MIXTAPE: Anthony d’Amato’s Train Songs

While putting the finishing touches on my new record, At First There Was Nothing, I found myself living beside the tracks of the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad in southwestern Colorado. Widely considered one of the most scenic train trips on the continent, the jaw-dropping route stretches 45 miles through pristine wilderness, along impossibly narrow cliff ledges, and above roaring river rapids.

Though it was originally constructed in order to haul gold and silver ore from the otherwise inaccessible San Juan Mountains, these days it’s a tourist line beloved by sightseers, backpackers, and whitewater rafters. Even though the cargo has changed, the railroad is still powered by steam engines, just as it was 140 years ago when it first opened, and it’s hard not to fall in love with the sights and sounds and smells that go with it.

When it came time to make a video for the album’s lead single, “Long Haul,” I knew that I wanted to find a way to bring the railroad into it, and fortunately they were gracious enough to let us commandeer a caboose for the finale.

Returning to Durango for the project had me thinking about the strong connections between music and railroads. For as long as there have been trains, there have been train songs: some are joyful celebrations, others, mournful laments. A train whistle can mark a long-awaited arrival or a much-dreaded departure, the start of a new adventure or the end of the good old days. It’s hard to know where to begin when it comes to putting together a playlist of railroad songs, as trains have been written about from nearly every angle in nearly every genre, but here you’ll find some of my favorites, which I hope may inspire you to hit the rails yourself. — Anthony D’Amato

The Band – “Mystery Train”

A cornerstone of American rock and roll, “Mystery Train” has been performed and recorded by just about everyone over the years, but I chose to kick things off with The Band’s version. Musicians use the term “train beat” to refer to a certain kind of basic drum pattern, but Levon goes above and beyond here. There’s a relentlessness and a momentum to his groove that genuinely evokes the feeling of wheels rolling down the track, and it’s utterly mesmerizing.

Howlin’ Wolf – “Smokestack Lightnin’”

Eerie and hypnotic, “Smokestack Lightnin’” is an all-time blues classic. Howlin’ Wolf said the title was inspired by sitting in the country at night and watching sparks fly from the smokestack of passing trains. Close your eyes while you listen and it’s easy to see the red-hot embers dancing in the empty black sky.

The Kinks – “Last of the Steam-Powered Trains”

The through line from Howlin’ Wolf to The Kinks is pretty obvious when you listen to these songs back to back.

The Staple Singers – “This Train”

There are a whole host of versions of this song to choose from, but I’ve always loved The Staple Singers’ take on it, which blurs the lines between gospel and blues. The train is a potent symbol not just in 20th century music and art and literature, but in religious expression, as well, and this is a prime example.

Bruce Springsteen – “Land of Hope and Dreams”

Springsteen references a number of train songs (including “This Train”) within “Land of Hope and Dreams,” which was a live favorite for years before he recorded it on the Wrecking Ball album. I’ve always been drawn to the imagery in this tune, as well as the intricate way in which the words all fit together like puzzle pieces without a single wasted vowel or consonant. “Big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams” is as clean a line as you could ever hope to write.

Elizabeth Cotten – “Freight Train”

Written when Cotten was still quite young, “Freight Train” is an enduring classic more than 100 years later, and her performance here is utterly timeless. Interestingly enough, the tune made its way to England in the 1950s, where it was covered by a skiffle group called The Quarrymen (which eventually evolved into The Beatles). Seems everyone cut their teeth on train songs.

Lead Belly – “Midnight Special”

The passing headlight of a train is a sign of freedom and salvation for a prisoner in this song, who lets the glow wash over him like baptismal waters in his penitentiary cell.

Ernest Stoneman – “Wreck of the Old 97”

Trainwrecks have been fertile ground for songwriters through the years, and who could blame them? Trainwrecks have it all: drama, heroism, danger, tragedy, sacrifice. If all we got out of this tune was Rhett Miller and his compatriots in the Old 97s, it’d still be worthy of inclusion here.

