How a PBS Documentary Sent Me on a Decade-Long Journey
My 10-year project to hear Jason Isbell play "Live Oak"
A certain kind of person cites a PBS documentary as a seminal moment in his life.
I’m that person.
In the fall of 2013, sitting in a basement apartment in San Francisco, I watched “Nashville 2.0: The Rise of Americana.”
The documentary featured some of my favorite artists from then and now — most notably Jason Isbell. In a simple solo performance of “Cover Me Up,” dressed in what I believe was the same outfit he wore on the album cover of his opus “Southeastern,” he sang directly to me in my tiny apartment.
With my private concert complete, I purchased the album on iTunes and proceeded to wear down the digital grooves.
“Live Oak” became an instant favorite. The song chronicles the life of a man escaping his dark history along the Great Lakes, hoping to leave behind who he used to be — and perhaps find peace in a place or a woman. We learn his lover died — likely at his hand — as he feebly continues to attempt to outrun his past.
With the dark chords, haunting fiddle, and a powerful emptiness within the silences on the recording, “Live Oak” is a perfect country song, even without mama or trains, or trucks, or prison, or getting drunk.
I needed to hear this song live. And in the subsequent ten years, I have been thwarted in this effort.
And not for lack of trying.
Those were different days
My first Isbell concert was Hardly Strictly Bluegrass in 2014. Proceeded immediately by T Bone Burnett and an absurdly stacked weekend of legends, I stood with others, singing every word to the album I loved so much — only to be equally impressed by the songs he played that I had not (yet) committed to memory.
“Alabama Pines” nearly broke me.
After learning about Isbell’s addiction, I had been rooting for him to keep to the straight and narrow. More than a decade later, fans still cheer at the lines in “Cover Me Up,” exalting his choice to swear “off that stuff forever.”
But “Pines” hit differently — a song of profound pain seemingly written from that place and time, now performed looking back at a dingy motel room. I wanted nothing more than to sing with the others who knew more.
But there was no “Live Oak.”
Perhaps that song wasn’t right for a daytime festival.
Living in San Francisco offers a wide range of benefits, but few reach the level of HSB. A completely free experience held in the middle of a remarkable urban park, HSB helped seed my love of this music.
Murder Ballads as Lullabies
When our son was born that spring, I started singing a regular rotation of Grateful Dead, Jewish summer camp classics, 90s gangster rap, and, of course, Isbell songs as part of our sleep routine.
As he grew and could both request songs and remember words, “The Man” — what he called “Live Oak” and still does eight years later — became somewhat of a baby whispering miracle song.
The slow rhythmic melody and complicated rhyme scheme put the boy out cold on my shoulder as I fought off exhaustion.
With the birth of our child, my parents wanted to see us more — well, at least the baby. And we took full advantage of his love of visiting their home to see Isbell and his incredibly talented wife Amanda Shires open for John Prine at the Greek in 2016.
It was a mind-blowing experience and one I’m incredibly grateful for in the wake of the pandemic. Honestly, I didn’t grasp the importance of this show until April 7, 2020.
This was my chance — or at least I thought — to hear my favorite song. In the cool mystical hills of Griffith Park, the Greek provides a portal to wherever the artists want to place you. I was ready to be on those dusty plains before the war.
It was not to be, but I still got to see John Prine.
Later that year, while visiting my lovely wife’s family in Tulsa, we secured floor seats to the Isbell show at the Bank of Oklahoma Center. Leaving the kiddo with a different loving grandparent, we went off for a date night in the 918.
This was my first experience with his harder rock sound, and while I missed the nuanced fiddle of Shires, I really enjoyed the shift. Playing many of his best Southern rock ballads, Isbell kept those 5A bastards on their feet all night. But he didn’t have anything to say about the man who walked beside him.
Diarrhea Planet Orbits Mother Church
Isbell became more famous and cantankerous in the years after the PBS documentary. Sure, as a left-leaning country music fan on the coast, I loved it! But if we are being honest, these years did not yield music at the same level as nearly every song on “Southeastern.”
And if we were to be triggered by his political leanings, you might say he was distracted by his snarky online and real-world engagement on the issues — or perhaps by raising a young child (I can relate).
