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Fire in the Water, Earth in the Air: Legends
of West Texas Music
"Indeed, Oglesby's introduction of more
than two dozen musicians who called Lubbock home should be required
reading not only for music fans, but for Lubbock residents and
anyone thinking about moving here. On these pages, music becomes
a part of Lubbock's living history."
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Chris Oglesby Interviews I was at Joe and Sharon Ely's house giving them a signed copy of my book, when Joe took a phone call. After wandering around the yard for awhile talking, Joe came in and handed me the phone. "The Legendary Stardust Cowboy wants to talk with you." This was exciting news for me, who writes of Lubbock musicians; The Legendary Stardust Cowboy may be Lubbock's most remarkable and puzzling musical genius. As he told me, the music of the Legendary Stardust Cowboy is "middle-of-the-galaxy, not middle-of-the- road." Anyone who has heard or seen the Lege perform knows this is true. Lubbock native Norman Odam left his hometown for Fort Worth to start his incredible recording career. A then unknown radio deejay named T. Bone Burnett, also only 20 years old at the time, discovered "The Lege" and made his first recording of his signature song "Paralyzed." Less than a week later, the Stardust Cowboy signed with Mercury Records. Soon he made his legendary nationally televised appearances on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson and Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In. The cacophonic, almost incomprehensible song "Paralyzed" made the Billboard Top 100 briefly in 1969, an odd year for music anyway. Odam felt that any true self-respecting cowboy in the later 20th Century would not resemble the smooth stars of country music but would rather be riding the new frontier of 4th dimensional psychedelia, which is what one experiences when hearing "Paralyzed." After we spoke on the phone at Ely's home and made an appointment to do the interview below, Joe talked to me about his old buddy from Montery High School days. Joe said, "He's just a genius when it comes to time, almost like an idiot-savant, like Dustin Hoffman's character in 'Rainman.' I can remind him of a particular incident, for instance, that occurred when he was playing in front of the Hi-d-Ho in Lubbock years ago, and he'll remember the day of the week, date, month and year. He's been calling me a lot lately, and I started counting and keeping time; I figured out he calls me every twelve days and stays on the phone for exactly twenty-two minutes." This was going to be an interesting and unusual interview for me, no doubt. The Lege had asked me to call him "at precisely 4:00pm, pacific daylight time" at his home in Silicon Valley. I made sure the phone was ringing at exactly that time. Chris: I've read your 1969 autobiography on your website and enjoyed the letter posted there from the mission control engineers at NASA. LSDC: They used my song "Paralyzed" to wake up the space station astronauts but their supervisors told them not to play it anymore. I guess the astronauts got paralyzed after awhile. Another song of mine they'd wake the astronaut's to is "Who's Knockin on My Door?" They'd drink root beer from coffee cups, just like I'm singing about in that song, those NASA officials. Back in August, USA Today printed an article about the different songwriters that had songs played over the years to wake up the astronauts and mine wasn't on there. They didn't include the space station astronauts. I told my bass player that I was going to write them a letter and make them re-write the article to include my song. They didn't re-write the article though. Chris: We'll get the record straight here. I read in your biography that you grew up on Flint Avenue in Lubbock. That was my neighborhood when I lived in Lubbock. LSDC: My sister and I were both born in Lubbock at
the old Methodist Hospital on Broadway and Avenue L, where Dunlap's
Department store was later. My mother and I both worked at Dunlap's,
after I got out of high school. We both worked there at the same
time; she was a sales clerk and I was a janitor. So it took 19
years for me to go full circle, from being born there, to working
in that building later. That's a full circle. Chris: And you were just singing Christmas songs? LSDC: Instead of singing something like "Frosty the Snowman," I would sing something like "Frosty Happy Alligator Man." Chris: So you were jazzing the songs up? LSDC: Yeah, we were all having a great time with our annual Christmas music festival down there before school started. So between that and square dancing, I had a great time. Chris: Tell me about the square dancing. LSDC: That was in P.E. That was the only chance in
high school that I had a woman available to hold and squeeze
and twirl her around and 'round. Physical education was required
the first two years of high school and the third year was optional.
Well, I took it the third year so I could get a chance to square
dance with the gals. Me and another guy got into a fight over
one gal there one time when we were square dancing, so the teacher
sent us to the principal's office. We didn't go the principal's
office; we just went elsewhere. We just waited around for the
next class to start. Yep, we had a lot of fun back then, back
yonder. Chris: What were you trying to do? LSDC: I was trying to get a date with them. It didn't work out because they'd show my letters to their boyfriends and their boyfriends would follow me different places around town and threaten to stomp my guts in if I ever did it again. They'd say, "You lay off of my girlfriend." Chris: So you didn't date much in high school? LSDC: No, I didn't. I didn't date at all in high school. I was the most popular student there, but I couldn't get a date to save my life. If somebody put a gun to my head, cocked the hammer, and threatened to blow my head off if I didn't get a date, I couldn't have done it. Chris: When you were singing your songs at school, did you ever have any ladies like you then? LSDC: Oh, yeah! They liked that. I was good for a few laughs but that's it. I wasn't good enough for a date. To this very day, I'm still not married. Chris: Have you ever had a date? LSDC: I haven't had a date since November 1988, just a few months before I moved from Las Vegas to here. And I had to pay for that one, from a dating service. That was in Las Vegas, and that didn't pan out either. I think I only got one date. We went out maybe two or three times. I had to call it quits. I couldn't stand her accent; she was from West Michigan. That accent just drove me up the wall. Everything was perfect about her but her accent. I just had to cut her off. Good Night! I couldn't take it. I'd rather hear a dog bark, rather hear a hound dog howl at the moon than to hear somebody with a Michigan accent. Chris: Speaking of the moon, David Bowie released on his album "Heathen" the song "I think I'll Take a Trip on a Gemini Ship." Did you write that song? LSDC: Yes, he released that in summer of 2002 on Columbia.
