2020 Country Music Hall Of Fame Inductees - Part 2

 

I have few quibbles about Hank Williams, Jr. being inducted into the Country Music Hall Of Fame, other than there are better and more successful artists who could have claimed that spot.

I am not a Hank Jr. fan, but then I'm not a fan of southern rock. I never "got" the Allman Brothers or any jam band, southern or not. Musical taste is personal and inexplicable. Hank has rabid, rabid fans who have been praying for his induction for decades, so good for him and for them.

There was a time, prior to his transformation, when he was still singing country music, that I rather liked him. He has never had a strong singing voice, more of a shout, but he recorded some very decent country tracks. Once he abandoned traditional country music, he did score three or four number one hits, which are the ones most non-country fans know: All My Rowdy Friends Are Comin' Over Tonight (or the Monday Night Football theme), Born To Boogie, possibly All My Rowdy Friends (Have Settled Down). 

He did record a track I liked:

Don't get me wrong; I don't hate every Hank Jr. recording:

For those who are curious, Hank was an entirely different performer prior to his mountain climbing accident. Maybe that's why he always refers to himself in third person.

In his acceptance speech, Hank said, “Bocephus has been eyeing this one for awhile." It's like that Seinfeld episode in which Jimmy keeps calling himself Jimmy and all the characters think he's talking about a different guy. Elaine even agrees to go on a date with "Jimmy". I don't care for the affectation; maybe it's a way for Hank to keep himself at arms-length from his fans.

Maybe I'm wrong about Hank's success. My country music site of choice states he's had: 70 millions records sold, 5 total wins for Entertainer of the Year from the CMA and ACM Awards, 6 platinum records and 20 gold ones, 13 #1 albums, and 10 #1 singles. That's not what Wikipedia shows, but again I'm not going to quibble. 

I've attended many, many country concerts in my life. I've only walked out on one. It was the seventies and very few fans were aware that Hank, Jr. was now a "new" artist. None of his southern rock ditties were blasting out of the radio speakers yet. It was a shock -- the vast majority of the audience came to see the Hank we knew, and instead we were presented with a motley collection of Skynryd wanna-be's. Many of us left. In my defense, it was kind of false advertising. But I got used to the new Hank after a while. I may have even purchased the "Born To Boogie" single; can't remember.

So, congrats to Bocephus. I've got my fingers crossed for Gene Watson for future honors, but I'm not holding my breath. I'll settle for Tanya Tucker, though.

Part 2 ~ Generic Country

My recent dive into Today's Country Hits was at once enlightening and depressing. Discounting the revelation that the songs are bad (bad!), the singers are utterly forgetful.

Music (and artists) are machine-molded. Some cigar-chomping industrial mogul is getting richer by the day churning out these plastic widgets. "Son, it's not about perpetuity; it's all disposable, boy; and the rubes'll keep coming back for more! Hardy-har-har! (cough)"

Granted, I haven't listened to today's country enough to be able to distinguish one bland artist from another, but even if I did, could I? Two days ago I sampled the current top ten tracks and today I would disgracefully bomb the pop quiz. 

I'm a crafter, which means I follow a pattern; but even I switch things up now and then. I like to put my own stamp on my creations. Today's acts, however, seem content following the dots ~ fake southern twang in just the right places, pickup trucks in verse one; one, count 'em, one fiddle riff heavily enveloped by EDM beats.

These guys are not artists; they're products.

I like listening to Willie's Roadhouse on SiriusXM. I'm not completely on board with all the tracks. Some are even before my ancient times; but I certainly know the artists when I hear them; like 'em or loathe 'em. Few of the singers featured on the channel can be confused with someone else. The instant I hear Tanya, Hank, Faron, Webb, Paycheck, Price, Buck, MERLE, even Jack Greene and Bill Anderson, I know who's singing. And each of them had their individual niche. One can't compare a Haggard song to a Ray Price track.  I can even distinguish a Nashville Sound (Atkins) recording from a Bakersfield production (Nelson).

Singers were who they were and each was his own man (or woman).

The lure of country was discovering a new artist who was different or an intriguing sound. Even in the eighties, individualism reigned: Strait, Travis, Yoakam, The Judds, Black. Today's goal seems to be "sound like everybody else". This is not a prescription for legend status. But maybe that's not the goal. "Who wants to be a legend? I want my money now!"

You want a song you can dance to, even in a roadside honky tonk that you ducked inside to get out of the rain?



Good luck, millennial hipsters. Nobody's ever gonna punch your songs up on the juke box.

A Country Album Primer

The word is that Ken Burns' "Country Music" series has sparked a sudden surge in country album sales. Folks who heretofore disdained country music are suddenly interested because it was featured on PBS. But where to start? Hank Williams? His songs, while superbly written, have that old-timey, antiquated sound. Johnny Cash? Download one track ~ they all sound the same. Don't waste precious dollars on a whole album until you understand what you're getting into. Nothing too twangy ~ the neighbors might be appalled. That eliminates Dwight Yoakam. Patsy Cline is pretty safe; her songs were "pretty" and featured lots of strings.

My advice:  Start with 1975. Emmylou Harris's second album, Elite Hotel, was a revelation to a jaded country fan like me. There is little good to say about country music in the nineteen seventies ~ it had lackadaisically bumped up against the doldrums. However, every decade of music has at least one breakout star, and Emmylou Harris was that. I don't recall, but I think I first heard a single by Emmylou, "If I Could Only Win Your Love", on my car radio. I had no idea who the singer was, and if I didn't catch the DJ's patter at the right time, I wouldn't find out until the next time the track was played. She was definitely country, updated; with the voice of an angel. Elite Hotel, featuring songs written by the likes of Buck Owens, newcomer Rodney Crowell, Gram Parsons, Hank Williams, Don Gibson, and even Lennon/McCartney; the album combined old and new and still sounded "old". Or perhaps "classic" is a better term. Emmylou was a vocalist who didn't dismiss country or try to change it. She simply improved upon it.

For the country novice, what could be better? It combines Hank and Patsy and Buck; it introduces a soon-to-be classic songwriter; it harks back to the sixties country-rock sound of bands like The Byrds.

