The Prairie Passion of Slaid Cleaves by Richard Cuccaro

In December of 2000, about a year before he died, Dave Van Ronk told me this: 
"There is a collective American unconscious. Songwriters who tap into it create songs 
that have a resonance. Those who ignore it create works that are ethereal, with no bottom. 
So petit bourgeois, so suburban… They just float…"

Thankfully, there are still some songwriters who tap into that collective American 
consciousness. A number of them work out of Austin, Texas. Slaid Cleaves is one of 
them. If you tally up his hardscrabble experiences on the road and the observations he's 
made there, then add in his storytelling ability, you've got the sum of a man whose work 
will embody the bedrock of not just American life, but basic human experience. 
It's a long way from Maine, where Slaid Cleaves grew up, to Austin, Texas, where he now 
calls home. There have been a lot of stops along the way, especially when the touring, past 
and present, gets factored in.

 photo: Warren Churgin

The title of his most current CD is called Wishbones and it packs a wallop. More on that later. 
His previous CD, Broke Down is of particular initial significance. The title cut refers to the 
sad story of a couple whose relationship has crumbled under the weight of bad decisions. 
It could also refer to the recurring state of the kind of automobiles Slaid has used while 
bringing his music to live audiences in concert halls, coffeehouses and barrooms across the 
United States. He's had to become adept at replacing parts and splicing wires to keep his 
wheels moving. In the process, he's learned his way around a few automobile junkyards. 

In the liner notes from the CD by Steve Brooks, we read: "Broke down. Again. On a muggy 
June night, somewhere East of Memphis, Slaid and his band are trying to reach Nashville 
by dawn. It's been a hundred miles since the first flat. This time, it's the spare that blows.
For Slaid, this is riding in style. He's left his '74 Dart with the John Deere paint job back home 
in Texas and picked up a '77 Dodge van. It's got an honest-to-goodness bunk in the back, so 
he can conk out while someone else takes the wheel. Besides, when something goes wrong, 
this is the kind of old beast he generally can fix. Sure enough, he patches the tire, and they 
roll on into Music City. The band chows down, while Slaid flips through the Yellow Pages. 
He finds a set of four Tiger Paws for $100. 'I got a great deal,' he beams."

One of the things I've come to learn, doing research into Slaid is how driven and dedicated 
he is to making music his living. It reads like a textbook on what it takes to overcome the setbacks, 
especially for someone working with original songs, in a non-top-40 format. What makes his success 
even greater is the way he's stuck to his preference for songs that tell sad stories.

Beginnings
As a child growing up in South Berwick, Maine, Slaid discovered his parents' record collection. 
There was jazz and folk from his mom and country and rock 'n roll from his dad. he remembers 
listening to Mahalia Jackson and Woody Guthrie. His taste for sad songs started here. From his 
web site we learn: "… the tragic stuff. That's always been what's moved me. When I was five I 
would cry when I heard Hank sing 'Poor Old Kawliga.' …Hank wrote a few fun songs, but the 
ones that endure are the darkest and saddest:  'I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry,'  'Cold Cold Heart,' 
'The Angel of Death.'"

From the 2nd grade through the 10th grade, his listening choices included Bruce Springsteen, 
Tom Waits, Tom Petty and U2. Later, he'd add Bob Seger and the J. Geils Band. In his teenage 
years he teamed up with friend and still-occasional co-writer, Rod Picott to form a garage cover band, 
The Magic Rats, named after a character in a Bruce Springsteen song. After the band broke up, 
each continued on to their own careers. Slaid began writing in high school, while still playing 
keyboards in various bands.

Ireland Calling 
It was in college that he took up guitar and began writing. He recieved a Bachelor  of Arts 
from Tufts University where he studied English and Philosophy. There was a year spent with 
a band playing New Wave and U2 covers. Then, band politics forced a breakup and Slaid heard 
Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska. 

In 1985, he spent nine months in Ireland, studying on a Tufts student exchange program. 
A fairly lax pre-Christmas school schedule and time spent in flight from a bitter romantic breakup 
provided the spark to study guitar and learn songs. He steadily learned one song per day until he 
began on November 18th, the 2-year anniversary of his first date with the  aforementioned source 
of heartache. One of the many buskers in Cork City showed him the ropes as he went about building 
his chops as a solo performer (or as a friend of mine once put it, "growing a set of balls").

After graduating from college, he spent the summer of 1987 busking up and down the East coast.
In 1989 Slaid moved to Portland Maine. He did some street busking and then got a 9-to-5 job 
developing film at $4.50 an hour. He got fed up with that quickly, so he tried singing in bars and 
discovered that he could make more money that way. This was how he met his future wife, Karen. 
She was passing by and stopped in at one of his gigs. He had also formed a band, the Moxie Men, 
which lasted until 1991. At that point he and Karen moved to Austin. They married in 1994.
Austin

When Slaid got to Austin, he tried sending a tape of his work to clubs, but got no responses. 
Austin was up to its ears in musicians. So he started street singing again. as he describes it in 
an article from the "press" section on his web site: I've played the open mike circuit and I paid 
my dues. I paid my dues playing the Sunday night ten o'clock slot, you know, just really lot of 
frustration, but also a lot of time. I discovered Pharmaco the first year up here and I was able to 
help support myself. Karen had a job. She actually help support me and I contributed somewhat 
with the Pharmaco money. I spent a lot of time writing songs, trying to write new songs and 
working on my songs.    &emdash;from an interview by Paul Johnston

Explaining Pharmaco: "From My Day Job" (1996):
I take drugs for a living. I'm a human guinea pig. A lab rat. A medical research volunteer. 
Pharmaco International pays me to stay in their facility for about $100 a day. Some studies only 
last a couple of days. Some are comprised of several weekend stays. Right now I'm in the middle 
of a long term study. 22 days. We are in the facility for the entire time, except for a few 20 minute 
walks around the building for fresh air. No visitors. No outside food. Hospital type meals are provided,
 along with newspapers, movies, pay phones and a clip board that tells us where to be and when for 
certain "procedures."     (check out those stories!)

