{mosimage}Ralston sent Carwreck Conversations. I listened and thought it decent. I typed him an e-mail telling him that, and then the reasons I wouldn’t write a piece. He took the news well, but wanted more feedback. So I listened to the disc again and graded the songs. There were several very good songs on the cd. Then I told him that one album wasn’t enough. This is good; I want to hear more. One cd is not enough.I became the asshole I so detest in this world. I don’t have to think back too far to remember when it was me telling an editor of a newspaper what I thought of his paper’s policy of not reviewing a self-published book. Then I invited him to kiss my nether regions, but in cruder terms. At the time, I was an unpublished writer. An unpublished writer that had written a good book.Artists, whether writers, singers, actors, painters, photographers, or you name the medium, face near impossible odds. Chosen few are lucky enough to be able to derive a living from what they do, or even be noticed in large arenas. People that own radio stations, recording studios, publishing houses, newspapers, and even websites such as this one are gatekeepers to success. They get flooded with material and are tasked with the unenviable job of telling most their work simply isn’t good enough.{mosimage}Problem is, some of it that gets rejected is good enough. So many made performers produce mediocre stuff and get published. And so many unknowns produce something good and never get the recognition they deserve. Often works get rejected without honest consideration. The bottom line in most of these places is, can we make money with this?Here’s the deal. Ralston Bowles is a fifty-year-old man, just getting started in the music business for all practical purposes and he has a very small body of work. A small body of damn good work.So for all of you out there struggling to make it in this cruel world we call entertainment, take a lesson from Ralston. Don’t give up when some asshole tells you you’re not good enough. First, get good enough, then refuse to take no for an answer, and keep on hacking away.Carwreck Conversations makes the grade. Here’s why: What Kind of FriendWhat kind of a friend could pull a knife When it’s him or you and his kids need shoes? What kind of a friend would do you in When the bomb goes off and the shelter’s his? What kind of friends do friends become When the musical chairs get down to one? What kind of friend could I become? What kind of friend am I?What kind of friend would tell you lies To Spare you from the bitter truth? What kind of friend could stoop so low As to shield your eyes from the mirror’s gaze? What kind of friends to friends become When a blind eye turns on the damage done? What kind of friend could I become? What kind of friend am I?What kind of friend survives the night In a frightened sense of self-defense? Wht kind of friend can take the sache Of loosing face for friendship’s sake? What kind of friend could I become When the heart says kill and the soul says love? What kind of friend could I become? What kind of friend am I?When I asked myself that question this morning, I wasn’t pleased with the reply. Then I listened to What About Me. OK Ralston. You win. You get what little help I have to offer.Everybody But You is a good song. Fragile is great:For whatever you may think of me Any thoughts you might allow I am not who I would like to be, I’m just who I am right now And if I caused you any pain If the words I spoke weren’t kind I confess, repent and take the blame Let’s just leave it all behind We are fragile everyone, we all long for something more Things are said and things are done And the pieces hit the floor – we are so fragileWhatever I did to make it hard on you More than it ever was for me It was never my intention to convey indignity Humble words are not enough I know But sometimes they’re all that come And in this empty field of quid pro quo The last one standing wins no crownFor whatever you may think of me Any thoughts you may allow I am not where I would like to be It’s just where I am right now – that is fragileThen there’s Grace. I for one need more of her.She comes around here every once in a while I know because I’ve met her It’s hard to pinpoint her particular style Sometimes I just don’t get her It’s hard to pinpoint her particular style Sometimes Ijust don’t get her There’s nothing cheap about her that’s for sure She radiates a case for all things pure Given the odds, I’d play them all on her, GraceFrom where I’m standing, I can only catch a glimmer it’s safe to say my chances couldn’t get much slimmer The things I take for granted keep me in this prison The way she walks through walls simply defies description I’m left here tongue tied tripping over syllogisms of, GraceGrace is an angel, Grace is absurd In the face of anger, she brings me kisses undeservedToo much of something will only leave you seeing double Too little self-control is gonna lead you into trouble When she walks in the room, it all goes quiet Somewhere between the dusk and dawn’s first light There is that moment when you just might get to know GraceAnd finally Draper:From the eastern seaboard to the western shore Past the graceless churches, across each slatted floor There are no fruitless searches, there are no faceless poor Everything that matters says there’s so much moreAnd I am just a draper in a room of wool Looking for a pattern feeling like a fool Trying to take this fabric, stretch it to the seams Trying to find what’s woven Underneath these tailored dreamsWell if heaven is the reason and dying is the door What keeps us all from leaving? what is this drama for? And why dosen’t St. Peter just open up the gate? Are we stranded at the station? Or is the train just running late?And I am just a draper ina room of wool Looking for a pattern feeling like a fool Trying to take this fabric, stretch it to the seams Trying to find what’s woven Underneath these tailored dreamsI don’t believe that I’m a cynic, I don’t believe I don’t believe I don’t believe that any slogan will bring anyone relief I just believe that I am moving toward learning how to fly I just believe that life is more than rehearsing how to dieAnd I am just a draper ina room of wool Looking for a pattern feeling like a fool Trying to take this fabric, stretch it to the seams Trying to find what’s woven Underneath these tailored dreamsRalston Bowles doesn’t need much help from me. He just needs to be heard. He’s no youngster selling sex appeal. He’s a mature, thoughtful man of noble heart and strong mind, yet retaining a dose of childhood innocence most people his age have long since killed. He has produced a cd worth your time. I hope he’ll give us more in the future. But if not, you were good enough with this one Ralston.Here’s his website (http://www.ralstonbowles.com)You can purchase Ralston’s new album at Paste Music. ——————–About the Author – Don Henry Ford, Jr.When Don’s not writing books he lends out his talent to Americana Roots to put together great articles like this. If you’ve enjoyed what you read, then pick up Don’s latest book Contrabando: Confessions of a Drug Smuggling Cowboy at your local bookstore or online at Cinco Puntos Press.