It’s hard for me to listen to Doug Kershaw without conjuring up visions of the young man I saw playing in the late 1950s with his brother, as part of the team of Rusty & Doug. They threw themselves into their music with such passionate abandon and almost frenetic energy that listeners and viewers could scarcely avoid falling under their spell.
Rusty & Doug were Cajuns and proud of it, but their music was a wondrous blend of rockabilly, country, and Cajun. Doug Kershaw was no less riveting, or musically eclectic, when, buoyed by a memorable appearance on Johnny Cash’s television show in 1969, he embarked on a successful solo career as the Ragin’ Cajun. Posterity may reserve its strongest plaudits for his poignant but danceable autobiographical vignette, “Louisiana Man”, but people who actually saw him will also remember his trademark frayed fiddle bows and the wild energy they represented.
I’m not suggesting the energy has disappeared, but on the whole, the music on Easy is more introspective and mature than that which once punctuated his stage performances. After all, the Ragin’ Cajun is now an “Agin’ Cajun,” who’s had plenty of time to reflect on both the sober and joyous themes of life.
The eclecticism that always defined his music is certainly present and beautifully displayed on this album. We hear snippets of country-rock, straight country (complete with pedal steel guitar), rockabilly, bluegrass, Celtic, and good-time Cajun music. “On The Bayou” and “Cajun Capers” (presented with a Bo Diddley beat) recapture some of the zest and hedonism, as well as the stereotypes, of Cajun culture, and Kershaw’s fiddling weaves through these and other tunes as expressively as they ever did.
Except for “Sing Along”, a plea for a retreat to music as an antidote to the anxieties and cares of modern life, the other songs on Easy survey the mysteries and varieties of love. Most of the songs comment on failed or failing relationships, with themes ranging from the wearied resignation of a forsaken lover, in “Make It Easy On Yourself” and “Go Right On”, to the sense of despair heard in “I Might Cry”, to the frustration found in “The Country Singer”, where the protagonist declares that if he’s going to be a star, then “why can’t I hold you tight?” At least a couple of songs, though — “I Care” and “Love City” — make joyous affirmations of love, while “Do What You Gotta Do” declares that “the best way to hold someone is to let them go.”
The liner notes don’t tell us why this CD was named Easy; the intent may have been to suggest the laissez bon temps roulez flavor of Kershaw’s southwestern Louisiana roots. But the description also captures his remarkable facility to move convincingly from style to style without ever losing his own distinctive and compelling flair. When Doug Kershaw makes music, it does indeed seem easy.