Fred J. Eaglesmith is a national treasure, but disappointingly one whose unique singing and songwriting talents may be better known amongst his peers than many Canadians, save a legion of “Fredheads” like myself who have found him somewhere along a dusty, county road during his rather under-the-radar 40-year career.

But make no mistake, Eaglesmith is no anonymous troubadour, having appeared on the likes of Letterman and seeing his songs routinely covered by fellow artists from around the world – easily found at the touch of a link.

He was even name-checked in the song “Steel Belted Radio” by fellow Canadian singer Mike Plume – which is where I first found out about Fred:

“Why don’t you bring back, John Hiatt?/ why don’t you bring back, Lyle Lovett?… Why don’t you bring back, Fred Eaglesmith?/ Bring ‘em back, steel belted radio…”

I figured that if Fred was considered in such illustrious company he required my attention, and to my eternal delight, the song was not wrong, and I was soon a Fredhead forever.

To quote his wiki page, Eaglesmith “is known for writing songs about vehicles, rural life, down-and-out characters, lost love, and quirky rural folk. His songwriting uses techniques of short story writing, including unreliable, surprise endings, and plot twists.”

A combination of Stompin’ Tom Connors and Gordon Lightfoot, Eaglesmith is alternately funny and poignant, and often, uniquely both at the same time.

Consider the story of “Lucille”:

Well, Lucille was a woman, and I was a boy/ And it was obvious that she wanted more/ Than a man her age could give her/ And that was me…. Well, Lucille was fifty and I was nineteen/ But that never bothered me/ Not even when they called out in the bar/ I’d get tough and I’d bust some heads/ Lucille would laugh when the cops got there/ We’d sneak out the back and take off in my car…

But then the conclusion:

Well, last week I turned forty-five…/ There’s an old folk’s home there past the lights/ And Lucille sitting out there in the shade/ I wheeled her around to the passenger door/ I picked her up and put her in that car/ And we took off like a dust bowl hurricane…/ Took it on up to 110/ Tires screaming in and out of the bend/ And Lucille hanging on just as tight as she could/ And it was crazy/ But it sure was good

And the one about “Ernie”:

Funny how I miss him a lot more than her/ How’s Ernie? Hey, that’s what I would say/ If I wrote her a letter or called her up one day/ How’s Ernie? You know it ended up real bad/ But I don’t miss her anymore, though I sure do miss her dad…

Of the tragic endings of Hank Williams, Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin, and others, he observed:

Alcohol and pills, it’s a cryin’ shame/ You think they might have been happy with the glory and the fame/ But fame doesn’t take away the pain, it just pays the bills/ And you wind up on alcohol and pills

Or a less-stratified life gone astray:

And she quietly says to me/ When, exactly, did we become white trash?/ How come we have seven dogs living in the garage?/ How come the only eight track in our car is Johnny Cash?/ When, exactly, did we become white trash?/ And she tells everybody that I’ve got my PhD/ But it stands for Post Hole Digger/ It ain’t exactly a degree

In the early days, Eaglesmith (born Frederick John Elgersma and raised in rural southern Ontario near Guelph), plied his alt-country/Americana/Bluegrass, trade with his bands The Flying Squirrels/The Flat Noodlers, including the late Willie P. Bennett, but he now mostly goes solo, with life/wife and musical partner Tif Ginn.

You can catch him online and maybe in honky tonk somewhere down the road, but in the meantime, please sample one of my favourites, the typically distinctive “Wilder than Her.”

Lyrics

Well I’m wilder than her, what else can I say?
But I guess that’s why she fell in love with me
She’s a house on fire, she’s got all those charms
I’m a house on fire too, but I’ve got four alarms

And I’m wilder than her; drives her out of her mind
I guess she thought that she was just one of a kind
But she’s a summer storm; I’m a hurricane
One just blows through town, one blows the town away
And I’m wilder than her

When we go driving in our cars, racing through the night
She can drive as fast as me but she stops at all the lights
She says it’s ’cause I’m crazy; she’s probably right
But I think the reason is that I’m twice as wild

Because I’m wilder than her; drives her out of her mind
I guess she thought that she was just one of a kind
But she’s a summer storm; I’m a hurricane
One just blows through town, one blows the town away
And I’m wilder than her

But when she takes my hand and she looks me in the eye
I see something that I’ve never seen in my life
She takes the fire and turns it down low
She takes the night and makes it not so cold
She takes the distance, breaks it into miles
She makes my life just a little less wild

Because I’m wilder than her; drives her out of her mind
I guess she thought that she was just one of a kind
But she’s a summer storm; I’m a hurricane
One just blows through town, one blows the town away
And I’m wilder than her