To wit, here is a country primer for the newly-converted:

"Amarillo" ~ co-written by Emmylou and Rodney Crowell:



"Together Again" ~ Buck Owens:



"Feelin' Single, Seein' Double" ~ the awesome Wayne Kemp:



"Sin City" ~ Gram Parsons and Chris Hillman:



"One Of These Days" ~ Earl Montgomery:



"Till I Gain Control Again" ~ Rodney Crowell (again):



"Here, There and Everywhere" ~ some guys named John and Paul:



"Ooh, Las Vegas" ~ Gram Parsons and Ric Grech:



"Sweet Dreams" ~ Don Gibson:



"Jambalaya" ~ Hank Williams:



"Satan's Jewel Crown" ~ Edgar L. Eden:



"Wheels" ~ Chris Hillman and Gram Parsons:



My favorite? For sheer beauty, it's "Together Again". For reminiscence, "One Of These Days". But I think I like "Wheels" the best.

Elite Hotel combines everything a country lover or country novice could ask for in a classic album. For a forty-four year-old album, that's damn good.

I would start here.

What I Learned From The First Three Episodes of "Country Music"

Somebody in those first episodes uttered something like, "Country music is about looking back...to a better time..." I thought, yes, that's very astute. I wasn't looking back in 1968 or 1974, but I have devoted an entire blog to looking back. Partly it's reminiscence, but it's also my attempt to ensure that certain artists and influences are not forgotten. Pop culture forges ahead, relentlessly; but to truly understand music, one should steep themselves in what came before. All music, whether artists realize it or not, is stirred by those who plowed the road.

I'm no expert ~ there's lots I learned from Ken Burns' series I didn't know. I knew how Ralph Peer ventured into Appalachia with his rudimentary equipment and found The Carter Family. And I know that country music had to start somewhere ~ thus The Carters. I didn't know, but I suspected The Carters didn't exactly write all those songs they recorded, and they didn't. Copyright was a foreign concept in the nineteen thirties. I also learned that melodies were exchanged like candy drops back then, and no one seemed to mind. It was just the way of music. Woody Guthrie stole the melody to This Land Is Your Land from The Carters' "When The World's On Fire", which was no doubt stolen from some unsuspecting hillbilly's lost-forever original composition. The Carters weren't "all that", except for Maybelle, who could definitely pick a mean acoustic guitar. They were, however, one of the very first.

I learned that hillbillies can call each other hillbillies, but otherwise it's an epithet. It's sort of how I feel when somebody says, "country and western music". It's like nails on a chalkboard.

I learned that Bob Wills had a keen eye for talent, but a bad eye for wives (which numbered about five). It would have been nice had Ken featured some of Bob's music. Whoever authored the episode, it seems, had a distinct preference for Gene Autry, and therefore, an inordinate number of minutes were devoted to this singing cowboy who was apparently as influential to kids in the thirties as Elvis movies were to me in the early sixties (that is to say, we just didn't know any better).

I gained a grudging respect for Roy Acuff, who I'd always viewed with a modicum of disdain. Turns out, Roy was a record-selling phenomenon; and even he admitted he wasn't the world's greatest singer. He was the best ambassador country music ever had, according to the series; and I now get that.

Ernest Tubb was bigger than I realized. I saw Tubb in concert; one of those one-offs that my best friend Alice and I bought tickets for sometime around 1967 because it was the only game in town.

I knew that Merle Haggard idolized Jimmie Rodgers ~ he did record a tribute album, after all. I was of a mind that all Rodgers' songs basically sounded the same (they did), but my husband pointed out that he was actually doing the blues. All the stars from that era, just like Merle, worshiped Rodgers. I do like California Blues (as performed by Merle), but all that yodeling can only be tolerated for so long. It was a different time.

I learned that Bill Monroe was a first-class asshole; but I rather respect that. He had high standards, but mostly he was just an asshole. There was a time I detested bluegrass music ~ now I like some. And Monroe invented it. How many people can claim to have invented a genre of music?

The Maddox Brothers and Rose were simply a name to me before I watched this series. I still don't get the attraction ~ I guess you had to be there ~ but if they helped to influence the Bakersfield Sound, many many kudos to them.

Kitty Wells got a mini-shout-out, even though she deserved more. She was the first mainstream female country star. (Alice and I also saw a Kitty Wells concert ~ again, we saw anyone who came to town, truly.)

The biggest impact for me of the first three episodes was the story of Hank Williams. I knew that Hank wrote some elegant country songs, plus some awesome up-tempo giddy ones, like "Settin' The Woods On Fire" and "Jambalaya". I knew that the end was tragic. I didn't know what a sad soul Hank was. When I watched the clips of Williams performing, all I saw was sorrow. Maybe the best songs are written from pain ~ if that's true, no wonder we have so many Williams classics. Hank was a "hillbilly" and a poet, even if that flummoxes certain culture snobs.

Hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I'm so lonesome I could cry

 

I've never seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind the clouds
To hide its face and cry

 

Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he's lost the will to live
I'm so lonesome I could cry

 

The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I'm so lonesome I could cry

Yes, I'm watching somewhat out of order ~ I have watched half of Episode Five now and I'm anxious. I hope they got it right. That was my era; I'll know if they messed it up. I don't recall ever watching a series and being half-fascinated, half on-edge; hungry for new knowledge, ready to pounce when they botch it.

I forgive Ken for his obsession with Johnny Cash, as long as he gets the rest right.

Stay tuned (or, I guess I should. You've no doubt already watched it.)

Which Artist Do You Wish You'd Seen Live Before It Was Too Late?

Entertainment Weekly posed this question after the passing of George Jones:  Which artist do you wish you'd seen live before it was too late?

I can giddily say that I"m not very deficient in the concert category.  I've seen a whole bunch.  I've seen so many that I've forgotten some of them.

I've seen Dwight Yoakam twice.  I've seen Marty Stuart.  I finally (finally!) got to see George Strait.

I saw artists in their prime, which is the best way to see them:  Merle Haggard, George Jones, Buck Owens, Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, Faron Young, Marty Robbins.

Alan Jackson, Ronnie Milsap, Vince Gill, Gary Stewart (although hardly anyone even, sadly, remembers him), The Oak Ridge Boys, Highway 101, Gordon Lightfoot; Garth Brooks.

