West thought to herself: I’m going to remember this for the rest of my life. “He came out and just started playing this incredibly beautiful flamenco guitar and singing these stunningly beautiful, broken-hearted love songs,” she says. A huge fan of the actor Harry Dean Stanton, West hadn’t known he was a musician until she saw his indelible performance at the cafe in 1988. It’s also featured artists you might not expect, recalls native Austinite Heather West, who saw dozens of shows there from its early days through the ’90s. Located inside the Texas Union building on the University of Texas campus, the Cactus Café has hosted scores of legendary musicians such as Robert Earl Keen, Lyle Lovett, Lucinda Williams, and Hayes Carll since debuting in February 1979. As Van Zandt finished singing “Fraternity Blues,” the audience erupted into hoots, hollers, and applause that reverberated throughout the diminutive space. “When I finally dropped out of school to become a rambling folk singer, I decided one of the places I might play would be a fraternity party, so I decided I needed a fraternity song.” The crowd laughed while the musician delved into his irreverent tune, which mocked Greek life and ended with the narrator chugging wine and puking on a couple of frat boys’ dates.
A gently glowing orb light fixture illuminated the venue, and the sound of clinking pint glasses filled the air. “When I went to school, I didn’t have much luck with fraternities,” said Van Zandt, who stood in front of the red velvet curtain that backed its stage. Better late than never.At the famed Cactus Café & Bar in 1991, Townes Van Zandt was a few songs into a recorded set with Guy Clark when he paused to spin a yarn, a signature at any of the folk legend’s live performances. I can see why this one might have ended up on year-enders over at New Commute and Aquarium Drunkard (both worthy scrolls if you haven’t already) so maybe slot in an asterisk to my list. Texas Music Forever seems like it may have slipped away for many, not just me, and it’s never to late to sink into Cactus Lee’s sun-dipped classics. The tempos swell, but that overarching feeling of narcotized melancholy remains, stinging in sweet waves with each new song. On side two, the band kicks in, feeling like every song might close down a decent night of dark-corner drinking and heartbreak healing. Dehan’s songs on this side work like lullabies, stuck somewhere between the broken blue collar approach of Blaze Foley, the road dust drifting of Jim Sullivan, and the confessional pop dioramas of Emitt Rhodes.
The first side is acoustic, ensconced in picked mandolin, guitar and the lingering laments of fiddle. His songs turn around and face truths with a resigned air, like a last swig from the bottle before heading out the door. The songs on TMF are tender - beaten, but not broken - settling into their fates with a resigned sigh. Kevin Dehan has been working under the name for a few years now, and his catalog’s packed with bittersweet country gems, but the sun glints just right off of the curves and creases of Texas Music Forever, perhaps his defining statement.ĭehan approaches country with a lightly woolen touch, wrapping the tracks in a flanneled softness and imbuing dawn light that stretches out over these pieces with a stillness that’s sometimes absent from the genre. Thanks to a few folks’ recap recommendations, I sifted back through the stacks to find this excellent album from Austin’s Cactus Lee. The inbox here is overstuffed to say the least, and that means that sometimes the true gems fall through the cracks. See this is one of those great arguments for year-end lists.
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