Skip to content
Oct 5 / Jonathan

Jimmie Dale Gilmore

Jimmie Dale Gilmore played last night at the Palms Playhouse in Winters.

[Digression: this was the first time either I or JDG had been to the new Palms. It’s not bad, and you can get dinner around the corner, but it’s not the old Palms. Sigh.]

Jimmie’s son Colin opened, joined later by Rob Gjersoe, who stuck around for Jimmie’s set.

If you know Gilmore, I don’t have to say much about the concert. A mix of new & old stuff, along with some characteristic digressions. Bertrand Russell on the nature of reality, elliptical political commentary (“All Texans do not agree with all Texans”), Jimmie as a reductionist rationalist, paranoid mystic, west-Texas folk singer. I’m sorry you missed it, but probably no sorrier than you.

If you don’t know Gilmore, you have a treat in store for you if you have the sense to pick up one or three or five of his CDs.

My first exposure to Gilmore was about 14 years ago after the release of After Awhile. I heard an extended review on NPR. I no longer remember which clips they played, but I do remember their quoting Gilmore quoting Ezra Pound: “the poem fails when it strays too far from the song, and the song fails when it strays too far from the dance.” Ezra Pound meets Lubbock, Texas.

Gilmore’s CDs are individually unique, and I can’t possibly point to a favorite. You can’t go wrong with Spinning Around the Sun, or One Endless Night, or Braver Newer World. His new CD, Come on Back, is his roots album, with covers of pieces by Johnny Cash, Ernest Tubb, Hank Snow, Ray Price and others.

On his other CDs, besides his own songs, you’ll find Butch Hancock, Al Strehli, Brecht/Weill, Townes Van Zandt, Jerry Garcia, … you get the idea.

Gilmore is an American treasure. He’s a really good songwriter, and an excellent guitarist, but his sensibility and his exquisite instrument of a voice are what shine through. Go listen.

One Comment

leave a comment
  1. Clay / Nov 4 2005

    If I’m not mistaken I see the words, “Jimmie Dale,” and “Jerry Garcia,” and “Butch Hancock.”

    Hey, Jonathan. It’s Friday night. The kid’s asleep. I have a glass of wine in front of me and a dusty Art Tatum thing on the turntable. And I’m obviously screwing around on Al Gore’s Internet.

    Just thought I’d say hello and that I, too, was raised on the sounds of Lubbock. And Luckenbach. My southern redneck roots show through at all sorts of inappropriate times. Anyway. I’m enjoying your blog thingy. Have a great weekend.

Leave a Comment