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- Herausgeber: tredition
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
He is considered one of the most influential songwriters of the 20th century, founder of the Tulsa sound, forerunner of the Americana concept, pioneer of the “laid-back” brand. Admired by stars such as Eric Clapton, Mark Knopfler, Tom Petty, Johnny Cash, Carlos Santana and Neil Young, J.J. Cale (1938 - 2013) left behind an invaluable legacy: global hits such as Cocaine, After Midnight and Call Me The Breeze, a unique guitar style and an inimitable vocal aesthetic. His life's work is gigantic, yet he remained a quiet master. Blues musician, Swiss Blues Award winner and author Richard Koechli writes a stirring book about J.J. Cale's music and career, about the myths that surround him, the historical context and the philosophy of musical restraint. The book is accompanied by Koechli's successful tribute album “The Real Chill, Remembering J.J.” for free download (the album has received excellent reviews from J.J. Cale's inner circle and has been streamed more than 6 million times since 2020).
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Seitenzahl: 541
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Imprint
© 2025 Richard Koechli www.richardkoechli.ch/en
Author of the original German edition: Richard Koechli
English translation: Richard Koechli, deepL
Typesetting, layout, cover design: Richard Koechli
Some of the graphic elements are licensed under:
shutterstock.com 2473379703 / 2444015075 (Burbuzin / THP Creative)
Printed and distributed on behalf of the author by: tredition GmbH, Heinz-Beusen-Stieg 5, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany
ISBN Softcover 978-3-384-55942-5
ISBN Hardcover 978-3-384-55943-2
ISBN E-Book 978-3-384-55944-9
This work, including its parts, is protected by copyright. The author is responsible for the contents. Any use without his consent is prohibited. The publication and distribution are made on behalf of the author, who can be contacted at: Richard Koechli, Seehalde 22, 6243 Egolzwil, Switzerland. Contact address according to EU General Product Safety Regulation: [email protected]
Free Download
Richard Koechli's tribute album “The Real Chill, Remembering J.J.” can be listened to on all streaming platforms.
The link for a free mp3 download of the album can be found at this internet address:
www.richardkoechli.ch/images/real-chill-downloads.pdf
I would like to thank: John Weldon Cale for his life's work, all the sources mentioned in the epilogue for their valuable information, my manager Hape Schuwey for coordination and promotion, Urs and Fränzi Friderich for the advertising campaign, Evelyne Rosier for tips and joie de vivre, my parents Marlise and Walter Köchli for lifelong inspiration and support, and the Lord for my basic trust.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Preface
Chapter 1 - Tim's Crazy Idea
Chapter 2 - The Strange at Home
Chapter 3 - Tulsa
Chapter 4 - Los Angeles
Chapter 5 - The Happy Pill
Chapter 6 - Nashville
NATURALLY (1971)
REALLY (1972)
OKIE (1974)
FIVE (1979)
J.J. CALE FEATERING LEON RUSSELL - IN SESSION AT THE PARADISE STUDIOS (1979)
Chapter 7 – The Ride Goes on
SHADES (1981)
GRASSHOPPER (1982)
#8 (1983)
TRAVEL LOG (1990)
NUMBER 10 (1992)
CLOSER TO YOU (1994)
GUITAR MAN (1996)
J.J. CALE LIVE (2001)
TO TULSA AND BACK (2004)
THE ROAD TO ESCONDIDO (2006)
REWIND (2007)
ROLL ON (2009)
Epilogue
J.J. Cale - Remembering his unique laidback music
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Preface
Epilogue
J.J. Cale - Remembering his unique laidback music
Cover
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Preface
John Weldon Cale (December 5, 1938 - July 26, 2013), known as J.J. Cale. With his serene mix of blues, rockabilly, country and jazz, he made an invaluable contribution to music history. His records enjoy cult status, his songs have been covered by famous colleagues such as Eric Clapton, his guitar style was a great inspiration for Mark Knopfler, his aesthetics of quiet singing remain unrivaled, his laconic lyrics are impressionistic works of art, his recordings milestones in the history of recording studios. Everything has been achieved - and yet hardly anyone outside the fan zone seems to know him. Cale was not made for the big hype. The lone wolf spent half his life working to remain unrecognized; for a long time, especially here in Europe, hardly anyone knew the face behind this ominous songwriter because he refused to be depicted on his albums on principle. His concern was music, nothing but music. His own person seemed unimportant to him; he wanted to have his peace. Not that he was cool or dismissive, quite the opposite. John was naturally modest, humorous and self-deprecating. He knew what he was capable of, looked for his chance, but never took off, never got too close to the sun. Success, yes, but only just enough to be able to live and work in a relaxed manner. He wanted to be ordinary.
Nothing is more inspiring than writing about ordinary people. And then there's this music - a never-ending source of joy! His laid-back sound is groundbreaking, timeless; his role in music history is 'criminally' underestimated. Cale's famous students have all long been in the Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame, the Blues Hall of Fame or in any list of the best guitarists of all time - he himself has not. At least there is this wonderful documentary film "To Tulsa And Back" by Jörg Bundschuh. Not a substitute for a book though; the two media are too different. My story here is not intended to be a documentary anyway, not a biography in the conventional sense, and certainly not an authorized one. Only someone from his private circle could write something like that; his widow Christine Lakeland-Cale, for example, or his longtime manager Mike Kappus. We all hope that this will happen soon.
