They say you should write what you know. OK, sure. If there's one thing, I know it's this: I know and/or have known a lot of cats called 'rockabillies'.
I've never once in my life sat down to write a song about anything in particular or anyone in particular. The few times, early in my writing career, that I did try to write a song about a particular person, place, or time...it never went anywhere. So, I stopped doing that. Oh sure, I might get a line or two written, but the song would just be a snooze. Or I'd find a cool riff or a nice lick and pfft...no words. I decided to let the songs find me. One, it's easier that way. Two, I've found that if it gets stuck in my head, more'n likely a song will get stuck in someone else's head.
By now I've probably written a few hundred songs. Most have only ever been heard by me and maybe, just maybe, one of the cats or dogs I've cohabitated with over the years. I was about 19 or 20 when I decided there was no point in me trying to write a commercial 'hit'. My playing style was just too all over the place (somewhere between BB King and The Ramones). My college roommate pointed out one day (as I was trying to write a 'hit') that my voice was (way back then) really country sounding. I was definitely not thrilled to hear that. It was the mid 80s and most country music of the day just sucked. I kinda took it as an insult. But I kept on writing anyway. Over the years, I've even recorded a couple of those moldy oldies. (FYI: "Just Go", on my 2003 Back From The Dead album was written in 1985-86. I originally had it in mind for either Jerry Lee Lewis or the Fabulous Thunderbirds. To my knowledge, neither have ever had any interest in recording it)
I wrote a few songs while I was in The Swingin' Caddilacs (a NE Ohio rockabilly band from 1982-1990). We did a couple of them. When I met and started to do session work with Alan Leatherwood up at Ohio Moon Records in Cleveland, in the late 80s, he was impressed enough with some of my embryonic scribblings that he'd encourage me to keep writing. He'd point out that I probably shouldn't use as much profanity as it would never get airplay. (I've actually tried to follow that advice but occasionally suck at following that advice) Al had been 'in the biz' professionally since the early 60s and had worked as a songwriter for a few well-known artists, so I really did listen to everything he said. My lack of confidence is what probably kept my writing more honest and personal (if that makes sense).
By the 1990s, I'd developed a reputation as a "rockabilly" musician (guitar, electric and upright bass). I've never considered myself to be such...but my thoughts on it have nothing to do with a reputation. That's purely all about how others see me. By this point, I had moved to Pittsburgh and was playing in The Rowdy Bovines. We were considered by most to be '"rockabilly" but I saw us more as a punk rock band. We were never as polished as the Stray Cat clones that we occasionally did shows with. We were possibly a bit twangy but more than that, we were fast, loud, and frequently drunk.
Drinking was a big part of my life then. I've never considered myself an alcoholic or anything, it's just what a lot of people did at the time; self included. Pittsburgh, in the early 90s had a pretty lively music scene. I could go catch a band almost any night of the week. I was usually more drawn to the blues bands, as they were usually the better musicians. I'd often get to sit in on a song or three, and sometimes this even led to The Bovines getting a gig out of it. We worked with a lot of the touring acts too. The Frantic Flattops, Belmont Playboys, Billy Bacon & The Forbidden Pigs, The Steam Donkeys, The Moondogs, we were frequently gigging with somebody. Some nights, an artist like James Peterson or a band like Laurence Beall & The Sultans would ask me to sit in and I'd end up doing an entire set with them...cold. It really helped my playing and my confidence.
The Bovines started doing some of my songs. Like any addiction, that first taste is never enough. I wanted to write more. The crowds liked the stuff I was writing and that fed my desire to write more. I got into a habit. If I felt like writing, I'd sit up all night, in my basement, drinking wine, and waiting for the muse to visit. I got a lot of good songs that way. "Too Much Of A Man" came after a two bottle night. "Skoodly Boop" came after a Little Charlie & The Nightcats show and a bottle of the less-than-good stuff. But late nights and wine were no guarantee for a song.
I found that different guitars often had songs hidden in them...you just had to play them long enough for the song to come out. I had an old Gibson L48 archtop (that I traded an amp for) and that one gave up songs like "Walk On". My Gibson 175 gave up songs like "Buggin' Annie" (which I originally wrote after a phone call with my buddy Danny Gatton). The title came from the fact that I was always worried about bothering my 87-year-old auntie, who lived with me at the time. Most of my songs had been hiding out in what I call The Autograph Book: my Gibson ES120T. For years, that was my #1 writing guitar.
By late 1994, The Rowdy Bovines were all but finished. No animosity really, we'd just run our course and James & I were probably a little tired of being around each other all the time. I had a backlog of my own songs and apparently, a crowd that wanted to hear them, so I started my own band. I'd been working on a couple of side projects anyway, so I just put together a new one. A punk rock bass player and a blues/jazz/R&B drummer. It shouldn't have worked...but it did. That was really the most intensely pissed off rhythm section ever. Rather than be annoying about it, they channeled their energy into their playing, and they locked in with each other. I couldn't have asked for better. They kept my music from ever being anything but original.
After our first couple of shows (which were admittedly rough...I usually paid the guys out of my own pocket, plus renting a PA system, handling promotion, etc) things clicked. We started getting a lot of shows. We were (briefly) the darlings of the press and critics' faves. I recently came across a box of old press clippings. Some of it was almost embarrassing to read.We started getting out of town bookings, which is probably what kept us from ultimately wearing out our welcome (a reality for a lot of bands). One Friday, we had a show up in Cleveland. I couldn't tell you where, but I think we were doing a show with my buddy Denny from Lords of the Highway. Our bass player had a pickup truck, so he offered to do the driving. I had my gear packed and ready to roll and I waited for him in my garage. I decided to pick some guitar while I waited for him, so I pulled out the 120T. I started to play a song I'd started writing years before but never finished. A new song came from it and the entire song started to just flow out of me. I had no idea where it was all coming from, but it kept on coming. The lyrics were about an old guy who had been a hotshit rockabilly guitar picker back in the 50s. As the song was coming out of me, I got to thinking about Charlie Feathers, who I'd spoken with a few times. Verse after verse just kept pouring out. Being the idiot that I often am, I didn't bother to write it all down. I just kept playing it. I figured, if it gets stuck in my head...
