Things Happen That Way

End of the line with Dr. John

A few years after his passing in mid–2019 at 77, we have the final studio album by Mac Rebennack (Dr. John was his stage name). Karla Pratt (executive producer and estate executor) relates that Things Happen That Way¹ is her father’s long-contemplated tribute to the country and western music Mac imbibed as a youngster in New Orleans.

But the repertoire, pacing, tone, and laidback groove comprise something closer to musical autobiography and memoir. Joining are friends and longtime collaborators Shane Theriot (co-producer with Mac), Willie Nelson and son Lukas, Aaron Neville, Jon Cleary (Hammond B3), Leon “Kid Chocolate” Brown (trumpet), Herlin Riley (drums), and singer Katie Pruitt (dubbed in post-production). Altogether, we have a delightful, understated gem with a tasty dose of Nawlins cool, Mac’s offhand, over-the-shoulder farewell to this jack-crazy world.

Surprisingly, perhaps, Mac’s inimitable keyboard work takes a cozy backseat to his gravelly voice and Theriot’s discerning acoustic, electric, baritone, and lap steel guitar work, not least on three numbers co-written with Mac. The opener is a honky-tonk rendering of Willie Nelson’s “Funny How Time Slips Away,” laying out an insouciant melancholy furthered on “Ramblin’ Man” and “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” two landmark Hank Williams titles whose down-and-out bent the good Doctor reinterprets as uniquely his own.

There’s a casual spiritual vein too, with Nelson’s duet on “Old Time Religion,” complemented by the redemptive Rebennack-Theriot ballad “Holy Water,” referencing Mac’s 1960 narcotics conviction and federal prison spell that crystallized his dedication to a career in music.

They pair on two more originals, “Sleeping Dogs Best Left Alone” (with Yolanda Robinson and Jolynda “Kiki” Chapman on a perfect vocal chorus) and “Give Myself a Good Talkin’ To,” sly philosophical musings by Mac at his best.

Reaching back to 1968 with “I Walk on Gilded Splinters,” Mac’s signature gris-gris bayou hit garners a thunderous, mesmerizing framing courtesy of Lukas Nelson and his band Promise of the Real.

Throughout, the disc conveys a joie de vivre, as on the inspired reworking of The Traveling Wilburys’ 1988 hit “End of the Line,” less a song of foreboding than an easy, philosophical embrace of the quotidian, a journey quirky, oft beautiful and, with luck, some camaraderie, forgiveness, and loving companionship. Lastly, the title track and closing ballad is Johnny Cash’s “Guess Things Happen That Way,” a stoic farewell from Dr. J. As he was occasionally heard to declare, “It’s time to ejaculate this joint,” another way of saying that if you live, your time will come.

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1. This piece appeared in earlier form at RootsWorld, the online magazine of “music from someplace you aren’t, music with roots, music of the world and for the world. OK?” Compelling reading and listening await there—check it out.

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