For my book, I have chosen the concept of the fact-based novel. A very personal view of Cale's life's work. The novel form allows for improvisation, embellishment, interpretation; as a blues musician and as an author, I can't exist without that leeway. I think it suits J.J. - when you hear how free he was with his songs on stage, you know he was a player too. So how much of this is fact and how much is fiction? The story with Alvin, the young music journalist, and with Brian, the old man and Cale fan from the very beginning - that is fictitious. Alvin and Brian talk about J.J. Cale's music and the course of his career over the course of a week, and of course I tried to be as precise as possible in my research. The dates, factual content and original locations are based on information that is publicly available. In many cases they are confirmed, but as always there are some question marks and contradictions, even with official information - and that's why you keep hearing Brian and Alvin say "I don't know", "probably", "possibly" or something similar. Another topic is the rumors, the curious myths that surround Cale. Some of them have since been debunked and refuted, others possibly not. Perhaps some are even part of the hide-and-seek game that Cale used to distract attention from his private life. It makes him all the more exciting.
The music is clearly at the center of this book. However, I am also fascinated by the story surrounding it, the music- historical context. No artist in this world becomes great alone; there were a lot of exciting people involved in Cale's career, both famous and less famous. Those who influenced, accompanied or otherwise supported him. Those who inspired him, were inspired by him or were simply around at the same time. Although not everything is directly linked to J.J. Cale - I am interested in such details. If we understand the history of the style better, we can feel the songs even more deeply and perhaps even discover other artists.
When Alvin and Brian discuss J.J. Cale, they often refer to statements that Cale made in interviews. I would find it rather boring to use them verbatim. That's why I generally refrain from using original quotes and only use the content in spirit. In the dialog, these statements are sometimes spun out in a playful way. In my opinion, constant references to sources would get in the way of liveliness and reading enjoyment - it's like constantly shouting "I heard this lick from Muddy Waters, this one from Elmore James, and this one from Chet Atkins" while improvising. It's not going to work out that way, so I'll take the liberty of thanking the esteemed journalists and media who made it possible for me to acquire the basic knowledge only in the epilogue.
In certain moments, for example when the two of them discuss show business or the philosophy of reduced music, it has nothing directly to do with J.J. Cale, of course. It's either the subjective views of two fans, hypotheses or parts of my own thoughts. Well, if a few private insights from my 35 years of involvement with music find their way into the story here, it does indirectly have something to do with J.J. Cale - because he has accompanied and inspired me all these years.
You can spin it any way you like, the story here has only one purpose: to awaken and deepen interest in J.J. Cale and his unique music. It works best in a double pack - the book in one hand, the audio player in the other. Virtually every song mentioned in the book can be listened to legally on the Internet, and you can get even closer to the secret of his music if you get hold of his albums!
Enjoy this fantastic ride through the history of Laidback music! As a free supplement to the book, you can download my tribute album The Real Chill, Remembering J.J. Cale (released in 2020). If you would like to say thank you, you can support an animal welfare organization, for example - the welfare of animals was J.J. Cale's express and intense wish.
By the way, this book was also published in 2020, but only in music stores, as a supplement (a giant booklet, so to speak) to the aforementioned tribute CD "The Real Chill". To ensure that the story reaches as many J.J. Cale fans as possible, it is now also being published in bookshops.
A professional, high-quality English translation of the original German edition would cost me a fortune, I really can't afford it. That's why I translated the book with the help of AI (deepL); not simply by pressing a button, of course, but in an effort to check each translated sentence afterwards and optimize it if necessary. However, my knowledge of English is limited, which is why there may still be a couple of strange sentences here and there and the quality of the German text could not be transposed into English in all nuances (e.g. with regard to humor). I ask for your understanding and hope that the worldwide J.J. Cale fan community will still enjoy the book.
Sincerely:
Richard Koechli
Chapter 1 - Tim's crazy idea
Alvin drives slowly, takes his time, is overtaken left and right. I hear there are countries that only allow left-handed overtaking. That's an odd idea. It works perfectly here. Best on one of the two middle lanes, there's no stress with stressed out people. Highways are for everyone. Alvin Lindley knows the track, he drives it every day. From Temecula to San Diego to the editorial office, sixty miles. If it's urgent, it can be done in less than an hour. Not today. He's been working for the San Diego Reader for more than ten years. Not a bad job; a newspaper with a good reputation - and with enough budget also for stories about music. Interviews, reviews, concert reviews, announcements of events. A daily hour there and back, that's worth such a job. And the ride is really fun here in this area. A paradise.
Alvin wouldn't want to live anywhere else in the world. Golden State! State beyond measure. Here you will find the diversity and richness of all America; forests, sequoias, mountain peaks, deserts, wild coasts, white sand beaches. And culture without end, entertainment at its best. Three of the most exciting cities in the world; San Francisco, Los Angeles - and San Diego, of course. A city to fall in love with! The pulse of a big city, spiced with Mexican influence. And then you get in the car and in less than an hour you can be a hermit somewhere in seclusion. The climate too - just the way Alvin likes it. Mediterranean, but not too hot. Mild Mediterranean climate; a long, warm and dry summer. It is June, Monday morning. It is the year 2015.
Anything but a normal Monday morning. Alvin's not going to the newsroom. He's on a week's vacation. Vacation is probably not the right word; he will be working - on a completely extraordinary project. But he has set himself the goal of working in a relaxed manner. This week is dedicated to none other than the master of relaxed music, the king of "laid-back" sound. If it feels like work, it's not laid-back, it's simple. The anticipation is boundless, but there is also nervousness mixed in, because it's pretty uncertain. Maybe deep breathing helps. This chance here never comes back; he has to be relaxed!
Alvin lets himself be overtaken. A pleasure, this Mountain Freeway. "Mountain" is perhaps a bit exaggerated; the passing hills here, left and right, they are not really high - most of them barely six hundred meters above sea level. But they are close by, and will easily outdo you by three hundred metres. That looks like something; but never mighty, because they are not pointy. The four-lane road curves around the hills in a nice and easy way, showing the splendid colours, the Mediterranean mixture of green, brown and red. Up and down it goes. Not abruptly, and yet two hundred meters of altitude difference are already there. As if made for a laidback ride. There is Pala Mesa in front, probably the deepest point of the track, only a few dozen meters above sea level. "Avocado Highway" is the name of the Interstate 15 section. Because here, on thirty thousand hectares, a large part of the Californian avocados are cultivated, picked and transported away. A business worth billions.