My friend Billy Poore always told me that "Diamonds & Cadillacs" is the song I'll be remembered for. Who knows, he could be right. It's not requested much anymore but people tend to still react positively when they hear it. I played it for the band when we got to the gig in Cleveland. The next day, we were recording at Al Leatherwood's studio, so I played it for him. He loved it! He told me he wanted to record it. I told him, "Sure, I was thinking of Charlie Feathers when I wrote it..." BOOM! Al took that all wrong. He seemed to think I was giving Charlie first dibs. Hell, Charlie hadn't even heard it yet. I've always been of the mind that if anyone ever wants to do one of my songs, please, by all means, do it! Perform it, record it, have at it...just give me the credit due. All I've ever asked. I don't think Al ever did record it. I played it for Charlie over the phone once and he loved it. He wanted to record it but died before he got the chance. The song was starting to feel a little cursed. I played it with Sleepy LaBeef a time or two. He loved it. Billy Poore loved it and said he wanted to record it. He might have but I don't think it was ever released.
My buddy Hayden Thompson, one of the original rockabilly cats, always loved it. He recorded a couple of demos of it and eventually recorded it on Blue Light Records out of Finland with the Hal Peters Trio. Funny story: Hayden called me from Finland, really upset. He told me he'd recorded my song. I guess the guitar player was having too much trouble with the song, so they just played it like a straight-ahead rockin' boogie. It worked fine that way, as far as I was concerned...but Hayden was so bothered by the guitar player that he forgot the entire middle section of the song! I laughed and told him that I wasn't too worried. I was just honored that he, my friend and a rockabilly legend to boot, deemed my little song worthy of recording. I'm still proud of it.
In 2000, I played at the first Rockabilly Hall of Fame festival in Jackson, TN. Things went so well, I was back the next two years. I worked with a lot of the old original rockabilly cats from the 50s and became friends with a number of them. One of my favorite parts of these fests was the after-show jam sessions back at the hotel. We'd just take over some unused conference room or banquet hall, grab some beer and booze and just have a good old fashion jam. "Hey, you guys know this one?" or "Did ya ever hear this one?" At one of these, SUN artist Mack Self ("Vibrate", "Mad At You") kept saying he'd heard I was a songwriter and wanted to hear some of my stuff. I was surrounded by some REAL songwriters there, and my lack of confidence started rearing its ugly head again. I said I was content to just jam but Mack wasn't having it. He was a big guy, and he could be demanding when he wanted to be. So I said,"Well, I have this song, "Diamonds & Cadillacs". People seem to like it. Charlie dug it. Hayden digs it. Billy Poore digs it. Maybe you guys will. It's in E if you want to jump in..." So, off I went into the intro...
One of the guys added a bass line (played on an acoustic guitar). Somebody started slapping a chair for drums. I looked over at Mack and he was just grinning like a cat who snuck into a seafood store. "GOD DAMN!!!! Now THAT'S Rockabilly!!!", he roared at me when I finished. I think he liked it. The next day, I got to play it for Sam Phillips. He told me he could sell that one! He suggested we get together and have some drinks sometime and talk about it. I was all set to do just that. I was later told that he was often just trying to find a drinking buddy as his sons were usually just glad to get him out of the office. They had the business well under control and dad was, well, just dear old dad.
By 2002, I was gigging overseas. I heard a couple of acts do the song, I even heard it on the radio once. By 2007, I was almost done with touring. I had a heart attack and a mess of legal troubles, so I stuck close to home. In 2011 I wasn't allowed to leave the state without written permission, so that killed me gigging anywhere I could make real money. "Diamonds & Cadillacs" kept bringing me ever smaller royalty checks up until about 2013. At one point, I had a visit from the FBI about the song! I'd allowed it to be used on a one-off CD pressing for a fundraiser. Long story short, the parties involved ended up in a federal bankruptcy suit and some evil shit was trying to steal my copyright. He failed. I still get the occasional email or online message from someone, either asking about the song or just to tell me they like it. 27 years after I wrote it, some folks still remember it and every now and then, someone new discovers it. Who knows, maybe Billy Poore was right. Maybe it will be the song I'll be remembered for.
"Diamonds & Cadillacs" by M.C. Metzger (C)(P) 1995
Sitting on the porch with his old guitar
Thinking of the days when he was a star
he had diamond rings and Cadillac cars
but all the world's money didn't go too far
Well it's gone, hell those days are gone.
He's working two jobs every single day
Try to keep his home up any old way
He got a wife at home who don't understand
She never even knew him as a guitar man
well it's gone, hell those day's are gone.
He had alligator slippers and sharkskin suits
and lots of pretty women to spend his loot
He had diamonds and gold on both of his hands
he was the baddest picker baby in the land
Well it's gone, hell those days are gone.
He's sitting on the porch with his gold guitar
thinking of the days when he was a star
The memories never stray too far
of them diamond rings and them Cadillac cars
They're gone, hell those days are gone
Wednesday at ten they put him in the ground
A broken old man was all they found.
No diamond rings, no Cadillac cars
They never even knew he used to be a star
well he's gone, hell the old boy's gone
Take him home.