Slaid worked to improve his songwriting and  began getting known around Austin. He won the best 
new folk award at the prestigious Kerrville Festival. One established artist let him sing with his band 
once in a while and Tom Pittman from the Austin Lounge Lizards was supportive, going to Slaid's 
shows and offering him opening gigs here and there. A couple of the local DJs were supportive, 
playing his music. He'd also go back to Portland periodically, to play in front of people who knew him, 
just to make some money.

The Break
In early 1996 he sent out demo tapes. No one  responded, but he met Ken Irwin from Rounder 
Records at South By Southwest Festival and he expressed an interest, saying he really enjoyed 
Slaid's demo tape. A deal was worked out with Rounder/Philo and Slaid began working with 
mult-instrumentalist/producer Gurf Morlix (who has worked with Lucinda Williams, Ray Wylie 
Hubbard, Robert Earl Keen, and Jimmy LaFave, among many others). No Angel Knows was 
released in 1997, and Slaid's career took a small spike upward. Although touring was now possible, 
with a CD to push, money was still tight and it was still difficult to make enough to pay his sidemen 
decent money. He began working with Gurf in 1999 on the next album. In 2000, Broke Down was 
released. Reviews were ecstatic, and Slaid began touring more and paying debts, both on his credit 
cards and to Karen.

I Get Educated
When I first heard Broke Down, it didn't fully resonate for me. I took Slaid for a Townes Van Zant 
wannabe. Sometimes I'm just not ready. Back then some of the verses seemed facile to me. 
I saw him live and saw how he could rock, too, but things didn't fully kick in until this year, 
when I heard Wishbones. I was especially drawn to "Drinkin' Days" where he reels off the names 
of the bars: "I used to hang at the  Horsehoe, you'd see me spinning at the Broken Spoke. I'd take 
my gal to the Gaslight. We'd live on whiskey and smoke." I  am particularly fond of the summary 
viewpoint in the line: "My drinkin' days are over, but I'm still troublebound."

 photo: Warren Churgin

Also on Wishbones, there's "Horses," written about a refrigerator repairman Willy McCann 
("If it ain't chilly, call Willy") "Well I'll be go to Hell, I got nothing but a Ford and a barn full of hay. 
If it weren't for horses and divorces, I'd be a lot better off today."  The effect for me is a flashback 
to the '50's when my father introduced me to Country/Western music by people like Faron Young 
("You Done Me Wrong") and Ernest Tubb ("The Women Make a Fool Outa Me"). It's raw, visceral 
and totally honest.
I recently heard Slaid at the Outpost in the Burbs in New Jersey, where we sat down and conducted 
a short interview. In addition to the newer material, my interest in Slaid had been piqued by a story 
that had come over the internet about a confrontation he had recently at Johhny D's in Somerville, 
Mass. The bouncer there had persisted in keeping a TV on showing a sports event while Slaid was 
playing. Slaid found it distracting and he thought no one was watching so he shut it off. The management 
sided with the bouncer and pulled the plug on Slaid. He finished the set out on the sidewalk for the people 
who came to see him. I was impressed with Slaid's firm stand and became very eager to do a story on him. 

At the concert, I got reacquainted with Broke Down and realized how good it really is. His cover of 
Karen Poston's "Lydia," about a woman who's living with bitter memories of her dead husband and 
firstborn child is wrenching.  Now I play it over and over: "Oh Lydie, let him go. The boy is gone. 
Her mother struggled as she tore him from her arms. Oh Lydia, your tears are heaven's rain. But she 
never was the same."

"Breakfast in Hell" is a true story about a life-and-death struggle with a logjam in Canada that Gordon 
Lightfoot would've been proud to have written. "One Good Year" was one that initially gave me trouble. 
The lines "Just give me one good year to get my feet back on the ground. I've been chasing grace, 
but grace ain't so easily found" seemed facile then, but today they reverberate and I savor them.

The tag line on the pages of Slaid's web site www.slaid.com reads: "Slaid Cleaves. Grew up in Maine. 
Lives in Texas. Writes songs. Makes records. Travels around. Tries to be good." 

He is. 
Very good. 
If I ever meet him at The Horseshoe (or any bar), 
I'll raise a glass to him for a long and rewarding career. 
He's earned it.

Slaid is playing Joe's Pub in New York City August 3rd & 6th. Check our listings for details. 
• He's also playing on Saturday, Aug 7 in Newport, RI at the Apple & Eve Folk Festival 
  Fort Adams State Park - Borders Stage, 
• On Sunday, Aug 8 in Newmarket, NH at The Stone Church, 5 Granite Street,  
• Tuesday, Aug 10 in Ridgefield, CT at Ballard Park  at Main & Gilbert Streets 
   (Free Outdoor Concert) 6:30pm  
• Wednesday Aug 11, Bethlehem, PA, Bethlehem Musik Fest, 
   Walnut Street and Guetter Street (Free Outdoor Concert) 
• Thursday, Aug 12 Amenia, NY at the Silo Ridge Country Club Rte. 22   7:30pm