Ten minutes to the exit, he estimates. No, we can't get to San Diego today, not even to Escondido. Alvin's gonna take Exit 41 to visit the strange man. At Valley Center! Valley Center isn't the same as Escondido, it's just nearby. Even the late laid-back master must have lived somewhere in this area. Not in Escondido - the title of this record was cool, but staged. Also the album cover, this photo with the two of them at the roadside. It is not the road to Escondido; the picture was taken at the Paramount Movie Ranch in Los Angeles. In the Santa Monica Mountains then, on a Western property where TV series like "Dr. Quinn - Doctor of Passion" were shot. Was it Clapton's idea?
Alvin thinks back to the story told to him by Ralph, a former colleague from the editorial office. The story about Clapton and Cale. Eric Clapton recorded this famous album with his great idol in the summer of 2005, "J.J. Cale & Eric Clapton, The Road To Escondido". One year later the songs were finally mixed and J.J. Cale took his time as usual. The release was finally scheduled for November 2006. A few months before the release, Clapton came back to the area for a photo session for the album cover. A concentrated series of interviews was organized for Cale and Clapton in a hotel in Los Angeles to get the press hot. Ralph had apparently only been in the editorial office for a few days at the time; just to try it out, still without a permanent job. As always in such cases, they'll snarl you up as an assistant first. He helped out as a cable carrier, lighting technician, and he had the job of keeping things quiet during the interview. And then, when the whole thing was over - the big disappointment! Ralph had his old guitar and a felt-tip pen with him, approached superstar Clapton shyly, wanted to shake his hand and politely ask him to sign the cheap instrument. But his guitar hero had no time; Ralph stood there like petrified. J.J. Cale noticed the situation, approached the young assistant and squeezed his hand with a smile: "No stress, man. Eric doesn't mean it. I think he's tired. The next interview starts in two minutes; it's been going on all day, yesterday it was the same thing."
Ralph complained in his usual dramatic way that a world had collapsed for him back then. Alvin wonders today how much of the story is true. It's not impossible that the good guy put a lot of flourish on it back then. To make himself important? Whatever. Ralph no longer works for the San Diego Reader; his style wasn't very well received on the executive floor. But Alvin liked him. And in the end it was Ralph who made him aware of the master's music. So in a way, it was fateful. Alvin had hardly noticed this J.J. Cale before, and suddenly the inconspicuous songwriter entered his life. And how! He became the center of attention in a very short time. And not just because of the songs. Of course, Alvin had gotten all his records, could hardly get out of his amazement and enjoyment and knew that he had dug up a musical treasure for himself. But that's not all, not by a long shot. Cale's music was like a miracle - and saved his family. An incredible story.
Alvin has been married to his wife Sandy for thirteen years. In the beginning it was all like a fairy tale. But then they noticed the strange behavior of their only son Tim. When he was four, they diagnosed him with Kanner Syndrome. Tim suffered from infantile autism. Life became difficult, the nerves often lay bare, and the relationship with Sandy ended up more and more on the test bench. Tim could usually only express that he wanted something by screaming and hitting - and nobody but him knew exactly what it was. The boy's speech was very limited, he could hardly communicate and was restless almost all the time. Until this miracle happened. At home they had heard a lot of music from the beginning, sometimes all three of them together. Alvin always had this idea that sounds and melodies could somehow help Tim, too. Sometimes he actually thought he could feel an effect. In everyday life, especially outdoors, there is noise everywhere; autistic people react to it very strongly. Tim always gets dizziness and headaches. When he listened to music, he sometimes became a little quieter - depending on what kind of music it was. It didn't have much of an effect, but it did. Then eight years ago the big breakthrough happened. Alvin put on a record of the treasure he had just dug up: J.J. Cale. He can't even remember which album, but the magic was incredible. Tim seemed transformed, within minutes. You could tell by his features, his posture, his whole being. There was something that he had never seen before. A mixture of serenity, joy and discovery. The little boy, who otherwise avoided almost any eye contact, looked his parents in the eyes, open and with an expression of familiarity. Alvin and Sandy were crying with joy - and at the same time they were getting scared. It couldn't be right, it was like a spook.
And the haunting did not stop. Tim started talking on the second song. The way he talked was extraordinary. Mostly Tim spoke very little, and when he did, he spoke monotonously, sometimes stuttering, but always with unnatural emphasis. Now he talked completely authentic, relaxed and concentrated. Only a few words, but they hit the heart: "I can see it. Please turn the music up a little louder, so I can see it more clearly." Alvin and Sandy looked at each other questioningly, and the boy kept concentrating. "The sound is real, I can see it, I can walk around in it." Now he closed his eyes. "When my eyes are closed, I can see it even better. I see the sounds, I see colors and shapes. I never told you this - it's always been true, but mostly it's blurred. Now it's sharp, very precise. It's never been so beautiful as this music."
The doctors seemed more or less familiar with the phenomenon, but they were very surprised at the unusual progress Tim was making in a matter of weeks. Of course, the boy was still autistic, often with very difficult moments. But whenever he grabbed the headphones to listen to J.J. Cale's music, this incredible change came. And then it disappeared again, but as time went on, the effect stayed longer. It was as if the effect stubbornly tried to implant itself again and again in Tim's brain and in his soul, until a small remainder of it finally stayed in to give the boy a new form and strength. The changes were obvious. And Tim emphasized again and again that he only wanted to hear this music. "The others just play the piece, but the music is missing. J.J. Cale makes a perfect sound, this man has character." It's amazing how he put it, when he was nine years old.
