I am pretty sure he never went to class, I know this because I never did and always saw him. He liked the Dead, I liked the Dead, he lived across the hall....and of course he was always in my room. But the first time I ever heard David Allan Coe was the day after he fixed his tape deck up so he could sing karaoke and on that day he faced the speakers out into the quad so everyone could hear him croon while baked on vanilla Glade.
"Trying like the Devil to find the Lord, working like a nigger for my room and board....
.....coal burning stove no natural gas, if that ain't country I'll kiss you ass."
Lyrics, yea offensive to people I guess but I must say that there was something in that song (which if you take the time to listen to will find it is a fantastically written song) that made me want to hear more. I hiked upstairs and asked him for the album, his dirty hands with pieces of stems and resin handed it to me. On the cover was this man with a bandanna, tatts all over his hands and a rhinestone white leather jack. "For The Record David Allan Coe".
I memorized that entire album in about two night before I gave it back, at the time there being no iTunes and the nearest music store was miles away, I was sans car. Eventually the whole floor caught on, even our black RA and the one other black dude on campus (this was a New England Liberal Arts College) would belt out lines when we were drinking on Thursday, Friday,...well many nights. Which was a polarizing event, it made me realize that good music transcends a lot of things, even some redneck mouthing words that would get a man killed in most urban areas and here I was singing them with a black guy.
There are too many stories about DAC to recall for this post. That spring when three roommates came back home to Jersey with me to see the Coe man and ended up passed out: In my hallway outside my parents room, on the toilet and in the kitchen. My house being a small three bedroom abode in which we never closed our bedroom doors. DAC at a rodeo in Virginia, at the Flora-Bama in Pensacola....I have seen him too many times to recall and like the man himself, all colorful events.
However I chose this song, though this version is only just over a minute long, because it is only his voice and what a powerful voice it is. It breaks through the stereotypes of the man, the implied racism of a past age, the murder charge and prison time, the totally off color album he put out with songs such as "Itty Bitty Titties" ...compared to this voice the rest is just, well, conversation.
It is beautiful and pure, it is the exact opposite of the image he portrays and, I think, is one of the reasons why those with more of a household name (Willie, Waylon, Johnny, Kris) call him a friend and a great musician.
