Saddle Up
Saddle Up
How bands are living western legends
The tour bus leaves at 10pm from the Target on Old Hickory Boulevard. The band loads drums and guitars into cases and climbs the steps to sit in the lounge. With a sigh, the bus rides away from familiarity, and the band gets a few hours of shut-eye. Sometime in the middle of the night, the driver stretches his legs under the neon moon of a giant Flying J sign.
John Wayne, in The Good the Bad and the Ugly, plays a downtrodden cowboy who rides into a dusty town with no more than two revolvers and the clothes on his back. But those guns - and the quick hands they belong to - have earned him the right to live one tall tale after another. So it goes with a thousand other cowboy tales.
He goes unrecognized for some time, until a pivotal moment, when luck puts him in the right place at the right time. Cleaning a pistol on the front porch of the cantina, he witnesses an event that gives him no choice but to use his power for good. He joins up with a ragtag band to slay the enemy, change the people’s lives, and then ride out as the town comes alive again.
He started off in life with the short end of the stick - single mother, wrong side of the tracks, that kind of story. But he doesn’t shoot and ride for the money, really. It’s a duty. And when returns home to live in the shadows as an ordinary guy, he is still extraordinary if you look closely. His pistols hang on a hook by the door because another town will need him soon. And he never stays home long.
Back on the tour bus, wearing black jeans and a black t shirt, with his guitar in its holser, meet the modern day Nashville ranger. He rides into a desperate town as the crowd gathers. When the noise swells to a dull roar, he strides out, Fender rifle slung over his shoulder and a Shure revolver in hand. On either side, a small posse of leather-heeled desperados. Their quick hands fire their weapons, ringing out loud and hitting their targets. Monotony and Disillusionment had victimized its poor captives, but now they lie face down outside the venue. And as the smoke clears and the townspeople cheer, the cowboys are already saddling up to ride out into the sunset. But before they leave for parts unknown, they give mementos to a few admiring kids and shake the labor-worn hands of peasants whose lives are forever marked by the unknown man with a guitar.
Trade saguaro trees for interstate signs and Colt 45s for Beta 58s. Winchesters for Humbachers. Keep the jeans, boots, and leather, most of it anyhow. Pull on your hat and saddle up your Prevost to save the next town, wherever it is.