Country Music

[Professor Knowall]

After Tanya Tucker’s first MCA album in early 1976, the steady line of big hits started to dry up, after a run of 11 top 5 hits, 6 of them going to # 1, she had only one Top 40 hit (at # 16 ) in 1977. At age 19, Tanya figured it was time for a change. Although she later said she wouldn't have replaced her father-manager with the most experienced promoter in the world, she acknowledged, "My dad didn't know anything about managing, you know? He did a great job, but we had no outside support“. In 1978, trying to broaden her appeal to the mainstream pop/rock market, she left the family house and her father’s management, signing with a California agency to do a country/rock crossover album. And so Tanya celebrated her 20th birthday in 1978 with the risque album cover release of her rock infused “TNT“ album (was the album title copied from a certain Australian rock/metal group?), showing her wearing tight black leather pants with a microphone cord pulled up between her legs. The album had an edgier, rock-flavoured sound and must’ve seemed like a great idea (and cost half a million to make) at the time - but it flopped. In 2019, Tanya explained - "This is probably my biggest regret. Unfortunately, the promotion was better than the record, and it all backfired on me”.

Typically at the time, rock‘n’roll magazines gave the album favourable review - Cashbox said - "If country fans have raised an eyebrow at the changes Dolly Parton has made lately, they certainly aren't ready for the 'new' Tanya Tucker. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, the cover graphics are the most blatantly sexual of any album jacket ever released by a country artist. And the music inside is tough LA rock. Tanya does throw in a small dose of country, but this is in no way a country album. At any rate, it is a fine album and should garner airplay and sales in all markets“. But it was crap. Of course we now know reviewers at the leading rock magazines at the time, including Rolling Stone, Billboard and Cashbox amongst others, routinely accepted bribes for favourable reviews, explaining why some woefully godawful, low quality rock albums around that era actually got decent sales. In this case, the dodgy positive reviews convinced too few to buy what was Tanya’s worst produced album of her entire career - but the one, along with her behaviour, that earned her reputation as being one of the outlaws of country music.

Ironically, though not surprisingly, the only well received song on the “TNT” album was the most traditional country song, ‘Texas (When I Die’), which continues to please audiences in her native Lone Star state. The Ed Bruce cover was originally the B-side to her (forgettable) cover of Buddy Holly’s ‘Not Fade Away’, but it took on a life of its own when the Dallas Cowboys adopted it as their touchdown song, becoming a # 5 hit (# 1 in Texas). In the up-beat dance song, Tanya lists off all the disappointing places she’s been in America and decides that, if for some reason they don’t let cowboys in through the pearly gates, she’ll be just as happy seeing out the afterlife in her home state -

In the 1981 movie, Hard Country, Tanya actually had a cameo role playing a country singer named Caroline returning to perform at her hometown honkytonk. It has since become a staple of Tanya’s live concerts.

After moving to L.A. in 1978, small-town raised and toughened Tanya was quickly captivated by the city's nightlife - and infamously went hog-wild. Already a heavy drinker and smoker when she arrived, she soon took up cocaine as her preferred party drug and later confessed she "was the wildest thing out there. I could stay up longer, drink more and kick the biggest ass in town. I was on the ragged edge“. The city, in turn, was capitaved by this wild young country star who seemed to have no boundaries or limits to her behaviour. She soon turned into tabloid fodder, a regular attendee at the most notorious pre-AIDS “anything goes” LA nightclubs and an altogether cautionary tale for parents considering raising a child star. She drove around town with a MS BAD ASS licence plate hung on her Mercedes. She was as outlaw as they came.

Young Tanya also made gossip columns buzz with a series of romantic (or, to be more accurate, cocaine fueled sexual) involvements with celebrities including actor Don Johnson, singer and cocaine addict, Leif Garrett, her former idol, 45 year old Merle Haggard - getting him hooked on cocaine and the start of a downward career spiral, 42 year old Clint Eastwood and singer and cocaine addict (and later casualty) Andy Gibb. By 1980 her lifestyle - cocaine snorting, all-day-and-all-night parties and sometimes drug-fueled violent relationships - had overshadowed her music. Not even George Jones, Johnny Cash or Johnny Paycheck made headlines quite like she did.

Tanya’s most notable - or notorious - relationship was with 46 year old Glen Campbell, with whom she had a very stormy relationship (post # 509) and a # 12 hit duet, ’Dream Lover’ - a cover of a perfectly good light teenagy pop song by Bobby Darin, but it sure ain’t no country song. They even got nominated for a Grammy for that piece of fluff! Tanya's fling with Campbell was one of the most famous relationships in country music (though still not up there with George Jones and Tammy Wynette). The dream was over when Campbell knocked out her front teeth. Hardly surprisingly, she kept her mouth shut for the glum cover of her next album, “Changes”.

Tanya had a lot to say in 2017 about just how much she loved Campbell in spite of their difficulties - which included drug fueled violent fights - describing him as “the love of my life”. At the time, Campbell had his own battles, his autobiography stating - “I didn't have a career. My career had me …“ and calling cocaine his "personal demon”. In 1994, Campbell did a no-holds-barred interview with the NYT about his relationship with Tanya. Not pulling any punches, he said - "Tanya was and is for Tanya. Every sentence she utters begins in one of several selfish ways: 'I am... I think... I will... I want.' ... My time with Tanya was turbulent, the most chaotic period of my life”. Of the incidents that stood out to him, she once attempted to slit her wrists while high-wired on cocaine. Another time, she walked through a plate glass window. Although he said that he had nothing but admiration for her talent, he also called it "… a poisoned relationship …” adding "… I wish I hadn't had that relationship."

After her breakup with Campbell in 1982, at age 24, both physically and mentally damaged by her reckless, high-voltage and even dangerous drunk and drugged-out L.A. lifesyle over the previous 4 years, her musical output at a career low, both in output and quality, mired in legal battles over her short lived deal with the dud Californian record company and her reputation tarnished by numerous media reports of her antics, Tanya was persuaded by family and friends to return back to her family in Nashville, where she began to lead a much more secluded life. However, her media image as a hellion made it hard for her (especially as a female) to be taken seriously as a musician. After 1982 she had only a few minor hits scraping the lower regions of the charts and after 1983 she had none at all. Despite now keeping a low profile in Nashville, out of the public eye, she still continued to drink and remained addicted to cocaine. By age 28, having shone so brightly in her early teen years, she got too close to the flame and was burnt and sizzled out.

But Tanya wasn’t done yet. At age 29, in 1986, she resurfaced with a successful comeback on Capitol Records with the excellent “Girls Like Me“ album. Reaching # 2, one of 3 Top 3 hits from the album (the others, ‘One Love At A Time’ going # 3 and ‘Just Another Love’ going to # 1, while in Canada, all 3 songs went all the way to # 1) from it was ‘I’ll Come Back As Another Woman’, a blistering song about a woman who vows to get the ultimate revenge on her ex – and him never know it until the damage has been done. For those wanting a good revenge song and sick of Taylor Swift‘s never ending production line of teeny, whiny, whingy songs, bitching at her ex‘s (or so I’ve been told - I find her songs unlistenable), Tanya shows here how to do a good revenge song - no bitterness, no wallowing in self-pity and all done with a healthy dose of humour. The song showed just how much her vocal approach had matured over the years - her vocals now seasoned by years dieting on tobacco, alcohol and cocaine -


During Tanya’s 1986 comeback, seduction had become a bigger part of mainstream country, thanks to the success of artists like Conway Twitty, and Tanya fitted right in. The title track from her next album, ‘Love Me Like You Used To‘, is an adult song about love gone stale and a plea to get back to what it was. It spent a whopping 25 weeks on the charts in 1987, topping out at # 2 -


In 1988, worried because Tanya, now aged 29, had responded to her most recent career resurgence by increasing both her alcohol and cocaine consumption, her family finally confronted her and persuaded her to enter Betty Ford's alcohol and drug addiction clinic. At first, Tanya rebelled against her treatments but after private counselling sessions she began to improve. She later recalled - "Yeah, I got help. ... I learned about the addictions. But mainly I saw a lot of people were even worse off than I am, which made me feel lucky." She got off the boozs and drugs … for a while. She has battled with her addiction problems ever since.

The title track from her 1988 album, ‘Strong Enough to Bend‘ kicked off 3 more consecutive # 1 hits for Tanya. The song, a lively two-stepper, makes something special from simple, restrained verses that get twangier and more inspired when they lean into something a little more unexpectedly bluegrass-sounding. The song likens a long-term relationship to the enduring strength of a tree in her back yard that never breaks, despite the strong winds blowing against it. Early in her career, Tanya couldn’t have handled the lyrics of this Songwriters Hall of Famers, Beth Nielsen Chapman / Don Schlitz composition in with as much believability and conviction as she did in 1988. To truly do justice to the lyrics of this song about compromise in a relationship, one needs to have lived, loved… and lost. The singer - not quite yet 30 years old - gave perhaps her most impassioned performance with this chart topping performance -
“… When you say somethin' that you can't take back / A big wind blows and you hear a little crack /
When you say "Hey, well, I might be wrong" / You can sway with the wind 'til the storm is gone …”


The rest of the 1980’s, Tanya scored a constant stream of Top 10 singles, including 4 # 1 one hits. Tanya followed with another strong effort in 1990, “Tennessee Woman”. Her second wave of success continued into the 1990’s, and to show her versatility (and/or my own bias), I’ve selected a traditional honky Tonk weeper from 1991, the # 12 hit, ’Oh What It Did To Me’, for today’s final song selection - just to show Tanya could do a really good honky tonk number, crying pedal steel and all, with Tanya singing like she really means it -


So having followed Tanya through her wild late 70’s/early 80’s years, where she established her outlaw credentials - but ultimately damaged her career, and then her 1986 career resurrection as a more mature, seasoned performer, turning 30 as she once again regularly hit the top of the charts, we leave off in 1991. But Tanya Tucker, now aged 33, still has more to offer … so there’s more to come.

 

[Professor Knowall]

While Tanya Tucker was having her second wave of success in the late 1980’s - a wave that continued until well into the 1990’s - she got romantically involved with actor Ben Reed and together they had 2 children - daughter Presley, born in 1989, and son Beau, born in 1991. However, Tanya and Reed never married or lived together, so to the disapproval of some of the more conservative elements, Tanya became the first major country music star to become an unmarried mother. Through most the 1990‘s she also continued to be a force on both the album and singles charts.

In 1991, Tanya released her 19th studio album, “What Do I Do With Me”, which became her most yet, reaching #6 on the album chart and even crossing over and reaching #48 on the Pop albums chart. The album also produced 4 Top 5 hits for Tanya in 1991, including the # 2 (# 1 in Canada), ‘Down To My Last Teardrop’. Don’t be fooled by the title - this ain’t no slow, sad country weeper bit an up-tempo, pop influenced - and somewhat complex - popular concert and dance tune, with Tanya’s now strong rasp giving it just the right amount of texture -


Also from the ”What Do I Do With Me“ album is the title song, a # 2 hit in both the U.S. and Canada, ’(Without You) What Do I Do With Me’. In contrast to our last song, this IS a slow, sad, country weeper, as Tanya’s gritty rasp adds depth to her lament of loss and loneliness after a break-up-


In 1991, the CMA named Tanya Tucker as Female Vocalist of the Year, although she had to miss attending the event, having just had her second child, Beau.

In 1992-93, 3 songs - ‘Two Sparrows in a Hurricane," "It's a Little Too Late," and "Soon" - reached # 2, and all 3 made my list of songs to feature here.

Along with ’Delta Dawn’, Tanya’s most enduring song, ’Two Sparrows In A Hurricane’ is a perfect metaphor for 2 young lovers who make it against all odds over the course of their lifetime together from when they first get together at 15 until they’re in their eighties - and ready for their next journey. The song was actually a personal song to to its writer, Mark Springer, who grew up on a farm that had plenty of sparrows. In fact, the second verse was a bit more of his situation at that time – being married and having a couple of children. It was actually a personal song to then struggling young song-writer Mark Alan Springer, who grew up on a farm with plenty of sparrows. The second verse was describing his situation at that time – being married young with 2 children and bills he couldn’t pay. It took him a year to write the song. The song was accompanied by a music video featuring Tanya‘s kids as well as her parents. The clip follows the song’s storyline about the couple in 3 time periods that revolved around one apartment bedroom – from being a young couple to being parents to 2 kids and to being elderly. A dedication to Tucker’s parents, who were celebrating their 50th anniversary at that time, was shown at the end of the video. This became Tanya favourite song - the one she said she wishes she wrote herself, as she always identified the song’s story with her own parents life story -
“… Like two sparrows in a hurricane / Trying to find their way / With a head full of dreams /
And faith that can move anything / They’ve heard it’s all uphill / But all they know is how they feel /
The world says they’ll never make it / Love says they will …” -


And still mixing things up, showing just how versatile she can be, here we have Tanya rasping her way through a rockin’, bluesy, western swinging dance ’It’s A Little Too Late‘. Written by Roger Murrah and Pat Terry, it was released in 1993 as the second single from her “Can't Run from Yourself“ album, and topped out at # 2


If there was any doubt back in 1974 that the 15 year old Tanya knew what she was singing about when it came to passionate lyrics, by 1993 she had learned every bit of their meaning and then some. The Bob Regan & Casey Kelly co-written # 2 hit, ‘Soon’ remains one of the strongest singles of the second part of her career. One of her most moving ballads and the title track to her 1993 album, it follows a woman’s affair with a married man as she tries to convince herself he’ll either leave his wife for her or that she’ll break the relationship off. Sadly, the beautifully poetic couplet “… Christmas finds her all alone with no cause to rejoice / So she calls his Code-a-Phone just to hear his voice… ” is now completely lost on a generation that doesn’t know what an answer phone is. Tucker’s vocal performance on ‘Soon’ feels equally inspired by hope, heartbreak and bitterness. Without going into any detail, I can’t help listening to this ballad of love gone bad, broken promises and what happens when “someday turns to never” and “tears and champagne offer no solution“, without a mixture of regret and guilt. The title track from Tucker’s 1993 album went to No. 2 on the charts and -

Tanya’s rendition of ‘Soon’ earned her Grammy a Award nomination, but not the award, for Best Female Vocal Performance.

