If you were bored enough to wonder what to include on a recording to make it more probable that I will like a song and keep listening, I will save you some time trying to figure that out. Undoubtedly, the answer is a pedal steel guitar. Long a staple of country music, in the last few decades it has been featured in country rock and rock bands (e.g., The Eagles, Allman Brothers, Marshall Tucker, The Grateful Dead, Neil Young, Son Volt, etc.) and even blues acts (e.g., Robert Randolph and David Lindley have stretched the pedal steel way beyond its traditional boundaries).

I owned a pedal steel guitar for about forty years. When I first got it, I had already befriended a gentleman in Southern California who was a terrific player. He started to teach me the basics but, unfortunately, after a few lessons, the heart ailment that already had him on disability took him. To be clear, he was a wonderful person and the loss of him as a pedal steel teacher was secondary. Nonetheless, for many years I did not touch the pedal steel because it made me think of him and, frankly, I found it intimidating.

We had a neighbor when we lived in Houston who would never hold himself out as a pedal steel expert but he was certainly competent. When I asked him whether I should give it another try at the age of 42 he laughed and said, “Sure, why not? But you have to understand, trying to learn pedal steel is like playing ping pong in a hammock.” That was enough for me to set it aside for another couple decades.

I tried to encourage J.C. to take it up but we were surprised how hard it was to find a pedal steel teacher in Houston. We figured Texas would be overrun with them. Beyond that, we realized that learning the pedal steel at the age of twelve was probably asking a lot, no matter how game J.C. tended to be about things.

Last year, I stared at the pedal steel in my music room. I had turned it on twice in the last seven years. I finally admitted to myself that I was never going to achieve the gorgeous sounds of Dick Meis, Buddy Emmons, Paul Franklin, Jr., Bruce Bouton, Lloyd Maines, Leo LeBlanc and other legendary pedal steel players. So it made the trip to Denver and into J.C.’s basement. After taking on the violin, guitar, mandolin and banjo, the pedal steel did not seem as daunting all these years later. Over the last year, as time allowed, he started learning what many say is one of the hardest instruments to learn, but he is making great progress. And our visits to Colorado have become even more fun, as evidenced by the videos below.

One final word on pedal steel players. As near as I can tell, there are as few pedal steel players as there are lots of guitar players. Every pedal steel player I’ve met seems to know every other pedal steel player. Dick Meis used to host a pedal steel jam at a cavernous bar near our home when we lived in Golden, Colorado, many years ago. There would be 15 to 20 players sitting at their pedal steels in a huge circle taking turns playing classic country to blues and, occasionally, jazz. Every few songs someone would play a song that they all knew and they would all play. The “Wall of Sound” would have humbled Phil Spector. If you ever get a chance to go see a bunch of pedal steel players jam, particularly in an enclosed setting, do it. It will be unlike anything you’ve experienced musically before.

RIP Jerry Jeff Walker or How I Fell in Love With the Guitar

This is about Jerry Jeff Walker who passed away recently. But, I start with Willie Nelson because the two names are never very far apart for me.

Growing up in Southern California I was the only Willie Nelson fanatic at Torrance High School. I was 14 years old when Willie’s Red Headed Stranger album came out. As Nashville haplessly tried to emulate disco (but with a twang), out of nowhere a 42 year old hippie-looking-guy from Texas comes out with a sparse concept album filled with western ballads and swing tunes. The first time I heard “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” on AM Radio (remember that?) I was riding in my Mom’s car on the way home from Lucky Supermarket. I was in my early days of buying my own music but I knew I had to have that record. I bought it and played it until the vinyl crackled with evidence of my love.

            As I collected Willie’s records, probably the happiest product of my obsession was that Red Headed Stranger made me want to pick up the guitar that I had tried to learn to play a few times over the years. My cool new guitar teacher parked his dying Carmengia in our driveway because the only way it would start was if he rolled it downhill and popped the clutch. When he walked through our front door, he was momentarily disoriented when I told him that the first song I wanted to learn was “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” Not “Stairway to Heaven” or “Smoke on the Water” or any of the usual requests from his students. He obliged and even allowed later that it was a better song than he expected at first blush (These days, I think he listens to more country music than I do. More on him in a future blog entry).

            Shortly after Red Headed Stranger, Willie, Waylon Jennings, Jessie Colter and Tompball Glaser came out with an album entitled Outlaws. The record was intended to showcase artists that bucked the “Nashville Sound” and thus were “Outlaws” within the country music genre. They did a tour to support the album. My sister took me to the Hollywood Bowl to see the show and, from the first note of “Whiskey River,” I was captivated. It was my first concert and the first of about a dozen times that I saw Willie. That concert was my first experience with country music that hinted at rock. A lot of it had to do with the raucous crowd but there was also a free-wheeling feel to the music that, as advertised, strayed liberally from Nashville’s confines.