Paul McCartney.

Brian Wilson.

I, too, though, have a list of artists I wish I'd seen.

1.  THE BEATLES

When John Lennon was killed, I realized my chance would never come.  Up until 1980, I'd held out hope that the four lads would reunite; maybe for a final goodbye tour.  I've read that their brief foray into live performing was unsatisfying for both the band and the fans.  Too much screaming; too little actual sound.  A goodbye tour, though, could have been different.  More efficiently managed.  I think I would have mortgaged my house to buy Beatles tickets.  Some bastard put a swift stop to all that, though, didn't he?

 2.  THE DOORS

Granted, I don't smoke anything besides nicotine cancer sticks; and one probably needs to be smoking something else to fully appreciate a live concert performance by Jim Morrison and the Doors; but wouldn't that have been something to talk about?  They all say that Jim Morrison wasn't a good singer, but I don't get that.  I think he was as good a singer as anybody; and he most certainly had a stage presence that could not be denied.

3.  BUDDY HOLLY

Admittedly, I would have had only a short window of time to see Buddy Holly live, since he died in 1959.  And, had I seen him between ages one and four, I may not have had a lucid recollection.  I bet the teens, then, though, had a rockin' good time, jitterbugging in the aisle during his concerts.

4.  WAYLON JENNINGS

I was what you'd call an early Waylon adapter.  Way back in 1967, I thought Waylon Jennings was an undiscovered fruit just waiting to be plucked.  Weirdly, it took until about 1975, when Waylon had let his hair grow out, and had visited Willie in Austin a couple or three times, for people to acquire some common sense and notice him.  I wasn't keen on the scraggly Waylon, but my son sure liked him showing his hands and not his face on TV, during the Friday night Dukes of Hazzard opening.

5.  CHARLIE RICH

As a non-cool kid listening to country radio in the late nineteen sixties, I heard a few records by a guy named Charlie Rich.  I liked him.  He was soulful; a standout from the regular country fare.

Little did he, or anybody else, know that all it would take was a six-bar piano intro to turn him into a huge star.  

Charlie Rich was a bit dangerous.  I remember him as a presenter on the CMA Awards, announcing John Denver as Entertainer of the Year; and pulling a cigarette lighter out of his pocket and setting fire to the envelope containing Denver's name.  We all felt a bit of catharsis when Charlie did that.  I wonder what the hell Charlie would make of somebody like Taylor Swift.  Don your hazard-mat suit, Taylor!

6.  EDDIE RABBITT

Just because Eddie Rabbitt died young is no reason to forget him.  In a short span of time, Eddie created songs that are earworms to this day.  Drivin' My Life Away; I Love a Rainy Night.  Those were the eighties hits.  Eddie Rabbitt, though, had other songs that nobody but country fans would know.  Better songs.   He was a New Jersey boy who must have aimed his radio antenna toward WSM in Nashville on late school nights; because he sure did get it right.

7.  JOHNNY CASH

Nope, I never saw him.  But one has to put it all in perspective.  Sure, Johnny had a hit TV show starting in, what?  1969?  That's when the Man in Black persona took root.  Before that, though, Johnny Cash was just a guy who did three-chord songs, backed by a three-piece band; and mostly, all the songs sounded the same.  Johnny Cash was famous for who he was; not for what he sang.  More power to him.

I still wish I could say I'd seen him live, though.  I think (in the recesses of my memory) I actually had the chance to see him live once.  I don't know why Alice and I passed up the opportunity.  We weren't exactly picky about who we would see.  Maybe the fact that even I could strum Folsom Prison Blues on my acoustic guitar led me to an attitude of disdain.  I can't speak for Alice.

8.  HANK WILLIAMS

Granted, Hank Williams died in 1953; two years before I was born.

That doesn't make me wish any less that I'd seen him in concert, though. 

The absolute biggest, best thing that ever happened to country music; when the farmhands were contenting themselves listening to Hank Snow and Red Foley; was Hank Williams.

Finally!  Somebody who could write a decent song; and who had the balls to perform it properly!

Yea, I would have liked to see him.  I believe he would have put on a hell of a show.

9.  PATSY CLINE

I was nine years old when Patsy Cline was killed in a plane crash, and I didn't even know who she was!  (Granted, I was a kid.)

I think it must be hard for girl singers.  Everybody wants something to aspire to.  Something they can do better than anybody else.  But when the bar was set about 60 years ago, that has to be disheartening.  "No matter how good I do, I'm never gonna be better than Patsy Cline."

Well, sometimes life sucks.  And sometimes we have a video record like this:

One would think that I could come up with an even ten; but I honestly can't.  

Funny, I never wanted to see Elvis.  I guess it was a different generation.     

There are performers still alive that I haven't seen; and wish I could.  Time's running out, though:

Ray Price

Jerry Lee Lewis

I think maybe I should look at the glass as half full.   I've been damn lucky; or I was in the right place at the right time.

I honestly need to appreciate those experiences more.

 

 

The Nineteen Fifties in Country Music Were Ripe With Promise

It's not as if I'm so conceited as to think that music was invented in the nineteen sixties.  Sure, that's maybe when my musical education began, but I am vaguely aware that music actually existed before I was born.  Not good music (ha)....I'm being facetious.  I know there was good music in the fifties.  And I have the Ray Price albums to prove it.

But there's most likely a lot about the fifties that I don't know, so, since a person I work with is so enamored of it, I wanted to at least give it a shot.

My retrospective of the '40's was excruciating.  I have much higher hopes for the ten years hence.

1950 found us still HANKering for Hank Williams.  I'm sorry that no music videos exist of Hank.  I, as much as you, hate staring at a static picture while listening to a song.  The person who slapped this up on YouTube maybe could have put a smidgeon of effort into the project; I'm just sayin'.

Nevertheless, here is Why Don't You Love Me Like You Used To Do:

     

An artist I know very little about is Lefty Frizzell.  I do know that he was most likely Merle Haggard's favorite singer, since Merle started out his career sounding just like Lefty, until someone pulled him aside and said, "Uh, you might want to just sing like yourself".  Merle was always adept at impressions, though.  He started off sounding a lot like Lefty; a lot like Wynn Stewart, somewhat like Bob Wills.  