In 1994, back on top of the mountain, Tanya performed in the half-time show at Super Bowl XXVIII. In 1996, her autobiography was published - among the contents were details of her volatile relationship with Glen Campbell. In 1997, she returned to the top 10 for the last time with the hit, ’Little Things’, peaking at # 9. That year she was inducted into the Texas Country Music HoF. She continued her recording and live performance career” throughout the 2000s. Among her releases have been the albums “Tanya“ in 2002, “Live at Billy Bob’s Texas“ in 2005 and “Tanya Tucker Live! You Are So Beautiful”. In 2005 and 2006, she had a reality TV show titled Tuckerville, focussing on her relationships with her 3 children, all of whom grew up to become full time professional country artists, though non have reached stardom level - yet.

In the late 1990’s, Tanya had an on-again, off-again relationship with Nashville musician Jerry Laseter. They were engaged for the first time in 1997, but never set set a date before breaking it off, and again in 1999. But just days before their 1999 wedding, Tanya pulled out after discovering she was pregnant with her third child, Laseter's daughter Layla LaCosta (named after Tanya’s eldest sister), saying she didn‘t want to walk down the aisle pregnant in her wedding dress. She still remains unmarried to this day.

What could be termed a comeback album, the Pete Anderson produced and arranged ‘My Turn’, a collection of classic country covers, appeared in 2009, but after this, Tanya stopped recording any new material. After the death of her parents (her father and longtime manager Beau died in 2006, and her mother Juanita died in 2012), Tanya no longer wanted to record music. In 2014 and 2015, the Country Music HoF honoured Tucker with a special exhibit of her personal belongings, including her pink Harley Davidson motorcycle. In 2016, she was honored by the ACM with the Cliffie Stone Pioneer Award. In 2017, Rolling Stone named Tucker as one of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time as her career, now confined to concert tours, gently wound down, having not recorded any new material in a decade, and that’s where her story ends …

… or it would have, but Tanya Tucker, not for the first time, had other ideas - now in her sixties (and looking much older) and with 50 years of performing behind her (and sounding even older still), it just wasn’t in her nature to go quietly into the night. So stay tuned for one last instalment of Tanya Tucker’s roller-coaster career.

 

[Professor Knowall]

As we’ve seen over the past few days, Tanya Tucker, got her first recording contract at age 12, her first big hit and instant stardom at 13, her first Grammy nomination and Rolling Stone cover at 15 and by age 18 was known as the wild child of country music. Between turning out hits and performing them on stage, she had a volatile life of sex, drugs and occasional rock and roll, with all-night and beyond parties, substance abuse and many romances or entanglements, including to men more than twice her age, sometimes physically violent, like the time a cocaine-wired Glen Campbell punched out her 2 front teeth.

By 2019, Tanya hadn’t been inside a recording studio and releasing an album of new material for 17 years. She had been hit hard by the death of her ever supportive father in 2006, who had tirelessly worked and travelled endless country roads from when Tanya was aged 9 to make her the performer she was, then in 2012 the death of her mother sent Tanya into another downward spiral of depression, marked by heavy drinking. She smoked heavily, drank daily, including the mornings and only her 3 children and only occasional concert touring, singing her now old songs for her aging fanbase kept her going. Her previous good looks had now well and truly gone - too much hard living (and, I think, too much plastic surgery) had seen to that. She was 62 going on 80 and had been pretty much put out to pasture by the country music industry.

But today is all about Tanya Tucker’s extraordinary 2019 comeback, or, as she puts it, her relaunch, back into the country music mainstream - for what she still had was a voice - not, of course, the quivering, yet assured vibrato vocals of her youth, but a deep husky growl that alone tells a story of a life of lived experience - if not always well-lived, at least lived to the full.

Credit for Tanya‘s relaunch goes to Brandi Carlile and (for another Outlaw connection), Waylon’s son, Shooter Jennings, a co-producer on Tanya Tucker’s comeback album, “While I’m Livin’” and had the idea of making the comeback record in the first place, bringing Brandi Carlile on board to help. But the story goes even farther back and, believe it or not, cult underground country band Hellbound Glory and frontman/songwriter Leroy Virgil played a pivotal role as well, albeit unintentional

Hellbound Glory’s 2011 album “Damaged Goods” was a stripped-down affair, allowing the songwriting of Leroy Virgil to rise to the forefront. It was an album about those who’d spent their lives partying past their prime, and one of the album‘s gems is a song called ‘Better Hope You Die Young’. In 2018, Hellbound Glory re-released the song as part of a promotion for their latest album “Pinball (Junkie Edition)”, released on Shooter Jennings’ record label, Black Country Rock. The album included a cover of Tanya’s signature hit, ‘Delta Dawn’. Since ‘Better Hope You Die Young‘ seemed almost like it was written for Tanya, she was contacted to see if she wanted to sing on a new version of the song as a duet with Leroy Virgil. Tanya took a listen to the song, and accepted. So that’s how the former wild all-night party queen Tanya ended up singing these lines with Virgil on the Hellbound Glory album - “… You can live your whole life just like there’s no tomorrow / but, baby, it’s a fact / that all them all-nighters are just time you borrowed / someday you’ll have to pay them back …”.

Recording her parts for Hellbound Glory’s ‘Better Hope You Die Young’ (the 2nd version is officially called ‘You Better Hope You Die Young') got Tanya back in the recording studio for the first time in 15 years - and it just so happened to be for Shooter Jennings label, who produced the record - and it also just so happened Shooter was also producing a record for Brandi Carlile at that time, and he told Brandi how he had just recorded a one off cut of Tanya Tucker. She told him she loved Tanya and it was then he came up with the idea of recording a whole new Tanya Tucker album, with Brandi as co-producer.

Fortuitously, Brandi Carlile idolised Tanya from the time she was a young girl. She loved Tanya’s toughness, her husky voice and her musicianship. She believed that while men like Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings and Hank Williams Jr, amongst others, were admired as outlaws for their bad behaviour, Tanya was seen differently because she was a woman. So she and Shooter Jennings decided to do for Tanya what Rick Rubin did for Cash, to rejuvenate her career and back in business with what would become her first album of new material in 17 years. Now Tanya, when approached by them, didn’t want to do it, and had to be talked around into it - with Brandi, as a long time genuine admirer of Tanya and her music, was able to do. The result went beyond all expectations.

One thing Tanya was never noted for was song-writing. She had tried many times, got halfway through the process but always gave up - she felt nothing she wrote was good enough. But Brandi insisted Tanya write a song for the album - and offered her help when needed - Tanya said the songwriting process for ’Bring My Flowers Now‘ started when Brandi suggested she finally "… write the song I had been trying to write for 30 years… “. While Tanya was initially daunted by the massive task, the track actually came pretty easily - after trying for 30 years, the song was written in 30 minutes, teaching her an important (if belated) lesson about not being too fanatical about perfection in her music.

Taken from the 2019 album “While I’m Livin’”, this funereal piano ballad sees Tanya looking back on her life and requesting her would-be mourners to bring their floral tributes to her now, while she was still alive, instead of waiting for her to die. To quote Tanya - "This song came from my heart. It's about showing love for the ones we have now before they are gone". But the lyrics are very personal for Tanya, partly autobiographical -
“… All the miles cast a long shadow/ I'd take a couple back if I could / I'd've learned to play guitar /
Told my daddy more I loved him / But I believe, for the most part, I done good …”

In 2020, 47 years after earning the first of her 14 Grammy nominations for ‘Delta Dawn’ in 1973, when she was only 13, Tanya finally celebrated winning not just 1, but 2 Grammy awards (out of 4 she was nominated for) - best song for ‘Bring My Flowers Now‘ and best album, “While I’m Livin’”. Poignantly, she took the stage with the two that made it all possible - Shooter Jennings and Brandi Carlile. Rolling Stone placed the album at # 1 on it’s list of the 40 Best Country Albums of 2019.

And just to show the “While I’m Livin‘“ album had more quality songs than ‘Bring My Flowers Now‘, here is ’Wheels Of Laredo’.The song features sparse, gentle instrumentals, giving Tucker’s voice the chance to stand out and shine. This stripped approach gives the song a raw, vulnerable feeling, which perfectly complements the lyrics. That same feeling translates to the visuals in the music video, which follows Tanya, cigarette in hand, as she drives an old truck down a seemingly even older road and later interacts with her beloved horses.

The lyrics, written by Brandi Carlile, conveys a haunting imagery of love, loss, longing & history. Jamboozie takes place in Laredo, Te as to celebrate a battle in 1898 between European and Native Americans, who won. The mayor gave the Chief the key to the city as a sign of unconditional surrender. The drums of both sides are represented echoing through the track and underscore a more current story. The colours of the cover art are the colours included on the flags of the Yaqui Tribe, Texas and Mexico and the key is the key to the city from the state of Texas representing open gates and partnership - in other words a comment on the then and still now hot topic in the U.S. of immigration across the Mexican border -


Apart from the overwhelming critical success of her “While I’m Livin‘“ album, there was another memorable night for her in 2019 as she finally fulfilled a longed for wish. Tanya recalled when she was 9 years old and just starting her journey into the music industry - “I remember the first time I came to Nashville. My dad brought me from Wilcox, Arizona, all the way in a brand new Cadillac which got repossessed later. But he brought me all the way, trying to get me started.” During that first Nashville trip, he took her to the Grand Ole Opry at the Ryman - “We stood in line, it was the 7th of July, and it was hot. We went in, got seated, and were watching the show and my dad looked at me and said, ‘Now don’t you wish you were up there doing it instead of sitting down here watching it?’ And I said, yes sir!” In one of those full-circle “life” moments, Tucker finally got a chance to perform at the mother church of country music, the Ryman in front of a sold-out crowd. She described it as her “the most glorious day … There are still a few firsts for a 61 year old. I thought I’d done it all!”

Tanya kept up her momentum in 2020, releasing “Live from the Troubadour”, a concert album recorded during an L.A. appearance on the ‘While I'm Livin' tour. She also found herself the headline act on the ACM Women Of Country national tour - until it came to a sudden, unfortunate end due to the great Covid lockdown (though if it wasn’t for that lockdown, I wouldn’t now be writing this).

In 2019, when Brandi Carlile and Shooter Jennings began working with Tanya Tucker on “While I’m Livin’“, they aimed to create the kind of critical and commercial career resurgence that Rick Rubin’s American Recordings series had for Johnny Cash’s career. Brandi also heeded key advice from Rubin, who told her to bring in a camera crew to film her studio sessions with Tanya. Of course, Tanya - who once led her own reality television show, Tuckerville - had no qualms about filming the process. The result was a nearly 2 hour documentary The Return of Tanya Tucker (Featuring Brandi Carlile) was released nationally in U.S. cinemas - but unfortunately not in Australia - in November 2022, and can now be seen on Apple TV. It’s also received much positive reviews.

The film only briefly covers Tanya’s career from childhood up to the album and touches on the impact of the death of her parents, her drinking (Brandi even comments about Tanya drinking each morning) and smoking, but really strikes a positive tone about her music. It also shows the bond that quickly developed between Tanya and Brandi, with Tanya, who was always so comfortable and self-assured on stage, in front of an audience, never afflicted by stage fright, but off-stage, in private, insecure, unsure of herself, needing reassurance and approval from others. Though unstated, I think it provides an insight into why Tanya tried so hard to be the ultimate life of the party - it was her way of covering her own feelings of inadequacy. She is only truly comfortable when performing. Ultimately, Tanya Tucker Returns (Featuring Brandi Carlile) showcases Tucker’s decades-long fight for respect in a male-dominated industry, and introduces her story and music to a new generation of fans.

And for the 2022 film came a new song, Ready As I’ll Never Be’, in which Tanya, with her husky, gravelly voice, sings in part about her own career and partly as a tribute to the artists that welcomed her as a teenager star and reflects how that generation has or is passing on, passing on the baton. I don’t think she has ever sang better -
“… All you outlaws, and the Opry queens / They wrapped those golden arms around the baby of the family /
To stand beside you then was more than enough / I always was and always will be looking up …” -


Tanya is currently on tour with Wynonna Judd (post # 684), dubbed as The Judds The Final Tour, after which she is booked for a series of concerts at major city venues, still riding high at age 64 in her third career high point. She is also highly favoured to be inducted into the Country Music HoF this year, after Jerry Lee Lewis (back on post # 367, I called for his inclusion), was finally inducted last year.

So with that, I’m signing off for some more days - I have a wedding (not mine!) to attend and celebrate in Phillip Island for the weekend and then a few more days filled in with things after that, but I’ll be back with more more final outlaw before too long - an artist who took the Outlaw label at its most literal interpretation.