None of this would have happened if Ralph hadn't been here. No, Alvin has nothing against his former colleague - and after all, Ralph was the only one on the editorial staff who had the good fortune to meet the master in person at that interview in Los Angeles. Awesome! Apparently not even the strange one had this luck.
Alvin takes a deep breath, looks left and right out of the side windows. Soon comes the exit, which will lead him to the strange one. A good-natured little slap on the wheel - a Ford, pretty inexpensive car, family-friendly, environmentally friendly. He slows down the speed once more to enjoy the moment even longer. "As a side effect, I send even less exhaust fumes into the air," he thinks contentedly. I wonder at what speed car freak Clapton might have been driving on this route at the time. In a Porsche or a Ferrari? It doesn't matter. Alvin smiles and thinks of his son again. This spook that was and still is not over. The coronation is still to come. Tim soon grabbed his father's guitar to strum it. It sounded pretty strange at first. But the boy hardly gave the instrument out of his hand anymore - and that contributed to the improvement of his general condition. Suddenly Alvin and Sandy noticed that the boy wasn't playing anything, but the songs of J.J. Cale. No one had taught him how to play; he wouldn't take any advice from Alvin. He wanted to find out for himself. As time went by, it all took shape, got better and better - and Alvin couldn't believe his ears. The boy played the licks and riffs with incredible aplomb. It sounded loose, yet intense. And the most amazing thing: Tim didn't just play the notes. He doesn't replay anything - and nothing twice in the same way. The boy plays "in style of", he improvises. Sometimes he gets tangled up, sure; but when he's in a good mood, it comes across as incredibly real and groovy. The little one has long been playing better than Alvin, and that after only a few years, at this age! Alvin is not very talented; it doesn't matter, he is indescribably happy for his son. It's a gift, it's J.J. Cale's gift.
And because of this, Alvin had wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. Last fall, at the Escondido Music Store, the guitar store in town. A certain Brian Hartley gave an exclusive J.J. Cale workshop there; a fundraising event for the benefit of the local shelter, in the spirit of the late master. The store was pumped full, although there was little publicity for it. Hartley is considered a freak in the area. Nobody knows exactly how old the man is, probably around eighty. He is said to be an incredible Cale fan, and a connoisseur; one who pretends to know just about everything about the Tulsa Sound. He is said to have studied the master's songs like no other, especially the guitar parts. In the local music scene, he's almost a cult; everyone knows him, most respect him. But somehow Brian Hartley has an ambivalent reputation. There are people who call him an impostor, others a slightly crazy person or a looser. In any case, everyone wonders why the man obviously never made a living from music in the past, given his skills. Nobody knows exactly what he did all his life; as a guitarist he would have gotten jobs for sure - obviously he didn't want to. And another thing people ask themselves: Why has this guy never met the great master in person? Since he has lived in the same area as J.J. Cale for many years. There's something about this old man, they say, that he's strange, mysterious. And that's why Hartley's been called "the Strange Man" in the scene, quite simply, for many years.
Anyway, he was very easygoing at that workshop, the Strange Man. He told some stories, strummed some guitar phrases every now and then and seemed to be surprised that there are people who hope to learn something concrete from him. "You're all better at it than me anyway," he said with a smile. "And don't get your hopes up - you can't imitate J.J. You can't buy the mojo." Alvin and Tim waited in the store during the workshop, at a safe distance behind the crowd; the boy couldn't have stood it otherwise. When the event was over and the people slowly disappeared, the two of them approached the strange. Hartley was still busy packing up his instruments and still greeted them friendly: "Hello you two - nice you came. You are Alvin Lindley and you write about music, right? The shop owner warned me. And that young man is your son, isn't he?" Alvin didn't waste any time; it was time to use it. "Yes, that's Tim. He's dying to play something for you, just for a minute. We won't keep you long." Hartley looked at him friendly and said, "That's cool, Tim. Go for it. I've gotta roll up all this cable clutter here - but my ears are with you, don't worry. I can hear everything…"
Yeah, and then the boys just went on without saying a word. Alvin had counted on everything, he couldn't know what shape his son would be in. But Tim was wonderful. He didn't play a particular song - he just started with a typical J.J. Cale groove and improvised on it. Economical and relaxed, as if the child had sixty years of life experience. Alvin struggled with the tears, it sounded incredibly good! The strange man stopped fiddling with the cables with a jerk, turned around and watched the boy with fatherly sparkling eyes. One or two minutes - and the spook was over. Tim got into a rage, made an angry move, put the instrument aside and ran away wordlessly into the next room. Alvin tried to explain the situation to Hartley as best and as quickly as he could. "Okay, no problem," the old man said calmly. After much persuasion, Tim finally came back. "I don't want to play anymore, I want to go home," he shouted excitedly. The strange man put his hand on the boy's shoulder, looked at him buddylike and said in a soft voice: "Hey Tim, you're the man. You do what you want to do, understand? Don't be fooled in this world. You're the man. You're not gonna be a circus act. This is coming good, boy. You're the man."
"Keep me posted," Hartley said as he scribbled a phone number on Alvin's paper as he said goodbye; "… but don't make a monkey out of him at the zoo - we've got enough of these child prodigies already." Those were his last words before he calmly and carefully continued to roll up the wires on the floor.
Alvin is overjoyed. He turns on the turn signal - there's the exit: Gopher Canyon Road / Old Castle Road. The spirit of this musician has changed his life; serenity, trust and hope floats over his family, and his love for Sandy is blossoming again like in the beginning. He actually kept the strange man up to date with this longer phone last week. But Alvin did not want to tell him about Tim in the first place.
