Introduction
In the haunting live performance of “One for the Money” and “Sam’s Song”, recorded in 2005 with longtime friend and collaborator Donnie Fritts, Kris Kristofferson bares his soul with the kind of unflinching honesty only time can sharpen. These two back-to-back songs are not just compositions—they’re character sketches, deeply personal ballads that feel more like spoken prayers than performances. Stripped of studio polish, accompanied only by a guitar and a lifetime’s worth of gravel in the throat, Kristofferson shows us why he’s not merely a great songwriter, but one of America’s great truth-tellers.
“One for the Money”
This song is Kristofferson at his most confessional and unguarded. He tells the story of a man who’s sold out—perhaps not in the most literal sense, but emotionally and spiritually. A man who’s let life get away from him in pursuit of all the wrong things: fame, comfort, the spotlight. It’s laced with regret, and yet, it never dips into self-pity. Instead, Kristofferson delivers each line like a man who knows exactly what he traded—and who he hurt along the way.
Donnie Fritts, with his subtle presence and deep understanding of Kristofferson’s rhythms, adds to the gravity of the moment. Their voices, weathered and warm, lean on each other with the comfort of long friendship. The song, originally written in the early days of Kristofferson’s career, takes on an entirely different weight when sung decades later. Now, the words feel earned.
“Sam’s Song”
If “One for the Money” is the reckoning, “Sam’s Song” is the resolution. Written as a tender tribute to Sam Peckinpah—the legendary, hard-living filmmaker and Kristofferson’s longtime friend—this song reflects on loyalty, mortality, and the pain of watching someone self-destruct, yet loving them through it. It’s deeply personal, yet universal for anyone who has lost someone to their own demons.
“Sam’s Song” isn’t just about Sam—it’s about all of us who try to be strong for the people we love, who witness the battle and bear the weight of helplessness. It is both an elegy and an act of forgiveness. The line between artist and subject blurs, and by the end, Kristofferson isn’t just singing for Sam—he’s singing for every man who’s ever loved someone too broken to be saved.
Together, these two songs form a sort of moral and emotional diptych: one about the man you become when you lose your way, the other about the man who stands by you anyway. Performed with Donnie Fritts in that raw, intimate 2005 setting, they echo louder than ever—not just with melody, but with memory.
For those who appreciate music that speaks plainly, painfully, and beautifully about what it means to be human, this performance is essential. Not for the money. Not for the glory. But for the truth.