 

[Professor Knowall]

I’m back from the bush (a week later than I originally thought) and almost ready for some more Outlaw history - with the most “out there”, controversial outlaw artist of all. But before I start on him, since I last posted 2 weeks back, the Grammy Awards were handed out. Though these awards aren’t now as prestigious as they once were, as they dish out too many these days - and modern pop has become so dumbed down, its but unlistenable - it’s still quite something that an 89 year old artist won 2 Grammys, though it was no surprise. Showing just how relevant this living treasure still is, Willie Nelson won the Best Album for “A Beautiful Mind” (see post #793), while his take on Billy Joe Shaver’s ‘Live Forever’ (with help from Lucinda Williams) the title track of a tribute compilation album, won him aonother Grammy for Best Solo Performance -


Now it’s back to work for my next history instalment.

 

[Professor Knowall]

Our next Outlaw artist is pretty much the most controversial, polarising and, to some extent, most misunderstood artist in this whole series (including those still to come). He came not from the South, but the gritty industrial (now rust belt) city of Akron in Northern Ohio, now conjoined with Cleveland - yankee territory. One can expect pop, rock, blues, jazz, rap and other such artists to emerge from that area - any genre except country music. But he somehow found country music through a very literal outlaw path and could have had major mainstream success - but his own self-sabotage of his career put paid to that. However, despite being accused of being a constant liar (for which I find him guilty), misogyny (I don’t know if he personally is, but some of his songs definitely are) and racism (this I will exonerate him of, but it’s not a topic for today), he still performs at the edge of the mainstream and has a solid loyal fanbase - including at least one major 21st century country artist whose career has followed a somewhat similar course. But for all that, today’s artist remains largely cancelled by the country music mainstream.

Born David Allan Coe in Akron, Ohio, in 1939 into a poor, dysfunctional family, he was a rebellious, misbehaving boy who, beginning at age 9, spent much of his youth in reform schools and correctional facilities (much like Merle Haggard did as a youth). His father remarried and his stepmother already had 2 boys and decided she didn’t need another one. So she took in David’s sister but told his father to go down the court and tell them he couldn’t control David. So at age 9, abandoned by his parents, he found himself sent to a Reform School in Michigan. There he was disciplined using paddle punishments where they beat kid’s hands until they bled - well, according to Coe. He spent most of his youth in several similar facilities - every time he was released, he managed to do something to get incarcerated again. One can speculate how his troubled, miserable childhood affected the rest of his life.

Eventually, as a young man in his 20s, Coe repeatedly got into serious trouble with the law for such crimes as burglary and auto theft and began a series of prison terms in the Ohio State Penitentiary. During one of these, he killed a fellow inmate who made homosexual advances towards him and was sentenced to death. While on death row he was reunited with his foster father, who had also been convicted of murder - at least that was the story told by Coe and was believed until later refuted by journalists, jail workers and legal records. And in response to a 1980’s article published by Rolling Stone that refuting his claims, he wrote the song ‘I’d Like To Kick The Shit Out Of You‘. Coe has always had a habit of telling fascinating stories (i.e. lies) that embellish his biography while not necessarily being true. Separating fact from fiction complicates Coe’s life story.

He also later claimed that while in prison, he met Cleveland born singer Screamin’ Jay Hawkins (of ‘I Put a Spell on You’ fame), who urged him to write songs and pursue a career in music - most probably a lie as Hawkins lived in Hawaii at the time (perhaps Coe mentioned Hawkins because Hawkins was also a notorious liar about his past). Yet another claim was that Coe taught Charles Manson how to play guitar - just an outlandish lie. But somewhere along the way, Coe became an accomplished musician, both vocally, playing guitar and writing songs. At age 28, having spent most of his previous 20 years locked up in reform schools then prisons, he was released for the last time from prison in 1967, having picked up his musical skills and honed his craft by singing to his fellow prisoners. Upon release, Coe initially re-connected with his sister in S.E, Ohio and started performing in various bars and clubs around the area before heading to Nashville in 1968 to take his shot at a music career.

The homeless Coe lived in a red Cadillac hearse after arriving in Nashville. On weekends, he parked the hearse in front of the Ryman Auditorium, then home of the Grand Ole Opry, hoping to get noticed. The hearse was emblazoned with his name and “SUPPORT THE GRAND OLE’ OP’RY.” Mel Tillis gave him a wardrobe of rhinestone suits he had no further use for (now dressing in jeans). Dressed in these suits, hanging out at the Ryman, he approached visitors to sign their autograph books as “The mysterious rhinestone cowboy”. He wore a mask and refused to reveal his true identity. As a form of advertisement of himself, he busked in front of the venue. Critics, naturally, dismissed the hulking, bearded, earring bedecked, bemasked, country-grit singer, covered with blue prison tattoo, as cheap gimmickry. But Coe later maintained he was simply forcing his audiences to accept - or reject - his music on its own terms, without being prejudiced by the man. I suppose the modern day equivalent to this is the masked singer, Orville Peck, who bases his music on 1970’s country music. Was he inspired by Coe’s original mysterious masked example?

Anyway, Coe soon got noticed. His writing and singing talents landed him a contract with an independent label, which released his first album, a blues-based collection titled “Penitentiary Blues” in 1969. His songwriting generated more interest than his singing. An intelligent, gently touching ballad he wrote, ‘Would You Lay With Me (In a Field of Stone)’ became a # 1 hit for Tanya Tucker in 1974 (post # 824). This success prompted Columbia Records to sign Coe as a writer and singer. Coe’s first Columbia album, 1974’s “The Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy“, was critically acclaimed but failed to produce any chart hits. Today, the album is viewed as a ground breaker in what gets called “alternative country” (a term I reject, as it’s far more traditionally country than most pop-country).

Opening with ’A Sad Country Song’, Coe displays his lyrical and melodic gift that comes out of the great Texas and Bakersfield Sound traditions - with Merle Haggard the biggest influence on his vocals. Amid a crying pedal steel, shimmery fiddle, and a waltz tempo heard above the guitars, Coe sings to the lonely and alone, the barroom and honky tonk desperados, looking for solace on the jukebox and offers his brand of empathy this way -
"… Just look for my name on a jukebox / When you're tired of being alone /
Put in a dime and I'll take the time / To sing you a sad country song..." -


Coe wrote ‘Would You Lay With Me (In a Field of Stone)’ for Tanya Tucker (post # 824), and when Coe released his own version on the 1975 “Once Upon A Rhyme” album, Tanya returned the favour by singing the backup vocals. This song is different from others in the Coe’s catalog. Not only is his voice more haunting, but the guitar is toned down and his trademark snark is absent, so the listener hears a deeper, more soulful side of the song, giving it a more contemplative and even desperate mood than Tucker’s youthful optimism brought to it -

On a side-note, ‘Would You Lay With Me (In a Field of Stone)’ was heavily inspired by Townes Van Zandt’s ‘If You Needed Me’ (Post # 553). Coe saw Van Zandt perform this and asked him if he could re-work the song into another. Van Zandt agreed but was supposed to get co-writing credit. Coe never did so. After the song was a chart topper for Tanya Tucker, Van Zandt should have gotten a cut - but, never one concerned with money, he didn't sue. This song is not an exact copy, but very close in much of the melody, structure, and certainly the theme. Coe should have done what Van Zandt asked him to do when he gave Coe permission to use the song as a basis for his song and properly credited Van Zandt.

Another from his 1975 “Once Upon A Rhyme” album, ‘Another Pretty Country Song’ starts off just as the title suggests - but then veers into home truths about the reality (back then) of life on the road of a typical successful country singer - and the price they pay to deliver those “pretty” songs. Oddly enough, despite Coe’s wild reputation, and although he drank, took pills, smoked pot and snorted cocaine along the way, he seemed strangely immune to addiction (unlike the likes of Cash, Merle, Waylon and Paycheck amongst others) and always kept his drinking and any drug taking well within moderate levels-
“… It's true I took some pills to stay awake son / And this diamond ring I wear is just for show /
I've got a little cabin in the country / When I'm not on the road that's where I go …”


‘You Never Even Called Me By My Name’ was written by John Prine and Steve Goodman when they were both fueled by whiskey and released on Goodman’s debut album in 1971. It took Coe’s cover of the song from his 1975 album “Once Upon a Rhyme” to have the song receive critical acclaim, living on to become a singalong staple in classic country bars and honky tonks. It’s a totally satirical song that name drops some of the biggest stars of that era - and Coe imitates the singing style of each of them - Waylon Jennings (badly - he hasn’t got Waylon’s rich resonant baritone), Charley Pride (a bit better, but not quite there) and Merle Haggard (which he nails and also refers to his song ’The Fightin' Side of Me’). Coe also makes reference to Faron Young's ’Hello Walls‘ in the background vocals, noting "you don't have to call me" any of those names anymore. In the third verse, Coe adds his signature to the other 3 names "… the only time I know I'll hear David Allan Coe is when Jesus has his final Judgment Day". He also says in the third verse, it’s the one he inspired because he knew there wasn’t any mention of country cliches like mamma, prison, trucks or trains or getting drunk. The raucousness of the song amplifies as Coe gleefully sings the final verse that made this the perfect country song. The song became Coe’s first top 10 hit, reaching # 8, famed for its humorous self-description as “the perfect country and western song”. Part of the appeal is certainly the audience-participation part of the song, which includes often shouting the words: "Bitch! ****! Whore!" -


’Longhaired Redneck’ is famed for its reference to the outlaw movement. Showing just how well Coe had learnt his country music history, the chorus of the song finds him doing quality humorous impersonations of iconic country artists such as Ernest Tubb (posts # 161-165), “Whispering” Bill Anderson (# 449-454) and Merle Haggard (497-502). ‘Longhaired Redneck‘ also references Johnny Rodriguez stealing a goat from a ranch (post # 713). The song epitomises Coe’s genius for self-mythologizing. It begins with Coe reaffirming his outlaw credentials and the establishment’s fear of him in the most literal manner possible -
“Country DJs know that I’m an outlaw / They’d never come to see me in this dive...”
He then reminds audiences of his jail stint, something he never lets them forget -
“… Loudmouth in the corner’s getting to me / Talking ’bout my earrings and my hair /
I guess he ain’t read the signs that say I’ve been to prison / Someone ought to warn him 'fore I knock him off his chair...”
And he engages in gratuitous name-dropping - “… Johnny Cash helped me get out of prison / Long before Rodriguez stole that goat …” and “… I can do ya every song Hank Williams ever wrote...” And of course, he drops his very favourite name - “They tell me I look like Merle Haggard / And sound a lot like David Allan Coe.” This peaked at # 17 in 1976 -


Given his penal background and his very different appearance than the country mainstream, David Allan Coe was a natural fit for the Outlaw movement. With the success of Waylon and Willie, Coe made sure he did what he could to follow their trail - or, as he puts it, they followed his trail. This we shall see tomorrow.

 

[Professor Knowall]

To start today’s David Allan Coe instalment, let’s look as his account of how he was responsible for the term “Outlaw Country”, taken from a 2003 interview - “Lies have been told by the same people for so long that they seem to believe them. There's a writer for one of those Country magazines in Nashville, who was on Waylon Jennings' staff, that claims that she's the one that coined the term Outlaw Country music. In Waylon's book he says that's how it came about. I never cared enough to bring it to their attention but the truth is that Waylon, and Willie Nelson and I played at an outdoor festival called 48 hours in Atoka, in Oklahoma. When we got there we'd been several women were r*ped and several people stabbed! There was a lot of alcohol and drugs or whatever. I told my band, "Don't worry about it. We'll provide our own protection." At that time I was in the Outlaws Motorcycle Club. I had my Outlaws' colors on, and I had my pistol in my pocket and I rode my motorcycle up on stage while Waylon was singing. I got off my motorcycle, and went out and started singing with Waylon. And then Willie came out and sang with us. There was a picture of us in the paper that had an arrow pointing to the pistol in my pocket and another arrow pointing to where it said, "Outlaws, Florida." The headline said, "The Outlaws came to town." That's actually how it all started”.

I‘ve spent some time investigating this claim, looking at contemporary accounts of this quite famous music festival, often called “The Woodstock of Country Music”. Like Woodstock, there was quite a crowd, some 40,000, lots of pot, nudity, too few facilities and too much heat and dust. There was a stellar line-up of mostly Texan and Oklahoman musicians and the likes of Jerry Lee Lewis, Jessi Colter - and Coe. Willie Nelson had not yet achieved his legendary superstar status - well, at least outside of Texas and Oklahoma, he hadn’t. Around the time of 48 Hours in Atoka“, Willie and Waylon were not far from breaking loose from the country music establishment in Nashville. Willie had made the move from Nashville to Austin 3 years prior. His 1975 album, “Red Headed Stranger” had just been released 3 months earlier to little initial acclaim and hadn’t yet achieved its iconic status.