Incredibly, he still can't believe that Hartley bought the idea from him. "Okay, if you think so," mumbled the odd one through the receiver, "come by, preferably first thing Monday. I've got all week - let's see if we can't come up with something clever." For once, even Alvin started to stutter with excitement. "Oh, um, really? That's f-fawful, Mr. Hartley. The old man laughed, "We'll see. I don't talk much unless you ask me good questions. Oh, yes, and… will you take the boy with you?"
Tim didn't want to come; he can't explain why. He doesn't have to. Would have been pretty complicated to sign the boy out of special school for a week anyway. "My son is going to spend a week with a strange old man to talk about the music and life of world-famous songwriter J.J. Cale" - they would have thought he was crazy. Maybe he'll come along this weekend, if the exercise hasn't been cancelled by then. Hartley is said to be quite unpredictable, it is rumored; if he doesn't feel like it, it's fun to finish quickly. Does the strange man simply want to imitate his idol? Even the master is said to be unpredictable and gnarled at press meetings. Or is that just a myth? It doesn't matter. J.J. Cale could afford to be headstrong. That's a position to be in! A couple of annual, kick-ass royalty checks, no matter what. This pillow was made by Clapton, no question.
All these rumors and Ralph's story about Clapton, they don't count now. Alvin wants to talk to Brian Hartley in a relaxed and focused manner about the art of the Tulsa sound. What a project! Hey, they're gonna love this in the newsroom. Nice and shady here on the Old Castle Road. Trees, bushes, beautiful. That little valley up ahead - "South Fork Moosa Canyon", not exactly modest, that name. "Canyon…" smiles Alvin. There must be some car dealer here, and a small restaurant, if the road map on the internet is correct. Right, here it is. "The Pointed Roof Delicatessen." Sounds cool. Maybe even the great J.J. Cale once ate here, so quickly for the small appetite - he is said to have lived somewhere in this area. Don't know where exactly. Anyway, it's none of his business. Alvin must find the strange man, at least from him he knows the address. It's only two or three miles from here to Lilac Road. Pretty twisty now all of a sudden, and there's hardly any shade on the road. But the view of all the small hills and valleys is wonderful. Again these mediterranean colours; astonishingly much green especially - considering how often the fire raged here already.
A small, modest house in the mountains; this is what Eric Clapton calls the home of his friend J.J. Cale, in the impressive autobiography "Eric Clapton - my life". Well, small house perhaps, but Cale's property is said to have been three hectares in size after all. Sure, the contrast must seem huge to Clapton - Slowhand owns a few luxury villas spread all over the world. He is even said to have lived in the area, back in the eighties. I wonder where that might have been? Hardly on any of these abandoned hills here. Maybe Valley Center itself? The list of VIPs who reside or used to reside there is quite impressive: Gary Cooper, John Wayne, Fred Astaire. Not bad.
Alvin shakes himself awake. The house of the strange will probably be much smaller than that of J.J. Cale. Hartley is hardly very rich; he has probably kept his head above water with all kinds of jobs and somehow managed to buy a house or build one himself. But you don't know anything for sure. Soon Alvin will see the cottage; Lilac Road has to start right there. No, shit, that's not it yet. Then it must be the next one. Bingo, here it is! Another few hundred meters, then it's up to the right, a small side street, and Alvin will stand in front of the modest house of the strange one. His heart is pounding; no idea why. There is no rational reason to be afraid - Alvin has prepared himself well. Laid-back with a racing pulse? If only this worked…
Chapter 2 - The Strange at Home
Alvin is thinking about Cale's record with Clapton. "Escondido" is Spanish for "hidden". The land here would certainly live up to the name - the nearest neighbours seem to be quite far away. The surprise: The wooden gate to the driveway, it is open. What a feeling - the strange one is waiting for him! Alvin pauses for a moment to let the current situation pass before his inner eye: There's a crazy music freak living in there; one who is considered a great J.J. Cale connoisseur, one who apparently knows every song of the master, every guitar tone, every word, every interview. And yet he is said never to have met him personally. So in the end just a hardcore fan? Is the weird one really the right man for this project? Chatting with this stranger for a week about the laid-back secret? Pretty crazy idea.
It's not the time to brood. It's kind of a good time. He's doing the whole thing for Tim too. Alvin loves his son more than anything. If Tim has a vision and he even talks about it, there's no reason to sneak away at the last minute. Alvin inhales, thinking about ringing the bell in a few seconds as the door shuts before him and opens as if by magic.
The small, slim man stands before him. Wrinkled face, grey-white hair, quite dishevelled and sparse. Dark jeans, light blue t-shirt. A friendly old man, you could say - and he is beaming. Not at all; no, it is a discreet glow. More of a kind of sketched glow, held in check by a natural dose of suspicion. Unspectacular in any case, but very likeable. "Hey, fine, are you there. Welcome," shouts this man. "I get to tell you Alvin, okay? Or would you prefer Lindley? "For a guitar fan like you, Lindley is not a bad name."
Alvin is happy about the warm handshake - and thinks for a long time where the punch line could be. Finally: "Oh yes, David Lindley, one of the greats!"
"Yeah. Did you find room next to my car?"
"Yes, Mr. Hartley, no problem. You don't have any Ferraris out here on the forecourt, or it would've been harder. You don't seem like a car nut."
"Neither did Cale. He did have a couple of fast cars in his life, though, especially those old-timey cult things. Also some German boxes, Volkswagen. Hey, in the '60s, the master drove a Beetle; had to pay it off in monthly instalments. For a while he even bought a Porsche. Great car, I like it too. But you can't do that up here, you have to have something practical and be able to get away for a few days - that's why I bought this camper here. From Canada. You can sleep and cook in this car. The Canadians know their way around. Microwave, a small bathroom with shower, a generator - all in."
