Jimmy Buffett passed away on September 1st from a form of skin cancer. In memoriam I decided to post a commemoration. I am not a huge fan, but the man did have a few songs I liked. Let’s start with an obituary. I think The Guardian captured it well.
Jimmy Buffett, who has died aged 76, was an American singer-songwriter whose country-tinged soft rock celebrated the laid-back culture of the Florida Keys on the Caribbean coast of the US. Sometimes known as the “tropical troubadour”, his songs often featured the voices of characters who appreciated the aimless pleasures of beach life: smoking weed, drinking rum and eating boiled shrimps, messing around in boats and generally watching the world go by.
His life is summarized with three paragraphs.
Buffett was born in
Pascagoula, Mississippi, but grew up in the nearby port town of Mobile in
Alabama, where his parents, James and Mary (nee Peets), both worked in administrative
roles for the Alabama Drydock and Shipbuilding Company. After attending
McGill–Toolen Catholic high school he went to Auburn University in Alabama,
where he took up the guitar, neglected his studies and dropped out after a
year. Restarting his education at the University of Southern Mississippi in
Hattiesburg, he graduated with a history degree in 1969.
After a period playing in
clubs in New Orleans, Buffett moved in 1970 to Nashville, Tennessee, to record
his first low-key album, Down to Earth, while working as a journalist on
Billboard music magazine.
In 1971 he gave up on writing in favour of relocating to Key West, an island in the Straits of Florida that is nearer to Cuba than Miami. In what was then a rather run-down, pre-tourist-boom setting, he generally lived the life he sang about in his songs – busking, playing in bars for drinking money, hiring himself out as a crew member on yachts and lazing around in the sun.
What
is interesting in that little summary is that he grew up Catholic, and there
are a number of articles that expressed how Catholicism influenced his
work. Here is an article from the National Catholic Register, “Jimmy Buffett: More Catholic Than You Think?”
The “Margaritaville” singer was raised Catholic, though he did not — at least openly — appear to practice his faith later in life. But according to one commentator, Buffett’s music contained — at least upon closer examination — some deeper, and arguably Catholic, themes, especially when it came to the importance of balancing work and play.
Frankly, I’m unconvinced. Buffett doesn’t express a balance of work and play. He played in a semi-hedonistic way. As I surveyed his songs, I was surprised how much boozing and drugs were on display. He was indulgent to the max. His biggest hit is “Margaritaville,” with the central verse, “Wasted away again in Margaritaville.” He has songs titled “Why Don’t We Get Drunk,” and I won’t repeat the verse that follows the title verse, and another called “The Wino and I Know,” “Too Drunk to Karaoke.” I would say more songs than not have abuse of alcohol or drugs or sex involved. So no, I don’t think he had much Catholicism in his music.
At
his best he had an ability to present a story within the structure of a song,
and often those songs have nifty, winsome lyrics. Here is his greatest hit where he tells the
story of some botched affair.
In addition to the story of being stone drunk from a split with a woman, his progression in the closing of the chorus lines (from “Some people claim that there's a woman to blame/But I know it's nobody's fault” to “Now I think, - hell it could be my fault” to finally “And I know it's my own damn fault”) shows a sobering contrition, and really makes the song special.
Some
of his other hits include “Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitudes,” “Cheeseburger
in Paradise, “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere,” “Come Monday,” and others. His songs seem to break down into three
types: a winsome story, a story of indulgence, and a contemplative song. I found his contemplative songs to be more
interesting. I had not realized until I
did this research how contemplative his songs could be. Here is a very early on in his career, one
where he had not developed his Gulf Coast subject matter. “He Went to Paris.”
Here’s
the closing stanza
Now he lives in the
islands, fishes the pilin's
And drinks his green
label each day
He's writing his memoirs
and losing his hearing
But he don't care what
most people say
Through eighty-six years
of perpetual motion
If he likes you he'll
smile then he'll say
Jimmy, some of it's
magic, some of it's tragic
But I had a good life all
the way
And he went to Paris
looking for answers
To questions that bother him so
It’s a folksy, country song but it shows most of the style of his later work: the highly developed storyline, the frequent internal rhyming, and the settling into the Gulf lifestyle.