Coe was indeed a member of “The Outlaws” bikie gang, but if he had roared up on stage on his bike while Waylon was singing, then started singing with him - and was then joined on stage by Willie, this absolutely would’ve been a festival highlight - an iconic moment that would’ve been widely talked and written about. But I’ve tracked down contemporary press and eyewitness reports of the concert and found none of them mention this. I’ve read about Willie delivering a “riveting” set, Waylon a “spirited” performance and (amongst others, with Freddy Fender being widely praised), Coe’s set was described as “rowdy” and another mentioned his frequent profanities but that’s it. No mention of motorbikes on stage, no Waylon, Willie and Coe performing together and nothing about the term “Outlaw music”. So it’s most probably another example of Coe not letting the facts get in the way of a good story. But there’s no doubt that from about that time, Coe started to hang around Waylon and Willie - although his presence wasn’t always welcomed by Waylon in particular. More on that below - it’s now time to get back to the music, starting where we left off yesterday, with another quality number from his 1976 “Longhaired Redneck” album, ‘Living On The Run’, which plays up to the outlaw image -


One more from the 1976 “Longhaired Redneck” album, ‘Spotlight’ explores the lonely wasted existence of a country singer - ”… Roll me a smoke, give me some coke ...” - and advises the media - “… Don't waste your time or your flashbulbs / too many heroes are dead …”. One might wonder if the song sums up the way he viewed his life at that time, already showing a latent paranoia about being denied his share of success, compared to his contemporaries like Waylon, Willie and Merle -


By 1977, Coe considered himself as integral as anyone in the evolution of the outlaw country genre, and began saying so in his music. His ”Rides Again“ album is a conscious outlaw record and Coe aligns himself with the movement's 2 progenitors on the opening track. 'Willie, Waylon, and Me' finds Coe engaging in one of his favorite endeavors - juxtaposing his career with those of the most successful country-rockers in the world. He somehow manages to reference The Flying Burrito Brothers, The Eagles, The Byrds, Bob Dylan, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Janis Joplin, and of course, the greatest of all outlaws, David Allan Coe. But more importantly, Coe puts himself on an equal pedestal with the Outlaw legends, Waylon and Willie. This is another example of Coe inserting himself (or at least attempting to) into the forefront of Outlaw music. But in doing so, Coe unintentionally set up a self-parody - something that continued to curse him. I also suspect he probably wouldn’t have liked the introduction to this live performance, describing him as a “Pussycat”, had he heard it! -

Jennings actually played guitar on ‘Willie, Waylon and Me’ but, according to Jennings’ drummer Richie Albright, Waylon “… walked out of there and said, ‘Shit, I don't know why I did that’”. Some of Coe’s peers resented him placing himself in such exalted company, and felt he was exploiting his relationship with his fellow outlaws. It was about this time, promoting his “Ride Again” album, Coe, boasting gof his extensive penal history and his membership of The Outlaws bikie gang, claimed he was a real outlaw, entitled to use that term, whereas Waylon and Willie hadn’t done anything to earn that title (thereby putting a very literal meaning to the term “Outlaw”). Waylon was furious, seeing it as undermining a highly successful marketing ploy - which was how both Waylon and Willie saw it. Albright called Coe “a great, great songwriter. A great singer. But he could not tell the truth if it was better than a lie he'd made up. Waylon didn't make him comfortable enough to hang around. But … Willie allowed him to hang around“. Coe managed to maintain friendships with both Waylon and Willie, despite Waylon’s cool treatment of him at times. In his autobiography, Waylon mentions Coe only once (in a chapter titled "The Outlaw Shit"), calling him "the most sincere of the bunch" of bandwagon jumpers, but contends "when it came to being an Outlaw, the worst thing he ever did was double-parking on Music Row", adding -
He wrote a song called ’Waylon, Willie, and Me’ at the same time he started taking pot-shots at us in interviews, saying that Willie and Kris had sold out, that I was running around wearing white buck shoes, and none of us were really an Outlaw. He was the only Outlaw in Nashville ... I saw him in Fort Worth and I put my finger right up to his chest. 'You gotta knock that shit off', I told him. He protested - 'I ain't never done anything to you. They just set us up...you know I love you, Waylon’ ... he could drive me crazy, but there was something about David that pulled at my heartstrings”.

’Please Come To Boston’ was the B-side to the ‘Willie, Waylon And Me’ single, which reached # 25 in 1977. Even though the song starts as a typical country love song, a listener quickly hears the Coe lyrical spin. Throughout the song, the character wants someone to come to him in many different cities. As the lyrics progress, you realize that the character is running from himself and is hoping that he will be better than he is in his home state -


Another from the 1977 “Rides Again” album is a killer cover of Dale Murphy's ’Laid Back And Wasted’, chronicling hardcore alcohol and drug abuse in the face of crushing failure and lost love -


Tomorrow will see David Allan Coe go even more to the edge - and beyond. Though not ending, it did permanently damage his status as a mainstream artist, limiting his market, despite all his talent and causing controversy that endures to this day.

 

[CliffMcTainshaw]

A couple of people you have covered before Prof.

 

[Professor Knowall]

Always ignoring any concept of “Political Correctness”, a David Allan Coe characteristic either now admired as a virtue or reviled as a flaw, depending on one’s POV, Coe remained uncompromising when it came to his lifestyle and language, even though it kept him off country radio playlists and away from award shows. ‘The House We’ve Been Calling Home‘, for example, explores the theme of polygamy - ‘Me and my wives have been spending our lives / in a house we’ve been calling a home...” -, while his prison experiences, his membership of The Outlaws bikie gang (similar to Johnny Paycheck’s Hells Angel membership), his 365 prison tattoos, his habit of wearing earrings, and his boasting about being an old school traditional Mormon who actually practised polygamy with 7 wives at one time, hardly endeared him to the conservative Nashville establishment. The cover of his 1976 “Texas Moon” album shows the bare arses of his band, mooning the camera. However, as we push into the late 1970’s, he built up a very loyal fanbase of leather clad bikies, cons and es-cons and various left-of-centre long-haired and alternative types, who considered Coe as the ultimate outlaw, outside the mainstream. And yet he was capable of writing and delivering the most tender, heartfelt country songs when he put his mind to it - and also the most satirical, subversive, humorous piss-takes.

Today’s music selection starts where we left off yesterday with the final track from his 1977 “Rides Again” album. In ‘If That Ain’t Country’ Coe responds to his critics - they can go to hell if his songs don’t feel country enough for them. Coe takes listeners to small - and poor - town America in this song. However, his version of country living has all the trademarks of his outlaw career. Although he brings the simplicity of rural life out with simple chords, he adds much of his trademark novelty in the lyrics. Midway through the song, it begins to get slightly more uptempo. It finds Coe uttering a racial slur on record for the first time, singing the line “… Workin’ like a ****** for my room and board …”. There is no better white-trash poem than this very controversial song. The the story is about a family of the forgotten people, the ones most Americans wished don’t exist. Father - "… drinks Pearl from a can and Jack Daniels black / Chews tobacco from a mail pouch sack...”. Mother- "… Works hard for the old man..." Sister - "… Ran away 'cause Dad got violent, and he knows it …". Old dog - "… Trained to attack... sometimes …”. The song paints a picture of a Texas family verging on caricature, with the narrator describing his tattooed father as “… veteran proud…” and deeming his oldest sister “… a first-rate whore …“. It’s in this context, using the language such a family as he describes would use, that you begin to hear some of his questionable lyrics. However, it’s an enjoyable song, loaded with an underlying subversive humour, typical of Coe -

While comparatively tame next to the pair of underground X-rated albums he would record later, the song further alienated Coe from the country mainstream and kick-started accusations that he was a racist, a charge he always vehemently denied. In 2004 he remarked -
“I am a songwriter, you know, and to me it has always bothered me that actors in the movies can say whatever they want to say, kill people, rape people and do things and no one ever accuses them personally of being that way. But when you write a song and then all of a sudden you are being accused of something. To me, songwriting is painting a picture and all you have to work with is words… I grew up with all my life hearing, “lazy as a Mexican”, “stingy as a Jew”, “working like a ******“ or “dumb as a Polock“. It’s stereotype stuff you hear growing up that immediately puts a picture in your head”.
I will say more about the racism charges later (not today), as these accusations really intensified at a later period. For in 1977, most who listened to Coe understood the context of his use of the term and didn’t see it as rascist.

Despite his shameless self-promoting (which I think damaged rather than enhanced his reputation), his penchant for telling lies about his past (another was that he played with Jimi Hendrix), his basic weirdness and his underground filth music, it shouldn’t be forgotten that Coe was not only a great musician and also a naturally gifted songwriter. Though he wrote many better songs over his career, he wrote ‘Take This Job and Shove It‘ for Johnny Paycheck, becoming Paycheck’s first and only # 1 hit. The song’s lyrics seemed to capture all the angst of blue-collar life (though in post # 819), I pointed out the song isn’t really what is seems . It was later turned into a movie in which Coe made a cameo. Coe released his recording for this song in 1978 on the album “Family Album” -


In 1978, Coe had gone through another divorce - one that was apparently very difficult, because he recorded his entire 1978 album “Human Emotions” around the topic. In typical Coe style, he divided the 2 sides of the album into different themes. Side 1 was subtitled "Happy Side” and comprised of songs composed - and some even recorded - before his wife left him. Side 2, subtitled “Sui-I-Side“, is the aftermath. Suicide. In typical country music tradition, the best songs aren’t on the happy side, but the miserable side. In the relatable ’Whiskey And Women’, it’s kinda nice that Coe shares my weaknesses, so let’s listen with a glass of Jack in hand -


The best drinking song by a man with an entire catalog of them, ’Jack Daniels If You Please‘ is enough to drive sober people back to the bottle. Sad drinking songs are a country staple, of course. However, Coe, with Janie Frickie providing the background vocals, makes the songs less depressing and even morbidly funny - the line “… that knocks me to my knees …” may mean he’s thinking about forgiving her because he’ll already be kneeling. There are moments of melancholy, but it sounds like he’s doing shots throughout the song as he sways back and forth between wanting to repair the relationship or just keep drinking. Damn me with I can’t get through this song without 2 shots of Jack -


Now for the most controversial song of this entire history series (including what’s been and what’s to come - this is a one off, included on the grounds this is not just about music but a history (albeit brief, selective and potted) about the artists who delivered the songs. In this case (not before changing my mind, flip-flopping at least a dozen times right up to the last minute), I’ve decided to include one song from Coe’s first x-rated album, as it is an integral part of his history, with ramifications decades down the track.

At the behest of his good friend Shel Silverstein, Coe decided to record an album of X-rated joke songs (1978’s “Nothing Sacred“ (the first of 2 such albums, along with 1982’s “Underground Album”) awash in profanity and lyrics designed to offend just about everyone. It’s strange to think of Silverstein, a prolific country songwriter, poet, and famed children’s book author, perhaps best known for writing The Giving Tree, as the demon on Coe’s shoulder whispering sinister advice into his ear, but in this case it appears to have been true.

I don’t have either of the albums, but from what I’ve listened on YouTube, it seems they’re an extension and magnification of Coe’s cartoon persona rather than the actual feelings or prejudices of the man himself - in other words, in certain songs he‘s singing “in character”, like an actor plays a role, telling a story by that character, rather than singing for himself. As is the case with much of Coe’s output, it’s a mistake to take it literally. If nothing else, the controversy that still surrounds Coe even as he’s in his 80’s proves he’s one of the few genuine country artists really capable of getting under people’s skin (excluding all the phoney, pop fake-country acts of the last 20 years).

The lyrics of the “Nothing Sacred” album are profane, often sexually explicit, with titles including ‘Cum Stains on the Pillow’, ‘Masterbation Blues’ and others describing an orgy in Nashville's Centennial Park, sex with porno star Linda Lovelace and a song targeting Anita Bryant, a musician notable for her strong opposition to LGBT rights, specifically her fight to repeal an LGBT anti-discrimination ordinance in Miami. In the song, bluntly titled ’**** Aneta Bryant’, Coe calls out Bryant as being hypocritical for her opposition to the lifestyles of gay people, stating ”… In fact Anita Bryant, some act just like you…". This didn’t stop the NYT years later labelling the album as homophobic in a typically ignorant, inaccurate NYT hit job - more on that tomorrow.

“Nothing Sacred” was released as a mail order-only release, initially advertised in the back pages of the bikie magazine Easyriders - It didn’t use Coe’s name, but with it’s wickedness and humour, it sold like covid era toilet paper, far beyond anyone’s expectation and beyond just the bikies, and of course word soon got around that Coe was the singer - the only mainstream artist to release such an album. My selection (it’s official title is actually ‘Whips and Things’’), many now (but not back in 1978) consider as misogynist, but as far as Coe was concerned it was just a stupid joke song, entirely done just for laughs (and I suspect this is one he originally wrote while in prison to amuse his fellow inmates), and this was how it was accepted at the time. The objections to it back in 1978 wasn’t for misogyny but it’s profane, sexually explicit themes and language. Back then it was regarded as filthy, and it’s probably even more so by todays more puritanical and hypocritical standards. But it was also regarded as hysterically funny. You may find this hysterical (the humour is accentuated by Coe’s deadpan delivery to a catchy up-beat tune). Or you might find this offensive - or both offensive and funny. If high level, filthy, sexually explicit language, even if funny, really ain’t your thing, it’s probably best to skip this -


Coe released an even more controversial album in 1982, “Underground Album”, which I will discuss tomorrow - along with a listen to some of Coe’s most serious, high quality music as we move into the 1980’s from the outlaw enigma that is David Allan Coe.

 

[THE A5]

Fingers crossed Perth gets a date but not gonna hold my breath

 

[Professor Knowall]

Although Coe had enjoyed great success as a songwriter and recorded high-quality albums since signing with Columbia in 1974, working with the master producer Billy Sherrill (as had Johnny Paycheck and Tanya Tucker), and had written big hits for others, like ’Would You Lay With Me In A field Of Stone for Tanya and ‘Take This Job And Shove It’ for Paycheck, he had not broken through to the top tier of the country music mainstream in the way other artists associated with outlaw country movement had - even though he clearly had the talent to do so. Coe was his own worst enemy in this respect, alienating the mainstream by hanging out with the criminal Outlaw bikie gang, recording his album of if explicit songs and falsely claiming he had been on death row for murder amongst other outlandish claims. Coe, who in 1978 moved down to Key West, Florida and released some ‘Gulf Country’ songs, became embroiled in a feud with pop star Jimmy Buffett, who accused Coe of plagiarising one of his songs. Coe retaliated in style by including the song ’Jimmy Buffett’ on his sexually explicit “Nothing Sacred“ album. In the song, Coe suggests he and Buffett "… just both get drunk and screw …", a sly, sarcastic and filthily explicit re-work of Buffett’s satirical song ‘Why Don’t We Get Drunk’.

