W.H. Auden stated that prose is the most suitable artistic means of expressing the human experience, yet he forged his career as a poet. Poetry is not my favorite read. Hell, since I engaged in graduate studies in literature, nothing is. I prefer hearing my poetry with guitar and a rhythm section. My favorite performers and songs tell stories and create compelling characters. Lyrics are this man’s poetry.

I joined the legion of Fredheads the first time I heard a Fred Eaglesmith show and my fanaticism continues. His work is reminiscent of Flannery O’Connor, both in approach to subject and his use of short-story writing techniques, including unreliable narrators, surprise endings, and plot twists. The songs weave tales of rural/working class struggle in a post-agrarian, post manufacturing age.Imagery includes cars, trucks, trains, guns, dogs, farms and ranches, alcohol and pills, failed relationships, and failing ways of life. Fred is Canadian, but his music is about rural North America; Fred’s annual tours there suggest his appeal isn’t confined to this continent.

Fred’s Water In The Fuel, the tale of a trucker haunted by a failing marriage, is the saddest song I’ve ever heard, and Carmelita, about migrant workers seeking momentary respite from that drudgery, is equally haunting with a subtle Latin flavor to the instrumentation. His 2008 release Tinderbox, following on the death of his long-time collaborator and bandmate Willie P. Bennett, ruminates on God, religion, and spirituality through the lens of a world-weary working man wrestling with a world he senses is askew.