Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    
In the Goodman bio, I delve into the Steve Martin tours for 15 pages,
and you're right, David, the opportunity for Goodman to open 200-plus
times for Martin was immense. Other than an English rock festival in
1972 and countless millions seeing his several stellar TV appearances
on PBS, Goodman played to his biggest audiences while opening for
Martin -- 10,000 to 15,000 or more people at a time, rock-show crowds
night after night. This was in 1978-80, when Martin was an inspired
phenomenon the likes of which we may never see again.

At the time, Goodman labeled Martin "the Beatles of comedy," but he
was much more than that. His multiple talents and appeal to both the
mainstream and the counterculture gave Martin entree to most any
cultural field, and today he has great cinematic and literary stature
that transcends his trenchant wit.

Goodman came into Martin's professional life because Martin literally
was hell to open for. The openers, ranging from John Sebastian to John
McEuen to Bryan Bowers to Megan McDonough, routinely were booed by the
fanatic balloons-on-the-head, arrows-through-the ears crowds. McEuen
was the one who clued in Martin's people that only one performer could
solve this dilemma: Steve Goodman. They tried out Goodman in spring
1978, and instead of boos, Goodman drew encores. Instantly, Goodman
became the perfect complement for Martin.

Probably the most revealing story about Goodman's participation on the
Martin tours relates to a unique shtick that Goodman developed while
with Martin to cope with the fact that his vigorous guitar-playing
(especially on what he called "shtick-kicking" songs like Leroy Van
Dyke's "The Auctioneer") often resulted in broken strings. For any
guitarist, a broken string is a nightmare, a sure-fire momentum killer.
But for Goodman, it was a launching pad for a never-the-same-way-twice
routine that apparently no one before him ever executed and no one has
since.

When Goodman broke a string, he didn't merely pick up a backup guitar
or halt his set to change the string. Instead, he vocally kept the song
going in the same key and tempo but improvised a series of 10 to 15
rhyming couplets that addressed the fix he was in, while simultaneously
restringing and retuning the guitar. When the new string was in place
and in tune, he resumed the interrupted song and finished it to wild
applause. It was a maneuver designed for the appellation of "vituoso."

Jazz violinist Randy Sabien, who saw Steve pull it off several times,
told me: "That’s two diverse, opposite things, to entertain an audience
and do a technical procedure. That’s like a dentist filling a cavity
and tuning a car at the same time. Or changing your pants while doing
heart surgery."

Goodman's development of the string-changing shtick is just one of
many stories in the book related to the Martin tours. Suffice to say
that Goodman had a deep effect on Martin, who graciously agreed to an
interview early in my research in large part because of his affection
for Goodman.

"The greatest thing about Steve (Goodman) was his nature," Martin told
me via cell phone while driving in Los Angeles. "He was a happy, up
guy. He did not assault the audience. They weren’t exhausted by the
time I got onstage. It was a perfect match. He was a single act, I was
a single act, both playing acoustic instruments. I like economy, and I
don’t mean financial. He was one guy with a guitar. It was easy. It was
simple. And it was somehow in the spirit of my show, too, which was
just clean."

I'm further grateful to Martin because he didn't hesitate to write a
blurb for the back cover of my book, saying in part, "In 30 seconds, he
(Goodman) would have them. It was amazing to see, and this biography
captures every incredible detail." Recently, Martin told me that the
book sits on his nightstand and he is regularly reading chunks of it.
That's quite the compliment. I'm one of many who are eagerly awaiting
Martin's own book-length memoir, due out next year, "Born Standing Up."
  

    

I saw the combination at least once, and I saw Steve do his string-changing
schtick many times.  He handled it brilliantly.
  

    
Great anecdote about Martin using Goodman to open, and hearing the
business side of your publishing arrangement is likewise fascinating.
  

    
The only other person I've heard of who did something like that while
changing strings was Josh White. Not exactly the same improv, but he would
sing while mounting a new string.

Which leads to a question: Did Josh White have any influence on Goodman?
  

    

Both Josh White Sr. and Josh White Jr. appear int he index several times.
Clay?
  

    
As a high-schooler in suburban Chicago, Goodman heard Josh White
tracks played on WFMT-FM's Saturday night "Midnight Special" program,
and Goodman played the Fickle Pickle in the Rush Street nightclub
district, rubbing shoulders with White and other headliners. Later,
Goodman dropped out of the U of Illinois and flew to NYC to take what
might be called grassroots lessons in the same Greenwich Village scene
that had spawned White and other influential folk performers.

It's possible that White's string-changing procedure planted a seed in
Steve's mind. Goodman and his youthful musical friends in Chicago
certainly cited White as an influence, and as an adult Goodman not
infrequently inserted in his sets White's 1944 "One Meat Ball."
  

    
Ordered the book last night.
  

