I was living in Austin when this guy with the unlikely name of Frumholz hit the radio with his Texas Trilogy. The town was transfixed. Overnight everybody knew Mary and Billy Archer. Who was this guy? And what was he doing with that name? Ernest Tubb, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Dolly Parton, Porter Waggoner, Loretta Lynn, Charlie Pride, and ... Frumholz? And where were the cutsie-wootsie titles and lyrics. This was gritty stuff, like a depression-era Naturalist novel.
If you like CW music you have probably heard one of Frumholz's songs covered by somebody else, and even if you haven't you have probably heard the essential Frumholz, because the entire Outlaw movement followed his lead.
This album really is a treat. There is every kind of CW song on it and some that are in other districts. The music is still innovative even after 40 years. The fiddle purely drips anguish on one song and explodes in joy in another. The steel work is some of the best you will hear. Same for mouth organ.
You can pull this CD out every week or so and you will hear something you didn't before. And as for the "authenticity" of his songs: he starts one out, "In a bar in Arizona..." About the fifth time I listened to it I realized I'd not only been there but that it was where I met an old Indian who had an heirloom necklace decorated with a few "white man's trigger-finger bones." See what I mean about getting something new each time you listen?
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