| HEARTWORN HIGHWAYS |
| Directed by James Szalapski (U.S.A-1981) |
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| I like country music... some that is. But the sad fact is that for every Steve Earle or Townes Van Zandt, there are literally dozens of Alan Jackson or Garth Brooks clones littering the country music channel on pay t.v. The genuine country performers seem few and far between, buried beneath a plethora of pre-fab pop-country players. Shit, Lee Kernagan was doing McDonald's ads a while back. You can't get much more overly commercialised than that. Even still, there are a few loose cannons out there keeping the flame of musical integrity alight on the alt. country scene. Of course some are dead, others are letting politics get in the way of the music, and most will never win a C.M.A award as long as Brooks and Dunn ( the biggest joke since Spinal Tap) and others of their ilk are what pass for country music these days... but that's beside the point. |
| Heartworn Highways is a feature length documentary that showcases some of the up and coming stars of the outlaw country movement that began in the late seventies and early eighties, along with various shooting stars and minor players. And it's a pretty gritty look at the whole scene. David Alan Coe is a performer who drives his own tour bus, and calls himself 'The Rhinestone Cowboy'. And he actually wears a gaudy rhinestone cowboy jumpsuit on stage, much to the delight of the scary looking sodomites in the audience at a jailhouse gig showcased in the film. And unlike most try-hard gangster rappers, Coe actually is an outlaw. He's done some time in the slammer, and once caved in a would be shower block rapist's skull with a prison mop bucket. Then there's Townes Van Zandt, a musician who churned out quite a body of work before a life of excess finally caught up with him. He's a country singer who lived and died the rock'n'roll lifestyle. As he shows us around his trailer and brandishes his $1.27 royalty cheques from Sweden (seriously!), he hams it up for the cameras, fondly recalls his old glue sniffing days, and even belts out an impromptue version of his aptly titled song Waitin' Round to Die. Other big name highlights are an impressive opening credit sequence with Guy Clark performing his anthem L.A. Freeway, and the same musician fondly repairing an old guitar in his workshop. There's even a very young Steve Earle in Heartworn Highways. It's the Steve that used to make great music before his rabid Hanoi Jane political fanaticism got in the way of him writing decent tunes. The other notable players are all part time pickers who give their thoughts on what country has become. "I do believe Johnny Cash has shot his wad" one disgruntled punter observes. If he was disillussioned by the music scene back then, I wonder what he'd think of the way it's progressed now. Johnny may have shot his wad, but compared to what passes for country these days, he was probably more virile than Ron Jeremy. Although this film is slow and self indulgent in places, it's worth a look. About the only featured player who's still alive, and still has his integrity intact is Guy Clark. The DVD release has some noteworthy extras. Van Zandt performs a version of his song Pancho and Lefty, and a drunken jam session at Guy Clark's house prompts Steve Earle to perform an early version of Mercenary Song. It's far more satisfying than the masturbatory Steve Earle amateurish ill-thought out propaganda piece of excrement known as Just an American Boy... a documentary that I also checked out this month, and isn't even worth a full review. It's the most one-eyed baseless documentary since Bowling for Columbine, and if viewing both Heartworn Highways and Just an American Boy in the space of a few short weeks has taught me anything, it's probably that Steve has waaayyy too much time on his hands these days. Entertainment : 3 out of 4 Watchability : 2 out of 4 Overall : 2.5 out of 4 Reviewed by Blake |