You've heard of T. Bone Burnett from Fort Worth? We're
the same age, as a matter of fact. He was my first ever music
producer. He never played drums until he played drums on my song
"Who's Knocking at My Door?" On the Mercury version
of "Gemini Spaceship," he played the vibraphones, the
organ, and some other instruments. That part was dubbed in about
a week later. One day in T. Bone Burnett's recording studio,
I recorded 52 songs, just playing the dobro and singing 52 of
my songs on a big reel of tape. That was in the Fall of '68. Chris: It is still the major country station in Lubbock. LSDC: They use to broadcast out of the Great Plains
Life Building, the big fifteen story building downtown that got
twisted by the tornado. The tornado couldn't tear
it down but the steel structure was twisted around so that the
elevator only went up to the 8th floor. Chris: I saw you perform at the Continental Club here in Austin about four years ago, and I loved it. I was totally enthralled. LSDC: Is that the first time you had seen one of my shows? Chris: It was. LSDC: You should have introduced yourself after the show. That show was put on the "Lubbock Lights" DVD. Chris: Yes, and I am so grateful. It looks fantastic there on that DVD. LSDC: That was my backup band. My guitarist is from Omaha, Jay Rosen; my drummer Joey Myers is from Coeur d'Alene, Idaho; and the bass player is from Detroit. He was one of the original members of a band called the Dead Kennedys, Klaus Fluoride. That's his stage name. They were founded in 1970, long before he met me. He goes on the road still, with the Dead Kennedys, every month or two to different parts around the world for months at a time. They don't have the original singer; he's one of the only original members left in the band. Then he comes back here and backs me up in the studio for records and for live shows. He lives in Albany, California, in the North Bay area. Chris: Do you do any regular gigs around the Bay area? LSDC: We did one last Saturday night in Oakland at a place called the Stork Club. Out front they have a picture of Stork in boots and spurs and the sign says "Best Country Music in Town." But they have mostly punk rock bands there and alternative music. Chris: So you fit in there? LSDC: Yep. Boy, in the year 2002, I got all kinds of
publicity with David Bowie recording my song. He recorded one
song called "Cactus" by the Pixies and sang that a
lot on TV that year, too. I found out that any time he sung somebody
else's song on network TV, Sony paid the songwriter five hundred
dollars. David Bowie recorded one of Neil Young's songs on the
same album "Heathen."
Columbia spent a whole lot of money promoting that. That summer,
David Bowie came out here to Mountain View at the amphitheater,
and I got a chance to meet him and had my picture taken with
him. Chris: I've read somewhere that you've written more songs about space than anybody. Why is that? What is your fascination with outer space? LSDC: I'm a big supporter of the space program, through my tax dollars. Every time I do my taxes, I send a letter off to the IRS saying: "Please make sure this money goes directly to NASA." Chris: Do you want to go up into space? LSDC: Yes, I do. I want to be on the first trip to Mars. And I don't care about ever coming back. Chris: So you'd like to settle Mars, like a cowboy on a new frontier? LSDC: Yeah, I want to settle the first ranch on Mars,
and design a space suit for horses. Have you heard my song "Rocket
to Stardom"? It's on the album of the same name. Joe Ely
probably has a copy of that. He's got one of just about everything
of mine. He's got "Paralyzed" on the Psycho-Suave label.
Chris: I've heard that even when you were a little boy, you knew you were going to be famous when you grew up. LSDC: But I had no idea what the details would be;
I couldn't see into the future like Gene Roddenberry. I was just
a regular entertainer, like Johnny Cash; I put out records and
do live shows, and that's it. Now, there's a producer in Austin
named Jim Dunn. He and his partner used to manage recording artists
a long time ago. He's written a script about my life story. He's
been trying to get the money to make that movie. You know, he'd
have different people play me at different stages in my life
and I'd come in at the end of the movie. It could show in theaters
nationwide. Chris: I saw somewhere you said, "God is my partner and he is on my side." What does that mean? LSDC: Just that He's been guiding me all the way through the music.
The Lege' called recently to
let us know he just returned from a brief tour, culminating with
his performance at David Bowie's High
Line Music Festival in New York City. Do you like the interviews you have been reading on virtualubbock.com? Buy the book by author Christopher Oglesby Fire in the Water, Earth in the Air: Legends of West Texas Music "As a whole, the interviews create a portrait not only of Lubbock's musicians and artists, but also of the musical community that has sustained them, including venues such as the legendary Cotton Club and the original Stubb's Barbecue. This kaleidoscopic portrait of the West Texas music scene gets to the heart of what it takes to create art in an isolated, often inhospitable environment. As Oglesby says, "Necessity is the mother of creation. Lubbock needed beauty, poetry, humor, and it needed to get up and shake its communal ass a bit or go mad from loneliness and boredom; so Lubbock created the amazing likes of Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Butch Hancock, Terry Allen, and Joe Ely." - University of Texas Press
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