You can be sure you won't suffer no more
A small tribute to the blues musician Ted Hawkins
The first words I heard Ted Hawkins sing, it was a song called ‘Sorry you’re sick.’
Good morning my darling, I’m telling you this
To let you know that I’m sorry you’re sick
Those tears of sorrow won’t do you no good
I’d be your doctor if only I couldWhat do you want from the liquor store?
Something sour or something sweet?
I’ll buy you all that your belly can hold
You can be sure you won’t suffer no more
Immediately, Hawkins hooked me in. I can’t remember ever having been so struck by a voice. It’s grand, simple, witty and tragic, all at the same time. There’s absolutely no pretence or pretension. Somehow this voice seemed very important, and I wondered why I’d never heard of him before.
Because of the lifestyle he chose to lead, not many people seem to have heard of Ted Hawkins. He lived from 1936 to 1995, and recorded a total of nine albums. For much of his life he was in and out of jail – as a teenager he served three years for stealing a leather jacket – and was addicted to heroin and booze for long periods of time. He was a drifter, a vagrant, a busker, a bum, with little genuine interest in self-promotion. He alternated between being a fairly well-regarded performer in Europe and an anonymous street musician in the States, and never really enjoyed recording or even performing indoors. He died of a stroke at the age of 58, shortly after the release of his first breakthrough recording, The Next Hundred Years.
Alcoholism is one of the major themes of his lyrics. He doesn’t revel in being an alcoholic – nor does he romanticise being a drifter – but acknowledges and accepts the fact. He tells the story of his life with frankness, directness and simplicity. His lyrics are wry and slightly self-effacing, as if he’s always smiling with one corner of his mouth. But he maintains great dignity.
There stands the glass
That will ease all my pain
That will settle my brain
It’s my first one todayThere stands the glass
That will drown all my fears
That will hide all my tears
Brother, I’m on my way
Another common theme is loneliness, loss. There is genuine tragedy at the core of his songs. But somehow they are not introspective, and Hawkins never wallows or plays his sadness up. In the best tradition of the blues, he just tells it how it is. His voice is the voice of someone who’s spent a long time observing the world, and accepts its sadness as a fact.
There’s often an invisible other person, a woman or a drinking partner, whom Hawkins addresses in his songs. They never talk back – they might be drunk, in tears or walking out of the door – and the experience of hearing this yearning one-way conversation is like eavesdropping on a private moment. His songs are short scenes of his everyday life, and remind me a lot of Raymond Carver’s short stories.
These words are from a song called ‘Stop your crying.’ Whether sung or written down, I find them heartbreakingly sad:
Are you crying?
I thought you was laughing
Hold up your head, baby
And let me seeIf you want me to go
Why are you weeping?
Stop your crying, darling
It’ll be alrightHoney, you know that I cannot stand to hear…
But Hawkins miraculously avoids being bleak or miserable. His music has too much warmth for that, and the lyrics are full of charm and humour. He manages to maintain a kind of noble alcoholic’s sadness while never taking his sufferings too seriously. There’s a brilliant song from his first album ‘Watch your step’ that shows him at his least serious. It’s set in a swinging party – one of the rare songs on the album accompanied by a full band – when suddenly Hawkins interrupts, yelling:
Wait, hold it, hold it, hold it, stop the music! Stop this music!
Who got my natural comb…?Who got my natural comb?
Who got my natural comb?
I ain’t got no comb to comb my hair
(hey hey hey)
Nobody seems to hear a word I say
(hey hey hey)
You know what I’m talking about –
Don’t make me turn this party out!
That’s what I got to do!Who got my natural comb?
Who got my natural comb?
Who got my natural comb?
If I don’t find my stone comb,
Ain’t nobody going home!I broke two of those other kind of funny combs
You know the kind I’m talking about
My hair wouldn’t stand no foolishness –
Like me, it’s much too stout (ow!)
It’s just a brilliant image, him storming around the room, threatening to throw out all his guests, furiously demanding his favourite stone comb, which presumably one of his boozy buddies has filched.
Ted Hawkins is a truly wonderful man. I recommend you listen to his music.
I’ll have to listen to him, friend.