    

I've posted (with permission) two MP3s of Steve's music:

Video Tape (from The Easter Tapes)
Door Number Three (from Jessie's Jig and Other Favorites)

http://www.dgans.com/goodman/

More to come.
  

    
Guess this is my invitation to comment on these two songs.

The latter, "Door Number Three," is a co-write between Goodman and
Jimmy Buffett and affectionately pokes at a TV game show that was all
but unavoidable in the 1960s and 1970s, "Let's Make a Deal." The
fascinating thing to me about this song is that the co-writers decided
to part ways in the final verse. Buffett chose to employ an obvious
rhyme of "rich" and "son of a bitch" on his own recording, while
Goodman more ingeniously lifted a section of Dylan's "Like a Rolling
Stone" that fit the tune hand-in-glove.

A note of personal relevance: When I would finish interviews for the
Goodman bio and sources would keep referring me to others to interview,
I felt that I had to chase down these endless leads. Otherwise, it
would be like ignoring the possibility of gold behind "door number
three." 

The first song, "Video Tape," happens to be my favorite Goodman tune,
and that is no doubt the reason that David chose to post it. Nice, too,
that he posted a live-on-the-radio, one-guy-with-a-guitar version
(from Vin Scelsa's WNEW show), again proving that the best Goodman was
live Goodman.

This is one of Goodman's lesser-known songs, and if you haven't heard
it, please read this section before you download it so that you might
enjoy it more:

What makes this tune so perfect, to me, is that it covers all of the
Goodman bases (mortality, humor, social commentary, romance) in three
exquisitely crafted verses. The first verse focuses on the past, musing
on the benefits of our life being on video tape. The second verse
focuses on the future, musing on the benefits of extra-sensory
perception, which would allow us to dodge the grim reaper, among other
troubles. I'll let you figure out the focus of the third verse, but
notice that it is here where Steve turns it into a love song. (At the
end, he repeats the first verse, as if the whole song were on video
tape.)

It's a composition that any writer can appreciate, and it was one of
Goodman's favorites.

Goodman wrote or co-wrote more than 100 songs, and I admit that it's
hard to pick just one favorite. The ones I like best probably number in
the dozens. It would be great to those of you in The WELL audience
could write in about what your own favorite Goodman songs are -- and
why. If you do so, I'll be happy to chime in with some associated
thoughts and factoids.
  

    
Typo above: "It would be great to those of you ..." should be "It
would be great if those of you ..."

Or maybe that's a word-po.
  

    

Did Steve have to get Dylan's permission to transplant a quatrain from "ike a
Rolling Stone"?  The "vacuum of his eyes" bit is so perfect here.
  

    

I posted an announcement of this interview on a couple of mailing lists.  I
mentioned "My Old Man" as one of the song titles, and that led someone to ask
if that was the same "My Old Man" that Joni Mitchell sang.  This repy from
Jeffrey Dreves answers that question and then goes on.  REposted here with
the author's permission:



>>That's not the same "My Old Man" that Joni Mitchell did, is it?

No, it's not.
The Goodman song is heartbreakingly beautiful.
The first time I heard it..really heard it...it made me cry.
Very few songs I can say that about.

I lived in Chicago for years, but didn't really get into
Goodman until I left. Now I go through periods where he is
all I want to listen to. I met a few people back in Chicago
who knew and worked with Steve. Have found myself wishing in
recent years that I could go back and talk with those folks
again.

Another thing that comes to mind....the city was renaming the
stretch of Lincoln Avenue where I lived - and where the Old Town
School of Folk Music now resides....Steve Goodman Way when I was
packing up to leave town. Maybe it was a harbinger of sorts.

Anyway, if you haven't listened to any of his music, do yourself
a favour and check it out.

Looking forward to reading the interview...thanks David.
Chicken Cordon Blues has been in my solo a cappella repertoire
for quite some time now. (That repertoire is performed only while
driving, with no passengers, except occasionally my 3 year old son -
so you're safe!)
  

    

(I am planning to sing "Chicken Cordon Bleus" on a radio show, West Coast
Live, this coming Saturday 9/15, broadcasting from the farmers' market at the
Ferry Building in San Francisco.  http://www.wcl.org for info on when it's
aired and on what stations.  If possible, the performance will include a plug
for the book and maybe even the inkwell interview.)
  

    
Regarding the Dylan lyrics in "Door Number Three," I couldn't
corroborate it beyond a reasonable doubt, but Steve hinted he had
gotten permission for the lift when he told John Platt of Chicago's
WXRT-FM, "Thanks to Bob Dylan for that last verse. It was nice of him
to mail it in." Goodman and Dylan had had several significant and
collegial encounters by the time the track was recorded in January
1975, so I can't believe that Steve would have proceeded without a nod
from Bob.