"They didn't want an Airstream 532…" Alvin asks, a little disappointed.
Hartley shakes his head. "He had one of those back then, I know; American things, very different. You know this photo, of course. But that was back then, much back then." The old man makes an inviting gesture. "Come in."
They walk through the house. Alvin's too scared to look around - it might seem rude. Looks modest, but cosy, and just right tidy - not too much, not too little. In the room next door, his furtive eyes catch some of the equipment and guitars that are standing around.
"We'd best go outside in this weather," says Hartley. "Afraid of dogs?"
Alvin shakes his head. A Labrador comes towards them, quite excited. So the strange one seems to share the master's love of dogs.
"He's still young, full of energy; a fine fellow - Blue is his name. Cale had a few dogs, you know. He loved those pals. Buddy, for example, the English jumper; and Foley, before him, was a great guy too. "Life without animals is an awful lonely business." Hartley sighs softly to himself. "Sit quietly."
Alvin is surprised; he hadn't imagined this man so talkative. "It's lovely here with you. It's as homey as Cale's garden with that table and the big oak tree."
"The picture on the back of the Escondido album is a fake, I must disappoint you."
"What do you mean, disappoint you?"
"The picture was taken at the Paramount Movie Ranch, just like the cover picture. Hey, would you want half the music world looking at your backyard?"
"Excuse me? I actually thought it was Cale's garden. Even the local paper, Valley Roadrunner, titled the picture 'Eric Clapton and J.J. Cale working on their album in Cale's backyard'."
"Yeah, it worked, hehe. Welcome to the world of marketing. When you buy an orange juice - are there oranges inside that are shown on the package?"
"Of course not, you're right."
"Speaking of which - what would you like to drink? Coffee, tea, water, fruit juice, beer, wine, whisky?"
"Oh, that choice! Um, I'll have coffee; it's still morning. Can I help you?"
He shakes his head. "You are a guest here. "Take care of Blue - he's up for a good time." With quiet steps, Hartley disappears into the house.
Alvin lets Blue lick his hand, thinks about it for a moment and whispers, "Of course, the song 'Old Blue' - now I know where you got your name, dear." Blue pants and takes a dive. Alvin tries to create a new image inside himself. I wonder what this Cale's garden really looked like. In any case, Clapton lived in Cale's house for a week in 2005 before they went into the studio - this is not fake, it's also in Clapton's autobiography. And they both sat in the garden with a guitar on their laps to discuss the songs for the Escondido album. Alvin takes a breath, leans back a little further. No matter what this garden may have looked like - this one is definitely beautiful. The trees and bushes; this is a great place to be laid-back.
The strange one comes back with a full tray.
"Wow, lots of goodies! Very nice, Mr. Hartley, thank you very much," flatters Alvin.
"Cookies go with the coffee. Something for the mood - you can use them, can't you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean."
"The quips about the Ferraris - you're mad at Clapton, right?"
"Uh, no, not at all. What makes you say that?"
"The story of Ralph Thompson, don't kid me."
"You know Ralph, my former editor friend?"
"No, but the story he's been telling all over town."
"Oh, I see, I'm sorry. I'm not sure how much of the story is true, but…"
"Try to forget the story," Hartley tells him. "Let me tell you something. Eric Clapton did not live the life of J.J. Cale, but they were friends. You know what I mean? And because he lived that life, he made Cale's life better." The strange man looks him in the eye with a benign austerity. "Here's a free tip. Ask yourself how many wonderful moments Eric has given us with his music. And then thank him for them. That's enough - you'll fade out the rest. Clapton is not God. Alvin Lindley is not God."
Alvin flinches. After long seconds of bliss, he finds back to the subject: "You're right - the Ferrari thing was childish. I just thought you'd love the humour."
"I'm always up for Joke. But hey, it's a fine line - there's gotta be something positive hidden inside. Biting Jokes is for nothing."
"Sorry," Alvin says, nodding softly. Straightforward and direct, the strange but full of good thoughts. Alvin wonders why people sometimes say bad things about this man. He seems to be a wonderful person after all; Cale fan with skin and hair - and at the same time uncompromisingly behind Clapton.
"It's okay," murmurs Hartley good-naturedly. "When I'm tired, I can get grumpy. That's what happens at this age. Imagine how weary Cale was at the end of each concert. After the West Coast tour in '09, for the 'Roll On' album, he must have been pretty tired. Almost the whole crew got sick, some kind of flu or cold. He had trouble with his voice. Hey, the champion was in his 70s."
"Oh, I didn't know Cale and his musicians got sick on that tour. I saw the dates; after all, eight shows in two and a half weeks - no piece of cake either way. How big was the stage stress for Cale? Do you know anything about that?"
"I think he got used to it pretty quickly; after two or three days he was in the groove. It's not like he was doing it very regularly. Not a never-ending tour, ha-ha - that wouldn't have been his thing. Before this Roll On tour, he had five years off, no gigs."
"Not quite. I'd seen him in San Diego in 2007 - with Clapton."
"Oh, yeah, right. One of the exceptions, he was a special guest at Eric's. Probably a cushy job. You were there at the iPayOne Center?"
Alvin is beaming. "Of course I was there; it was a fantastic night! It was the exact time I started to love his music. I thought they were both great. Cale's voice and Clapton's are a great match, and the four-piece guitarist front - awesome!"
"Yeah, Doyle Bramhall II and Derek Trucks; the guys were great, they don't play one note too many."
"Right on. I thought they were very discreet, song-wise. And I was amazed at how synchronised Cale and Clapton could sing together."
Hartley smiles. "Yeah, I suppose that was the part you could call work. Cale rarely did that on stage, that unison singing. Clapton was really into it; he had to get the lyrics on there and read the rhythm from the master's lips. ...which were, after all, Cale's songs."