I do not know why Merle Haggard always factors into every music post I make ~ I'm thinking I might as well just shoot for the stars and write a damn book about Merle Haggard.

But, Merle aside, 1951 found Lefty Frizzell hitting the top of the charts with this song:



1952 finally found a woman topping the charts!

Kitty Wells always struck me as being a reluctant star.  It was almost as if she was embarrassed to be up on the stage, when she had clothes to wash and dinner to fix at home.

That's always been the conundrum.  I'm no feminist, but I understand that women, as well as men, can have artistic leanings, and while the men have no compunction about expressing their artistic side, women feel the need to apologize for theirs.  I'm guessing that in 1952, it was almost shameful for someone like Kitty to have a career, although no doubt, her husband Johnnie didn't mind depositing the royalty checks.

Irrespective of Kitty's reluctance, this song sort of started it all for women in country music:



Webb Pierce was huge in the nineteen fifties.  I admit that I don't know why.  He had an odd voice; nasally.  But there is no denying that he was the king of kings in Nashville.  He even had a guitar-shaped swimming pool.  My theory is that he had a lot of dirt on a lot of people; and thus he ruled the Nashville culture with an iron fist.  Songwriters quivered in his doorway and practically pleaded on hands and knees for Webb to record their songs.  He got the pick of the litter; song-wise.  Probably like George Strait; except George can sing.

In 1953, Webb Pierce had a monstrous hit with this song, which anyone with a rudimentary acquaintance with an acoustic guitar can replicate, because the chord progression is so simple, my dog could play it.





Speaking of nasally voices, another big star of the 1950's was Hank Snow.  

I mainly remember Hank Snow because of the song, "I've Been Everywhere", which has a bunch of town names that one has to sing really fast, because, well, it's a fast song.  

As a challenge to myself once, I memorized the lyrics to that song, because I was young, and I didn't have hardly anything clogging up my brain at the time.  It's not as if that knowledge was ever any use to me.  It never came up in a trivia contest or anything.  Nowadays, I can barely remember my own phone number.  

But it wasn't "I've Been Everywhere" that had country fans singing along (as if) in 1954.  It was this song:



You may not think it's a good song, but you should hear Martina McBride sing it. 

Not to belabor this, but I have never been able to figure out if it's "I don't hurt anymore", or "It don't hurt anymore".  Wikipedia says it's "I", but then, why do they sing "it"?  Grammatically, of course, it should be "I", but since when did good grammar factor into country music?

In the year of my birth, 1955, we were once again entertained by Eddy Arnold, who definitely put the "western" in country and western with this song about doggies, which Clint Eastwood and John Wayne informed me were not actual doggies, but rather cows.



There were tons of great songs in 1956, such as Why Baby Why, I Walk the Line, Singin' the Blues; as well as Blue Suede Shoes and Heartbreak Hotel, which were not technically country songs, but rather, rockabilly.   Distinctions used to matter then.

I, however, feel that it's high time we feature some Ray Price.  My mom wasn't a real savvy music connoisseur, but she loved Ray Price.  She, in fact, had a giant crush on him; while my dad just appreciated his music.  I, too, appreciate Ray Price's music; especially from the time before he went all countrypolitan on us; when he just sang stone country songs.

Like this one:



1957 was another banner year for country music.  Again, like 1956, there are loads of hits from which to choose; like A White Sport Coat,  Gone ("since you've gone..."), My Shoes Keep Walkin' Back to You.

But I've chosen this song, which could perhaps also be called rockabilly, but to me, is more of a rock 'n roll/country hybrid.

Why did I choose this one?  Silly ~ I always have to get a book plug in somewhere.  I wrote a bit about this song in my book, Rich Farmers; but even more than that, I have placed this song on my list of the 20 Best Country Songs of All Time; and that's a tough list to crack.

Here are the Everly Brothers:



I feel kind of (not really) bad featuring Ray Price again, but I can't let this song go unposted.  In 1958, Ray had a monster hit with a song written by Bill Anderson (the young'ns will recognize Bill by the song, "Whiskey Lullaby")

It was a tough choice, though.  1958 was swimming with great songs:  Great Balls of Fire (yes, technically, rockabilly again, but dang!  That song will get you up off your chair and dancing!  Alone With You (Faron Young ~ love Faron Young); All I Have to Do is Dream

Pick Me Up on Your Way Down by Charlie Walker (again, give a listen to Martina, if you think this song isn't quite your style.)  

This is such a great song, though; I could not, in good conscience, ignore it.

Once again, Ray Price:



By 1959, the winds of change were blowing.  Soon, Buck Owens and his Buckaroos would light a fire with a telecaster; Tammy Wynette would tear our hearts out with a crying steel and a voice like a wrenching sob.  Loretta would get all feisty about the man who did her wrong.

Kris would have one more beer for dessert.  Bobby (and Mel) would go to sleep in Detroit City.  Tom T. would gossip about the PTA.  Lynn would refuse to promise us a rose garden.

Merle.

Yet, before the decade turned, a four-minute, thirty-eight second song would tell us a tale about a young man who fell in love with a girl named Felina; and about one little kiss.

Here is Marty Robbins:




While the 1940's were essentially a bust for me, country music-wise; the fifties were ripe with promise.  Granted, I never heard these songs (or don't remember hearing them) until a few years down the road; but I can thank artists like Martina for bringing some of them back.  And I can thank my "best of" albums for introducing the songs to me a couple (or ten) years later.

The nineteen fifties in country music were not throwaway years.  Nay, they were classic years; if  for no other artists than Ray Price, Marty Robbins, and the Everly Brothers.

Oh, but the winds of change; they were a'blowin'.......

  

Old...I Mean, Old Music

A guy at work posted a classified ad, looking for old 45's; specifically country singles from the 1940's through the 1960's.  I contacted him, because I have a trunk of old singles, for which I have no use.  I told him, though, that the oldest singles I have are most likely from the seventies.

