In 1975, director James Szalapski developed an idea to make a documentary following some of the new, up-and-coming country music acts who were then beginning to develop in and around the Texas music scene. The original vision was called New Country, a title which was changed pre-original-release to Outlaw Country and then, finally, Heartworn Highways. This new DVD release contains the original film, plus approximately an hour's extra footage consisting of musical performances which didn't make the final cut of the film.

The DVD is accompanied by a booklet which contains an interview done with Szalapski in 1996 regarding the film. The name New Country was changed, according to Szalapski, because just about the same time, that phrase was being associated "a yoghurt called 'new country.'" Seems that times keep changing, but all the changes feel the same. The pains and problems country is suffering today has been suffered by country music for decades. These young men who are highlighted in this film are, mostly, known names today if not for their own performances, then for the songs they wrote for others. Faces, some surprisingly young, which are now a part of music history begin here: Townes Van Zandt, Guy Clark, Barefoot Jerry, David Allan Coe, Steve Earle, Charlie Daniels, John Hiatt.

More than anything, this movie is a time capsule; a glimpse back to when things were still pretty rough and raw even as new movements and new technologies were changing things at a breathless pace. In the relaxed manner of the handmade documentary, we're given a tour of Townes Van Zandt's backyard, where we see dogs running loose and his free-range rabbits; the doors are open to neighbors, the old men still sit around and tell stories. There is no real story to the movie, only the tales which are told in the lives of people who love music and make it not for a living (because there's often no money to be made in making music you love), but because it's a part of their heart and soul, down to their bones. Music is the life's blood for these people. They do it because they simply can't do anything else. When Townes picks up a guitar and sings the poignant "Waitin' Around To Die" in his kitchen, the old neighbor man who came over to chat breaks down in tears.

We follow David Allan Coe to the Tennessee State Prison to watch a performance; we see Charlie Daniels on a small stage in front of a crowd of near-riotous fans. A gang of buddies, including Rodney Crowell, gathers around a table at Christmas time to sing and pick guitars, showing us some very early work by Steve Earle (whose appearance gave me personally an added feeling of heart-rending nostalgia -- in 1975, a whipcord-thin, long-haired Earle so closely resembled my late brother it was uncanny). The structure of the film is very loose; at times almost surreal, especially viewed through the fish-eye lens of time.

I watched the film with a friend of mine who enjoys "outlaw country" but does not know the players; she commented many times that the film would have benefitted from simple introductions to each of the artists we saw. I agreed, as even I had trouble knowing who we were watching at times, since many of the artists don't look like they do today and there were several I was unfamiliar with, who have been swallowed by lack of mainstream interest, such as Gamble Rogers, Steve Young, and Larry Jon Wilson. However, this was solved by a very good final credits sequence; and, in retrospect, after mulling over what I watched, I realized some of the point of this is the way these incredible talents could be, and were in many cases, lost to obscurity. What can happen when we don't pay attention.

Above all else above the humor (in one sequence a man says how, in his opinion, "Johnny Cash has shot his wad," implying that it's all over for Cash. This was, of course, just before The Highwaymen and well before the American Recordings), the sorrow, and the trials of rural life, there is the music. Music by common people for common people, what country music was supposed to be all about and what these "outlaws" knew and understood (and still understand today). That Szalapski decided right out he didn't want any big names in the piece was a gigantic obstacle he faced in getting the film made; only Charlie Daniels was, at the time, anywhere near established as a performer. Several potential backers told him right out to put Willie Nelson or Kris Kristofferson into the movie so there would be someone in it whom anyone had heard of, and Szalapski refused. He wanted to capture a moment, a revolution, a piece in time which he did, most admirably.

But if nothing else, watch this movie for the music. Townes Van Zandt is gone -- this movie gives him back just a little (including a lovely version of his biggest hit, "Pancho and Lefty," in the bonus footage). It's worth every second of footage of Guy Clark. The bonus footage is nothing less than flawless and almost worth the entire DVD alone.