Woody Guthrie – “John Henry”

Railroads have produced their fair share of local and regional folk heroes over the years, but none as iconic as John Henry, who wins the battle of man versus machine but pays with his life. There’s a whole lot about capitalism and labor and race and technology all wrapped up in this song, which could be said of the railroads themselves, too.

Bob Dylan – “Slow Train”

There’s a simmering intensity to this song that stares you dead in the eye and refuses to blink. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Dylan chose a train as the central metaphor in this scathing assessment of America.

Arlo Guthrie – “The City of New Orleans”

Steve Goodman’s “City of New Orleans” is another well-covered train song, but as far as I’m concerned, Arlo Guthrie has the definitive version. It’s a beautiful slice of life from the perspective of a traveler looking out the window at a changing country.

Justin Townes Earle – “Workin’ for the MTA”

It’s hard to write a modern train song that doesn’t sound like Woody Guthrie cosplay, but Justin Townes Earle did a brilliant job of updating the form on this tune, which is sung from the perspective of a New York City subway worker.

Amanda Shires – “When You Need a Train It Never Comes”

This one’s about a lack of trains, but I think it still qualifies. This was the first song of Amanda’s I ever heard, and I was instantly drawn to her unique perspective on what could otherwise be well-worn territory. Like the Justin Townes Earle tune, it’s a rare contemporary take that feels genuinely original.

Brad Miller – “Reader Railroad No 1702 2-8-0”

This might be considered cheating since it’s not technically a song, but over the years there have been a number of LPs released by and for railfans that consist entirely of field recordings of trains. Many have been relegated to attics and secondhand shops, but some were digitized and made the leap to streaming. I chose this recording from a 1972 album called Steel Rails Under Thundering Skys because I think it offers a great entry point to someone asking the perfectly reasonable question, “Why the hell would I want to listen to that?” The mix of steam trains, falling rain, and rolling thunder is incredibly soothing. Put it on and watch your blood pressure drop.


Photo Credit: Vivian Wang

WATCH: Seth James, “Moonpies”

Artist: Seth James
Hometown: New Braunfels, Texas
Song: “Moonpies”
Album: Different Hat
Release Date: August 27, 2021
Label: Tiny Ass Records

In Their Words: “‘Moonpies’ is a true story about the new girl in town who walks to the beat of her own drum. That being said, I wouldn’t let the truth get in the way of a good story. I planned to finish this song with Delbert McClinton, but he said, ‘You know, I think it’s done — I might change this one little line here.’ So when it came time to put the record out, I reached out to him about his publishing information and he said, ‘You’re out of your mind.’ So, according to Delbert, I wrote the song by myself. It’s a fun song — and pretty bizarre, musically. It’s kind of half Howlin’ Wolf, half Burt Bacharach.” — Seth James


Photo credit: Erin Valkner Photography

BGS 5+5: Jesse Dayton

Artist: Jesse Dayton
Hometown: Beaumont Texas, but been in Austin forever.
Latest Album: Gulf Coast Sessions, out July 24
Personal nicknames: AKA the Beaumonster, AKA Country Soul Brother

What other art forms, like literature, film, dance, painting, etc. inform your music?

Books and film have been the biggest inspiration outside of listening to other folks’ music. I remember seeing Ralph Steadman’s subversive art in Rolling Stone magazine when I was a kid and then reading the words under it, which were Hunter S. Thompson’s words. I had read some of the classics at this point, but that was my first introduction to outsider, almost punk rock-like, literature. Then I got into the Beat writers and after that it was the Russian writers, then then Irish writers, up until Latino surrealist like Márquez.

