Verlon Thompson and Guy Clark
By Paul T. Mueller
–There’s no denying that Guy Clark’s March 23 concert at the historic Crighton Theatre in Conroe, Texas, had the air of a memorial service about it. The legendary singer-songwriter, a Texas native who’s lived in Nashville for many years, has been in ill health for several years; it seems likely that his ailments and possibly age (Clark turned 71 in November) are behind recent declines in his singing, playing and memory.
But if the audience came to pay its respects, that wasn’t necessarily what the object of their admiration had in mind. After walking slowly onstage with the help of a cane (a souvenir, perhaps, of a broken leg suffered a few years ago), Clark opened the show with three songs from a forthcoming album: “I’ll Show Me,” a how-to guide to being one’s worst enemy; “My Favorite Picture of You,” a tribute to his beloved wife, Susanna, who died last year, and “El Coyote,” about the grim business of immigrant smuggling in South Texas. Accompanied throughout the show by his old friend Verlon Thompson, himself an accomplished songwriter and performer as well as a monster guitar player, Clark followed with a couple of older favorites: “The Cape,” an ode to the power of faith, and “Like a Coat from the Cold,” an earlier valentine to Susanna.
Then Clark made the first of two temporary exits from the stage – “There’s something in my throat,” he said, before relating how his pants fell down in the course of a similar exit during a show a few days earlier. Thompson was left to fill in, a task he handled with impressive style and grace. Suddenly solo, he played “Everywhere … Yet,” a lively name-check of many venues he’s played over the years, and a look forward at more to come (“We ain’t been everywhere … yet”) and “The Guitar,” co-written with Clark, which skated the line between eerie and hokey, but served as a fine vehicle for Thompson’s acoustic guitar wizardry.
One of the more moving aspects of the show was Thompson’s humorous attempts to ease the awkwardness caused by Clark’s frequent hesitations and memory lapses as he struggled to get through the songs he once played so fluidly. After Clark returned from his first hiatus, complaining of feeling queasy and sighing, “I don’t know how I do it,” Thompson got some laughs with the comeback, “Let’s hold off on your food songs for now.” What followed was a lovely sequence that included “L.A. Freeway” and “She Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” (of which Clark said, “This is actually my favorite song”).
The reverent atmosphere was broken by a volley of shouted requests, but the sometimes irascible Clark wasn’t having it. “Just settle down,” he told the audience, in a tone that didn’t sound all that lighthearted, “and let me get this taken care of.” After a pause, he moved on to “The Randall Knife,” with the help of some lyrical prompting from Thompson; “Homegrown Tomatoes,” which fortunately didn’t provoke any unpleasant side effects, and “Boats to Build,” in which Clark and Thompson traded verses.
Clark also seemed to be trying to lighten the mood by making light of his own infirmities. “I’m playin’ hurt, man,” he told Thompson at one point, to which the reply was, “Yeah, and there ain’t a relief man in the bullpen.” Thompson, of course, was the relief man, giving Clark a breather by launching into a spirited rendition of “Joe Walker’s Mare.” After a second slow exit by his friend, Thompson continued with several originals about his parents in Oklahoma – “Sweet Dreams,” “Darwettia’s Mandolin” and “Caddo County.”
Upon his return (accompanied by the sweet tones of what Thompson called “traveling music”), Clark closed out the set with two final favorites, both tributes, at least in part, to his late wife – “Stuff That Works” and the beautiful and moving “Dublin Blues.”
There’s something to be said for leaving at the top of one’s game; for Guy Clark that may no longer be an option. But there’s also a lot to be said for giving one’s fans another chance, maybe a last chance, to show their love and appreciation, and it’s fair to say that the large majority of those in attendance were happy to get that chance.
Austin singer-songwriters Brennen Leigh and Noel McKay opened the show with a well-received set that showcased their songwriting abilities, fine harmonies and impressive guitar skills. Highlights included the very funny “Let’s Go to Lubbock on Vacation” and “That’s What I Meant to Say,” in addition to grittier fare such as “Sleeping with the Devil.”
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