08-02-2025, 19:16
This week’s song has been following me around since I first heard it – it’s “Ballad of the Gunfighters” from Jim White and Trey Blake’s new album, Precious Bane. It became a bit of an earworm, to my astonishment! I suppose it’s what you might imagine a typical scene from the Wild Wild West to be – straight out of Louis L’Amour (where on earth did he get that name from??). It was the very hooky chorus what done it, I think – and the somewhat unusual phrasing Trey Blake uses when she sings. Kinda unusual songwriting subject matter too – for a girl (just sayin’ - merely an observation).
I’ve also been thinking about this collaboration, and I have reached the conclusion that there are few people in the world who would be so incredibly generous of spirit, kind, and open to exploring unknown territory – i.e. a tour with someone who’d never been on stage at all, ever, and with whom you’ve never performed, or even rehearsed – the album was put together remotely. I’d have thought that quite risky! What a gift Jim White has proffered, in terms of opportunity, and I believe it will serve them both well - from all accounts that I can see, it seems to be working out splendidly so far. Not necessarily global fame and fortune (although I do hope the paycheques roll in!) – he describes himself as the worst businessman in the world – there are other rewards in life and these two extraordinary people each deserve whatever it is they most need from their endeavours, IMHO. Incidentally independent touring appears to be a black hole of expenses for musicians, primarily covered by sales of merchandise. Not an easy road at all.
The sun was making the crimson plunge
Behind the hills and into hell
As someone dealt a deck of cards
And someone rang the old church bell
Framed by evening's dying fire
A rider cut a silhouette
Jack Christie whipped his crying horse
Like the Black Angel of Death
And oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
Clay Calder poured himself a drink
And through the darkening window saw
His fate was waiting in the street
Like last time and the time before
"Well boys" he said, "Just deal me in
I'll be there when this thing is done"
He put on his hat with the rattlesnake band
A pair of silver plated guns
And oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
Time stood still, and Clay he thought
The white trees in the western night
Waited there like ghosts to be
Baptized in a river of light
He thought about a grave and then
He thought about a gambling debt
Death was something to keep in mind
Life was something to forget
And oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
Jack Christie drew, and with one shot
He split the night like firewood
Clay was bleeding on the ground
Saying "Boys, he got me good
Jack rode into the burning dark
And Lily Miller wept for Clay
Whose last thought was the white trees looked
Like poor souls freed on Judgment Day
And oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
Oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
I’ve also been thinking about this collaboration, and I have reached the conclusion that there are few people in the world who would be so incredibly generous of spirit, kind, and open to exploring unknown territory – i.e. a tour with someone who’d never been on stage at all, ever, and with whom you’ve never performed, or even rehearsed – the album was put together remotely. I’d have thought that quite risky! What a gift Jim White has proffered, in terms of opportunity, and I believe it will serve them both well - from all accounts that I can see, it seems to be working out splendidly so far. Not necessarily global fame and fortune (although I do hope the paycheques roll in!) – he describes himself as the worst businessman in the world – there are other rewards in life and these two extraordinary people each deserve whatever it is they most need from their endeavours, IMHO. Incidentally independent touring appears to be a black hole of expenses for musicians, primarily covered by sales of merchandise. Not an easy road at all.
The sun was making the crimson plunge
Behind the hills and into hell
As someone dealt a deck of cards
And someone rang the old church bell
Framed by evening's dying fire
A rider cut a silhouette
Jack Christie whipped his crying horse
Like the Black Angel of Death
And oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
Clay Calder poured himself a drink
And through the darkening window saw
His fate was waiting in the street
Like last time and the time before
"Well boys" he said, "Just deal me in
I'll be there when this thing is done"
He put on his hat with the rattlesnake band
A pair of silver plated guns
And oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
Time stood still, and Clay he thought
The white trees in the western night
Waited there like ghosts to be
Baptized in a river of light
He thought about a grave and then
He thought about a gambling debt
Death was something to keep in mind
Life was something to forget
And oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
Jack Christie drew, and with one shot
He split the night like firewood
Clay was bleeding on the ground
Saying "Boys, he got me good
Jack rode into the burning dark
And Lily Miller wept for Clay
Whose last thought was the white trees looked
Like poor souls freed on Judgment Day
And oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
Oh, the dying sun
Sweating dust and shards of light!
Upon the dirty streets
Fell into the arms of night
"The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us." ~ Bill Watterson