Alvin gets going: "It's the least you could do - that you'd work your ass off for Cale. He was the boss."
"Boss? I think this role is usually blamed on the guy who puts a few lines of song on paper and isn't too chicken to open his mouth in front of the vocal mic. Someone has to do it, hehe - so there's a reason to jam on stage."
Alvin takes a big sip of coffee. "I heard the album 'Roll On' was very well received. I'm sure the master was hot to get it on stage."
"Oh, you know, Cale never got bored if he didn't feel stage boards under his feet for a couple of years. But when it came down to it, he kind of liked being with all those guys, I'm sure. Hey, they were all buddies! Buddies sitting around telling stories about the past. That's what all old men do; they talk about things that no longer exist - and can conjure them up again."
"They pretend now that this is a happy senior citizens' bus tour, such a tour."
"So unless the whole senior group is getting sick, it's a happy trip. For everyone else, at least. The Boss is the exception, of course; he can't take it so easy, he's the tour guide. It's a lot of stress; everywhere they want something from you, and there are all kinds of things you shouldn't forget. Of course you also have to be on the radio and all that. But Cale worked it out somehow; don't ask me how. An hour a day on his own, that was enough for him. The concert was always his reward - a thousand times over. Imagine that feeling! I mean, it's unbelievable - people paying money to make a bunch of old kids happy on stage."
"Kiddies? The artists make people happy," says Alvin enthusiastically, "and a full tank can last for weeks. I know that from experience; I was at Cale's warm up show in Santa Monica on March 28th. Hey, he made my weeks!"
"Yeah, you went to McCabes's Guitar Shop?"
"Yeah, I never knew that store before. I really wanted to see it on this tour, and this show was the least far away. I don't regret it for a moment - it was a magical night. Were you there too? Did you follow Cale when he toured?"
"I went to as many concerts as I could when they weren't too far away. I wouldn't call it following. You didn't know McCabe's Guitar Shop? Man, that place is one of the best folk clubs in the country. This place is really famous. Did you notice - it's actually a guitar store."
"Yeah, there's lots of guitars hanging on the wall left and right."
"A crazy story," murmurs the strange man admiringly. "You go there, in the afternoon - and stand in the middle of a big guitar store. Instruments everywhere, really magnificent. Mostly acoustic things, also banjos, ukuleles, mandolins. And then they clear everything away in the middle of the sales area, put a few rows of chairs there - and in the evening, at the concert, up to a hundred and fifty wonderful people sit there, soaking up every note played. Do you know how the whole story began? In 1969, Elizabeth Cotten was in town; some gig of hers in L.A. was cancelled - McCabe's jumped into the breach and improvised a replacement. Since then, all kinds of cracks have been playing house concerts there. The place is a history book, I can only think of a few names: Chet Atkins, Norman Blake, Michael Bloomfield, Jackson Browne, Steve Earle, Fairport Convention, Bill Frisell, Vince Gill, John Lee Hooker, John Hiatt, Joni Mitchell, Al Stewart, Tom Waits, Doc Watson …" Hartley takes a breath of air and shakes his head. "My memory's not coming back. I'm sorry."
Alvin can hardly contain his amazement. "Wow, that was more than a few names! I admire your memory. Anyway, I didn't know all that; my evening with J.J. Cale seemed historic enough already. His voice was mixed too softly throughout the show, but it still sounded magical. And when Tom Petty came onstage, I was absolutely thrilled."
"You like Tom Petty? Well, at least now I know you have good taste. Welcome to my house, man."
"So you're saying that Cale was a Petty fan too?"
"Of course, Cale liked Petty's music."
"Well, Petty seems to think the same way about Cale. A colleague of mine recently said he only discovered J.J. Cale's music thanks to DJ Tom Petty. On his weekly 'Buried Treasure' show on Sirius XM Radio, Petty plays a Cale song almost every week."
"The satellite radio, I heard of that; big deal, they have a million listeners. Their own radio show, that's cool. Tom's a great guy and he makes great music - with small means. Laidback! Cale and Petty were even label mates in the seventies, on Shelter Records. Cale released his first four albums on Shelter, Petty two as far as I know. They didn't really know each other very well, though, as far as I know…"
"Tom Petty admires Cale's art," Alvin interrupts, "…and was inspired by him from the beginning - that much I know now. He also regularly plays J.J. Cale songs on stage. How did he end up appearing at McCabe's with his guitarist Mike Campbell?"
"I think they were invited. Suddenly Petty was obviously standing in the artists' dressing room. Cale asked him what song he wanted to be on, and he said 'I'd like to love you baby and keep my other baby too'. Oh, man, of all things! Cale recorded this song about 35 years ago - and hasn't played it live once since. Petty showed him the song. He had a couple of minutes before the show, ha-ha."
"How cool is that! I remember after the ninth song Cale made the mysterious announcement: 'There are two more guests - I don't have to say anything about their names, you know them'. Tom Petty and Mike Campbell came in and the audience went wild. It was incredible, and they were playing completely discreetly as if they were accompanying musicians."
"These are the good special guests - the ones who play like they're in the band." The strange man smiles, gets up and goes into the house to get some mineral water.
He comes back with much more; fruit, all kinds of things to nibble on, an ashtray. "You smoke, young man?"
"No, but go ahead and enjoy it." Alvin watches him and has the impression that his calm features would relax him too. "You seem to be enjoying your retirement, Mr. Hartley. Who wouldn't want to begrudge you that? What do you do all day long?"
He's evading. "How's your son Tim doing? Didn't he want to come with you?" His features seem to be hardening a little bit.
Alvin ponders for a moment. He wasn't expecting this question. "Um, well, you see, Tim is autistic, as I told you before."