Coe often rubbed many of his peers - not just Waylon Jennings or his drummer, Richie Albright, as outlined yesterday - the wrong way. Dan Beck, a Nashville songwriter, later said -“In a way, we didn't necessarily take David that seriously. I remember songwriters used to go see him play someplace, and he'd play somebody else's songs and say he wrote it! People used to laugh“. Coe would, as we’ve seen, go on to achieve some success, but his last 3 singles of the 1970’s didn’t chart, and he had not reached the Top 30 since 1976‘s ‘Longhaired Redneck’ hit #17, as Nashville kept its distance from the edgy, prison tattooed, tall story telling bikie who now took to wearing a thick waist length blonde wig to boot.

But as we now enter into the 1980’s, and the rise of the “Urban Cowboy” phenomenon, the latest tool in broadening country music’s base at the cost of its authenticity, Coe, who from as far back as his time in prison had developed a very good knowledge and appreciation of the history of country music in pretty much all it’s different forms, refused to give into the latest flavour-of-the-month generic mainstream trends. He despised the “urban cowboy” sound and fashion as fake, stuck to what he knew and sharpened the edges, producing some of his best work. Perhaps surprisingly, with the outlaw movement now out of fashion as the prosperous 1980’s kicked into gear, his approach of going against the grain and basically continuing his Outlaw image and doing uncompromising country music actually worked.

From Coe’s 1980 ‘I’ve Got Something To Say’ album, Billy Sherrill had a hand in corralling George Jones to sing on ‘This Bottle (In My Hand)’, a song Coe wrote that sounds as if it was torn from the pages of Jones's mind. The legendary singer was in the midst of having his career and life resurrected by Sherrill with the enormous success of the greatest Countrypolitan song of all time, ‘He Stopped Loving Her Today‘ (see post # 409), but he was also still in the throes of a years-long cocaine-fuelled booze binge that saw him missing shows and acquiring the nickname “No Show Jones“. Sherrill's production here is straight hardcore honky tonk and Coe holds his own with Jones, who delivers a typically stellar performance, even though his voice was weathered by his drug and booze addiction. Both Jones and Coe had many songs about the troubles that drinking caused in their relationships. However, like many other male country singers in this genre, they extract some black humour from their predicament with well-placed guitar riffs and punctuations of slide guitar. The opening verse tells the story of a hopeless alcoholic who appears intent on destroying himself, a subject Jones (but not the much more moderate drinker Coe) knew from first-hand experience -
“Last week he spent his whole pay cheque on whiskey / And on Friday night he'll do it all again /
He'll drink till he falls down and then he'll order one more round / And then go home with that bottle in his hand …” -


‘Tennessee Whiskey’ was penned by Dean Dillon and Linda Hargrove, having it pitched first to the rising young Texan star, George Strait. However, Strait turned it down, leaving Coe to become the first to cut the song. Coe went ahead to make it the title song of his 1981 album. It only reached # 77. This is a love-gone-right song, an ode of true passion that compares the target of the affection to the other sweet drug of … Tennessee whiskey. Many of Coe’s songs focus on drinking; this is another. However, unlike his other odes to alcohol, this song uses alcohol as a metaphor for a woman, describing her by the words he might use to describe his favourite beverages. With his rough vocal approach, ‘Tennessee Whiskey‘ fits Coe perfectly -
"You're as smoo--ooth as Tennessee whiskey ..." -

Producer Billy Sherrill had better luck when he cut ‘Tennessee Whiskey’ with George Jones in 1983, rising to #2. Ironically, Jones's version was slightly sweeter, with background singers and a string arrangement, compared to the stripped down version Coe recorded, which emphasised the singer’s vocal and an acoustic guitar. In 2015, Chris Stapleton (who just last week had the honour of singing the national anthem at the Super Bowl) knocked this song out of the park, delivering the definitive soulful version, which went all to # 1 and crossed over to the Top 20 of the pop charts.

Following the unexpected success (and resulting financial windfall) of his x-rated ‘Nothing Sacred’ album in 1978, Coe went to the same well again in 1982, releasing what became in time an even more controversial x-rated album, aptly called ‘Underground Album’. Like his earlier ‘Nothing Sacred’ album,, it wasn’t released in stores but as a mail order-only release, advertised in the back pages of the bikie magazine Easyriders‘. It was also sold at many his shows - particularly at his frequent bikies concerts. One track in particular from this album ‘N****r F****r’ has become notorious as being (supposedly) racist. The NYT slammed this album in 2003 and in 2010, in an article on a new Snoop Dog album, The Guardian named Coe’s album as the most offensive album ever released! I explain below why they’re both way off the mark.

Actually, rhough the ‘Underground Album, like his previous x-rated effort, has a lot of filth and can offend just about everyone, a couple of the songs like ‘Coffee’ are quite mild and one in particular, Panheads Forever’ is just a straight out country song without any profanities or sexually explicit material whatsoever , though (similar to George Jones ‘The Corvette Song’ - post # 410), it‘s loaded with double entrendres - at least up until the line “… That old Panhead of mine …”, which makes it clear Coe is singing not about any woman, but only about his old, beloved, reliable Harley Davison -

In The Guardian 2010 article describing Coe’s 1982 ‘Underground Album’ as the most offensive of all time (even beating all those gangsta rap and various hip-hop and rap albums with ultra-violent, misogynist and racist lyrics), it also said it destroyed his mainstream career. However, this was not only wrong, it couldn’t have been more wrong. In fact, in the 2 years that followed it’s release were Coe’s most successful commercially.

Coe was a keen student of country music history and in his 1983 album “Castles In The Sound”, he included a tribute song to the greatest country singer-songwriter of them all, ’The Ride’, a seminal song, about hitchhiking and getting a lift from the ghost of Hank Williams. Lots of singles have been released over the years by many artists in commemoration of Hank Williams Sr (including not a few by his son, Hank Jr). However, this is one of the best and became Coe’s most successful song of all he performed, reaching #4 and going to # 2 in Canada. Later on, it was covered by Hank Jr. and Tim McGraw -
“… You don't have to call me Mister, mister / The whole world calls me Hank!" -

When being interviewed by Billboard in 1983 about ‘The Ride’, songwriter Gary Gentry said - “There’s a mysterious magic connected with this song that spells cold chills, leading me to believe it was meant to be and that David Allan Coe was meant to record it”. Gentry also said he opened up the Hank Williams biography to check the date of his death and opened the book on the exact page where it was written.

The opening track from 1984’s “Just Divorced” album, ‘Now I Lay Me Down To Cheat’ is a gripping performance, showcasing the emotions of a man who knew he was doing the one he loved wrong - but yet couldn’t help himself. The song stands as one of his most underrated classics. It all too accurately tells the woes of infidelity, describing a situation so many have felt, and is heartbreaking. Its description of the man who loves his wife despite the fact he can't stop cheating on her hits home -
"… In his heart and soul / He knew that he was playing a game he could never win /But you know, forbidden fruit is sweet /
Why it was sweet enough to make him risk it all again / And now he's giving up on looking for a way to fight the feeling ..." -


OK, now to address the elephant in the room - is David Alan Coe a racist? Now I’ve already pegged him for being a serial liar, a shameless self-promoter, envious of the success of his musician peers, insecure about his own place, a member of an outlaw bikie gang notorious for its criminal activities, a tax cheat and often just an annoying pest. I’ve not hidden his X-rated albums, referred to the racial slur in ‘If That Ain’t Country’ and mentioned the song “N****r F****r”. Yet for all that, I’m inclined to believe him when he said - "Anyone that hears [Underground Album] and says I'm a racist is full of shit”.

Coe long had an uncanny ability to sing “in character“ in many of his story songs - just like an actor does playing a role. At different stages, he sang as a proud man of the South in songs like ‘I Still Sing the Old Songs’ and when one listens to ‘Texas Lullaby’, you can swear Coe was reminiscing about the old times growing up in Texas and in other songs after moving to Key West, Florida, he sings of his life on the Gulf Coast. Yet none of this happened of course, for as we know, he was, in reality, a Northern yankee from Ohio who spent much of his youth until the age of 27 locked up. And this was understood in the 1980’s, which is why Coe avoided any major problems back then - apart from conservatives who decried his sexually explicit lyrics and profanities in his two X-rated albums. But these albums were only available by mail-order, not a stores. Even so, they were wildly successful, selling up to 300,000 copies

Coe’s real problem with being labelled a racist actually started in the 1990’s at the dawn of the digital era - with the then cutting edge MP3 portable music craze. Well someone put together a compilation of songs, most dating from the 1960’s, by Johnny Rebel (real name Clifford Trahan). These songs were all fully racist, white supremacist, KKK type of shit, openly mocking African Americans and were outrageous enough to go viral at the time, circulating widely. The problem for Coe was that amongst all the terrible stuff, it also included one of his songs, ‘N****r F****r’. Coe was well known whereas few knew the name Johnny Rebel, therefore Johnny Rebel was misidentified as the pseudonym for Coe. The internet was still only in its infancy back then, so there was no easy way to clear up the mis-identification, and it still plagues Coe to this day - I found plenty of references on the internet still identifying Johnny Rebel as David Alan Coe, even though Wiki, among other sites, have articles on Johnny Rebel with his real name and other details, making it clear he is a different person with nothing to do with Coe - apart from the mis-identification. Unfortunately for Coe, the damage had been done and the reputations of a racist stuck.

In 2003 the controversy regarding Coe’s underground albums reignited when he began selling CDs of the albums in question at his shows, which prompted NYT critic Neil Strauss (who ironically went on to write sleazy, creepy books about how to pick up girls and some profanely graphic novels) to describe the albums as containing “among the most racist, misogynist, homophobic and obscene songs recorded by a popular songwriter”. Then the Guardian chimed in in 2010 with its “most offensive album” verdict.

Coe responded to the charge of racism first by pointing out the NYT never bothered to speak to him before the article and said - “My drummer, Kerry Brown, is black. His father is (blues musician great) Gatemouth Brown. Kerry is married to a white woman. His dad is married to a white woman. The things they say just doesn't make sense. My hair is in dreadlocks down to my waist (actually a ridiculous wig). I dress like a New York pimp. Waylon Jennings looked at me and said, 'goddamn, boy, you look like one of them New York pimps“. But the main point for me is - ‘N****r F****r’, for all its racial slurs, clearly mocks the racist character that Coe has invented to sing the song - he found out his wife has been having it off with a black man and he’s humiliated. Thus the joke is on the invented white racist character - and back in the 1980’s, before the song was put on the infamous Johnny Rebel MP3 playlist and came to be associated with all the genuine racist filth of Johnny Rebel, this was well understood and it even became popular in African-American juke-joints. It really is that simple - and hell, I don’t even like the song at all and wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. It just ain’t racist in its context, that’s all.

That’s more than enough for today. Tomorrow will conclude David Allan Coe’s enigmatic career as it winds down - but hasn’t actually ended yet.

 

[Professor Knowall]

We left off yesterday in 1983, with Coe’s recording career reviving and even reaching a career high. He also appeared in 2 made-for-TV films along with Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson - The Last Days of Frank & Jesse James and Stagecoach, both airing in 1986. In addition, Coe had developed an interest in magic and began incorporating illusions into his stage shows - which didn’t always go down so well and drew more ire from the music critics. As the 1980‘s wore on, Coe's outlaw image became more even pronounced, even as the Outlaw era diminished into the past,as he sported larger and more elaborate tattoos, began braiding his beard, and eventually adopted a dreadlock hairstyle on his wig, perhaps trying to compete with the long, but natural, locks of Willie Nelson.