He responded with an odd (to me) statement:  The 1940's through the 1960's were the best times for country music.  Really?  This guy is younger than me!  I can get on board with the sixties.  After all, that was my time ~ you know, Merle Haggard, Tammy Wynette, Loretta, to some extent.  But that's as far back as I go.  I didn't even know they made 45 rpm records in the nineteen forties!

It got me to thinking ~ was there actually good country music in the nineteen forties?  Yes, I am familiar with Hank Williams; thank you.  I mean, besides Hank.

Wikipedia to the rescue!

Off the bat, I will admit to having a sonic bias.  While I detest the current trend of recording songs "hot"; I also do not like "tinny".  I'm sure Hank and the boys sounded great at the barn dance, but, had the technology been available at the time, it would have jazzed things up a bit.

(Also, I do not understand how they made do, mostly, without drums.  Apparently, the Opry, at the time, banned them; because I guess they were the devil's handiwork or something.  Ahhh, times were different....)

Nevertheless, let's travel back about seventy (!) years and see what was hot in country when my mom and dad got married.

This video is apparently a mash-up of news footage and random Hank mutterings and/or singings (sort of like when Hank, Jr. did the Tear in My Beer video).  I am assuming that there is little actual film documentation of Hank, Sr. performing.  Shame.

1949: 





Wikipedia is rapidly teaching me that there were but a handful of big country stars in the 1940's.  One of them was obviously Eddy Arnold, because he seems to pop up all over the '40's record scene.

My dad was a big fan of "Make the World Go Away", but that song was recorded in the sixties.

This is 1948:



In 1947, Merle Travis had a hit record with Steel Guitar Rag.  Astonishingly (to me) this song actually has lyrics!  The only version of Steel Guitar Rag that I knew was an instrumental.  It really was an old standby for any guy (and later for Barbara Mandrell) who could play the steel guitar.  My friend Alice's band's steel guitar player did this number for a statewide competition and won first prize for instrumentalist.

This video is not the Merle Travis version, but it is from the 1940's.  In all honesty, it was the only song title I recognized from the list for 1947.  This is Leon McAuliffe and the Cimmaron Boys, YouTube tells me:



1946 seems to be the year of Bob Wills.  Now, I wouldn't really know anything about Bob Wills (and his Texas Playboys) if it wasn't for Merle Haggard and Asleep at the Wheel introducing them to me.  But make no mistake; this guy and his band were huge in the forties, especially in Texas; which to Texans is the be-all and end-all of the world.  Just ask them.

In this video, we apparently find Bob and the boys setting up to play a concert in the county jail.  I do not know why ~ perhaps they didn't have money for bail, so they had to work it off.  I'm just conjecturing.  The ways of the world in 1946 are foreign to me.



Interestingly, a big, big hit in 1945 was a song called, Smoke on the Water.  I'm guessing it was a different song from the Deep Purple hit, but I would be flabbergasted if it had a guitar intro as memorable.  Nevertheless, I don't know that song, so I have to pick one that I've actually heard of.

In the 1940's, too, covering other artists' records ran rampant.  My Wikipedia list shows hits of the same name by two, and sometimes three different artists.  Which leads me to ask, were songwriters not yet invented?  You know, songwriting isn't rocket science.  Seems like pretty much anyone could have done it; had they put their mind to it.  

This song was written by Woody Guthrie, and became a hit for his cousin, Jack.  But I remember the Hank Thompson version (also a big star in the nineteen forties), so I'll go with that one:

 

Cindy Walker wrote tons (by which I mean about 400) top hits.  So, Ah Ha!  There was a songwriter in the 1940's!  But just one.  I only learned a bit about Cindy Walker through an album of her songs that Willie Nelson later recorded.  It's good that guys like Willie and Merle educate people like me; or we'd be musical imbeciles.  

Cindy had a top hit in 1944 with this song:




1943 found a man named Jimmie Davis topping the charts with a song that we all, unfortunately, had to stand up on risers in the second grade and sing, as an ensemble.  (Thanks, Jimmie!)

Jimmie Davis later became the governor of Louisiana, solely because Louisiana voters really liked sunshine.  No, I'm sure there were other reasons.



Let me say, off the bat, that 1942 was a very patriotic year, judging by the list of hit records.  I like patriotic.  Too bad we lost that somewhere.  Titles like "Goodbye Mama, I'm Off to Yokohama", "I'm a Prisoner of War", "Mussolini's Letter to Hitler" (bet that was a bouncy tune), "Remember Pearl Harbor", "There's a Star Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere", etc.; dominated the charts.

I'm not going to feature any of those songs.  Because Texans TOTALLY RULE! ~ I wanted to showcase this song by Gene Autry.  I do know that Gene Autry was a Hollywood cowboy.  His horse was named Champion (I looked up), but the only famous Hollywood horse I am familiar with (besides Mr. Ed) is Trigger, because I once saw some black and white episodes of Roy Rogers' TV show, featuring his wife with a man's name, Dale Evans.  (I really wasn't into TV westerns at all as a kid).   



Patsy Montana, I've read, was considered the first female country singer.  In reading her Wikipedia page, I learned that she grew up near Hope, Arkansas (I think there was some guy who also grew up there ~ can't put my finger on his name, though).  She went out to Hollywood and worked with those famous pseudo-cowboys, Gene Autry and Pat Buttram; and also with Red Foley (another huge country star of the forties).

I like this song from 1941.  Yodeling really is a lost art, isn't it?  Remember those TV commercials with Slim Whitman, hawking his album of yodeling songs?  



He yodeled every song!  And yet, he sold more records than the Beatles and Elvis combined!  (they said).  When you think about it, though, it's quite a feat to turn every song into a yodel.  I would love to hear his yodeling version of something like Norwegian Wood or Jailhouse Rock (speaking of the Beatles and Elvis combined).

Yes, I have digressed.  Sorry.

But back to Patsy Montana, Suzy Bogguss also did a great version of this song on one of her albums.   



1940 found the charts being topped by that good ol' country boy, Bing Crosby (?)   Here was another guy who bugged the hell out of me.  He was always walking around with his stupid pipe and his stupid golf club; wearing his stupid Scottish hat.  My sum total of knowledge regarding Bing Crosby:  He played a priest in some movie; he had some kind of vocal tic that made him pronounce "B" words as ba-ba-ba.  Or maybe that was SCTV.  I get my history mixed up sometimes.  

