Ain’t That Sad
I bought this record for the same reason I buy a lot of records. I liked the look of it. I liked his name. I liked the clothes he wore and the way he stood. I liked his haircut. I liked the way he stared straight at the camera. I liked the fact that it was on Poppy. I liked that it was recorded in Nashville. I liked that, among his own songs, he’d recorded one song by Merle Travis, one by Dylan and two by Townes Van Zandt. I liked the title of the first song: Hell Walks The Street. I even liked the way he held his cigarette. It looked like a hard, dirty, strange record. It looked like the real deal. it looked good.
And it was. It is. It was everything I wanted. Soulful, thoughtful, never easy, never expected. When I put the record on I immediately liked his voice. The honesty of it. I liked the arrangements. I liked the way it stayed separate from Nashville, separate from California, separate from the South. It seemed to have its own place, its own reason, its own attitude. I liked the speed of it, the sound of it. It sounded like the real deal. it sounded good.
Since I bought it I’ve seen the name Shirl Milete on plenty of Country records. He’s found a place in Nashville, writing strong, deep songs for the few country singers brave enough to sing them. But I wish there’d been another Shirl Milete record. I wish that I’d been able to stumble across another cover I liked the looked of, and a collection of songs I liked the sound of.