Thanks to Jenny Thompson, for capturing screen shots from the Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real Show last night. The band performed with Lost Lonely Boys, in the State Room, in Salt Lake City, and the show was streamed live, which was so nice, because fans could watch it everywhere. I am really starting to like this streaming stuff.
Photo: Rick Diamond
On May 21, 2002, Willie Nelson and Sheryl Crow tape an installment of “CMT Crossroads” on the Sony Pictures lot in Los Angeles. Here is the entire show, as it aired on June 7, 2002.
Enjoy the entire show that someone uploaded to youtube.
Their friendship has grown since their first meeting. Crow, raised in a musical household in Missouri, reveres Nelson as the “king of phrasing” and “the voice that was the soundtrack to my childhood.” Nelson regards Crow as a worthy musical colleague, an inheritor of his musical “outlaw” spirit and a fit audience for his dirty jokes.
Nelson played an electric guitar throughout the night instead of his battered classical acoustic, dubbed “Trigger.” (Crow said her instruments have no names, but she might refer to them as “my little money makers.”) “My guitar,” Nelson explained, “is on the way to Amsterdam [for a European tour]. I am following soon behind.”
The singers each took care to match the other’s vocal phrasing, casting sidelong glances at each other throughout their performance. Of “Let It Be Me,” Nelson proclaimed the duo “happy to be resurrecting a great song.” He toyed with the familiar phrasing and seemed to challenge Crow to do the same. “It wasn’t perfect, but it was tasty,” she said after the first take.
03. City of New Orleans
04. Let It Be Me
05. It’s So Easy
06. You Remain
The following article by Willie Nelson originally appeared in the Spring 2015 issue of Slow : USA, Slow Food USA‘s biannual discussion journal. It is reproduced here in its entirety.
Listen Up, Good Food Movement
by Willie Nelson
In the 1980s, as I toured the country on my bus, Honeysuckle Rose, I made it a habit to stop in at diners and truck stops, to talk to folks there. I heard familiar stories that brought me back to my upbringing in rural Texas. And it was from those folks that I came to understand the challenges our family farmers and rural residents face… and to see what a tremendous resource they are to all of us.
Farmers, farm wives, and friends of farmers told me about what was going on in the Heartland. They may have only been looking for an ear to witness their story. Or they may have thought that I could help. Either way, I could not let them down.
This is how Farm Aid started in 1985: by listening to farmers. It was the height of the Farm Crisis, which pushed hundreds of thousands of family farmers off the land. John Mellencamp, Neil Young and I, and fifty more artists held a concert to raise money to help farmers and build awareness to put an end to the policies that pushed family farmers off the land and paved the way for industrial, corporatized agriculture.
John often says now that we were naïve to think that just one concert would fix things. I suppose we were. Thirty years later we are still here, standing up and pushing forward with family farmers to keep them on their land growing good food for all of us. And we won’t stop, because we keep listening to farmers and rural residents who tell us what the industrialization of farms and food is doing to our soil and water, our communities, and our health.
It was in the 1990s that we at Farm Aid heard from the countryside about the rise of factory farms. Farmers told us what these giant pork factories were doing to their towns. The factory farms polluted the water and the air, making it impossible for rural folks to enjoy their own homes. They were forced inside, with the windows closed, to escape the stench. They lost financial security as their property values plummeted. They lost the diversity of their farms as they were forced to compete with agribusiness on an industrial scale. And they lost not just their livelihoods, but the legacy that was passed down to them through the generations. I went there, to Iowa and Missouri, to stand with family farmers.
Farm Aid listened and we acted with farmers, each step of the way. The farmers knew the strategy for organizing their neighbors. They are the grassroots, capable of turning out thousands to rally against the politics and policies that bring corporate consolidation to the countryside. They are rooted in their community, which gives them the strength and commitment to fight, for years, for their own sake and for the sake of their neighbors and their children and grandchildren. Later in the 1990s we learned about GMO seeds, from you guessed it, family farmers. It was family farmers who first heard about the supposed benefits of genetic engineering before any concerned eater ever encountered a GMO product in the grocery store. The farmers who reached out to Farm Aid told us that they wanted to organize a campaign to make sure that all farmers knew what genetic engineering was and how it could affect their crops, their land, their markets, and their livelihoods. Farm Aid supported the farmers and helped get the Farmer to Farmer Campaign on Genetic Engineering off the ground. Today’s movement to regulate and label (and even ban) GMOs has its roots in the farmers who first organized around these issues in the 1990s.
