They Came to Nashville

Don Henry

    137 Don Henry Don Henry is one of the most original and remarkable songwriters I’ve ever known. We first met while playing an in-theround at the Bluebird Café. According to a journal I was keeping at the time, the date was Saturday, May 21, 1988. Gary Nicholson had been telling me about Don for months. “Man, you’ve got to hear Don Henry,” he said. “You guys will love each other!” So when Gary invited me to join him, Don, and Kevin Welch for an in-the-round, I accepted even though I’d never played one. “So let me get this straight,” I said. “You sit in a circle in the middle of the audience?” “Yeah, man, it’s cool. Like being in somebody’s living room.” “Okay. So what if I have to go to the bathroom?” “Well, I guess you just get up and go,” Gary said, laughing. I’d always played solo or with a band. This in-the-round business had me feeling a little apprehensive. Plus, I was already feeling fragile, having just returned from a co-dependency workshop out in the middle of nowhere in the North Georgia mountains. The idea of rubbing elbows with the audience while playing music seemed too bizarre. I clearly remember the night, and not just because it was my first in-the-round and my first time to hear Don Henry. It was just everything and everybody. Across the board, the quality of the songs just knocked me out. Kevin sang “Sam’s Place,” then Gary played “Brilliant Conversationalist.” But when Don Henry sang “Harley,” I knew I was listening to something totally original. A few days later, I tried describing Don to a friend. “He’s like a cross between Randy Newman, the Beatles, and Walt Disney!” I exclaimed. “Harley” tells the story of a hippie biker couple—a man and his 138   They Came to Nashville “motorcycle mama” who’s in the latter stages of a pregnancy. One day, they’re roaring through Bakersfield, when suddenly her water breaks. So they go to a nearby hospital, where she gives birth to a child they name “Harley.” To maintain family unity, they have a sidecar welded onto their motorcycle. Then off they go. At some point, they visit a tattoo parlor and get matching tattoos. The family that gets tattoos together, stays together, right? Wrong! One day, they’re cruising up the coast, when suddenly, the sidecar comes undone. Only the couple doesn’t notice. They cruise on, while the sidecar and child go bouncing across a field, finally coming to rest at the feet of a childless farmer’s wife. Sensing a miracle, the farmer and his wife take Harley in. Years go by. Adolescence sets in. Harley runs off and becomes a sort of Evel Knievel figure on the fairground circuit. As fate would have it, the hippie biker couple happens to be in the audience one night. They see this daredevil guy jumping his motorcycle over fifty trucks. They hear the crowd yell, “Har-ley! Har-ley!” They put two and two together. “Could this be our long lost child?” they wonder. After the show, they introduce themselves. Harley is skeptical. They compare tattoos. Hugs and tears abound. I mean, who needs DNA when your tattoos match? Only Don Henry could spin such a tale. And only Don Henry could do it in under four minutes. Plus—and correct me if I’m wrong—I’m laying bets “Harley” is the only song ever written where someone’s water breaks. I’ve never trusted witty songs. Shakespeare said, “Brevity is the soul of wit.” I say, “Wit is brevity of the soul.” That is, unless Don Henry’s the one creating the wit. I don’t know how he does it, but Don’s wit has soul. Of course, Don has a serious side. “Beautiful Fool,” a song he wrote to commemorate Dr. Martin Luther King, rips my heart out every time I hear it. Then there’s “Where’ve You Been,” a song he co-wrote with Jon Vezner that won the Grammy for Best Country Song in 1991. Again, only Don Henry could write a song set in a nursing home and win a Grammy. Don and Gary Nicholson wrote a song called “Motel, Motel, Motel ” that gets my vote for best in-the-round song ever written. Unless Clear Channel goes bankrupt, you’ll never hear it on...