Jeffrey's comment about "My Old Man" is reflected by countless others
who have heard the song. Its specifics touch a universal chord, and the
fact that Steve himself gets choked up near the end of the track gives
permission for even the most macho of males to shed a few tears.
That's the real gift of the song, for there is no such thing as bad
tears -- a worthwhile lesson for all of us who are involuntary students
in society's Man 101.

Chicago did give the honorary name of "Steve Goodman Way" to a
two-block stretch of Lincoln Avenue next to the "new" Old Town School
in November 1997. This was in conjunction with the staging of a
big-name Goodman tribute show at the city's Medinah Temple, and the
brown honorary signs still hang on the street today. You can see a
photo of one of them at the bottom of page 16 of the book's color
section.

Interestingly, when it was released in early 1973, Goodman's "Chicken
Cordon Bleus" predated Larry Groce's similarly themed "Junk Food
Junkie" by more than three years. "Junk Food Junkie" fared far better
commercially, reaching #9 on the Billboard Top 100.
  

    

Wow, I'd never heard: http://www.dgans.com/goodman/doornumberthree.mp3
It's funny and sweet.  (Reminds me also of Janis Joplin 
singing "dialin' for dollars is trying to call me" in her 
Mercedes Benz song, since I grew up where Dialing for Dollars was 
the afternoon local movie trivia game show.)  

So glad to hear both of them all the way through!  Thanks David, and 
thanks to the rights-holders for allowing more than a tiny snippet. 

I notice that both of those songs are sweet, and packed with
anachronisms.  This is the problem of being contemporary in 
your lyrics I guess.  Are Steve Goodman songs being covered by the 
generation of musicians who don't remember Carol Merrill, the 
Let's Make A Deal game show format,  or (soon) the old time tape 
format for video?  
  

    
Gail, that's a good question, one that I tried to answer at length in
the final chapter of the book and to document in the book's
discography. In a word, the answer is yes.

Not sure how to document this quickly and to everyone's satisfaction,
but let's just arbitrarily pick covers of Goodman songs starting in the
year 2000. I count 18 covers of "City of New Orleans" and 31 covers of
other Goodman songs in that period.

Granted, a scan of this list shows that perhaps half of the artists
cannot be considered members of the next generation. Also, 13 of the
covers that are indeed by artists from the next generation appear on a
single CD organized by Steve's youngest daughter, Rosanna, so perhaps
they should be excluded from an assessment of the grass roots. But
beyond the stats there is plenty of anecdotal evidence -- from live
concerts and festival sets, if not recordings -- to bolster the notion
that Steve's songs are being given new life by the younger generations.

The whole topic of anachronism in song is fascinating. I think you
make a salient point, that the anachronisms present in "Door Number
Three" and "Video Tape" make those songs less likely to be covered.
Bearing this out is the fact that the covers from 2000 onward do not
include either of these songs, whereas timeless songs like "Lookin' for
Trouble" and "A Lover Is Forever" have drawn multiple covers in recent
years.

But we all probably would agree that it would be nice if the subjects
of other Goodman songs -- such as war, in "Ballad of Penny Evans";
nuclear power, in "Watchin' Joey Glow"; and impersonal communication,
in "Telephone Answering Tape" -- were to become anachronistic. Sadly
but appropriately for our times, "Penny Evans" is today among the most
oft-covered and -performed of Goodman's songs. I saw this first-hand in
the songs that musicians chose to perform during my reading/music
events in recent months.

On a happier note, for the sake of "Video Tape," the word "video" has
cemented itself in our language as a reference for any kind of moving
image seen on a screen. So even though video tape has been supplanted
by all manner of digital media, the points made in the song are still
easily understood!

(A footnote to name the co-writers of several songs mentioned above:
"A Lover Is Forever," Fred Knobloch; "Watchin' Joey Glow," Sean Kelly;
and "Telephone Answering Tape," David Grisman.)
  

    
I still hear "Operator," which makes reference to a phone call costing
a dime.
  

    
Sharon, you bring up another good point about anachronism. What may
seem old and irrelevant to some may, to others, constitute vivid
history brought to life. That's certainly true for "City of New
Orleans." Thankfully, an Amtrak train with the same name still operates
on the same tracks and route. I wonder if it still carries as many as
15 sacks of mail.
  

    

David Grisman co-wrote "Telephone Answering Tape"?  How that come about?
  

    
Minor contribution, according to Grisman, who really can't recall it.
Goodman, in the liner notes for his "Santa Ana Winds" LP, issued the
week of his death, wrote that Grisman had given him a "bluegrass tip"
for the song.

"I remember him coming over to my house," Grisman told me in 2000. "He
actually told me he wanted us to write a song together, and he came
over, and we spent a day. As I recall, we didn’t come up with anything
because I kept saying, 'I’ve got all these melodies. Just write words
to one.' And he really wanted to collaborate on everything. It just
kind of never happened."