The promise of the Good Food Movement lies not merely in all of us knowing and speaking out about the critical importance of our food, but in the connections we cultivate with family farmers.
Today, Farm Aid celebrates the power and potential of the Good Food Movement. People everywhere are searching out family farm food, asking for it at their local grocery stores and restaurants. The United States has more than 7,000 farmers markets, and the CSA model where eaters become “shareholders” in a local farm has spread like wildfire. New, young farmers are coming on the land, with college degrees and often no family background in agriculture, but with a passion and ingenuity that is changing the landscape. Articles, books, and films tell the story of our food system, and spokespeople have become well-known leaders of this movement.
But as the movement picks up steam, I worry that too often the family farmer voice is not heard—even by people who love their good food. The promise of the Good Food Movement lies not merely in all of us knowing and speaking out about the critical importance of our food, but in the connections we cultivate with family farmers. With those connections established, we can support farmers in new ways—with our dollars, yes, but also with our voices, at the town hall, at the ballot box… everywhere we go. Each one of us can participate in the culture of agriculture by cooking, sharing, and growing our own food when we can, and learning from our farmers.
When it comes right down to it, there is no Good Food Movement without family farmers.
And its success depends not only on our supporting “local” and “organic” and “sustainable,” but also on our recognition and respect of the wisdom and experience of family farmers and rural folks. We face tremendous challenges to right our farm and food system. But the solutions are on the shelf, as I like to say. We only need to open our ears, hearts and minds to truly listen.
By James Courtney
It’s a Long Story: My Life
Willie Nelson with David Ritz |
Little, Brown and Company
Willie Hugh Nelson, known by the whole world simply as Willie (or The Red- Headed Stranger, if you have a flair for the dramatic), was born in the tiny north Texas town of Abbott. At 7, he started writing poems and shortly thereafter, as he learned to play guitar, he started setting poems to music.
Long before he penned classic country radio hits like “Crazy,” or helped define the outlaw country movement of the ’70s, or created the Farm Aid benefit concert, or championed marijuana legalization, or wore a hole in his trusty guitar Trigger, or got screwed by the IRS, or received the Lifetime Achievement Grammy, Nelson was instinctually writing songs as a way of expressing himself and of telling stories he deemed important.
His latest book, It’s a Long Story: My Life, is really just a natural extension of these instincts towards self-expression and storytelling. Billed as the definitive Willie Nelson autobiography — perhaps to distinguish it from earlier, less complete attempts — Long Story thrives on the basis of two factors: Nelson’s short sentences, chalk-full of his deadpan wit and the larger-than-life tales he shares.
Nelson, 82, spins humorous yarns and tales of palling around with famous buddies like Waylon Jennings, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard and even President Jimmy Carter. Also here, however, are heartbreaking stories of familial strife, addiction and remorse — though rarely ever regret.
Nelson’s story, as he delivers it in Long Story, is wrapped up in the progression of American culture in the 20th century. He quotes Whitman on contradiction, advocates for gay rights, remembers helping Charley Pride break down color barriers in country music, details “bitch slapping” his daughter’s abusive boyfriend and tells about how it could easily have been him instead of The Big Bopper in that plane the day the music died. Through these stories and liberal plugs of quotations from his songs, Nelson unravels himself, but he also tells a story about all of us.
Nelson’s sage and easy-going spin on these various yarns, and the morals he offers up in his summations, are endearing and entertaining. The true Williehead will likely find no particularly new factual information here, but fans and initiates alike, as well as those with an interest in popular music history, will nevertheless find it essential reading.