The popular image of Hank Williams is not cheery. His music is for the darkest nights of the soul. He sings about being completely alone in the world, of having your heart completely shattered. That he died at a young age, 29, just fuels this image of Williams as a tragic figure. On the other hand, thereâs the photo of Williams on the first page of the booklet that accompanies the 16-disc (15 CDs and one DVD) box set The Complete Motherâs Best Recordings, which collects all of the Motherâs Best radio shows that Williams and band played in 1951, airing on WSM radio for 15 minutes at a time. The photo shows Williams with a huge grin, guitar in hand, a big bag of Motherâs Best flour resting on his left arm and shoulder. In the liner notes Hank Williams, Jr., describes a party atmosphere at the sessions, and Williams as someone who knew how to have a good time. âYou hear these stories about Hank Williams as a poor, forlorn figure,â he writes, âBut Iâm here to tell you thatâs a bunch of crap.â
The image of Williams as a downer doesnât match the party atmosphere of these recordings either, the way heâs continually razzing his band members and trading jokes with host Cousin Louie Buck. The notion of Williamsâ music as some holy grail of âauthenticityâ (and by relation some dividing line between commercial country music and something more ârealâ) does not match these recordings either, the way he alternates playing his songs and selling Motherâs Best flour, in all its forms: twice-washed cornmeal (once with water, once with air), self-rising flour, and feed for animals. You can make the worldâs best hush puppies with it, or use it to ward off sickness. Housewives rely on it, kids love it. âIâm not an expert cook, but Iâm an expert eaterâ, Williams says, and he fully endorses it. Disc 15 captures an audition for an Aunt Jemima syrup show that would have followed the Motherâs Best gig, along with a public service announcement about venereal disease.
âThe millers of Motherâs Best flour bring you that âLovesick Bluesâ boy, Hank Williamsâ, is how each show begins. There is a formula to these shows. They start with Williams singing a love song or heartbreak song, one written by him or another classic country songwriter, continue (at least for a while) with a song sung by Williamsâ wife Audrey, and/or a song where the players in his band can show off their skills, and closes with a hymn. The liner notes are particular harsh on Audrey Williamsâ singing, and for the most part theyâre right, though there are moments where she can still be somewhat affecting, when singing something sad like â(Last Night) I Heard You Crying in Your Sleepâ or a duet with Hank.
The hymns are perhaps the most fascinating side of these shows. They show the many different ways to praise, just as the secular songs reveal how many different ways there are to cry. There are hymns telling biblical stories (âThe Prodigal Sonâ, â30 Pieces of Silverâ), numerous songs about judgment day (âThe Dark Horse and His Rider Goes Byâ, âI Dreamed That the Great Judgment Morningâ), and songs about the afterlife, like âI Dreamed About Mama Last Nightâ, which uses a similar melody as âOn Top of Old Smokeyâ, played during the same session. The hymns can be pretty severe, with titles like âOh These Tombs (Lonely Tombs)â and âI Heard My Mother Praying for Meâ, and pretty strange, like âDeck of Cardsâ, where a soldier in North Africa uses a deck of cards as a bible. They also can be rather famous now: âWhen the Saints go Marching In,â for example.
Part of the pleasure of these recordings is the opportunity they present for us to listen to particular sides of Williams, to hear him from a particular angle. In this era itâs easy to take this set and program a playlist of just the train songs, for example, or of just the more happy-go-lucky ones like âHey Good Lookinâ, which he at one point introduces like this: âOne of mine called âHey Good Lookin, If You Got Anything Cookinâ Make Sure Youâre Cooking With Motherâs best Flourââ. There are spoken songs where he taps into his Joe the Drifter persona, and odd songs like âYou Blotted My Happy School Daysâ. And of course there are serious heartbreakers, songs like âIf I Didnât Love Youâ and âMy Sweet Love Aint Aroundâ. Introducing the latter he jokes that itâs âright there with âIâm So Lonesome I Could Squallââ.
As you might imagine, The Complete Motherâs Best Recordings is less an album than an archive. Really itâs less a collection of music than a historical document. As a historical record, a time capsule even, it seems invaluable and is also absolutely riveting. Trying to listen to it straight through as an album is a losing battle. The hard sell of Motherâs Best flour will get to you, funny at first and then driving you batty. That same repetition is part of the charm of this set, though. To hear Williams on such a regular basis across a year, singing a rich array of songs and giving us a look again at the depth of his music, feels like a gift.