I always gotta a book going. Right now it’s On Tyranny by Timothy Snider. The biggest thing I learned from the writers I love is sometimes the narrative of your story/lyrics don’t have to be perfectly defined. When people digest art, the only thing they usually remember about it is how it made them feel. Same with films. Truffaut, Scorsese, and PT Anderson have all made me think, “Wow, that’d make a great lyric.” I directed a horror B-film that starred Malcolm McDowell called Zombex on Amazon. I’m writing a book for Hachette Book Group/DaCapo Press which will be out 2021.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I bought a house in South Austin about 18 years ago and we have access to a beautiful greenbelt forest that runs outside of town next to a flowing creek and that’s where I trail run. Besides the mental health benefits I get from defeating the shitty committee in my head that’s always trying to talk me out of exercising, I get lots of song ideas out in the woods that I wouldn’t get running on concrete. Besides, country music is not just a genre, it’s an actual place and sometimes ya gotta get out in the woods away from folks to receive clear messages about your work. I’m buzzing at a different frequency when my feet are in the dirt.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

Well, as long as we’re “dreaming,” I can’t think of anything better than having a big plate of Cajun seafood, oysters on the half shell, Fried red fish stuffed with crab meat, and a shrimp cocktail, circa 1955 at Antoine’s in the Quarter in New Orleans with the father of American music, Louis Armstrong. What’s not to love? By the way, I rarely eat seafood anymore and eat mostly a plant-based diet so I don’t keel over like all my other relatives did in their 50s from clogged arteries. But I will go fishing and eat my catch from time to time.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song are use “you“ when it’s actually “me”?

I’m guilty of doing this sometimes when I write personal and vulnerable lyrics that couldn’t be about anyone else but me, but I write it as “you.” I do like the idea of creating characters vocally though. All my favorite singers have created them throughout their careers, whether it was Mick Jagger’s country voice on “Wild Horses” or his blues voice on “Midnight Rambler.” Everyone from Jerry Reed to Bob Dylan to Howlin’ Wolf all create characters in their lyrics and in the vocal booth.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Try to give back more than I receive and keep my expectations lower than my gratitude. The more I do this, the better I feel.


Photo credit: Ray Redding

The Show on the Road – Listen to These Black Voices

Something powerful is in the air. While we may have said that after similar unrest in the past — after Rodney King in LA, Trayvon Martin in Miami, Freddie Gray in Baltimore, and countless others — something about what is happening now feels deeper, heavier. Maybe it’s actually sinking in.

I normally try to put out a new episode of The Show on the Road podcast every other Wednesday. This week, that simply wasn’t possible. It was time to stop giving my endless opinions, to stop waxing poetic about harmony, to shut up about finding the meaning in every lyric and just be quiet, listen and learn.

I’ve been lucky to talk with truly amazing Black artists, songwriters, and performers in the two years I’ve been creating The Show on the Road. I ask you to go back into our archives and listen to these voices. — Z. Lupetin, host

Sunny War


Discover a young, deep-voiced folk/blues artist like Sunny War, who overcame a troubled past with drugs and being unhoused in Venice Beach to create a series of critically acclaimed records that have brought her to festivals and venues around the country.

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Bobby Rush


A sonic elder statesman, Bobby Rush came north from Mississippi during the great migration to work in the heyday of the Chicago blues and soul scene with Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf. Rush has been making brashly funky and fearlessly sexy songs for decades, finally snagging his much-deserved first Grammy at the age of 86.

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Birds of Chicago


Based in Nashville by way of Chicago by way of Montreal, Birds of Chicago are centered around the powerful chemistry of husband-wife duo JT Nero and Haitian-Canadian banjoist and clarinetist dynamo Allison Russell, who gives every audience chills when she sings about her fallen ancestors. How she is not an international star astounds me. You may have seen her newest creation as part of the African American, female banjo supergroup, Our Native Daughters with Rhiannon Giddens, Amythyst Kiah, and Leyla McCalla.

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Dom Flemons


If you need to go back in time and educate yourself about Black cultural history (which you do), listen to our double episode with the great American songster Dom Flemons, who came up in the renowned Black string band Carolina Chocolate Drops. Of course, he has since struck out on his own to become a sought after, roving ethnomusicologist and music historian. His newest Grammy-nominated record brings us back into a forgotten world of Black cowboys, who don’t get the credit they deserved in helping settle the West.