"So, does he have the plague? If he plays the guitar, the boy is saner than ninety-nine percent of humanity. You can hear that, right?"
"You're right. He's incredibly talented, but in many other areas he has difficulties."
"Do you know how many geniuses in the history of the world have had trouble in many other areas? The term didn't exist before."
"Yes, but that doesn't really help. The difficulties an autistic person has in managing his or her own life are a reality, and I don't think it's wrong to give this disease a name. But we are overjoyed that Tim is making significant progress right now. The doctors are very surprised."
Hartley gives a joyful, almost childish thumbs up. "Yeah, man! You see, this boy may be smarter than both of us combined. Let him have his rhythm. He wouldn't be dragged here, right? Guy thinks the whole thing's Spanish - I'd have done the same thing, hehe. He can sense when that circus cage is lurking. He's got it, believe me."
Alvin looks irritated; he's not sure what the old man means exactly. But it feels like something accomplice-like. And it feels good. He feels a loving admiration when the strange man talks about Tim.
"Sorry, Alvin - I didn't mean to make fun. I don't understand anything about all those diagnoses and treatments.. I'm a simple okie; when in trouble we become ironic, even cynical if necessary. But we always look for the positive. Of all the people I know from the music scene, most of them have some kind of quirk; there would be all kinds of things to diagnose. Some people are built that way, others have changed, through excesses. But almost all have survived and made something out of their craziness; they have become a blessing - for normal people. Your Tim can become something big. Or not. Either way, he's a blessing."
Alvin swallows empty, his voice sounds moved. "You know something, Mr. Hartley? I haven't told you the wonderful part of the story yet. The master's music seems to have a magical effect on Tim. Since he's been listening to J.J. Cale, he's made great strides. We can't explain it, neither can the doctors, but the comparison is more than clear: only with Cale's music does he come to rest, open up, become more relaxed. And, you may think I am crazy now - he can see this music. He can see the sound…"
The strange man blinks mysteriously. It is difficult to interpret his gaze. It's a mixture of childlike wonder and wise callousness. "I told you so. The boy is a blessing."
For a brief moment, Alvin thinks he sees a reddish glimmer in the eyes of his counterpart. "During the week, Tim is in a special school; he's doing well there. He may be able to visit you one weekend. However, he is often very afraid of strangers. You never know in advance, it's unpredictable."
"Like a guitar solo," mumbles the old man, "only if you allow this 'you never know in advance', something good can come, maybe even something big. Tim is always welcome here, if anyone's at home. Mary will be happy too, my wife. I told her about the boy who started in the guitar shop. On the property he can pass the time splendidly; there are a lot of friends waiting for him. Squirrels, raccoons, rabbits, birds, they all run around my property. It's like a Disney cartoon out here."
"You told your wife about Tim?" Alvin asks enthusiastically.
"We talk a lot about these blues wonder boys; there's God knows how many of them. Most of them later become bluesrock guitar heroes - because they've been taught that you have to play with your muscles in life to get a chance. I've never met anyone like Tim before." Hartley takes one last puff before he carefully and calmly puts out his cigarette.
"You have it beautiful here, Mr. Hartley. What do you do at home when you're not playing guitar or listening to J.J. Cale records?"
"Well, you know something? I don't want to hear this 'Mr. Hartley' any more. Call me Brian like all my friends do."
"Oh, thank you very much, Brian. You do me a great honor."
"Yeah, cool. "There's no mister in this house; we should call ourselves you."
"This is gonna take some getting used to," Alvin stutters.
"You'll do fine."
After a hearty sip of water, Alvin tries to find the thread again. "…Did I hear right - you're an okie, too?"
"Of course I am.
"You, uh, sorry, you grew up in Oklahoma? Whereabouts in Oklahoma?"
"Tulsa."
"Just like the master? That's incredible. And you ended up going to school with Cale?"
"No. I got a couple more years on my plate than John."
"But you knew each other, if you call him John now…"
"No, we didn't. There's almost half a million people in Tulsa, and John was his real name, John Weldon Cale - you know the story of how he became J.J. Cale."
"Yeah, I'm sure we'll talk about that later. Didn't you meet him when you were a young music freak in the Tulsa scene?"
"I wasn't born a music freak, and I left Tulsa before the whole thing started with John and his buddies. Are we talkin' about the master or are we talkin' about my childhood?"
"I'm sure your life story's just as exciting, Brian."
"Bullshit." The old man shakes his head grumpy. "You're here because you wanna talk to me about Cale. Start with a specific question. Not sure if I can answer it - I only know what's been reported about Cale or what he's told in interviews. If that's even true. But still, I've collected this stuff, most of it, at least. So, what do you wanna know?"
"I've got more than enough questions. Right now, I'm trying to picture the Master in his own home. Must have been around here somewhere. The last ten years before he died or something - I wonder what he was doing there when he wasn't working, when he wasn't on tour."
"You're beginning to sniff like an IRS agent, haha. Hey, man, that was when John was semi-retired, at least. It's very quiet here in the country, you see. It's good for the nerves. I think he fiddled around with his guitars, wrote songs now and then that hardly ever came out on record. What else? He didn't play golf, he rarely went fishing. He did what everybody does - watch TV and keep house. At twenty or thirty you laugh at such things, in your old age they keep you busy. Cale was busy keeping his property in order; almost three hectares, after all. About twice as big as here - I know what that means. His wife Christine and he enjoyed these things - John told in interviews. Washing dishes, shopping, everything that goes with it. He mowed the lawn. Cale was an avid gardener and planted a lot of stuff. I heard that he was really proud of his tomatoes."
"Wow, that sounds so normal."
"Well, what else would it be? You think the master should have hired people to do this? Cale didn't have a staff house, heh."
"I just have this image of a rock star in my head."
