It’s tempting to simply embed about 50 songs written by Townes Van Zandt and call it a day. Guaranteed, there wouldn’t be a clinker in the bunch. To spice things up, I could throw in some covers by Waylon and Willie, Steve Earle, Cowboy Junkies, Emmy Lou Harris, Nanci Griffith, and others. Getting real erudite, comparisons might be drawn of Townes’ lyrics with those of his fan, Bob Dylan. Neither would pale in the process.
But, honestly, having just listened to a few hours of Townes’ music, I simply don’t have the energy for all that. His songs and poetry are so deep and dark. They just make me want to pour another one and head back into that mineshaft, lower and lower, to where those nuggets of truth are buried. I want to know what life threw at this man that caused such pain. And, I’d like to recruit another fan or two to the cult of Townes Van Zandt.
On March 7, 1944, Ft. Worth, TX, Townes was born into a true founding family of the Republic of Texas, the Lone Star State. Namesakes of a county in East Texas, the Van Zandt family was wealthy and privileged. Townes’ branch was in the oil business. He was intelligent, a good student, decent athlete, and clearly destined for greatness. Something, though, lurked in his makeup and twisted the path to that end. Townes enrolled at the University of Colorado in 1962, and began having bouts of depression and binge drinking. His parents flew to Boulder to fetch him back to Houston, where they put him in a mental institution and agreed to let doctors administer 3 months of insulin shock therapy for what was then-called manic depression. The therapy involved administration of high doses of insulin to induce a coma, and resulted in obliterating much of Townes’ long-term memory. (Lou Reed, anyone?).
Unable to return to school, rejected by the Air Force, Townes turned to music (and drinking and drugs -- becoming a lifelong addict). Townes had played guitar since he was 10, and saw Elvis. Still inspired by the mountains of Colorado, he spent time roaming them alone on horseback. He had incredibly productive times, but also many times in seedy bars, low rent motels and the gutters of human existence. He recorded 10 studio albums and more live ones, but didn’t come close to charting a hit.
What Townes was unable to do for himself, other artists accomplished. He was revered as a songwriter and they would record hits like “Pancho & Lefty” “To Live’s To Fly” and “If I Needed You”. After his death, family members and business associates commenced to wrangle over his legacy, his copyrights and his royalties. Here's Townes version of "a medley of my hit" from the biopic Heartworn Highways.
Townes died at home on New Years Day, 1997, at the age of 52. His death was the result of alcohol, drugs, and a hip fracture sustained in a fall 10 days earlier. About his songs, he said:
"Well, you know, I don't think they're all that sad. I have a few that aren't sad, they're hopeless. And the rest aren't sad. They're just the way it goes. . . I’m the mold that grunge was grown in."