I
think one of my favorites is “A Pirate Looks at Forty.” Here is a live version with Sarah McLanahan.
The
lyrics are worth having in front of you.
Mother, mother ocean, I
have heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your
waters
Since I was three feet
tall
You've seen it all,
you've seen it all
Watch the men who rode
you
Switch from sails to
steam
And in your belly you
hold the treasure
That few have ever seen,
most of them dreams
Most of them dreams
Yes, I am a pirate two
hundred years too late
The cannons don't thunder
there's nothin' to plunder
I'm an over forty victim
of fate
Arriving too late,
arriving too late
I've done a bit of
smugglin'
I've run my share of
grass
I made enough money to
buy Miami
But I pissed it away so
fast
Never meant to last, never
meant to last
I have been drunk now for
over two weeks
I passed out and I
rallied and I sprung a few leaks
But I've got to stop
wishin'
Got to go fishin', I'm
down to rock bottom again
Just a few friends, just
a few friends
[Instrumental]
I go for younger women,
lived with several awhile
And though I ran away,
they'll come back one day
And still could manage a
smile
It just takes awhile,
just takes awhile
Mother, mother ocean,
after all these years I've found
My occupational hazard
being my occupation's just not around
I feel like I've drowned
Gonna head uptown
The ocean as a mother image and his desire to sail and live off the ocean, good and bad leads to some reflection and assessment.
“Biloxi”
perhaps a return to folk music seems to hint at his autobiography.
Down around Biloxi
Pretty girls are dancin'
in the sea
They all look like
sisters in the ocean
The boy will fill his
pail with salty water
And the storms will blow
from off towards New Orleans
Sun shines on Biloxi
Air is filled with vapors
from the sea
Boy will dig a pool
beside the ocean
He sees creatures from
his dream underwater
And the sun will set from
off towards New Orleans
Stars can see Biloxi
Stars can find their
faces in the sea
We are walking down
beside the ocean
We are splashing naked in
the water
And the sky is red from
off towards New Orleans
And the sky is red from
off towards New Orleans
Down around Biloxi
Pretty girls are swimming
in the sea
They all look like
sisters in the ocean
The boy will fill his
pail with salty water
And the storms will blow
from off toward New Orleans
Is he the boy with the pail? It seems so.
I
would be remiss if I didn’t provide an example of a fast paced, Caribbean
sailor song. Here’s “One Particular
Harbor.”
Finally,
let end with one song I think captures the essence of Jimmy Buffett,
storyteller, native sprout of the Gulf coast, and contemplative rascal, “"Son
Of A Son Of A Sailor.” Here is a live
version with an interesting intro.
His fans are referred to as "Parrotheads," and you can see people in the audience wearing those funny head wear.
The
lyrics are wonderful.
As the son of a son of a
sailor
I went out on the sea for
adventure
Expanding their view of
the captain and crew
Like a man just released
from indenture
As a dreamer of dreams
and a travelin' man
I have chalked up many a
mile
Read dozens of books
about heroes and crooks
And I've learned much
from both of their styles
Son of a son, son of a
son, son of a son of a sailor
Son of a gun; load the
last ton
One step ahead of the
jailer
Now away in the near
future, southeast of disorder
You can shake the hand of
the mango man
As he greets you at the
border
And the lady she hails
from Trinidad
Island of the spices
Salt for your meat and
cinnamon sweet
And the rum is for all
your good vices
Haul the sheet in as we
ride on the wind that our
Forefathers harnessed
before us
Hear the bells ring as
the tight rigging sings
It's a son of a gun of a
chorus
Where it all ends I can't
fathom, my friends
If I knew, I might toss
out my anchor
So I'll cruise along
always searchin' for songs
Not a lawyer, a thief or
a banker
But a son of a son, son
of a son, son of a son of a sailor
Son of a gun, load the
last ton
One step ahead of the
jailer
I'm just a son of a son,
son of a son, son of a son of a sailor
The sea's in my veins, my
tradition remains
I'm just glad I don't
live in a trailer
Well,
he is no longer sailing and searching for songs. May he have found peace in the Lord in the
end and his Catholic faith shaped his destiny.
Eternal rest in peace.
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