Darrell Scott – Dreams so real
“I believe we have a responsibility to tell the truth,” Scott says, “and if that means occasionally getting on a soapbox and talking about the current government or the current vibe of how free we feel to talk about things, well, then, that comes into play as an artist, sure.”
When talk turns to war and politics and George Bush, he either gives up on eating or becomes too sickened to do so: He has laid his fork aside on a half-eaten salad. His hands float out in front of him as he talks, his eyes simultaneously sad at the thought of war and alive with the possibility of changing things. “Some of the biggest statements can be quiet, but there is definitely a responsibility to tell your truth. Any political or social comments I make on this record, I’m just telling my own truth, and sometimes I’m just mad. I’m not trying to be kind or diplomatic, I’m just responding to the current state of the world.”
Scott pauses a moment, considers eating a bit more, but decides he can’t. “An artist is not a mannequin or a puppet,” he continues. “If you’re an artist, you’re going to be talking about yourself, your world in your art. You’re going to be out there on the road with your heart. The climate is better now than it was three years ago, and I think we have more freedom to say what we want without fear of being boycotted. But I don’t think it’s because any other artists have necessarily paved the way for us to speak out or anything. I just think the situation is so obvious that everyone can see this war is wrong, that there’s a real problem. It’s just undeniable now.”
Although politics informs many of the new album’s songs — as a citizen of the world, Scott doesn’t see how he can avoid commenting on the state of the world right now — his approach is blatant on two tracks. “I’m Nobody” is a stirring rocker that takes us from Golgotha to India to outer space. “Goodle, USA” (the title’s spelling, pronounced “good ole,” is a nod to John Hartford’s “Goodle Days”) features a catchy chorus — “everything’s A-OK in the good ole USA” — that flies in the face of dire verses which ask “What if no one would kill for their religion?” and suggest “It’s like Joe McCarthy was our acting president.”
An acknowledgment of mortality also runs throughout The Invisible Man, even though Scott is only 46. “The mortality thing is there and I don’t know why; the themes just come to me,” he says. “It’s a very human condition — it’s a fact that we’re dying, we’re going out. No matter how well we eat or exercise or whatever, we’re still going out.”
Death and war: Sounds like the most uplifting album of the year, huh? Herein lies Scott’s brilliance, because somehow the themes never become too heavy or maudlin or depressing. Maybe it’s because the album is laced with subtle humor and blatant humanity, incredible picking, and exquisite arrangements. Or maybe it’s all palpable because Scott somehow laces the entire thing with something everyone needs in bad times: a thing called hope. And even joy.
In fact, the song that is most blatantly about mortality, the closing “In My Final Hour”, centers not only on a man’s final hour, but his final moment. The amazing thing is that Scott makes death into a thing of rare beauty, free of sentimentality or religiosity while remaining pure with spirit. When death finally finds the character in the song, he finds that the final moment is not made up of fear or forgiveness or dread. Instead, the dying man greets his end with unadulterated joy.
As fans of Scott have come to expect, there are short stories aplenty tucked away in songs such as “The Dreamer”, about two dreamers who fall in hard, beautiful love and realize that the ocean of romance and the storms of marriage have made them acutely aware of a stark realism. Such a song shows off the true nature of Scott’s talent. Although the two characters are a shepherd and a lady-in-waiting, we eventually find them leaving Tennessee to head out to Colorado. One of them has a soul “the size of a pickle.”
These are mythical tales, stories that are timeless and magical, yet completely believable. They are the balance of being a realist and a dreamer.
“In times like these, more balance comes in,” Scott says. “When push comes to shove, I’ll pick being a dreamer over being a realist, but I’m pretty strongly attached to both. I’m very intuitive with the music. With me, it’s that balance of the realism so that it tells the truth or so that I can make a setting so that it’s believable — enough realism to sound like you’re there. But the dreamer thing, I think, is the thing that rises above, that transcends the realism.”
It’s hard to dream when bombs are falling. But is it an artist’s responsibility to speak out on political matters? The best answer may be that not only do artists have a responsibility to speak out, but any human being has that responsibility. And a true artist must always be a human before being an artist.
ND contributing editor Silas House was born in the same town as Darrell Scott and cries every time he hears “You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive”.