Growing up in my 30’s with Kris Kristofferson

20 years ago, you wouldn’t have caught me dead around Country music. Now, it’s a regular part of my world. It’s full of sub genres, stories, real sadness, and heart. Country music, for me, begins with my love of Kris Kristofferson. About 15 years ago, I was turned on to “Borderlord,” and I’ve become someone different with it constantly playing in the background. 

I was a trucker for 12 years, over the road, home on average 4 days a month. I listened to music like most people watch TV. I don’t remember the miles, frankly, I just remember the songs. Sometimes Jason Isbell would be blasting “Southeastern” late at night keeping me company in a truck stop in Louisiana while folks gambled and ate. There’s nothing like driving in the Mojave to Honky Tonk. Every tumble weed has its place in the video in my mind. When I was plowing through bad weather, it was usually Hank Williams Sr who kept me company for some reason. The storms and element of danger seemed to conjure his mood. Still do. But when I put on Kris Kristofferson, I’ve given myself the perfect atmosphere to grow, even if a little. I’ve grown a lot since 35 years old when I first heard him. He’s the soundtrack to development, for me. 

“Borderlord” by Kris is one of those magical records for me. It’s my personal “Dark Side of the Moon” in that it’s up there. A big one. A heavyweight. Only, none of my friends know it like they do “Dark Side.” I don’t want to go into why certain music is popular and most music isn’t today, it simply suffices me to say “Borderlord” ain’t winning any popularity contests, and that’s fine. If anything, it adds to the appeal. Maybe it’s something you can discover in your 30’s or 40’s, like I did. In fact, it’s probably better that way. 

The word, “tender,” doesn’t apply to much nowadays. We live in a “curt,” (or rudely brief), world. Interactions are often not savored in favor of skipping to the point. Engagements have vibes of pitches, and unless you are able to keep one’s engagement over devices and a thousand other people, you get ignored, even to your face. Even from family. We simply aren’t as interesting as what’s going on the world, or inside our heads. It’s incredibly enlightening when we visualize our phones not as windows to the world, but mirrors. There’s no room for being tender, there’s just no time. 

Kris says to hell with that..

Every song on this record is oozing with a tenderness and concern for well-being. It is what a hug sounds like. Kris is a master lyricist, as always, but on this record he did more than lyrics, he created a protest of tenderness. He’s no alien to protest, ask the man what he believes, he will tell you. But here, he isn’t angry, he’s patient. He isn’t direct, he’s in story mode. He isn’t singing to the top of his lungs, he’s marching along to the beat of his heart. The pitch is tough with this album because even though it’s very short, it is not flashy. It is not quick to the point. In fact, I’m still discovering it.

I was going through a rough patch in my last marriage when a friend turned me on to this. I kept listening to it over and over and escaping in its geography in my imagination. I kept focusing on the words and what they meant. It’s funny when I’m experiencing a lot of sadness, there’s a selfishness that’s understandable. I think everything applies to me as some kind of coincidence or message. This record was my message through a rough divorce. Only it wasn’t telling me what I wanted to hear. Which is odd. Usually when I adopt art for myself, I have some kind of input on its message to me. I wanted a song on this record to tell me to call my ex and be mean. I wanted to engage her and get the last word in. This record was saying, simply, “be still.” That is not what I wanted to hear. But it became addicting to return to. 

Now that I’m on the other side of that difficult time in my life, I have this record as a souvenir. It is still talking to me. Still telling me the same thing essentially, “think about it.”

There’s so many catch phrases, so many hooks, so many jokes, so many moments, but there is always Kris. He’s remarkably consistent here, really on fire. But he isn’t burning bright like a bonfire, he’s burning warm like a fireplace. There’s a radiation of compassion, empathy, wit, melody, AND tenderness. These are things I want in my life. These are things I want to radiate too, someday. I feel like with this record in my listening library, I stand a chance at doing that, if I just be still and listen. Thanks, K.