When I showed Grisman the co-writing credit for "Telephone Answering
Tape," he said, "So we did write a song together. That’s amazing."

In the late 1970s, when Jethro Burns opened for shows by Grisman's
quintet, Grisman had a tape of a show in which Burns said he had just
acquired a telephone answering machine and put on the outgoing message,
"You have reached the home of the world’s greatest mandolin player.
Now if you’ll leave your number, I’ll get back to you." Grisman says he
then used that recording of Burns' voice as the outgoing message on
his own answering machine. Grisman told me that he wonders if that
recording is somehow connected with Goodman's song.

Of course, Goodman was known for being quite generous with song
credits.
  

    

Just added daughter Rosanna's cover of "My Old Man," from a tribute CD she
put together titled "My Old Man: A Tribute to STeve Goodman."

http://www.myoldmancd.com

From the front page of that site:

> My old man was Steve Goodman and my old man was an icon of folk music.
> Because of this, I was raised around an array of singer/songwriters, acous-
> tic guitars and mandolins.  My father died when I was seven, but he left a
> musical legacy that surrounded me as I grew.  As a teenager, I rebelled
> against this inherited legacy and pursued other genres, including pop, hip-
> hop and metal.  I even formed a rock band and wrote my own rock songs.

> Years later, through my dear Canadian friends, Chris Brown and Kate Fenner,
> I realized I had been missing out on the impact of a well-written song.  A
> well-written song can hit close to home - really close to home.  I began dig-
> ging through the boxes in our basement, reading clippings and listening to
> Dad's music.  I realized my dad was more than an incredible songwriter; he
> was an American hero.

> With the help of friends and talented peers, I embraced Dad's music and
> legacy.  I wanted to introduce it to my generation. Chris and I gathered
> together the best young talent we knew.  Artists like Ana Egge, Luther
> Wright & The Wrongs, Crescent & Frost, Tony Scherr, Chris Brown and Kate
> Fenner.  These musicians have a kinship, share songs, play together and 
> look out for one another.

> They invited me into their world so we could all share the life that
> remains in songs my dad wrote decades ago.  Some picked the songs they
> wanted to sing.  For others, I handpicked songs as my dad did years ago
> with his friends and fellow musicians, John Prine, Johnny Cash, Bonnie
> Raitt and Jimmy Buffet.

> "My Old Man" was one of the most personally challenging songs my father
> wrote and it's even harder to sing.  I never met my Grandpa Bud, my old
> man's old man, whose life and death the song is about, but the song became
> the perfect muse for this tribute.  I believe I have accomplished my mis-
> sion: to express that a great song and a great spirit will always stand the
> test of time.  My old man would have wanted it this way.


The music is posted at http://www.dgans.com/goodman
  

    
Rosanna's is a reverent version of the song, and it puts to the test
(perhaps puts to rest) whether the song is too personal for someone
other than Steve to sing it. In this case and with the words intact, as
Rosanna states, it becomes a tribute to both her father and her
grandfather, particularly given that there was a lot of Bud in Steve.

Other musicians who have done justice to "My Old Man" include Tom
Paxton, who performed it at the Jan. 15-16, 1999, World Folk Music
Association tribute to Goodman at the Birchmere in Alexandria,
Virginia, and Saul Broudy, Goodman's frequent harmonica accompanist,
who performed at the same tribute.

Paxton and Broudy also performed this summer at my Aug. 15
reading/music event at Politics and Prose bookstore in Washington, D.C.
There, Paxton reprised his version of "My Old Man."

To see photos of the Politics and Prose event, visit my Internet site
at clayeals.com, go to the "About the Author" tab, click the schedule
page and scroll down to the last photo collage. In addition to seeing
three images of the event taken by Bruce Guthrie, you can find in the
caption below a link to a page on Guthrie's photo site where there are
116 fine photos of the event.

Paxton and Broudy -- who performed "My Old Man" at my Aug. 14
reading/music event at Robin's Bookstore in Philadelphia -- were among
22 musicians who graciously performed gratis at my eight northeastern
U.S. events last month on behalf of the book.

I would remiss not to mention John Prine's performances of "My Old
Man" at Goodman tributes held in Chicago Jan. 26, 1985, and Nov. 13,
1997. At the latter show, Prine told the audience he often had absorbed
the tune's title as "My Old Pal." Prine apparently was the first one
for whom Goodman played it -- via pay phone from Louisiana -- after
Goodman wrote it in May 1977. "Geez, that song," Prine told me. "I
loved it from the get-go."
  

    

> Goodman tributes held in Chicago Jan. 26, 1985

Is that the one that was released on a double album?
  

    
Yes, and it's now on CD. All of Goodman's official releases are now on
CD.
  

    
Ordering now...