79 years young. That's how old Willie Nelson is, but I guarantee he's not feeling today. What a life. What an institution. What a treasure.
I saw Willie Nelson for the first time live at FarmAid in Memorial Stadium in Lincoln, Nebraska. I was 19 or 20. My friends and I came in from Kearney, started drinking promptly at 8 a.m., and I was drunk by noon. Didn't stop us from bum-rushing our way to within about 25 yards of the stage and hearing Willie and band break into "Whiskey River." In the middle of that opening set and when Willie would return to the stage much later with Neil and Mellencamp and before Joe Walsh would play his set only to return as everyone was exiting the stadium and bash out "Rocky Mountain Way," we endured the likes of Rattlesnake Annie and others with determination and grit. Worse, we lodged our way so close to the stage, there was no room to sit down and rest our legs. So for 12 hours we stood, and stood, and stood. We didn't eat or drink a thing. Turns out getting drunk before noon wasn't such a good idea, but it seemed like something Willie would have approved of. It also turned out that we managed to situate ourselves right next to a very happy and generous biker with a cigarette case fulls of joints, something I know damn sure Willie would have approved of. Dude smoked every last one, with a little help from those around him, including a few of my friends.
My very first encounter with Willie was the cover the "Red Headed Stranger." It was love at first sight. In the years since, I've managed to listen to almost every Willie album at least once, whether I bought, dubbed, or borrowed it. "Angle Flying Too Close To The Ground" brings tears to me eyes, depending on my mood.
I've managed to sneak in a few shows in the years that have passed. I managed to miss one that I bought tickets for because I ended up laying in a hospital bed while my wife and mom went instead. Missed another one because of a snow and ice storm.
My friend Jeff crossed paths with Willie in Florida and managed to get himself invited on the bus. He's got photos to prove it. Jealous, I was.
The "Tao of Willie" is one of the books I've enjoyed most reading, and I highly recommend it. You'll learn why Willie is so happy, at peace, and how you might obtain a little of his enlightenment if you let yourself.
Decades ago, I loved Willie's turn in "Honeysuckle Rose," and seeing him swap lines with Slim Pickens was nirvana.
I once reviewed Willie's album "Countryman" for a magazine, an album of Jamaican flavored tunes that featured a big, fat marijuana leaf on the front cover. There was a bit of controversy whether the magazine was going to let the review in but especially if it would print the album cover. Eventually, they did run a sanitized version of the cover, but not before a friend asked me, "Blaine, did you get your Willie in?" I said, "Yes, but please don't call it Willie." <Ba dum>
I rate Willie as my third favorite guitar player behind Stevie Ray Vaughn and Buddy Guy, and I think all his work with Wynton Marsalis is genius.
Happy birthday, Willie. The world will be a far less joyful place when you're not around.
I saw Willie Nelson for the first time live at FarmAid in Memorial Stadium in Lincoln, Nebraska. I was 19 or 20. My friends and I came in from Kearney, started drinking promptly at 8 a.m., and I was drunk by noon. Didn't stop us from bum-rushing our way to within about 25 yards of the stage and hearing Willie and band break into "Whiskey River." In the middle of that opening set and when Willie would return to the stage much later with Neil and Mellencamp and before Joe Walsh would play his set only to return as everyone was exiting the stadium and bash out "Rocky Mountain Way," we endured the likes of Rattlesnake Annie and others with determination and grit. Worse, we lodged our way so close to the stage, there was no room to sit down and rest our legs. So for 12 hours we stood, and stood, and stood. We didn't eat or drink a thing. Turns out getting drunk before noon wasn't such a good idea, but it seemed like something Willie would have approved of. It also turned out that we managed to situate ourselves right next to a very happy and generous biker with a cigarette case fulls of joints, something I know damn sure Willie would have approved of. Dude smoked every last one, with a little help from those around him, including a few of my friends.
My very first encounter with Willie was the cover the "Red Headed Stranger." It was love at first sight. In the years since, I've managed to listen to almost every Willie album at least once, whether I bought, dubbed, or borrowed it. "Angle Flying Too Close To The Ground" brings tears to me eyes, depending on my mood.
I've managed to sneak in a few shows in the years that have passed. I managed to miss one that I bought tickets for because I ended up laying in a hospital bed while my wife and mom went instead. Missed another one because of a snow and ice storm.
My friend Jeff crossed paths with Willie in Florida and managed to get himself invited on the bus. He's got photos to prove it. Jealous, I was.
The "Tao of Willie" is one of the books I've enjoyed most reading, and I highly recommend it. You'll learn why Willie is so happy, at peace, and how you might obtain a little of his enlightenment if you let yourself.
Decades ago, I loved Willie's turn in "Honeysuckle Rose," and seeing him swap lines with Slim Pickens was nirvana.
I once reviewed Willie's album "Countryman" for a magazine, an album of Jamaican flavored tunes that featured a big, fat marijuana leaf on the front cover. There was a bit of controversy whether the magazine was going to let the review in but especially if it would print the album cover. Eventually, they did run a sanitized version of the cover, but not before a friend asked me, "Blaine, did you get your Willie in?" I said, "Yes, but please don't call it Willie." <Ba dum>
I rate Willie as my third favorite guitar player behind Stevie Ray Vaughn and Buddy Guy, and I think all his work with Wynton Marsalis is genius.
Happy birthday, Willie. The world will be a far less joyful place when you're not around.
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