Statesman > XL Blogs > Archives > 2005 > April > 22 > Entry
Desperados waiting for a taco
I realize I’m a little slow in reacting here, but I didn’t have a blog before last week and it’s always tough to get warmed up to serious subjects.
Guy Clark, you’re breaking my heart.
I never got to interview you while I was a part-time junior-league music critic for the San Angelo Standard-Times. But I understood that what rare interviews you gave, you were given to bein’ ornery.
And unlike the rest of my favorite artists, you’re the only guy (ha!) that I haven’t managed to see perform, at least among them who are still kicking.
So it was always easy to imagine you as a serious and mysterious sort of dean of Texas songwriters. Solemn and sober as a judge (even if you weren’t), not likely to indulge in anything more frivolous than odes to Lone Star cooking and homegrown tomatoes.
But those Taco Cabana commercials…
I don’t blame you for taking their money. Heck, I’ve seen Willie shill for everything from Old Whiskey River whiskey to (Willie, Willie, Willie, how could you?) Texas Roadhouse restaurants. And that’s just recently.
But Taco Cabana? Couldn’t it have been something a little more dignified?
I’d go home and listen to one of your albums to clear my mind, but instead of “The Randall Knife,” I’m hearing … “My father had a quesadilla / my mother bought it for him / when they went to Taco Cabana / the special was two-for-one.”
I won’t cry.
Sniff.
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