Regardless, he, like singers who came after him, such as Pat Boone, liked to appropriate other artists' songs and turn them into bland cocktail-party hits.

The most famous version, though, of Tumbling Tumbleweeds was recorded by the Sons of the Pioneers, who were also apparently featured in TV westerns; understandable since Roy Rogers was a prominent member of the group.



For someone like me, who loves to blog about music, this was certainly the most excruciating exercise I have ever done.

I don't want to offend anyone who may still be alive from that time period, but aside from Hank Williams and maybe Bob Wills, the music was....let's just say, "not good".

I would imagine that people like my mom and dad probably preferred listening to the Glenn Miller Orchestra, but I may just be projecting my own tastes onto them.  I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that if I have good taste in music, I must have gotten it from them.

Too, there was no differentiation in music back then.  Much like the early sixties, one heard ~ maybe not on the radio, but let's say, on the juke box ~ both b-b-b-Bing Crosby and Hank Thompson.  And people accepted what they liked, and discarded what they didn't.

In a future post, I will explore the nineteen fifties in country music.  You and I both know that the fifties will be better.

But that guy who told me the '40's totally rocked?  I guess we'll just agree to disagree on that.








 














 

Yet More Great Country Artists from the Seventies ~ Faron Young

I don't know how I talked my dad into driving 100 miles to the State Fair to see Faron Young in concert.

At the age of fifteen or sixteen, I was barely even talking to my parents.  I was a sullen teenager with a giant chip on my shoulder.  I don't clearly remember those years, but I do remember being perpetually mad at my mom and dad for something they did, or something they didn't do, or just because.  They needn't have taken it personally, though.  I was mad at everything, including myself. 

Teenaged girls are the worst.  Maybe it's all those hormones.  I have sons.  My sons were nothing compared to me at the same age.  I don't know how my parents refrained from killing me.  I remember a lot of slamming doors (by me).  That was always a favorite.  Those hollow wooden doors would make just the right "crack!", with a delicious echo.  They were the punctuation on a sentence that I never uttered.

It's not that my parents did anything to me.  They just were.  They were perfectly fine people.  Although unreasonable.  At least my mom.  At least to me.  Then. 

But I must have managed to utter a sentence, at least, to my dad, which most likely contained the words, "please, please!" in it, because, you see, Faron Young, at one time, was my very favorite singer.

I don't even know why my dad agreed to the whole scheme, because, while he was a music lover, he never expressed any particular love of Faron Young's music, nor did my mom.  My mom and dad liked whatever they heard on the radio.  They weren't buying records in those days.  They listened to the radio in the car.

I, however, had my component stereo system, purchased at JC Penney, with my own earnings.  I don't think it was cheap, either.  I think it cost about $100.00.  Bear in mind, I was fifteen-ish, and this was the early 1970's.  $100.00 was a lot of moolah to me.

My "sound system" had those detachable speakers, that I could separate within the room space, for maximum sound quality.  It had a turntable.  It had AM/FM radio.  I also had a reel-to-reel tape recorder that I'd bought earlier for, I'll say, about $40.00, so I was constantly recording stuff off the radio, too.

I listened to WHO from Des Moines, Iowa, with Mike Hoyer, "from coast to coast, border to border, and then some".  I sometimes listened to Ralph Emery on WSM out of Nashville, when I could actually get the signal.  I listened to Bill Mack out of Fort Worth, Texas.  WBAP.

And I heard a lot of songs I liked by Faron Young.

Faron had a storied history in the music business.  He started out in the 1950's, on Capitol Records.  He was best friends with Hank Williams.  Faron's stories are legendary in Nashville.

Willie talked him into "Hello Walls" one night at Tootsie's Orchid Lounge.  Faron thought it was corny.  He kidded Willie about "hello lamp, hello table", etc.  Willie and Faron, though, laughed all the way to the bank.  "Hello Walls" is likely the song that Faron will be remembered by.

By the late sixties, early seventies, Faron had moved on to Mercury Records.  He had a new producer, the renowned Jerry Kennedy.  And he had a bunch of great songs.

Do you know a bar band that hasn't done this song?



This song was written by Jeannie Seely:



Faron had been in a car accident shortly before he recorded this next song.  (Don't ask ~ okay, yea, there was drinking involved ~ there was always drinking involved with Faron Young).  He ended up with a lacerated tongue, and still had to go into the studio to record the song.  He joked about it later ~ saying that he sang the song like Sylvester the Cat.  And on the record, one can definitely hear him singing, "Thhep attthide".  But it's still great, regardleth:



There was a bit of Dean Martin in Faron.  And yet, his voice is unmistakably country.  I think a country voice is an intangible, but you know it when you hear it.  Faron was from Shreveport, Louisiana, after all.  It was hard to not sound country.   I don't think it was an affectation, and if it was, then everybody was copying Faron, considering he'd been around for a long while, but he sang his words much like Marty Robbins.  "To-noight" for "Tonight".  "Toime" for "time".



Faron also recorded a song by a young, unknown songwriter, named Kris Kristofferson.  Kris was sweeping floors, and writing songs, and getting nowhere.  People think Johnny Cash launched Kris's career.  I beg to differ:



Nobody, except Faron Young geeks, will remember "(I've Got) Precious Memories".  I, of course, am raising my hand, because, after all, that was the title of the album, and yes, I have it.  Some, however, may remember, "I Just Came To Get My Baby", mostly because George Strait covered it.  Yes, George Strait covered Faron Young.



I was not surprised to find that there is no performance video of my very, absolute favorite, Faron Young recording.   No, it wasn't a number one song.  It was a number four.  Maybe, I guess, other people didn't love it like I did, so that's why there is no YouTube performance video.

I remember the first time I heard the single.  Ralph Emery played it.  I swooned over it.  I just wanted to hear it again.  But, alas, this was AM radio.  It would come around again when it came around again.

Tom T. Hall wrote the song.  Tom ("no chorus") T. Hall.  For not writing a chorus, I think this was a damn good song.  Or, at least, it was, after Faron got hold of it:



Alas, my trip to the State Fair and to the Faron Young concert was sort of a letdown.

