Fire in the Water, Earth in the Air: Legends
of West Texas Music
by Christopher Oglesby
Published by the University
of Texas Press:
"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."
"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."
- William Kerns, Lubbock Avalanche Journal
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"He
Spelled My Name Wrong"
by Lynda Kay Parker (ASCAP), performed by Lonesome Spurs.
Broken down in West Texas.jpg)
Tired and out of my luck
There he came out of nowhere
In a brand new pickup truck
He looked pretty cute
in his lizard boots
and his blonde wavy hair
But even all that
Couldn't fix the fact
He had nothing goin' on up there.
He spelled my name wrong
On that sorry card
Ten beat up roses
In a cup from J. Pat's bar.
They tried to warn me
"He ain't good for you."
But when you're livin' in Lubbock
Any man will do.
He always looked at me funny
as I admired his wit.
I thought he was clever
dry humored and quick
But I gave him too much credit
'cause it was plain to see
He wasn't clever nor funny
He was as stupid as can be.
He spelled my name wrong
On that sorry card
Ten beat up roses
In a cup from J. Pat's bar.
They tried to warn me
"He ain't good for you."
Damn desperation
When any man will do!
Alright, now this part gets a little scary…
He came home full of whiskey
Said he'd been with the guys.
I could tell he was lying
By the guilty look in his eyes
I asked if he could explain to me
Why his lips were cherry red
He was mad as fire for calling him a liar
He threw a beer bottle at my head.
He spelled my name wrong
And that ain't all
He was cattin' around
With a bitch from J. Pat's bar.
He threw a bottle
nearly caught my head
That rotten bastard
is lucky he ain't dead.
Go to Interview with Lynda Kay
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