I try not to jump on the celebrity death train. Riffing of mine and Crystal’s favorite comedy show, “It behooves you, when a famous person dies, to make it about you and blame the year.”
That said, in my lifetime, I can only think of four celebrity deaths that ever shook me: Steve Jobs, Lou Reed, Johnny Cash…
and Kris Kristofferson. Tonight.
Kris made it OK to be an intellectual and a country music fan. For the younger among us, that was an insane concept even forty years ago. He encompassed everything a man could want to be: a decorated soldier; a Rhodes scholar intellectual; and an outlaw country icon.
I didn’t get into Kris deeply until my brother Houston brought him into my view in the 1990’s. We used to go into bars in Dallas late at night and sing this song at the top of our lungs:
“I took myself down to the Tally-Ho Tavern to buy me a bottle of beer
I sat me down by a tender young maiden whose eyes were as dark as her hair
And as I was searchin’ from bottle to bottle for somethin’ unfoolish to say
That silver tongued devil just slipped from the shadows and smilingly stole her away
I said hey little girl don’t you know he’s the devil he’s everything that I ain’t
Hidin’ intentions of evil under the smile of a saint
All he’s good for is gettin’ in trouble and shifting his share of the blame
And some people swear he’s my double and some even say we’re the same
But the silver tongued devil’s got nothing to lose I’ll only live till I die
We take our own chances and pay our own dues the silver tongued devil and I
Like all the fair maidens who’ve laid down beside him
She knew in her heart that he’d lied
But nothing that I could have said could’ve saved her
No matter how hard that she tried
Cause she’ll offer her soul to the darkness and danger
Of something that she’s never known
And open her arms at the smile of a stranger who’ll love her and leave her alone
And you know he’s the devil…”
We had the outer edge of his wisdom. Thanks to Kris we knew that we were both good and evil and all the things in between.
Later in life, in my most desperate times, Kris gave me a roadmap
“A couple of years back, I come across a great and wasted friend of mine in the hallway of a recording studio; and while he was reciting some poetry to me that he’d written, I saw that he was about a step away from dyin’ and I couldn’t help but wonder why. And the lines of this song occurred to me. I’m happy to say he’s no longer wasted and he’s got him a good woman. And I’d like to dedicate this to John and June, who helped show me how to beat the devil.
It was winter time in Nashville, down on music city row.
And I was lookin’ for a place to get myself out of the cold.
To warm the frozen feelin’ that was eatin’ at my soul.
Keep the chilly wind off my guitar.
My thirsty wanted whisky; my hungry needed beans,
But it’d been of month of paydays since I’d heard that eagle scream.
So with a stomach full of empty and a pocket full of dreams,
I left my pride and stepped inside a bar.
Actually, I guess you’d could call it a Tavern:
Cigarette smoke to the ceiling and sawdust on the floor;
Friendly shadows.
I saw that there was just one old man sittin’ at the bar.
And in the mirror I could see him checkin’ me and my guitar.
An’ he turned and said: “Come up here boy, and show us what you are.”
I said: “I’m dry.” He bought me a beer.
He nodded at my guitar and said: “It’s a tough life, ain’t it?”
I just looked at him. He said: “You ain’t makin’ any money, are you?”
I said: “You’ve been readin’ my mail.”
He just smiled and said: “Let me see that guitar.
“I’ve got something you oughta hear.”
Then he laid it on me:
[Sung:]
“If you waste your time a-talkin’ to the people who don’t listen,
“To the things that you are sayin’, who do you think’s gonna hear.
“And if you should die explainin’ how the things that they complain about,
“Are things they could be changin’, who do you think’s gonna care?”
There were other lonely singers in a world turned deaf and blind,
Who were crucified for what they tried to show.
And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time.
‘Cos the truth remains that no-one wants to know.
[Spoken:]
Well, the old man was a stranger, but I’d heard his song before,
Back when failure had me locked out on the wrong side of the door.
When no-one stood behind me but my shadow on the floor,
And lonesome was more than a state of mind.
You see, the devil haunts a hungry man,
If you don’t wanna join him, you got to beat him.
I ain’t sayin’ I beat the devil, but I drank his beer for nothing.
Then I stole his song.
[Sung:]
And you still can hear me singin’ to the people who don’t listen,
To the things that I am sayin’, prayin’ someone’s gonna hear.
And I guess I’ll die explaining how the things that they complain about,
Are things they could be changin’, hopin’ someone’s gonna care.
I was born a lonely singer, and I’m bound to die the same,
But I’ve got to feed the hunger in my soul.
And if I never have a nickel, I won’t ever die ashamed.
‘Cos I don’t believe that no-one wants to know.”
Kris wrote songs that were magic, no matter who sang them. If you think you can name a bad version of “Me and Bobby McGee” or “Sunday Morning Coming Down,” I’ll fight you.
But, surprisingly for an outlaw country paragon, his greatest moments were his most Christlike, and most relatable.
Before covering “Why Me Lord,” Johnny Cash would say that God asked, “Why Me. Chris?” I’m sure he did.
But for me, to explain Kris, you need to see this moment: Sinead O’Connor had just torn up a photo of the Pope on Saturday Night Live. You can call that sacrligeous, but she believed what she was saying.
A week later, she was performing at a Bob Dylan celebration. She was booed off stage.
Kris, who probably disagreed with her, came out and embraced her, protecting her from the rabid crowd.
Kris beat the Devil. And he gave us clues on how to do it too.
