Joe Pug at Heartwood Soundstage
Sometime around 2010 someone gave me a seven-song EP called Nation of Heat by a Chicago singer/songwriter named Joe Pug. I love songwriters, and this was unlike most of the acoustic music I had been hearing; it was thought-provoking, deep and literate. And, much like Dylan, a bit obscure. There were several songs called “Hymns” and some devastating comments on American life in “I Take My Father’s Drugs” and “Nation of Heat.” Although it went over my head at the time, Pug stated that his greatest influence on Nation of Heat was the poet Walt Whitman. Shortly after that he released a full album, Messenger, that cemented his place in the growing indie-folk movement.
Pug’s career began when he left college in North Carolina in his senior year to move to Chicago. He worked as a carpenter and went to open mic nights, and before long his true folk-inspired songs were being compared to his influences: Dylan, Springsteen, and Zevon. His most formative experience was opening for Steve Earle on his Townes Van Zandt tribute tour. He’s a no-holds-barred writer. His songs echo sadness, joy, guilt, and loss.
His set was a mix of old and newer songs. His Dylan-esque plaintive harp playing set the tone for many songs. He switched to keyboards for several songs as well. One of the highlights for me was “The Letdown,” from his 2019 album The Flood in Color.
The night’s so long, you can almost hear it groan
The night’s so long, you can almost hear it groan
And we walk so far that our shadows turn to stoneIt was a wretched room but we hung up Christmas lights
It was a wretched room but we hung up Christmas lights
And the girls played house while the neighbors froze outsideBrace yourself for the letdown, the Holy Ghost with his hands out
No peace on earth is cheaply found
Do you see my colors now?
Another new song from his most recent album Sketch of a Promised Departure was “Brother John,” a crushing memorial to a friend lost to substance abuse.
There was a friend I had, we called him Brother John, it was many heavy years ago now
He had a poet’s heart and a painter’s touch and was more honest than the world would allow
The rest of us grew up and made our compromise but he was never one to play that game
He was caught between a cold machine and an everlasting flame
He was caught between a cold machine and an everlasting flame
“My Father’s Drugs” could have easily been a song of the ’60s folk movement. But his point is that the tradition of folk songs is not over but needs to be continued in today’s political environment.
When hunger strikes are fashion
And freedom is routine
All in all the streets in Cleveland are named for Martin Luther King
You will see me at the protest
But you’ll notice that I drag
I burn my father’s flagSo when the party starts on Monday
And Christmas starts in June
When no one minds I’ve just arrived and I’ll be leaving soon
If I return with eyes half-opened
Don’t ask me where I was
I do my father’s drugs
I do my father’s drugs
A song he wrote to his wife, an ode to financial challenges for road musicians with “I Don’t Work in a Bank,” added some humor. He noted he had lost two of his major influences in the past few years and covered songs by John Prine (“Sam Stone”) and Justin Townes Earle (“My Mama’s Eyes”).
“Nation of Heat” is one of my favorite songs. His words are carefully wrought and insightful.
Outside the train station there’s a bold painted sign
It says try to be patient don’t forget to choose sides
We got the loudest explosions you ever heard
We got two dollar soldiers and ten dollar words
If I didn’t own boots I wouldn’t need feet
I come from the nation of heat
Blocking borders with smiles are immigrant sons
we measure loneliness and miles and misery in tons
There’s a staw-hatted man rowing away from the shore
Who says “It’s a shame they don’t let you have slaves here anymore”
I’m the ugliest man that you’ll ever meet
I come from the nation of heat
He closed with one of his best known songs, “Hymn 101,” a song that needs unraveling. Set against the background of a religious song, it’s much more than that.
And I’ve come to roam the forest past the village
With a dozen lazy horses in my cart.
I’ve come here to get high
To do more than just get by
I’ve come to test the timber of my heart.
Oh I’ve come to test the timber of my heart.And I’ve come to be untroubled in my seeking.
And I’ve come to see that nothing is for naught.
I’ve come to reach out blind
To reach forward and behind
For the more I seek the more I’m sought
Yeah, the more I seek the more I’m sought.
And I’ve come to meet the legendary takers.
I’ve only come to ask them for a lot.
Oh they say I come with less than I should rightfully possess.
I say the more I buy the more I’m bought.
And the more I’m bought the less I cost.
Joe Pug is a songwriter’s songwriter. For years now he’s hosted a podcast called The Working Songwriter, with interviews with some of the most interesting up-and-coming writers and some older ones as well. From Andy Frasco to Iris Dement, Trampled by Turtles to Rising Appalachia, it’s a primer on how successful writers approach their work. If you’ve never heard any of Joe Pug’s songs, you should. He’s a largely unrecognized national treasure.
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