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Liz Vice


If you’ve been having a crisis of faith and need a little musical medicine, Liz Vice’s episode is the ticket. Vice grew up in Oregon singing gospel music with her family and aiming to be a filmmaker. Her career as a songwriter and performer blossomed with homemade, deeply felt, deliciously soulful and social-justice-forward records (examining her faith and our ever-evolving relationship to a higher power). We recorded in an old church in LA, and her renewed version of Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land” is haunting.

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The War and Treaty


Finally, if you need a shot of pure, joyous harmony and unabashed rock ‘n’ roll spirit, our episode featuring The War and Treaty is exactly what you need. They show us how music can be a healing tide to rise all broken ships. How it can be a force for good, bringing now power-couple Tanya and Michael Trotter together against all odds after Michael came back from a trauma-filled tour of duty in Iraq and needed a way to reenter society and share the songs that had been brimming in his heart for decades. Hearing them sing together, how they complete each other totally, is all the hope I need right now.

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Squared Roots: Fink on the Life-Changing Legacy of John Lee Hooker

John Lee Hooker, by any other name, will still be the King of the Boogie. And he certainly went by a lot of names — a necessary ploy to make money whenever and wherever he could. The blues legend came from Mississippi and made his way to Michigan, by way of Memphis. In Detroit, he was a janitor by day and a blues man by night, slowly building a sound, a following, and a reputation. A local record store owner took notice and introduced him to a producer, and Hooker took it from there. His career spanned more than 50 years, and he was still at it when he passed away in 2000.

Fink, the stage name of Fin Greenall, is the British phenom who has worked as a DJ, a producer, a guitarist, a singer, and a songwriter over the course of his career. But the thing he always wanted to do was to make a blues record. With Sunday Night Blues Club, Vol. 1, that dream has been realized. 

Let’s talk about John Lee Hooker, who I had the pleasure of meeting once in the early ’90s.

Oh, wow. I did some press in Paris, recently, for this blues record. A lot of journalists met him in the late ’90s and they’re all very, very happy that they did, at that point in his life. Just to meet such a legend.

Yeah. For me, it was 1992 or ’93, when I was working at Virgin Records and we were putting out one of his albums. He came through and met everybody. Nothing like shaking the hand of a legend.

Oh, I can’t imagine! I mean, I can imagine, really, especially the hand of someone who’s just been in the business for forever and hasn’t changed his business model one tiny bit in all that time … as a performer, a little bit, but … wow. What did he sound like, when he spoke?

You know what? He didn’t really talk much. He just kind of smiled and said “hi.” It was so striking to me because, at the time, I was working in the legal department and we had filing cabinets full of all the old contracts from Point Blank Records and stuff like that. All the old blues cats had literally signed their contracts with an “X” because they couldn’t read or write. I would read through those things and … they were paid, quite literally, pennies for their work. 

Yeah. That’s the thing … I mean, when you try and put together like a retrospective, you’re just diving through filing cabinets of deals whether there are just rights floating all over the place and signed away. Oh my goodness, it just sounds so incredibly complicated. Especially John Lee Hooker, the way that he would also, in the early ’60s, just make up names and sign deals and record albums under other names in different states. I guess just thinking no one’s ever going to know. [Laughs] Which is probably true for most players, but not if you’re John Lee Hooker. It’s almost pre-dating sampling law, in a way. Someone else owns the copyright, but you’re just going to steal it, do it for another label, put it out. No one’s going to know. He just needed $500 or $100 or whatever it was, at the time. I can’t imagine untangling that stuff.

No kidding. So, considering how many different variations there are in blues, what is it about John Lee Hooker’s style and playing that captures you?

Well first off, I can’t believe no one’s picked John Lee Hooker before for your column, so I’m pretty lucky about that. Maybe if I tell you the story of how I got turned on and hooked on John Lee Hooker, it might explain what it is about his stuff that I find so magnetic and resonate so completely with what I think about music. Just to put a background on it, I was a trendy DJ into skateboarding and punk and metal and dance music and electronica, and I was in that period in my life when I asked my parents to buy me a John Lee Hooker record. Actually, I didn’t even say John Lee Hooker to my dad, who is a bit of a music dude. I was getting into blues. I think I’d listened to a bit of Stevie Ray Vaughn, a bit of Jeff Healey, and a few bits and pieces that had been floating past through dad’s mates. I said, “Buy me a blues album because I think I really like the blues.” He bought me a French reissue of That’s My Story by John Lee Hooker which is his second album for Riverside, I believe. And I think it’s from 1959 or 1960 or 1961.