Peaking at # 2 and going all the way to # 1 in 1984, Coe gained his biggest self-performed hit through his heartfelt Johnny Cunningham written ballad, ‘Mona Lisa Lost Her Smile’, filled with allusions about a young blonde girl. Interestingly, this song sounds like 1970‘s mainstream in the opening chords. The instrumentation in this song is more sentimental and absent of satiric lyrics of many earlier Coe songs. The lyrics are about a character who lost someone he can’t replace. Even though he’s singing about the other person losing their smile, the song’s sentimentality tells a different tale - it’s the singer who has lost his hopes and dreams, now all in ruins as he confesses he was the one that caused her to go -


In 1985, Coe released a chilling ballad from his album “Darlin Darlin” written with an assist from Charles Quillen. You know that awkward feeling one has when you encounter an ex you were once really intense with? The lyrics of ‘Sne Used To Love Me A Lot’ tells the story of a man who laments the fact he walked away from someone who once was a devoted lover to him - and was cut to the bone the experience. This is a raw and edgy Coe delivering one of his most regret-filled songs. The singer can’t believe it is over between him and the lady, considering how much in love she was with him. He doesn’t think it will be difficult to get her back in love with him again due to their strong love earlier. The 1984 hit was brought to light again when Johnny Cash released his version of the song in 2014 on his “Out Among the Stars” album. Coe’s original version peaked at # 11 in 1985 -


Once you separate Coe from his bravado image, one finds a most convincing vocalist. The 1985 single, also from The “Darlin’ Darlin” album shows that talent, combined from a classic-sounding recitation from the legendary George Jones. This is as traditional country, harmonica, crying pedal steel, piano and all, as you can get - and crapped in the face of the 1980’s Urban Cowboy sound. The song is the confession of a (literally) dead drunk to his long suffering wife - now his widow -


’Time Off For Bad Behaviour‘ is from Coe’s 1987 album “A Matter of Life… And Death”. As deciphered from the song’s lyrics, David Allan Coe barely considers himself a good man, but he had been masquerading as one for a while. He tried to act being good by doing right at work, watching his tongue, and doing right with his beloved wife. The timeless ballad alludes to now taking a break from being a good person. After all, a truth lying in the shadows is that being good can be tiresome when it’s faked or not motivated by the inner self. Coe won’t let go of his Outlaw motif, long after it had gone out of fashion -


We finish with another tribute song to country music’s greatest legend, Hank Williams. ’The Ghost Of Hank Williams’ from 1997 is pretty similar to 1983’s ’The Ride‘, featured yesterday, but with a graveyard setting instead of an old Cadillac. This song is a definite live concert favourite -
“… Marty Robbins, Patsy Cline, Ernest Tubb, and Red Solvine / Jimmy Rodgers, and old Lefty was my friends /
It's so lonesome here tonight, but someday I'll see the light / When the ghost of Hank Williams plays "Your Cheatin' Heart" again

It was 2 am in Nashville and the Ryman Stage was bare / There was just a lot of memories from the opery being there
In the stillness of the morning on a cold December wind / The Ghost of Hank Williams plays "Your Cheatin' Heart" again …” -


By 1990, his contract with Columbia had finally ended after 30 years, and his finances became a complete disaster due to IRS (tax office) matters - similar to his fellow outlaws in Willie Nelson and Johnny Paycheck at the time. It seems the IRS didn’t much like outlaw musicians. Coe’s live-work as a road warrior became his primary income source after he lost his publishing rights in a legal battle with creditors. At various times his band included members of Confederate Railroad, future Allman Bros. and Gov't Mule guitar hero Warren Haynes, and Coe's son Tyler. Another unpleasant divorce and his continuing troubles with the IRS made a mess of his finances and private life. One of the more colourful tales about Coe alleges that after the IRS repossessed his house, he took to living in a cave for several months, though the story is almost certainly just another piece of his bullshit.

Coe released albums periodically through several small labels (including his own Coe-Pop), and even charted with his 1997 concert set “Live: If That Ain't Country“. Coe also won new fans and lost others thanks to the endorsement of another fan, Kid Rock, who name-checked him in the song ’American Badass‘ and then invited Coe to open his 2000 concert tour. Coe and Rock began writing songs together, and one of them, ’Single Father‘ appeared on Rock’s self-titled 2003 album. Fortunately, the collaboration came to an end. In 1999, Coe had met Dimebag Darrell, guitarist with heavy metal outlaws Pantera, and their fast friendship led to a collaboration. Dimebag, bassist Rex Brown, and drummer Vinnie Paul teamed up with Coe to cut an album “Rebel Meets Rebel”. Recorded over the space of 3 years, the record wasn't released until 2006, after Dimebag’s death. It features songs about drinking, getting stoned, and other serious matters like criticising the US government’s treatment of Native Americans. The album was considered a groundbreaking collaboration of country and heavy metal.

In 2010, Coe married his longtime girlfriend Kimberly Hastings, 48 (he was 71 at the time) at the Little White Chapel in Las Vegas with American singer-songwriter Toby Keith as official witness. Kim had joined him several times on stage as backup/duet singer and the couple dated for 10 years before settling down. This was Coe’s 6th marriage. When he was asked why he decided to get married again, he simply responded he was tired of making decisions for himself, which I reckon is about the best reason ever given for marrying. Coe was involved in a major car crash in 2013 when his SUV was hit by a truck. Despite broken ribs, head trauma, and bruised kidneys, Coe was back on the road within 4 months, performing at Willie Nelson's annual 4th July picnic - but, seemingly under the influence of his latest wife, making all the decisions for him, he broke off all contact with his children and sacked his band, turning up with a new band of a few hacks and put out a god awful performance.

Coe kept performing - he is especially popular still at bikie conventions and concerts - and kept performing until the Covid lockdown and then he caught Covid in 2021, was hospitalised and real sick for a while. But eventually he recovered and I see he’s now back to touring again at age 83.

Coe’s son and former band-member, Tyler, is still estranged from his father but, showing his own considerable talents, has moved on to research, produce and narrate my favourite country music podcast - “Cocaine & Rhinestones”, a brilliant and entertaining, albeit selective, history of country music - and (unlike mine) fully annotated with his many sources. His history of George Jones, done after I did mine here, was riveting. I knew he had real dark times, which I outlined in my little effort. But it was even much worse than I knew. Anyway, it’s something well worth checking out for anyone serious about their country music history.

Coe collaborated with Hank iii for the song ‘The Outlaw Ways’ in 2013. Hank iii has described Coe as like a father and a huge influence on him. Whether this has been for better or for worse can be debated - maybe better artistically but worse commercially - but the song, modelled on Waylon and Hank Jr’s ‘The Conversation’, is worth a listen. Last year, after years of seclusion , Hank iii resurfaced with a cover of Coe‘s ‘You Never Even Called Me By My Name’ (recorded in one take in real time). In 2006, on his epic “Straight To Hell” album, Hank iii put Coe in lofty company amongst some of the immortals of country music in his great traditional country tribute song ‘Country Heroes‘ -
“I’m drinkin’ some George Jones, and a little bit of Coe / Haggard’s easin’ my misery, and Waylon’s keepin’ me from home /
Hank’s givin’ me those high times, Cash is gonna sing it low / I’m just here getting’ wasted, just like my country heroes.…”

Just don’t expect David Allan Coe to ever get inducted into the Country Music HoF or at any other awards show - American politics will see to that - at age 83, he says what he thinks as he always has, no matter the cost.

After my last break started with a wedding at Phillip Island, I’m leaving today for a birthday party in Bali and than a bit of R&R and maybe checking out Filipino old school classic-country musicians. I should be back in a couple of weeks.

 

[PatsFitztrick]

Back in the late 1980s, a friend gifted me a bootleg copy of Coe’s Underground album, burned to a CD.
Months later, a female work colleague asked if she could borrow some of my music collection for a weekend family barbecue.
I promptly forgot all about it - until the Friday morning before the event, when I hastily grabbed the first CD stack that came to hand on my way to the front door.
And so it was that on the following Sunday, family and friends were about to sit down to lunch when a random disc was selected, and the volume was cranked up.
Sadly, our personal and working relationship never really recovered.

 

[backtozero]

There's so many good young country artists out there at the moment. This is a great cover and a good channel if you're looking for new stuff.

 

[Schauermann]

There's so many good young country artists out there at the moment. This is a great cover and a good channel if you're looking for new stuff.

Nice.

Btw "Death" in German is a pretty good surname.

 

[Professor Knowall]

Lost love, adultery, loneliness, alcoholism, drugs and self-pity - or in other words, users, boozers, anbusers and losers. You can hear the wurlitzer whirring as it lifts the final crackling 45 from the slot. The barman hurriedly stacking chairs as the cigarette smoke begins to clear. The cowboy slumps over the bar, misty eyed with an empty whiskey glass, his honky tonk angel having left hours before - holding hands with another man ... Welcome to Honky Tonk Heaven! Lap steel, 3/4 time and that glorious high-lonesome-sound, as good as it gets. With his emotive vibrato along with a hard-hitting blend of honky tonk and southern rock, our next artist was the throwback champion of the raw honky-tonk sound of the 1940s and ’50s. His songs recounting an alcohol-drenched, seedy, usually sad, honky tonk life that paralleled his own life - he was singing of a place he was right at home at.

Born in 1944 in the Appalachians of S.E. Kentucky, the son of a coal miner who raised fighting roosters on the side, Gary Stewart joined a list of country singers including Merle Travis, Loretta Lynn, Chris Stapleton, Patty Loveless, Crystal Gayle and Tom T.Hall who were all children of Kentucky coal miners. One of 9 children (whose each name started with G), he was named for his mother’s favourite actor, Gary Cooper. When Gary was 12, his father got injured in the mines and the family relocated to a nice condominium trailer park (aka caravan) in Fort Pierce, Florida, a beach-side city north of Miami. As origin story, this seems to capture Stewart’s music - mountain holler and seedy trailer park beachside groove.

Learning guitar and piano and possessing a tenor voice to match even the great bluegrass pioneer, Bill Monroe, Stewart’s first group was a rockabilly band called The Tomcats. When Stewart was 16, he introduced himself to a 20 y.o. wild firecracker party girl named Mary Lou at a drive-in restaurant, impressed by the pile of Jimmy Reed and Chuck Berry 45’s in the back of her car. Turned out they both also liked to hang around in graveyards. Shortly after Stewart turned 17, they got married - the only unusual aspect at the time wasn’t Stewart’s youth (teenage marriage was very common back then in the South, as we’ve so often see in this history) but that his wife was 3 years older than him and very experienced in the wild side of life.

Stewart made his first record for a local Fort Pierce label then played in a rock beat group called the Amps. In the mid-1960s, he was discovered by singer/songwriter Mel Tillis performing at a beachside honky tonk. Tillis advised him to write his own songs and gave him some tips and Stewart promptly began his songwriting. Stewart kicked around the edges of Nashville, but only stayed for short periods, describing it as “… colder than a harlot’s heart”. He displayed a natural talent for song-writing. Teaming up with a policeman, Bill Eldridge, he wrote Stonewall Jackson’s 1965 hit, ‘Poor Red Georgia Dirt’, followed by other successes including chart hits for Billy Walker - ‘She Goes Walking Through My Mind’, ‘When A Man Loves A Woman (The Way I Love You)’, ‘Traces Of A Woman’, ‘It’s Time To Love Her’, for Cal Smith - ‘You Can’t Housebreak A Tomcat’, ‘It Takes Me All Night Long’ and for Nat Stuckey - ‘Sweet Thang And Cisco’ and minor hits for Jack Greene, Jim Ed Brown, Peggy Little, Roy Drusky, Johnny Russell, Ernest Tubb and Hank Snow.

With his song-writing succes, Stewart was signed to the Kapp label in 1968, while still dividing his time between Nashville and Fort Pierce, mading several unsuccessful recordings. He eventually, if still reluctantly, moved from his Florida trailer home to Nashville permanently in 1971, still employed as a song-writer and for some years he was the pianist in Charley Pride’s road band, even touring Europe with them and he can be heard on Pride’s “In Concert“ double album. But when a 1973 demo tape made the rounds in the country circuit, producer Roy Dea, impressed by Stewart’s unique vocals, scooped him up and signed the now 29 y.o. to RCA. Dea was the real catalyst for Stewart's success, the man who captured the hard-country side of Gary's sound the best. Dea later said - "You get hooked on Stewart. He's like a damn drug”. Dea was a sort of father figure to Stewart and Stewart, a born delinquent and good time boy, tried in vain to be a good son. Although Dea got him signed to RCA, executive Jerry Bradley wouldn't seal the deal until Stewart agreed to cut his hair.

Stewart had his first, albeit minor # 63 hit in 1973 with a country version of the Allman Brothers’ ‘Ramblin’ Man’. But in 1974, at age 30, he broke through when his second RCA release ‘Drinkin Thing’, became his first Top 10 hit. The opening of ‘Drinkin’ Thing‘ is just about the finest expression of elegiac sadness in country music - “Every day - I tell myself - it’s temporary”. The line is delivered as it only can in the slowed, slurred delivery of Stewart. His ethereal tenor, heavily adorned with vibrato and growls, the trills in his notes sputter and lift. The song drags us straight to the late night honky tonk bar, Stewart’s natural home. In this song, the descriptive lyrics depict a broken man, incapable of confronting the truth about the young woman who no longer loves him, and whose only answer is to turn to the sweet seduction of oblivion through alcohol -
”… If I wait up at home, I'll only ask her questions / She'd probably tell the truth, so I don't even ask /
So, I sit here on this barstool, feelin' helpless / And I wonder, just how long, a man can last …” -


Stewart followed up with the even more successful ’Out Of Hand’, which became the title track of his album released several months later in January 1975. It reached # 4 in 1974 and also made the Top 10 in Canada. It’s about an extramarital affair gone too far and out of control, as they so easily and often do. The chorus lyrics seems like Stewart describing himself -
“… Out of hand, out of hand / I'm a hard living kind of a man / I need more to keep me goin' / Than this gold wedding band …” -


With his quavering, vibrato-laden tenor voice, sounding a bit like Jerry Lee Lewis, Stewart, with the help of songwriter Wayne Carson, released 1975's “Out of Hand” album which was soon universally praised from influential music critics across the board including from Rolling Stone and Village Voice. It’s still regarded as one of, if not the most, finest honky tonk record of all time, described in AllMusic as one of the top 3 and “… one of the most amazing collections of unruly drinking songs in country music history“. It’s meant to be listened to alone, when nothing but darkness remains - or sung along with loudly. The songs ain’t so so much drinking songs but more like hangover songs, such are the depths of regret they plunge into.

