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By Root 889 0

The concept didn’t exist in my subconscious mind. I’d always been confused about that kind of stuff, didn’t see any moral ideal played out there. The concept of being morally right or morally wrong seems to be wired to the wrong frequency. Things that aren’t in the script happen every day. If someone steals leather and then makes shoes for the poor, it might be a moral act, but it’s not legally right, so it’s wrong. That stuff troubled me, the legal and moral aspect of things. There are good deeds and bad deeds. A good person can do a bad thing and a bad person can do a good thing. But I never did get to fix the line. On this take it’s outright, natural sound with little experimentation. I felt I could have done it unaccompanied. That aside, Lanois captured the essence of it on this, put the magic into its heartbeat and pulse. We cut this song exactly the way I found it…two or three takes with me on the piano, Dan on guitar and Malcolm Burn on keyboards. He definitely captured the moment. He might have even captured the whole era. He did the right thing — came up with an accurate, dynamic version. Anybody can hear it. The song sustains itself from beginning to end — Lanois brought out all its keen, harmonic sense. In this Dan was more than a sound man. He was like a doctor with scientific principles. I asked him once, “Danny. Are you a doctor?” “Yeah, but not of medicine,” he smiled.

Lanois and his crew kept a bunch of vintage Harleys parked out back and in the courtyard of the studio. Mostly Panheads with Hydra-Glide front forks, chrome driving lamps, mostly solo seated, wide tires, tombstone taillights. I had to have one of these bikes. Mark Howard, one of Dan’s engineers and motorcycle enthusiast found me one — a ’66 Harley Police Special, out of Florida with a powder-coated frame, stainless steel spokes, black-powdered rim and hubs, everything original and it ran good. Once I got it, I began taking it out during breaks from the studio or early in the morning. I used to ride along Ferret Street all the way down to Canal, sometimes into East New Orleans over the Inter-coastal waters or sometimes went over and parked it around Jackson Square, near St. Louis Cathedral. Once I took it into the Wildlife Gardens around Lake Borgne with its water views and benches, where Andrew Jackson and his ragtag army of pirates, Choctaws, free blacks, lawyers and merchants militia defeated Britain’s finest, sent them back out to sea for good. Britain was supposed to have ten thousand troops and Jackson about four, but he overcame them anyway, so the history books say. Jackson said that he’d burn New Orleans to the ground before he’d surrender it. Jackson, Old Hickory, Master of Bloody Deeds — tall and raw-boned, blue eyes and bushy gray hair, cantankerous, a backwoodsman, opposed the Bank of the United States. At least he didn’t drop bombs killing civilians and innocent children for the glory of his nation’s honor. He wouldn’t be going to hell for that.

Once I rode the bike over to the Spanish Plaza and parked it at the foot of Canal Street. Nearby, a paddle wheeler was moored on the river, the chinka-chinka beat of a Cajun band on the boat sounded almost hysterical. Under the southernmost magnolia I started feeling something about a song called “Shooting Star,” a song I hadn’t written yet. I could vaguely hear it in my mind. The kind of song you hear when you’re wide awake in your head and see and feel things, but all the rest of you is asleep. I didn’t want to forget this. Before I left town, I wanted to write it and record it. I thought it might be something Lanois was looking for.

“Everything Is Broken” Lanois thought was a throwaway. I didn’t think it was, but there was only one way to find out, only one way to cut it — one style and with plenty of tremolo. We recorded the song with the full band on the floor. Tony Hall on bass and Willie Green on drums. We cut it live in the big parlor room. Brian and I played the guitars. I was still playing the Tele. When you cut a song like this with a group of musicians, it’s rare to get a