{"id":45357,"date":"2026-10-23T23:19:53","date_gmt":"2026-10-23T21:19:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.altcountry.nl\/blog\/?p=45357"},"modified":"2026-10-23T23:20:38","modified_gmt":"2026-10-23T21:20:38","slug":"scott-cook-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.altcountry.nl\/blog\/2026\/10\/scott-cook-3\/","title":{"rendered":"Scott Cook"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"Het album Tangle Of Souls<\/em> uit 2020 kwam alhier niet verder dan de fase van aantekeningen. Daarin worden de namen van Warren Zevon en Jackson Browne genoemd om de singer-songwriter waar het hier over gaat, de in Canada neergestreken Amerikaan Scott Cook<\/a>, een beetje te plaatsen. Vanwege overeenkomsten in zang en melodie. Verder gaat het in die aantekeningen over een klotsende banjo en high lonesome zang als in bluegrass. Kortom, mooie plaat. Komen we bij Troubadourly Yours<\/strong> (Groove Revival) en die is misschien nog wel fraaier. De basis nam Cook op in Edmonton, Alberta, met geluidstechnicus Miles Wilkinson aan zijn zijde, iemand die ook Emmylou Harris en Guy Clark heeft bijgestaan. In 2021 begon Cook iets bijzonders; ge\u00efnteresseerden konden vooraf een bedrag naar eigen keuze betalen, waarna hij min of meer beloofde elke maand een nummer af te leveren. Die druk was goed voor zijn productiviteit. In plaats van zo\u2019n vier liedjes per jaar, kwam hij nu uit op twaalf. En dus had hij de afgelopen vijf jaar 60 liedjes gereed. Hij koos er tien voor Troubadourly Yours<\/em>. Aan de basis werden later bijdragen van anderen toegevoegd en het geheel komt als cd in een geweldig boekwerkje met uitgebreide introductie en alle teksten. Die teksten zijn de moeite waard. Op het titelnummer legt hij uit waarom hij ze schreef:<\/p>\n

When I was a kid I\u2019d lie awake in bed
\n<\/span>And listen to the rock and roll radio station
\nPainting leather and chrome on black velvet
\nAcross my adolescent imagination
\nThere were songs about singers and songs about truckers
\nAnd I couldn\u2019t tell which was which
\nBut they had me dreaming of the unrolling highway night
\nAnd the kinda rides I might hitch<\/p>\n

I stumbled onto Cohen and Kerouac
\n<\/span>In the neighbourhood library shelves
\nAnd I never let anybody read the poems
\nI started making up myself
\nAwkward as a first date, clumsy on the court
\nUsed to being made fun of
\nBut I found a bunch of old records at garage sales
\nThey were singing about peace and love<\/p>\n

I learned a few chords on a cheap guitar
\nAnd started teaching my fingers their places
\nGot a pawn-shop amp and a distortion box
\nAnd man, I was off to the races
\nWith some buddies who were similarly shitty at sports
\nAnd our half-baked dreams and songs
\nWe were playing in the punk rock dives downtown
\nAnd some girls were even singing along<\/p>\n

Singing I\u2019m out in the wind again
\nBefore they know I\u2019m gone
\nDoesn\u2019t make money or sense but I\u2019m a-hoppin\u2019 the fence
\nAnd I\u2019m a-looking for a brand new song
\nIf you wanna take one of \u2018em and run with it
\nThat\u2019s what I wrote \u2018em for
\nSigned yours truly, troubadourly yours<\/p>\n

I tried a bunch of different ways of paying the rent
\nBut it always seemed like a bummer
\nTo work all year so you can go camping
\nFor a couple of weeks in the summer
\nI put a bed in a van and took off without a plan
\nThinking how bad could it be?
\n\u2018Cause if I didn\u2019t try and follow my dream
\nThe what-ifs might wind up following me<\/p>\n

Well, it was way more faking it than making it
\nBut at least I was making the rounds
\nFilling my hungry eyes with sights
\nAnd my hungry ears with sounds
\nAnd I met a lot of fellow wackadoodle dreamers
\nLiving and loving on the run
\nThere were plenty nights I don\u2019t remember
\nBut I heard I was having fun<\/p>\n