Faron, you see, was a drinker.  And I think (I'm conjecturing) that he was kind of bored.  So, his live performances were silly; a joke that nobody was in on.  He couldn't seem to get through a song without breaking out in the giggles.  That's all well and good, if you're Marty Robbins. I saw Marty Robbins in concert, and while he was semi-silly, he made sure to include the audience in the joke.  Faron didn't. 

So, I went home in the back seat of the car, sort of embarrassed that I'd cajoled my dad into driving all those miles; knowing that he and my mom were thinking, well, this was time well wasted.

I went back to my Faron records and to WSM radio, and to Bill Mack, and to Mike Hoyer.

I never held it against Faron.  I just chalked the whole concert up to a (slightly seamy) slice of life.

And, later, my dad became somewhat enamored of this song, which, aside from "Hello Walls", became Faron's biggest hit.  And, to be honest, I don't like it that much.  I can't tell you why (as the Eagles said).  Maybe I just like the "twin fiddles Faron"; not the "cheesy strings Faron".

But here is "Four In The Mornin'":



I'm not, however, going to just leave it here.

As I said, Faron started out in the nineteen fifties.  And he had some great records, even if I obviously heard them as oldies.

This is one that he re-recorded, thankfully, in the seventies, because I would have known nothing about it, if he hadn't.



If you're ever looking for a great country karaoke song, you could not go wrong with this next song.  Connie Smith recorded it, and that's good enough for me.  And it's a good song!



Much as my dad liked, "Four In The Mornin'", if we're going to nominate one song as Faron Young's best (or at least, "best known"), we have to choose this one, written by Willie:



Faron Young's life ended wrongfully.  He killed himself with a shotgun.  I understand he was in ill health.  But I also understand how the music industry tossed aside the legends, unless their name was Johnny Cash.

The Country Music Hall of Fame, in its benevolence, elected Faron to the Hall of Fame after he died.  Would that they had had the foresight to elect him while he was still around to accept.

I was visiting my mom during the CMA Awards that year.  We had the TV on, and my mom said to me, "I bet that makes you feel good, that Faron Young's been inducted into the Hall of Fame".  She actually remembered that the geeky teenager, the belligerent one, had once worshiped Faron Young.  My dad was, well, not gone, but his being was gone.  But my mom remembered.

I mumbled something about, "yes, he was a great artist", but I was mourning, and I couldn't bring myself to share that.

How could I put into words what Faron's music meant to me? 

Even now, today, when I watch these videos, I'm transformed.  It's a combination of a bunch of things.  My dad, driving those hundred miles, in his white Ford LTD, just to satisfy a geeky teenager's longing to see her idol.  A selfless act, for a daughter who was self-absorbed, self-centered; self-indulgent.

My dad, and Faron, somehow, are intertwined in my memory.

I leave the topic of the great artists of the nineteen seventies here.  I have no more to say about that.

The Singer-Songwriter Series

I am fascinated by good songwriters, although, alas, I am not one. I'm not even sure I want to be one, at this point. A songwriter, I mean. I didn't mean that I wouldn't want to be a good songwriter. That would just be dumb.

I have thought about what makes a good songwriter.

And I believe the answer is.....nothing.

I know this will fly in the face of all those people who want you to part with your money; you know, to become a good songwriter. I have probably single-handedly just killed off a bunch of new start-ups, but c'mon; really. You know, Hank Williams didn't go to "songwriting school".

I think either you have it or you don't.

Oh, I'm not saying you can't get better. My theory is, one can get better at pretty much anything, except math.

But "better" is a far cry from "good".

So, my criteria for what makes a good songwriter are these:

1. Intelligence (both lyrical and melodic)
2. Having something to say (surprise!)

Okay, that about sums it up.

Therefore, I tonight begin my series, "The Singer-Songwriter". This is not to snub the non-singing songwriters, but let's face it.....Unless you're a celebrity, you really don't matter (ha).

No, I may at some point feature some non-singing songwriters. In fact, I'm sure I will. And I'm not really sure which category Kris Kristofferson belongs in (I'm just teasing Kris).

And I'm going with my favorites, because this is my blog, and thus, my prerogative.

So, Singer-Songwriter #1 is Don Henley.

It's quite an honor, I know, Don, to be the debuting star of this series, and I'm sure you'll just be all crabby about it, and think it's part of some conspiracy, and wonder where your share of the earnings are, but really it's an honor just to be nominated. Isn't it?

(Okay, let's get this out of way right now: Don is not making it easy for me to feature him, because the Eagles notoriously do not make their videso available online. Therefore, we're going with the bootlegs and other assorted things that I can find. Thanks, Don.)


But let's start where we should start, shall we?


The Eagles - Tequila Sunrise (Live 2008) by goldrausch


Hotel California- The Eagles by dream_ks


The Eagles - Desperado (Live) by cavapanon


The Eagles - I Can't Tell You Why Live by rvdgu2006

My favorite, and I apologize for the poor video quality:






The Eagles - New Kid In Town (Live) HQ by goldrausch


Eagles-Take It to the Limit-Houston 1976 by hansonataint

My new theme song!....

Eagles - Busy Being Fabulous Vidéo deburgue sélectionnée dans Jeux Vidéo

No performance video of this, but let's talk about cutting right to the heart of the matter (yea, I get the irony of what I just said):



We got the bubbleheaded bleach-blonde
Comes on at 5
She can tell you about the plane crash
With a gleam in her eye
It's interesting when people die
Give us dirty laundry

(c) Don Henley







Remember when the days were long
And rolled beneath a deep blue sky
Didn’t have a care in the world
With mommy and daddy standing by
When happily ever after fails
And we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales
The lawyers dwell on small details
Since daddy had to fly
But I know a place where we can go
That’s still untouched by man
We’ll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass wave in the wind
You can lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence
O’ beautiful, for spacious skies
But now those skies are threatening
They’re beating plowshares into swords
For this tired old man that we elected king
Armchair warriors often fail
And we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales
The lawyers clean up all details
Since daddy had to lie
But I know a place where we can go
And was away this sin
We’ll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass wave in the wind
Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair spill all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence
Who knows how long this will last
Now we’ve come so far, so fast
But, somewhere back there in the dust
That same small town in each of us
I need to remember this
So baby give me just one kiss
And let me take a long last look
Before we say good bye
Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence

(c) Don Henley

Listen and learn, wannabe songwriters. This is your competition.