However, for years, Isbell booked several nights at the Ryman Auditorium, supported by alt-country and Americana acts — a residency he continues today. In 2018, we decided it was time to visit the spiritual home of country music and attend one of these shows. We got our tickets, flew out to Nashville, and grabbed a nicer hotel, as my lovely wife was pregnant with our second child.
I was hopeful his opening act would be more introspective, providing the perfect opportunity for Isbell — who is supported by Shires during these events — to play my song from the stage of the Mother Church.
However, Diarrhea Planet opened our show — which, despite its name, did not stink. It was really cool to have Sturgill Simpson, Sadler Vaden and Isbell join the opening act on stage to melt faces, but it seemed pretty unlikely to get my soft, dark song during an event opened by a band like Diarrhea Planet.
The hard-rocking night ranks among my favorite music experiences of my life, even without “The Man.”
The Last Best Chance
Still living in the Bay Area with doting grandparents in Los Angeles, we planned a getaway to see Isbell and Shires solo at the Disney Concert Hall in early 2020.
This was it — the two of them, a full set without openers, in a quiet symphonic concert hall. There was no chance they wouldn’t play “Live Oak.”
And they did. But we weren’t there.
We had great tickets for the show, flights that aligned with nap schedules, and a bad case of RSV.
The kids were too sick to fly. Unfortunately, the tickets went unused, and flight vouchers nearly expired because shortly after this event, the world shut down.
(It took me nearly four years to look up the setlist because I just didn’t want to know. In confirming dates for this piece, I found it and proceeded to lose my mind. I called my lovely wife and threw a little tantrum. Moving along.)
Festivals and Arena Shows
In early 2022, Goldenvoice launched a one-day country music festival on the grounds of the Rose Bowl. When the Palomino Fest lineup was announced, my wife ran downstairs to my office, where I was already doing the little kid slappy hands happy dance at my desk.
Obviously, we purchased tickets.
From start to finish, this event was like nothing I’d ever seen — with Kacey Musgraves, Willie Nelson, and Isbell as headliners. A celebration of alt-country, Americana and honky tonk heroes, I ran between stages to catch everyone playing all day long.
It seemed unlikely that Isbell would play “Live Oak” at this summer festival, which he said was one of the best he ever attended. “Most of the time on these festivals, there’re a couple of people I don’t give a shit about,” he told the sunburnt crowd. “But today has been genuinely great.”
While I know performers hate this, I did politely ask him to consider adding “Live Oak” to his set during the show. My fellow concertgoers were supportive of my efforts, but it was not to be.
This festival also hosted Turnpike Troubadours during their triumphant return tour, and the crowd sang along to every word of their tragically short set. A few hours before Isbell, in the middle of the sunniest part of that long, hot summer day, Turnpike drove many (ok, maybe just me) to tears — the boys from Tahlequah were back.
With the release of “Cat in the Rain” last year and the announcement of its supporting tour, I wanted to see Turnpike again. I had seen them right before the hiatus in San Fransico and at this festival, but that wasn’t nearly enough.
Then, as if another gift from the perfect show high powers, Turnpike, Isbell and the ascendent Charles Wesley Godwin were to share a bill at Paycom Center in Oklahoma City on my birthday weekend. Tickets were purchased, hotels secured, and children sequestered with the above-mentioned doting grandparents.
I sent messages and videos to Isbell and his team — as did my lovely wife. And while the show was everything I’d hoped it would be, there was no “Live Oak.” Isbell’s voice was not 100%, but he didn’t seem to care — belting out new and old songs with the support of the 400 Unit. Attending a hometown Turpike show didn’t disappoint (something I’ll write about soon). And if you’re reading this, you likely know Charles Wesley Godwin, but if you don’t, go listen to “Family Ties.” Now.
All the things that I suspected
Isbell's shows have never disappointed, and each was incredible in its own right. Without a doubt, all are on my top ten list of best shows I’ve ever seen.
While I haven’t heard this song performed and likely never will, I’ve been incredibly lucky to chase that opportunity across the country and, in the process, experience some of the best live music performances and events of my lifetime.
PBS is pretty incredible when you think about it.