I first discovered Loudon Wainwright III (who, from here on out I'll just call Loudon) on the bonus features of Judd Apatow's short-lived television show, Undeclared. On the bonus DVD, we see Loudon sitting in an intimate bar, singing to a small, but seemingly devoted audience. He had them listening with rapt attention and laughing every now and then. Hearing his voice and his songs made me feel intrigued and a bit anxious. Eventually, I even had to leave the room I was so overtaken.
For me, listening to Loudon singing live was like being a novice swimmer and diving into the deep-end, when I thought it was the shallow end. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed. What do I do with this new discovery? How do I handle the fact that this brilliant (and, perhaps insane) man has existed for years and years and I never knew his music? I think Loudon could have helped me through those terrible teens; instead of the often-times overly sentimental Simon and Garfunkel on which I came to rely (suprisingly, I was a teenager in the 90's, it's just that Nine Inch Nails didn't always do it for me). Instead of being a rock or an island, I could have opted to be a one man guy--or girl, in my case. Hearing Loudon's melancholy tales told through gorgeous folk songs brought a piece of that age-old depression from my younger years back to life and that, I think more than anything, made me walk away from the television. But I didn't--couldn't--stay away for long.
A friend of ours bought my husband and I a couple of Loudon's CDs for Christmas (or was it a birthday?) one year and we listened to it whenever we set foot in the car. His best work is live recordings, so if you're going to give him a whirl, I recommend buying a live album first. I enjoyed Loudon's honesty, his sense of humor and all of the above mentioned traits of his music, but I didn't fall in love with him until I heard two particular songs. Both songs can be found on his 2003 live CD, So Damn Happy.
The first song that caught my attention is one he does a capella; Between. His voice sounds delicious and reminds me more of his son, Rufus, than it normally does. It is hard to put into words the way I feel when I hear this song and I'm not going to try too hard because my brain might overheat. Instead, I will share one part of this song that is trademark Loudon. In the middle of Between with all of it's drama and sincerity, Loudon sings, "You're in between your whole life long, what happens when you die?" and then he pauses, and asks, "Anybody?" like Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The audience bursts into laughter after which, he continues with the song at the same intensity as before.
There are two remarkable things about this point in the song. First of all, it's really funny, and that's quite typical of Loudon. He mixes the funny with the sad like an alchemist. But the other thing is that the audience is listening to every single lyric that comes out of his mouth. Having been an audience member for two of his performances, I know this to be the case. Even if you've already heard the song, you hang onto his every word because you don't want to miss a thing. Not only that, but even the songs you don't know, you enjoy and love--which is another thing I've found unique to his performances.The second song that caught me like a punch in the gut is 4 x 10. This is one of the most poignant songs I know. It's Loudon talking to his wife about the reason they are splitting up. The lyrics give listeners a clue that Loudon's family probably only hear about his feelings if they pick up one of his albums. But I digress. The songs opens, "It's not strange, no mystery, you and I are history. I've put up my protective wall. It's four feet thick and ten feet tall." The soft refrain of the guitar is melodic and oddly soothing. He continues to sing about how childhood sets you up for this kind of failure in life. "Boys kiss the girls, that makes them cry. It's a man's job, that is why. But when you cry, you're just a clone of every woman I have known." Ouch! How's that for honesty? But you get the feeling that he doesn't relish this fact and I think it pains him as much as it does me, though I may be projecting here.
There's just one more line from 4 x 10 that I have to share and then I'll stop shoving it down your throat. This line haunts me whenever I think of family dynamics: "Once it's up, it [the wall] won't come down. Mom's a queen and dad's a clown." How true is that?! I've seen that played out in practically all the families I've known. But that's how Loudon rolls. He's honest to the point where it hurts and as he reveals the pains and pleasures of his life, he reveals the very same in yours.
Of course, not everything is serious with Mr. Wainwright. There are those humorous selections, like Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road, for which he is best known. When I've mentioned liking Loudon Wainwright III to people of my parents' generation, they remember Loudon as a silly songwriter. Often, I want to reply, "But he's so much more than that!"
If you have the same impression of Loudon, or if you have no impression at all, I recommend giving him a try. I believe that, as long as you aren't one of the family members he so honestly speaks of in his songs, you might like him.
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