El Paso

January 1960

First entry for the 60s, and we're off to a great start. It's "El Paso," written and sung by Marty Robbins, who was a massively popular country musician. He had a whopping 16 #1 singles on the country charts, but only 1 on the pop charts – this gripping story-song.

Man, I just love everything about this song. The archetypal story of love and tragic death, the odd way the rhythm is counted, the Spanish-flavored lead guitar, the lush harmonies. It is surely a classic, although I'd never heard of it before I researched it for this blog.

The story itself is one we've heard a thousand times. The narrator falls in love with a girl (as he tells us quite plainly in the first line), she's stolen away by another suitor, he kills his rival in a duel, and finally he himself is slayed in return – after a chase, of course. The same plot, or a variation of it, has been used so many times in plays, grand operas, ballads, and movies, that it's practically a basic part of our cultural consciousness. And the reason it endures is that it works so well, so often. Here it happens to be in the context of the Western genre, which so often draws upon these basic, primal themes. It's certainly not the first or the last time this story arc would be associated with the American West and Mexico – even Bob Dylan used it in his "Romance in Durango," which I'd bet is a direct tribute to this song. Actually, it just so happens I'm currently in the middle of Cormac McCarthy's "Border" trilogy (I just started the third book), and so these days the Wild West is on my mind more than usual. And it's hard not to see the parallels between those contemporary Western novels and the stories of old that are typified in country songs like "El Paso."

Not to turn this into a personal diary, but I myself am in the midst of a sort of love tragedy, or at least that's how I'd like to think of it – one in which situational and societal circumstances may prove the downfall of a hopeful romance. And in a foreign land, no less! Perhaps that's why I'm especially attracted to this particular song – but probably not. This is the kind of song I think I'd appreciate just about any time. Regardless of my personal situations, I'm always drawn to these sort of grand, sweeping archetypal gestures in art. It's just something about, I dunno, the human spirit or whatever.

My affinity for this song is (was?) apparently shared by the Grateful Dead, who made this song a recurring part of their live sets starting in the late 60s. I haven't really shopped around for different versions, but here's one from 1972. It's no surprise that they liked this song so much – they were students of American folklore as much as they were a psychedelic jam band. But their version of the song is a pretty good example of why I never really got into the Dead – the Spanish guitar in the original is replaced by Jerry Garcia's usual aimless noodling, and the overall feeling and sweep of the song is reduced to their sort of DIY aesthetic that doesn't carry nearly the same weight as the Marty Robbins version. They were a band that certainly had their moments, but I feel there's too much to sift through in each concert recording to get to the good stuff. Although guitarist Bob Weir claims the song was their "most requested number." So what do I know.

A+