Regardless of what the Dude says, I love the Eagles. And Don Henley. A good choice, if I do say so myself, for the first featured singer-songwriter in my series.

The CMA Awards - Sounds Like Heaven in '87

Remember VCR's? Well, of course you do.....unless you were born in 2005. Well, I bring it up because in 1987, I was still working second shift at the hospital, so in order to not miss the CMA awards broadcast, I'd need to set the old VCR timer and find an unused or unneeded tape to pop in. When one works second shift, it always seems like there's a whole bunch of stuff you're missing out on, but that's really just psychological. In actuality, the only show other than the CMA's that I really needed to see was St. Elsewhere.



Perhaps it was because I worked at a hospital, but maybe it was just a good show. St. Elegius - - St. Alexius. Their hospital was way more interesting than mine.

Of course, in 1987, there was the usual political stuff going on; Iran-Contra and negotiations with the Russians; you know, the usual stuff. But what's really important is POP CULTURE!

So, with that in mind, here's a hit song from 1987:



Yes, the world's greatest gift to hairspray, and to leather fringe jackets, Bon Jovi. And that whole flying out over the audience thing is cool! One of my favorite rock songs from the eighties.

Meanwhile, at the movies, we were enjoying:



The best part of the movie, La Bamba, of course, was Esai Morales, (over)playing the role of "Bob".

While there were a lot of memorable movies from 1987, nothing, to me, beats this one:



Starring of course, Patrick Swayze and a pre-cosmetic surgery Jennifer Grey, and of course, Detective Lennie Briscoe himself, Jerry Orbach.

Fred and Ginger be damned. Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

Is it just me, or were the late eighties the nadir of pop culture?

But I digress (as usual). Our main topic is the CMA awards of 1987. So let's kick things off.

The VOCAL DUO OF THE YEAR award went to a new pairing in 1987; Ricky Skaggs and Sharon White. Now, not to be a stickler, but honestly, while they happen to be a married couple, Ricky and Sharon didn't record a whole lot of duets throughout the course of their careers. But Ricky happened to be a hot commodity at the time, so therefore, the CMA decided to spread the wealth a bit. So, therefore, we have our vocal duo of the year:



And you gotta love this video. As if they're just sitting around in their living room (note the lovely beige draperies), doing a jam session, with mics and with everyone facing forward, toward that imaginary audience. Cuz I know when I'm sitting around my living room, I always have everyone sitting side-by-side. Just in case there's a camera on us.

That new-fangled award, MUSIC VIDEO OF THE YEAR, was once again bestowed upon Hank Williams, Jr., for a thoroughly forgettable song, My Name Is Bocephus. Seriously, I don't remember this song. Do you?

I guess music videos (in country) were in their infancy back then, and Hank Junior had the market cornered. Cuz really, there's nothing that stands out about this. But you be the judge:

Hank Williams Jr. |MTV Music

The VOCAL GROUP OF THE YEAR was once again The Judds. As annoying as Naomi could be, with her flouncy red dress, and as dated as the "big hair" is, there's no mistaking that the Judds were icons of the late eighties. And here they are, along with their contingent of sparkly bedazzled fans, doing, "Give A Little Love":



Again, in 1987, Reba McEntire was named FEMALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR. This is kind of a cool video, although chronologically incorrect (it was from 1989), but Reba seems to tend to only allow more recent videos to be posted on the net. And no offense, Reba, but you really should stick with the earlier videos, because curly perms aside, at least you looked "natural" then, if you get my drift.

Here's "Sunday Kind Of Love":



The INSTRUMENTALIST OF THE YEAR again was fiddlin' Johnny Gimble. You know, Johnny goes back a long way. He played with Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys, so that's a loooong way back.

Here he is, fiddlin' for Connie Smith, on Pop Goes The Country, starring Ralph Emery, with special guest hosts, Merle Haggard and Bonnie Owens (I just wanted to see how many country music legends I could fit into one sentence).



The HORIZON AWARD in 1987 went to Holly Dunn. Remember Holly Dunn? She was a pretty big deal in the late eighties. I liked her music. Wonder whatever happened to Holly. Well, here's her website: Holly Dunn

Holly is a full-time artist now (and not a "musical artist", but an actual "artist"). Well, good for her! Although, Holly, your website could use some work. Our website looks better than this, and we're nobodies. I'm just saying.

Anyway, enjoy a performance by Holly:



Luckily for me, I can tick off four awards here at one time! Because 1987 was really the year of Randy Travis. How so?

SONG OF THE YEAR - Forever And Ever, Amen - written by Paul Overstreet & Don Schlitz

SINGLE OF THE YEAR - Forever And Ever, Amen

ALBUM OF THE YEAR - Always And Forever

MALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR - Randy Travis

Here you go!



Isn't this a sweet video? Thanks, Randy Travis.

Well, that only leaves us the main award of the evening, ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR.

Guess who? No, not Randy Travis. It's our old friend, Hank Williams, Junior.

And here he is, with a jumpin' song; one that'll make you get up and dance. Enjoy!



So, you see, Hank wasn't just a one-shot wonder. Oh no. He wasn't just a video star. In 1987, Hank was the entertainer of the year! So, there you go. And thanks, Hank, for keepin' the conservative spirit alive.

HALL OF FAME

Rod Brasfield

Rod Brasfield was a country comedian. It was sort of an expectation, way back when, that country music shows would include comedians. And Rod Brasfield followed in that tradition.

Here he is, with Cousin Minnie Pearl, performing a comedy routine.



I'm thinking, back then, that comedians were a big part of the whole country music entertainment extravaganza. Well, it was a different time. Me, I like country music for the music, but that doesn't negate the importance of these early pioneers, so hats off to Rod Brasfield, for helping to bring country music to the masses.

And there you go. From the ridiculous to the sublime, or vice versa. 1987. A good year for pop culture. Even country music was slowly making its way into the twentieth century.

And again, thank you, Randy Travis.