But, if you read the sleeve notes on the back, it was recorded in one day. It’s basically John Lee Hooker with a pick-up band. John Lee Hooker famously never really bothered with counting to 12 or 16 or eight. [Laughs] He counted to whatever he wanted to count to, and when he’s going to go to the next section, he’s just going to go. And if he doesn’t want to go to the next section, he’s not going to go. Underneath this record, you can hear this pick-up band going where you should go and John Lee Hooker maybe not joining them or maybe John Lee Hooker goes early or late, and them having to pick up the pieces track by track by track by track.

The first thing that really resonated with me, like it resonated with everybody who’s a fan of John Lee Hooker, is just the voice. It’s just so rich. At the time, with the technology and the speakers and the format and mono … that voice will cut through anything. It’s so dark and deep and full that, in the mix, as the producer, there’s not much space for anything else. When he did his Canned Heat records — the Hooker ‘n Heat stuff with the band going on — I can hear the producer struggling with how to EQ everybody else because John Lee Hooker’s voice is 75 percent of the mix. It’s a miracle of a voice.

So, first of all, that gets you. Second of all, the fact that he’s not attempting to, on the album That’s My Story, he’s not really adhering to any songwriting structures. He’s not rhyming. He’s not verse-chorus-verse-chorus-ing. He’s not referencing anything that I’ve heard from before him. He’s not copying Robert Johnson. He’s not showcasing a band. It’s a very intimate experience between you and him.

It’s the fact that he’s got almost no skill as a guitarist and that really, really, really doesn’t get in the way of his journey. It’s kind of like the opposite of Jimi Hendrix who’s got no skill as a vocalist, but it doesn’t get in the way of what makes his music so fucking awesome. So, with John Lee Hooker, it’s like passion over skill to the maximum extent. So the voice was what it was all about and the guitar playing is just a vehicle it’s traveling in. That record changed my world.

Do you think one of the reasons contemporary blues is what it is is because the oral tradition of the blues played such a big part and maybe that skipped a generation or two generations and it just got lost?

That’s a very intelligent way of posing the question, for sure. I mean, that’s almost like saying well maybe possibly what happened was the Rolling Stones and everybody got a bit sidetracked, possibly. And I love the Stones. In fact, “Little Red Rooster” was probably the track which got me into the blues before I even knew what it was, by the Stones. As sacrilegious as it is, I actually prefer the Stones version to Howlin’ Wolf’s version. Sorry! [Laughs]

[Laughs] I won’t tell!

Oops! There’s my blues Grammy out the window.

Okay, the honest answer from me is “cowardice.” That’s the answer. The emotion has been filtered through lots of different genres since then. Disenchantment, you know the isolation of disenfranchisement, and city life isn’t always hard and is not all it’s cracked up to be so you reminisce about the old days, even though they were terrible, there were some nice things about it. You hear the same sentiments in punk and the Laurel Canyon when they were getting a bit folky and a bit bluesy. It’s been expressed in lots of different ways, but I think maybe the desperation is different. Maybe there’s less tragedy and death is further away from us than it was in the early ’50s, or even in the ’30s. 

But the simple answer, to me, is just cowardice. Modern artists in these genres are a bit lazy and spoiled and flabby. They’ll take a bit of blues and sing any old bollocks over the top of it and get a tight band together and got to L.A. and spend $20,000 on a record and wear a hat. That’s not the blues. It just isn’t. [Laughs] I’m definitely fucking my blues Grammy shit up now, but it’s true. It’s so true.


Fink photo by Tommy Lance. John Lee Hooker photo courtesy of the artist.