I sure wasn\u2019t getting any younger
\nFrom all of the partying I used to do
\nAnd I played a ton of gigs for exposure
\nBut I heard you can die of that too
\nI\u2019ve been careless and crude, over-eager and too shy
\nInebriated and indiscreet
\nI don\u2019t need to be reminded of my failures
\nI\u2019ve always had a front row seat<\/p>\n

Some nights I\u2019m sleeping in a parking lot
\nTakin\u2019 a leak in a ditch
\nThen I\u2019m staying in a friend\u2019s friend\u2019s beach house
\nFeeling filthy stinking rich
\nI sing in theatres, bars and houses
\nFor high and low, left, right and in between
\nAnd I can tell you most everyone\u2019s nicer up close
\nThan they are behind their screens<\/p>\n

I guess troubadouring\u2019s probably the oldest way
\nOf carrying the people\u2019s news
\nAnd listening for the underlying melody
\nIn every place\u2019s particular blues
\nSinging the kinda songs for rousing the rabble
\nAnd bringing the beaten-down cheer
\nI\u2019m smugglin\u2019 \u2018em around and I\u2019m a-talkin\u2019 \u2018em fast
\nLike a hope-hustlin\u2019 auctioneer<\/p>\n

And I admit it\u2019s complicated
\nTo be doing this the way I do
\nIn a rig that smokes dinosaurs
\nAnd coughs out CO2
\nAnd I can see so many ways the deck got stacked
\nFor fellas who look like me
\nTalk to a gal living on the road
\nIf you wanna know about bravery<\/p>\n

But it\u2019s an ever-unwinding riddle and gamble
\nThat I\u2019ll probably never tire of
\nLabouring to keep both sides afloat
\nThe logistics and the love
\nAnd I sure wouldn\u2019t say my way of making a living\u2019s
\nAny better than any way else
\nEvery job\u2019s got dignity and drudgery
\nBut it shines when you do it well<\/p>\n

\u2018Cause I believe in working hard
\nI believe hard work deserves respect
\nAnd I believe that helping other people along
\nIs the steadiest way to success<\/p>\n

I believe in trails, I believe in trees
\nI believe dogs when they wag
\nI believe in my fellow Earthlings
\nNo matter what creed or flag<\/p>\n

And I believe in ordinary folks
\nMore than the powerful few
\nAnd that the needs of people, not profit
\nShould be guiding what we do<\/p>\n

I believe in One Big Union
\nHow old Woody sang it true
\nI believe Mother Jones and Joe Hill
\nI believe Anita Hill too<\/p>\n

And I believe I could always be wrong
\nBut I believe the truth will out
\nAnd I believe we got a lot more in common
\nThan we got to fight about<\/p>\n

Like we all got a right to be here
\nBy the mere fact of our birth
\nI believe that imagination
\nIs the strongest force on earth<\/p>\n

I believe our deeds make ripples
\nI believe our words do too
\nI believe we\u2019re better than our blunders, friends
\nAnd I believe in you<\/p>\n

I believe that what the world needs now
\nIs love, sweet love
\nIt\u2019s what we\u2019re here for
\nAnd it\u2019s the only thing we could always use more of<\/p>\n

I believe in this tenuous, tangled
\nLine from womb to tomb
\nI believe it looks like rain
\nI believe I\u2019ll dust my broom<\/p>\n

Home\u2019s everywhere and nowhere
\nWhen you\u2019re livin\u2019 by the rhyme
\nYou get to loving so many people and places
\nAnd you miss \u2018em all at the same time
\nTake in all the farewells and welcomes
\nThe profane and the profound
\n\u2018Til eventually you just pull up stakes
\nAnd catch the westbound<\/p>\n

Singing I\u2019m out in the wind again
\nBefore they know I\u2019m gone
\nNever made money or sense
\nBut I\u2019ll be hopping the fences
\n\u2018Til I sing my last song
\nIf you wanna take one of \u2018em
\nAnd run with it
\nThat\u2019s what I wrote \u2018em for
\nSigned yours truly, troubadourly yours
\nOh, signed yours truly
\nTroubadourly yours<\/p>\n