The most popular song from the album, released in March 1975, Stewart achieved his first # 1 hit and also reaching # 4 in Canada, with his self-penned ‘She’s Acting Single (I’m Drinking Doubles)‘, surely a contender for the greatest drinking song title ever. In a theme similar to ‘Drinkin’ Thing’, the singer shamefully admits he can’t control “his” woman’s straying, wandering ways - so, in true Honky tonk tradition, he finds his solace (not that it really seems to help him) at the bar -
“… I'm not weak, I tell myself / I stay because I'm strong / The truth is, I'm not man enough / To stop her from doing me wrong …” -

Many artists have covered thIs honky tonk classic over the years, including George Jones, Tanya Tucker Conway Twitty, The Randy Rogers Band, Ronnie Dunn and in 2022 by the Indie group, Wednesday and a terrific live acoustic version by Cody Johnson.

One more from the seminal ‘Out Of Hand‘ album that has endured as a favourite, even though Stewart never released it as a single, ’I See The Want To In Your Eyes’, written by Wayne Carson, is a seduction song, a lesson in how to very carefully sweet-talk a married woman around -
“… How many women just like you have silent schemes / How many men like me do they sleep with in their dreams /
You can stay or you can go and although I sympathise / I still see the want to in your eyes …” -

Conway Twitty heard Stewart's version on the radio and decided to record it - and Twitty's version became his 11th # 1 hit and providing Stewart a big boost to his song-writing royalties in addition to his own singing success. It also meant 4 songs from the ‘Out Of Hand’ album made the Top 10 (or 3 if you omit Twitty’s cover) with 2 going all the way to # 1

Hoping to cash in on Stewart’s new found success, MCA, which had purchased and absorbed the previous independent Kapp label, scoured through Stewart’s forgotten recordings with them from 1968 to 1971, and released ’You’re Not The Woman You Used To Be’, the title track of his 1971 album. It’s another heartbreaking ballad by Stewart, singing about a man watching the woman he loves to turn into somebody else he’s no longer familiar with, and discovers he being cuckolded -
“…Just found your note / You've gone shopping with a friend / And you might be a little late / Getting in /
Your friend just called me / To ask you over for morning tea / You're not the woman You used to be …”


Gary Stewart’s voice was one of a kind. His hillbilly vibrato and lonesome Kentucky howl could leave one wounded but coming back for more. With a healthy dose of rockabilly and a little added soul, he gave honky tonk barroom laments a renewed boost. Stewart said in an interview toward the end of his life - “Once I start singing, I get this quiver in my throat. I can’t fake that.” He said it was like the way his mother used to scream when she got angry at his father and chased him with a knife.

Stewart‘s songs recounting an alcohol-drenched honky tonk life of lost loves and new lusts had an uncanny ability to take one on a journey right into those seedy, dinghy dens of iniquity. This authenticity was real - these were exactly the types of places - the seedier and dingier the better - where Stewart loved to hang out in and perform, rather than being in the limelight of the big stage of the concert hall. Having a benny or a line, some drinks, performing his set and picking up a honky tonk angel or two for the night - this was Stewart’s idea of the perfect life.

Time magazine dubbed Stewart “king of Honkytonk” in 1976. Stewart himself seemed ambivalent about stardom (a newspaper headline from the time - 50,000 A YEAR, HE HATES SELF). He was actively living the honky tonk life he was singing - “If you don’t do cocaine or bennies, the songs don’t come so fast,” he said later. With the income now rolling in both in song-writing royalties and his now own recording success, Stewart took to partying with a gothic flamboyance and legends abound. He once came running triumphantly through the RCA hallways with his shirt off, covered in grime. The custodial staff had thrown away a baggie of cocaine he’d hidden in the office and he had just dug it out from the dumpster out back.

Tomorrow will see for how long Stewart can keep up juggling his talent and success that was based on his hard-core honky tonk music, with his actual wild, seedy, honky tonk lifestyle.

---

 

[Professor Knowall]

After the critical acclaim of Gary Stewart‘s 1975 “Out Of Hand” album, particularly outside the traditional country music confines in such Northern publications as Village Voice and Rolling Stone magazines, he seemed to have the world at his feet. He received invitations to play in concert halls at New York, L.A. and Chicago - but he knocked them all back. Instead, annoyed by success, particularly the touring that came with it, Stewart moved from Nashville back to his Fort Pierce trailer park and was loathe to venture beyond his Florida sanctuary. He was a renegade, unwilling to play the Nashville game, and his increasing success provided him with the financial autonomy he needed to do his own thing. However, this generally meant conspicuous excess, especially when it came to substance abuse, which is where much of his money went.

Stewart was an outlaw country artist in more ways than one. Musically, he was strongly influenced by 1950’s rockabilly and honky tonk sounds - which, I would argue, were always very closely tied - and the newly developed southern rock sound of the early/mid 1970’s. Although labelled as an outlaw, in reality he just followed his own law and went his own way with his sound and vocal. But apart from his music, he was a feral creature who couldn’t be contained.

The wildest man in country on the squarest label (RCA) made for a less than happy marriage. His 1975 smash RCA debut “Out of Hand” album was Stewart's most consistent (and most orthodox) album, spawning three top 10 hits, but with the following year's “Steppin' Out“ album, a wildly inconsistent production, came friction with RCA. The first single, ’Flat Natural Born Good-Timin' Man‘, was a crazy self-penned rocker featuring his snarly vocals as well as his slide guitar. It didn't go higher than 20 on the charts, and RCA executive, Jerry Bradley actually felt Gary's ever-weirder vocalisations were to blame, saying - ”Losin' his enunciation, that was the beginning of his problems”. The fact that Stewart’s increasing drug use, including cocaine and uppers washed down with whiskey made him an increasingly unreliable performer, sometimes not showing up at all for concerts and recording sessions, didn’t help - and he didn’t seem to care. Yet, for all that, from 1975 through 1980, Stewart's recorded work is mostly excellent.

‘In Some Room Above The Street’, the last - and best - track from his 1976 “Steppin‘ Out” album, reached # 15 (# 14 in Canada). The song is about the tribulations of having an affair, that many can relate too, if only of troubled yet sweet times years ago now long gone -
“… In some room above the street / Like thieves and beggers when we meet /
We'll wake before the break of day / Then like the night we'll steal away …”.
In real hard-core honky tonk tradition, the song concludes with a sad and desperate plea in the last stanza -
“… But if he wants your love tonight / Don't turn away don't hurt his pride /
Just close your eyes and think of me / In some room above the street …” -


Stewart’s next album after the somewhat inconsistent “Stepping Out”, 1977’s “Your Place Or Mine” was a conspicuous high point. A hard-driving slice of aggressive honky tonk, it‘s a rollickingly good piece of work, and if it doesn’t quite have the status of his legendary “Out Of Hand“ album, nevertheless it still stands out as another honky tonk classic. The opening track and title song, ‘Your Place Or Mine‘, which reached # 11 and # 7 in Canada, shows not every honky tonker is about heartbreak and losers, as here the singer has actually had a good night out and is optimistic on bringing the night to a successful climax - it’s just a matter of where -
“… The band just stopped playing / They're sweeping the floor / The bartender's asking /"Who wants one more?" /
And your head's on my shoulder / And lord, I'm feeling fine! / Where are we going, honey? / Your place or mine? …”


The ”Your Place Or Mine” album included 3 Rodney Crowell written tunes, ‘Rachel‘, ’Ain't Livin' Long Like This‘ and ‘I Had to Get Drunk Last Night’, which, as the title almost suggests and the lyrics almost prove, was written specifically for the Honky Tonk King, Stewart (in fact Crowell never even recorded 2 of his 3 originals on the album - ‘Rachel‘ and ‘I Had To Get Drunk Last Night’ - but they were perfect for Stewart -
“… The story of my life flew by / And every page was written in your hand / From ”I love you“ to ”Baby it's the end“ /
I know that fools aren’t born they have been made / And drunken hearted lovers all get saved …” -


Perhaps the only singer with vocal phrasing as perverse as Stewart is Bob Dylan - and he, along with others like The Clash, had become huge Stewart fans. While touring with Tom Petty in Florida, Dylan went out of his way to meet Stewart, confessing that he'd played Stewart's ode to marital malaise 'Ten Years of This' over and over, the record casting a spell over him. The song, which reached # 16 despite its hard-core honky tonk content, is a particularly brutal anniversary song laying bare the self-lacerating inertia of an unhappy marriage -
“… but I know I’m only lying / what ain’t dead by now is dying …” -


With “Your Place Or Mine”, Stewart created an album where each track moved into another that was stronger. So, as good as the title track is, by the time one reaches ’Dancing Eyes‘ at the end, one has gone up the escalator of quality to honky tonk heaven, where we find the singer has once again chosen his female companion to take out to the local honky tonk …unwisely -
“… Two scotch and sodas / Make that a double on mine / I been through this whole night / I know a thousand times /
She'll sit here drinking / But she won't be here long / Just until the band plays a sweet sexy song /
Then all them good ol’ boys she's been winking at / One by one will make their way / To her shoulder and give it a tap /
Then off they'll go dancing / While I sit here and die …” -


Although Stewart’s ”Your Place Or Mine” album was more classic honky tonk, it only reached # 17. It didn’t emulate the success of his 1975 #5 “Out Of Hand” album. Part of this was his own choices in refusing to tour much and perform at major venues - and sometimes not turning up at the minor venues. His sound was also too country for rock audiences but too rock for the pop-country audiences, and that limited any stab at broader appeal. Still, as we leave him in 1977, Stewart’s career was kicking along fine, still coming out with some of the best honky tonk ever. But tumultuous times lay ahead, which we will see romorrow, in Stewart’s final insailment.

 

[Professor Knowall]

"I'm only goin' through once an' I'm goin' through in style…" threatened Stewart in his low-down title song from his 1978 “Little Junior” album. Did he ever. Car crashes, drug busts and overdoses, missed gigs, label firings, mental breakdowns, domestic battles - chaos followed him like a puppy on a chain. To rip off a line from Billy Joe Royal, Gary Stewart burned like a rocket.
More of that below - first let’s travel back to 1978, with Stewart still on the cusp - despite himself - of being a major star, with
the release of his hard-core country “Little Junior” album.

Stewart had the knack of picking up on the best downer songs. The lead single of “Little Junior”, the Wayne Carson written ‘Whiskey Trip’ is typical. Steel guitar introduces the number, a rhythm guitar keeps it going in the quieter moments, like he’s treading Marty Robbins’ country. This got to # 16 and was a Top 5 hit in Canada. Without a doubt, whiskey (be it smooth Tennessee or just moonshine) is country music’s favourite drink, the subject of countless songs of good times, miserable
times and and bad decisions. Stewart has his share with ‘Whiskey Trip‘, drinking his pain and sorrow away. Stewart’s distinctive vibrato voice, evident in this song, can, with some help from a full glass, take you on your own long away trip to distant times
and places -


Written by Stewart and Dean Dillon, ‘Single Again‘ is another from the 1978 “Little Junior” album and is everything a honky tonk song should be - the singer has found out his wife has run off with a rich man - and he moves on in the only way one can in the world of honky tonk - by hitting the bars hard, reacquainting with old bar room friends and “… getting by in these hard times /
Livin' from drink to drink …”. Stewart’s vocals are as powerful as ever -
“… Single again. / Born to lose, dying to win. / The only thing I'm a'running from / Is the alimony man …” -


"I've got this drinkin' thing”, wails Stewart on his first big 1975 hit, and this is exactly what his music is about - total surrender, whether to a vice, woman, nightmare or desire. But to actually dwell in that zone, which Stewart did, shreds even the best of them after awhile. Stewart was openly brazen about his love of drugs. The tale of the time he jumped into the RCA dumpster looking for his accidentally discarded coke went viral in Nashville decades before the internet. The original manuscript for 1978’s ’Little Junior’ was scribbled on a page from a drug prescription pad. A 1980 car accident demolished Stewart's back, beginning a new lifelong romance with painkillers that often left his voice foggy and earthbound.

Like a country song, all manner of things went wrong. Stewart had designs on a more anarchic Southern rock sound, and stodgy RCA didn’t quite know what to do with him. His consumption of uppers, quaaludes, and prescription painkillers became even more prodigious and bleaker. He was hospitalised for overdoses at least 3 times, probably more. After a few ill-conceived duds in the early 1980s, with a more pronounced rock influenced sound that was too rock for his hard-core country honky tonk base, but still too country for the mainstream rock market, RCA dropped him in 1983. Another reason for his dropping were his multiple drug addictions making him an unreliable performer.

For some years, Stewart dropped right off the music radar, with no recordings and was seemingly nowhere to be found - but in fact he kept performing sporadically, seeking out only the dingiest, sleazies, seediest, dirtiest, dodgiest honky tonks he could find around the South. But in 1987, writer Jimmy McDonough, who wrote Neil Young’s biography, tracked him down and wrote the definitive profile of Stewart for the Village Voice. He found Stewart holed up in a small trailer (caravan) in Fort Pierce with the windows painted over in black, rarely leaving unless it was to score drugs. “When not comatose, Stewart was living on 19-cent two-liter bottles of Dr. Chek Cola, ‘Ree-see’ Peanut Butter Cups and amphetamines” McDonough recounted. Stewart agreed to be interviewed only if McDonough brought him an obscure 45 by Wild Bill Emerson, a demand intended to be a wild goose chase, but McDonough, with his many music connections, shocked Stewart by managing to find one, thus earning an interview.

