Damn this song swings, and it has a great guitar intro and feel. I heard this for the first time not long ago, and it stuck with me as well as some more of their songs. With a band like this, it’s hard to pin down one song to post.
They’ve always had that rarest of abilities: to wrap roots, rock, and border ballads into something that feels less like a style and more like a lineage. The brilliance here is in the restraint. There’s no over-arrangement, no big production, and no studio trickery. Just a man sitting with his memory.
The song was written by David Hidalgo and Louie Pérez on the album How Will The Wolf Survive? This is truly a great album. It’s easy to overlook this song when you’ve got so much groove and grit elsewhere on the record. But give it a quiet night and some headphones, and you’ll find it’s one of the songs that stays with you longest. I covered the title cut earlier this year.
This song proves something else… they could write songs that cut deep with almost nothing at all. No drawn-out guitar solos. No choruses built for crowd sing-alongs. Just three minutes of pure delight. The album peaked at #47 on the Billboard 100, #13 in New Zealand, #31 in Canada, and #77 in the UK in 1984.
I gave this link in the other post. There is a documentary about Los Lobos called Native Sons that is set to be released this year. As far as I know, it still hasn’t been released. If you have any more information, I would love to hear it.
Evangeline
Evangeline is on the roamJust barely seventeenWhen she left homeDon’t know where she isOr where she’s goingShe is the queen of make believe, Evangeline
I can still remember this little girlBlack eyes just staringAt this big old worldRan off to find some American dreamTrain ticket in one handIn her new blue jeans
Evangeline is on the roamJust barely seventeenWhen she left homeDon’t know where she isOr where she’s goingShe is the queen of make believe, Evangeline
She went out dancin’ on a Saturday nightSilk stockings and high heelsBlue liner on her eyesBut on Sunday morning she’s all aloneHead lying on the nightstandBy the telephone
Evangeline is on the roamJust barely seventeenWhen she left homeDon’t know where she isOr where she’s goingShe is the queen of make believe, EvangelineShe is the queen of make believe, Evangeline
