I want to write a little something this week about Guy Clark.

Many people here haven't heard of Guy Clark; he died last week just after the deadline for my column had passed.

Photo: Guy Clark.

So this is old news really, and I wasn't going to go back to it, but every day since then I've been thinking about Guy and listening to his music. So, if nothing else, maybe sharing a little of what I think made the songs he wrote so special will give someone else a chance to discover the marvellous warmth, humanity, humour and strength in them.

Guy Clark was a Texas songwriter, a friend of Townes Van Zandt, Jerry Jeff Walker, Mickey Newbury and all the other great Texas songwriters that emerged in the seventies, skirting boundaries of commercial country music to produce something folkier and more alternative and more traditional. It was the sort of music that eventually fed into the ‘new traditionalists' revival and such artists as Alison Krauss and Gillian Welch. Guy was also a mentor to the likes of Steve Earl and other younger Texas singers.

Guy first came to attention in the mid-seventies. He'd been living in Los Angeles but moved to Nashville with Susanna Talley in 1971. They were married in 1972, an enduring partnership that yielded some of Guy's best songs. Susanna was famous for her support of musicians, hosting songwriters, folk singers and artists at their home for more than 40 years, including friends Rodney Crowell, Jim McGuire, Emmylou Harris, Joe Ely, Lyle Lovett and Vince Gill. She was also an artist in her own right, painting the cover of Willie Nelson's ‘Stardust' album amongst others.

Susanna died in 2012 from complications of lung cancer. Guy's final album – Grammy-winning of course – was 2013's ‘My Favourite Picture of You' with a picture of Susanna on the cover to accompany the title song about her. Try listening to that without tears in your eyes.

Back in seventies' Nashville, Guy released his debut album ‘Old No. 1' in 1975, a stone cold classic including songs ‘Desperados Waiting for a Train', ‘L.A. Freeway' – which was about he and Susanna leaving LA – plus ‘That Old Time Feeling', ‘She Ain't Going Nowhere', ‘Let Him Roll' and ‘Rita Ballou'.

It wasn't a hit, and Guy didn't really have hits. He did break into the country charts with 1983's wonderful ‘Homegrown Tomatoes' but it was others who scored with his songs. Ricky Skaggs with ‘Heartbroke', Vince Gill with ‘Oklahoma Borderline', The Highwaymen with ‘Desperados Waiting for a Train', Bobby Bare with ‘Asleep At The Wheel', Rodney Crowell, Brad Paisley, Alan Jackson, Jimmy Buffet, the list goes on...

What Guy could do, and did, throughout 13 studio albums is to make poetry out of everyday living. He showed you things you'd seen a thousand times before and made them new. And he was searingly honest, whether writing about the death of his father in ‘The Randall Knife' with an insight and emotional acceptance that raises the hairs on your neck, or wryly detailing his flaws as a husband.

He was funny and wise in the way that only someone with a deep rich Texas drawl could be. Because of his dual life as a guitar craftsman, repairing and building guitars, people often regarded his songwriting as a craft; all those beautifully-honed songs, perfect to the word and inflection.

That annoyed Guy. This was art. Refined, rare, special art. Like all great art, he made it look easy. But this was more than a craftsman doing his work. Guy made poetry out of life and allowed you to see it with fresh eyes. He hated the snobbishness of the critical establishment.

'I have seen the David and the Mona Lisa too. And I have heard Doc Watson sing Columbus Stockade Blues.” There's no high art, no low art, he's saying. There's just art.

That line comes from the title song of his finest album, ‘Dublin Blues'.

So does this: 'I wish I was in Austin in the Chilli Parlour Bar. Drinking Mad Dog Margaritas and not caring where you are”

Pure poetry. Best opening line ever.

Thank you Guy. RIP.

watusi@thesun.co.nz