            After that first concert, the same sister bought me Ridin’ High by Jerry Jeff Walker for my birthday. I had never heard of Jerry Jeff Walker nor did I know that he wrote “Mr. Bojangles.” Neither did my sister. But the guy she was dating at the time told her that if I liked country music, I would like Jerry Jeff.

By the standards of country music at that point in time, Ridin’ High was not country music. I quickly realized, however, that it was my music. Country music with the big sound of rock and roll (not to be confused with modern country music which is, by and large, pop with a dash of country). To be sure, there was pedal steel guitar (which I love) but also electric guitars, horns, twin drummers and vocals filled with joy, grit and pathos. Jerry Jeff delivered what Willie hinted at—music with a complete disregard for musical boundaries that, somehow, unabashedly had its roots in country music.

            I saw Jerry Jeff open for Willie several times. You never knew what you were going to get at a Jerry Jeff show. He was notoriously unreliable because he was reliably addled. But some nights were pure magic. I remember one night at the L.A. Sports Arena when the band walked off so that the pedal steel player, the late Leo Leblanc, could play a solo. As Leblanc made his way into a medley of patriotic songs culminating in “America the Beautiful” (not what the crowd was expecting!), Jerry Jeff wandered back onstage to linger just out of the spotlight and listen. It was clear he wasn’t there to rouse the crowd to a patriotic fervor but just to enjoy Leblanc’s mastery of the steel guitar. The crowd of real and fake hippies and cowboys gradually rose to their feet as one, momentarily sober with appreciation and reflection. Jerry Jeff didn’t reclaim center stage until the standing ovation for Leblanc played itself out. It was one of the most generous moments I’ve ever seen the leader of a band give another member. Then, Jerry Jeff barreled into 45 minutes of “Hill Country Rain”, “Gettin’ By”, “LA Freeway” and, of course, “Up Against the Wall Redneck.” It wasn’t 0 to 60 in record time. It was 60 to 120.

            Jerry Jeff was a nightmare for his record label because he shunned convention at every turn. With royalties still pouring in from “Mr. Bojangles,” he didn’t really need the “record company.” So, while the record company prayed for another hit, Jerry Jeff recorded songs that made him feel something. More than any other artist, when I play a Jerry Jeff song on my guitar, I feel something because his song selection was so completely detached from artifice or agenda. By “Jerry Jeff song” I mean songs that he wrote or didn’t write. He was a great interpreter of other people’s songs as well as a gifted songwriter. When I heard that Jerry Jeff died in October, I sat down in the Music Room and started playing all of his songs that I knew. It ended up being a long session.

            Both Willie and Jerry Jeff gradually drifted into being icons of the “Outlaw” music movement associated with Austin, Texas. They certainly deserved the label and did a lot to solidify the audience for that genre.  But, when an artist becomes a symbol the days of groundbreaking music are probably behind him. I think it was best captured when someone asked Willie why he didn’t write songs anymore. He answered that it was hard to write songs when you’ve got money and you’re not miserable anymore. (He was also asked around the age of 65 when he would retire. He asked in return, “All I do is sing and play golf, which one would I give up?”)  

For one mediocre guitar player, however, Willie and Jerry Jeff’s impact was profound. They gave me a body of music that I have consistently returned to over the years. Willie saved traditional country music in the nick of time. For better or worse, Jerry Jeff caused country music to loosen up. For better, some have built on that legacy. For worse some have taken the license he granted into the more synthetic aspects of pop.

  The songs on Willie’s and Jerry Jeff’s albums from the 70s and early 80s have long been my musical ground zero. Whether I have been happy or sad, renewed or exhausted, clear eyed or confused, I have turned to the guitar and, more than anything else, Jerry Jeff tunes. Back in October I relished once again losing myself in the gift of his music. It is always elastic with possibilities.

            Here’s a few videos of my sons and me playing some of my Jerry Jeff favorites. The first is a Mike Burton song about Alaska, then a Guy Clark song and, finally, my favorite Jerry Jeff song that he actually wrote.

Enjoy and, as Jerry Jeff liked to say, “Never let a day go by.”

The Red Petals Black Hills Tour

Heading off for some travel so doing the monthly update a little early. The Red Petals came to the Black Hills this weekend for a show in Rapid City and one in Spearfish. Here are a few clips.

First some straight ahead rockin’ blues (replete with bass and drum solos), followed by my favorite Van Morrison song and then a little late night bluegrass in the Wyoming countryside. Enjoy!

New Red Petals Video

In anticipation of The Red Petals' upcoming album, here's a video of them playing one of the songs from the album, Apple Tree Girl.

The Music blog

I have been playing guitar and writing songs for over 40 years. In 2001 I released an album of original songs called The Road that is available online.

One of the great blessings of my life is that my sons, J.C. and Cal, play guitar (among other instruments) and sing as well. All three of us do gigs from time to time and J.C. has a terrific blues trio called The Red Petals. I'll post upcoming gigs, news and the occasional album or concert review here.

Me, Cal and J.C.