She Wanted Me / Long Black Veil by Fustukian – A Raw, Unpolished Gem from 1979
Alright, buckle up. This ain’t your polished Nashville country album with slick production and radio-ready hooks. Nope. She Wanted Me / Long Black Veil by Fustukian is a scrappy, honest-to-goodness slice of Canadian country rock that feels like it was recorded in someone’s barn—and I mean that as a compliment. Released back in ’79 on Vera Cruz Records, this thing hits hard where it counts: raw emotion, stripped-down instrumentation, and lyrics that stick to your ribs.
Let’s get one thing straight—this isn’t for everyone. If you’re looking for pop-country fluff or overproduced ballads, keep walking. But if you dig gritty storytelling and music that sounds like whiskey-soaked heartbreak, then man, do I have something for you.
Track Highlights: “She Wanted Me” & “Long Black Veil”
First off, let’s talk about “She Wanted Me.” Holy crap, does this song slap. It’s got this driving rhythm that just grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. The vocals are rough around the edges, but damn if they don’t feel real. You can hear every ounce of longing in those lines—it’s not pretty, but it’s authentic. And the guitar? That twangy riff cuts right through like a rusty knife. It’s not flashy, but it gets the job done. This track sticks with me because it’s unapologetically messy, kinda like love itself. Ain’t no Auto-Tune saving anybody here.
Then there’s “Long Black Veil,” which flips the script entirely. Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard covers of this classic tune before, but Fustukian brings their own grimy spin to it. The tempo slows way down, letting the weight of the story sink in deep. When the singer croons about betrayal and regret, you believe him. Like, really believe him. There’s none of that forced drama some artists try too hard to pull off. Instead, it’s hauntingly understated, almost like he’s whispering secrets into your ear late at night. It’s dark, brooding, and leaves you feeling unsettled—which, honestly, is exactly what a good murder ballad should do.
Why Does This Album Stick?
Producer Wes Dakus deserves props for keeping things grounded. He didn’t drown these tracks in studio tricks or overdubs; instead, he let the songs breathe. What you get is an album that feels alive, warts and all. Sure, the recording quality might not be perfect, but who cares? Perfection’s boring anyway.
Here’s the kicker: listening to this record feels like stepping into another time and place. Not some idealized version of the past, either—the real deal. Think smoky bars, dirt roads, and people living lives full of mistakes and redemption. It’s messy, sure, but so is life. Maybe that’s why it resonates so much.
Final Thoughts (and a Weird One)
If I had to sum this sucker up in one sentence, I’d say it’s the kind of album that makes you wanna drive nowhere in particular with the windows down, even when it’s freezing outside. Oh, and here’s the random thought that popped into my head while writing this: Why don’t more modern country acts sound like they actually lived through the stuff they sing about? Food for thought.
Anyway, give She Wanted Me / Long Black Veil a spin if you’re tired of soulless playlists and wanna hear something with actual guts. Just don’t blame me if it messes with your mood.
