The song Jimmy Buffett wrote after stealing a taxi: “I was too cold to care”
As I write this now, it’s pushing 30 degrees, and for the last eight weeks here in England, we’ve had little to no let-up from this heat. It’s global knowledge at this point that we British people don’t fare well in the heat. Combined with my penchant for pastry-based pub snacks and endless pints of Guinness, I unashamedly dream of cooler climates, which is just one of the many personality traits that make me the polar opposite of Jimmy Buffett.
Our bank accounts would be the second most obvious point of difference, with creative talent coming up the rear in a close third. But, surprisingly, given my declaration of love for an Irish stout, Buffett and I do share a love for a particular cocktail. While he’ll lose me at the point the miniature umbrellas and looping straws come out, any man willing to dedicate an entire song to a Margarita cocktail would probably be worth sharing a drink with.
It was songs like ‘Margaritaville’ and ‘Boat Drinks’ that made him the sunny soundtrack to so many parties, no matter where in the world or what the weather was. He was the sonic embodiment of tropical paradise and, quite simply, would have shuddered at the thought of sharing a pork pie and Guinness with me.
When it comes to the genesis of those songs, there was no metaphorical approach either. Buffett wholeheartedly adopted the tropical lifestyle, and it was withdrawal from such a landscape that inspired his hit ‘Boat Drinks’.
He said, “It was February in Boston, and I was cold and wanted to go home. Rum and tonic was the antifreeze, and the newspaper was full of ads for warmer climates. I was in a place owned by Derek Sanderson, who was a very famous player for the Boston Bruins in the ’70s. I came out of the bar and couldn’t find a cab except for the one that was running in front of the nearby hotel”.
He added: “There was no driver in it, and I was too cold to care about the consequences. There is an old Navy expression which says, ‘Beg forgiveness, not permission’. I hopped in and drove back to my hotel. I did leave the fare on the seat.”
The gritty introspection of a life lived in the city wasn’t in line with Buffett’s songwriting style, and so, rather than steer into the madness of stealing a taxi in the busy streets of Boston, he returned his storytelling to a place he felt most comfortable.
It’s in that essence that Buffett was never going to become the songwriter of a generation. Not exactly like Bob Dylan or Bruce Springsteen, who tell real-life stories of life lived on the cold metropolitan pavements. Buffett was merely there to represent loftier ambitions, for that was genuinely the truth of his life. He lived on sunny shores, basked in the billions made from his Margaritaville empire and spent his time cooly sipping on cocktails. When you absorb his art with that in mind, then it becomes a lot more enjoyable.