On his drug use, Stewart boasted to McDonough - “Fort Pierce is known for its drugs, the best of everything came to my door”. McDonough wrote on - “Everybody but the mailman got sucked into trying to help Stewart kick the many monkeys on his back, but within no time at all he'd somehow manage to con you into filling a narcotics prescription. I once inadvertently accompanied Gary on a midnight score. As he slipped inside the honky tonk upon our return, the driver of the car - who'd actually bought the ever-broke Stewart the stuff - had the nerve to mutter - "If Gary could get off that shit, he'd be bigger than Hank Williams”.

His profile - and notoriety - boosted by McDonough’s Village Voice article, Stewart, albeit somewhat reluctantly, but needing the money, was signed by the Hightone label and came back to the recording studio after a 5 year absence. His album “Brand New”, is a collection of bar-slammin' good-time rowdy honky tonk songs and broken, screwed-up love songs seen from the bottom of a glass. The lead track ’Brand New Whiskey’ feels like a Stewart rewrite of Guy Clark's ’Take Me to a Barroom’ and is every bit as good, another heart-wrenching honky tonk ballad -
“… Leaving's the reason I'm drinking / Oh I've never felt so alone / Night and day I stay stoned /Hoping to forget she's gone …” -


’An Empty Glass’, written by Stewart, was released in 1988 as the 2nd single from, a bottom of the glass lament that has endured and lately has become one of Stewart’s most popular downloads over the last few years -
“… An empty glass / That last cigarette / It's closing time / And I'm drunk again / But somehow I'll make it home /
And cry myself to sleep / That's how my day ends / Every night for me …”


After the release of the “Brand New” album, Jimmy McDonough from Village Voice visited Stewart again and reported - “With his broken glasses and missing tooth, Gary looked like he'd been living in a chicken coop. There'd been a suicide attempt a month before, Stewart washing down some 200 pills with shots of whiskey. Things were just revving up with his new label and he seemed ambivalent about reacquainting himself with the world”.

After 3 albums, Hightone dropped Gary by way of a phone call. As usual, he'd been his uncontrollable, undependable and uncommercial self. Stewart, now reduced to the role of honky-tonk bozo, went to playing sporadic gigs at the seediest Texas honky tonks he could find, dodgy Oklahoma Indian reservation beerhalls and otherwise living on his couch. Stewart showed no regrets - "Stardom was no goal, nothin' I ever chased …" he told McDonough at that time. On the road, he’d sucker some rabid fan couple into taking care of him on the road, burn them out, then latch onto another pair. Life for Stewart had settled into a routine of cancelled shows and dinghy, sleazy honky tonks that he actually loved performing in, a sea of pain killing pills and the occasional heart attack.

People still tried to coax Stewart into playing NYC or LA many times, but Stewart just preferred to stay home, lie on the couch and watch Charles Bronson as Wild Bill Hickock on the hunt for The White Buffalo (he watched the movie obsessively hundreds of times and could recite every line of dialogue in it). But, as McDonough wrote - “Mention a no-name club in some Texas twilight zone, though, and Gary's eyes grew big", while his soundman, Steve Kiriton said - “Get him into some backwoods shithole and he'd really fly. Stewart was just one of those downward mobility guys”.

Stewart kept this up for a decade until 2003, when finally the desperate need for more money saw the release of a live album recorded at the famous Billy Bob’s honky tonk in Fort Worth - not really his natural habitat, being the world‘s biggest honky tonk, but close enough. “Live at Billy Bob's Texas” was Stewart's first new album in a decade, and his first-ever live recording - odd for a performer whose songs seem tailor-made for live performance. It was also his last ever recording.

By 2003, the honky tonk style or sub-genre of country music had long fallen out of fashion - along with many of the fast disappearing traditional seedy honky tonks themselves and Stewart had fallen into nearly complete obscurity - except for a small but loyal fan-base, now largely based in Texas, the last bastion of old school honky tonks and the music it spawned. This album is full of hardcore honky tonk with all its pathos, vinegar, and passion. From the album, ’Are We Dreaming The Same Dream’, written by Stewart and Larry Henley, was originally released as a single from the horribly over-produced, over-dubbed 1980 “Cactus and a Rose” album. At age 58, Stewart's voice has actually gotten better with age, slightly lower and full of pathos, brokenness, and sheer hell-raising abandon -


Two days ago, I mentioned Stewart had married at age 17 to a wild 20 y.o. party girl, Mary Lou. How did that work out? Well, despite (or possibly, in this case, because) all his wild ways, womanising and some documented blazing public rows, for the next 43 years they stayed together and had a son and daughter. McDonough wrote - “… Lou was priceless company. If you showed any interest, she'd happily show you her boob job and often boasted of packing Gary's rubbers for the road (so, in true touring country singer tradition, what happened on the road stayed on the road and he didn’t bring anything back that he shouldn’t). Gary and Lou were inseparable, sometimes intolerable, and often inexplicable. … Lou and Gary were deep in debt to his mother and unable to pay, so they were going to hand over the house. Lou kept putting it off and Georgia was giving her hell. Finally an exasperated Gary strolled into his mother's living room and asked, "Momma, who are your favorite people in the world?" Georgia thought it over, then named an aunt and uncle back in Kentucky. Pulling out a gun, Gary said, "Well, Momma, don't you ever say anything bad to Lou again or I'm gonna go up there with this gun and kill 'em BOTH." Then he turned and walked out of the house. Now that's the perfect Gary Stewart story - he hasn’t jeopardised himself, because he ain't threatened his momma. He's just gonna kill somebody else.

Death was no stranger to Stewart. He was known to freak out whenever Floyd Cramer's ’Last Date’ came on the radio - it was the favourite number of a musician mate who'd blown himself away. His sister, Grizelda killed herself in 1976 (Stewart recorded Willie Nelson's ’I Still Can't Believe You're Gone‘ in her honour on his 1976 “Stepping Out” albu , never singing the song again) and, in a devastating blow he never really recovered from, his ownly son Joey shot himself dead at age 25 in 1988.

In November 2003, Mary Lou - recovering from a bout with pneumonia - suffered a fatal heart attack in her sleep. Stewart was lost without his one tether to reality. He couldn't remember his home phone number and struggled to retrieve his own address
off an envelope. However he assured his small circle of friends, including Jimmy McDonough, not to worry, he’d be fine, with McDonough recalling - “We talked awhile, rehashed old times, made plans to see each other soon. I had no idea he was calling to say goodbye”. His daughter, Shannon, kept watch over her father, as did Gary's friends. But one night, a few weeks after Mary Lou had passed, after a dinner with Shannon during which he seemed in good spirits, he returned home, hung out with a mate for awhile, then called it a night. Alone there in the house, Gary turned a gun on himself and pulled the trigger, blasting himself right into the past tense. Shannon found her father, as she had Lou, leaving her the only member of his immediate family left alive. He was 58 years old and joins Faron Young in 1996 and later Tom T Hall in 2021 as country artists in this series who ended their life with a gun in hand.

No other country artist actually lived the honky tonk he sang about more than Gary Stewart. out richly talented and flawed, he was the real deal. Interest in Gary Stewart’s hard-core honky tonk country has revived in recent years (perhaps a reaction to the vomiting inducing bro-country crap). In 2020, Mike and the Moonpies released “Touch of You: The Lost Songs of Gary Stewart“, an album of unreleased songs written by Stewart. The band's version of Stewart's ’Smooth Shot of Whiskey‘ was released as a single.

With the passing of the Honky Tonk King, Gary Stewart (and yes, my love of old-school honky tonks and the music it spawned ensured his inclusion in this series), I’ve now been called to go to Kangaroo Island in 2 days time for about a week - no birthday or wedding celebration this time, just work. I’m guessing I’ll be back here in about 2 weeks time with an iconic artist - one who by her own admission, looked down snobbishly at country music - until an artist we’ve seen here set her right and she became it’s fiercest advocate and defender - and has since gone on to probably do more for preserving country music’s heritage than pretty much anyone.

 

[Professor Knowall]

We're now up to about 1978 in the history (roughly based upon when an artist breaks through to sustained prominence/stardom), and as I'm heading off again for 2-3 weeks (I now have to go to Hobart after Kangaroo Island), I've updated the index to the history, including the sub-genre types of each artist or group. You can use this as a guide to peruse any artist or country sub-genre at your leisure (and I've covered far more artists than I ever intended to when the lockdown inspired me to do this).

Name, Post/s number, State of origin, Key to sub-genre.
TF = Traditional and/or folk country (as established by Vernon Dalhart, The Carter Family and Jimmy Rodgers)
TC = Traditional Country but without the folk influence.
G = Gospel
WC = Western Cowboy or trail songs
WM = Western movie music
WS = Western Swing
HT = Honky Tonk (baroom "adult" music - usually about breakups, heartaches, drinking, cheating etc) that generally appealed to the rural and working class base.
BG = Bluegrass (usually traditionally acoustic using traditional instruments including banjo and slap bass)
RR = Rockabilly and/or rock'n'roll (rockabilly generally retaining a more country flavour than straight out R&R) that in the 1950's was generally confined to the youth, mostly teenage base. Also the later rock influence in country music, especially in the Outlaw era.
NS = Nashville Sound, a more sophisticated 'pop country' sound than honky tonk, deliberately appealing to a mass suburban, more middle class audience, thus expanding the country music market.
CP = Countrypolitan, an even more refined “Nashville Sound”, with smooth vocals and instrumentals, sometimes including soul or jazz influences.
CB = Country Ballad, e.g. Marty Robbins' 'El Paso' and Johnny Hortons 'Battle of New Orleans', popular in the late fifties to early sixties.
PC = Pop Country. Lighter pop/rock sound appealing to beyond the traditional country market to middle clas suburbia, with Sonny James and particularly Glenn Campbell as breakthrough artists.
TM = Tex/Mex aka Tejano - traditional Mexican, esp North Mexican Norteno and South Texas European influence - including use of mixed English & Spanish lyrics and accordions.
OC = Music associated with the Outlaw era of the mid to late seventies, often with a heavier Country rock influenced sound.

Vernon Dalhart 114-115 Texas TF
The Carter Family 117-119 Virginia TF, G
Jimmie Rodgers 120-122 Mississippi TF, HT
Sons of the Pioneers 123-124 California WC, WM
Gene Autry 125-126 Texas WC, WM
Bob Wills &
The Texas Playboys 132-140 Texas WS
Roy Acuff 147-149 Tennessee TF, G
Jimmie Davis 150-153 Louisiana TF
Roy Rogers 154-157 Ohio WC, WM
Elton Britt 159-160 Arkansas WC, TF
Ernest Tubb 161-165 Texas HT
Milton Brown 163 Texas WS
Al Dexter 166-168 Texas HT
Spade Cooley 169-171 Oklahoma WS
Tex Williams 172 Illinois WS
Red Foley 173 & 176-178 Kentucky TF, HT, RR, G
Tex Ritter 179-180 Texas TF, HT, WM
Bill Monroe &
The Bluegrass Boys 181-183 Kentucky BG
Merle Travis 184-186 Kentucky HT, TF
The Stanley Brothers 187-188 Virginia BG
Eddy Arnold 189-191 Tennessee TF, HT, NS, WC
Flatt & Scruggs 194-195 Tennessee BG
Tenessee Ernie Ford 196-197 Tennessee TF, RR
Moon Mullican 198-199 Texas HT, RR
Hank Snow 202-204 Novia Scotia (Can) TF, HT
Hank Williams 205-214 Alabama HT, TF, RR, G
Lefty Frizzell 216-219 Texas HT, TF
Mother Maybelle &
The Carter Sisters 222 Virginia TF, G
Anita Carter 225-232 Virginia TF
Carl Smith 233-234 Tennessee HT, RR
Hank Thompson 235-237 Texas WS, HT, RR
Kitty Wells 238-239 Tennessee HT
Webb Pierce 240-250 Louisiana HT, RR
Jean Shepard 251 Oklahoma HT
Slim Whitman 252-254 Texas WT
Frankie Laine 255-256 Illinois WM
Faron Young 261-262 & 266 Louisiana HT, TF
Ray Price 269-275 Texas HT, TF, NS
Elvis Presley 278-286 Alabama RR, TF, G
Carl Perkins 287-291 Tennessee RR, TF
The Louvin Brothers 294-295 Tennessee TF, G
Johnny Horton 296 & 301 & 308 California. HT, RR, CB
Sanford Clark 311-313 Arizona RR, WT
Marty Robbins 325-330 & 335 Arizona HT, RR, TF, WC, CB, WS, NS, G
Johnny Cash 338-345 Arkansas RR, HT, TF, CB, WT, NS, G
Charlie Feathers 346-348 Tennessee RR
Jerry Lee Lewis 349-352 & 365-367 Louisiana RR, HT, TF, G
Chet Atkins 353-356 Tennessee - world class guitarist and producer of NS
Ferlin Husky 362-364 Missouri NS, G
The Browns 368-369 Arkansas TF, G
Jim Ed Brown 371-372 Arkansas TF, HT
Helen Cornelius 372 Missouri TF, HT
Bobby Helms 377 Indiana RR, TF
Hank Locklin 378-379 Florida HT, TF
Jim Reeves 383-386 Texas NS
Patsy Cline 387-389 Virginia NS
Cowboy Copas 390 Oklahoma TF
The Everly Bros 393-399 Illinois RR, TF
Don Gibson 400-404 North Carolina HT
George Jones 405-412 Texas HT, TF
Western movie themes to 1962 416-419 WM
Leroy Van Dyke 423-424 Missouri RR, HT, TF
Jimmy Dean 428-429 Texas RR, TF, CB, NS
Porter Wagoner 430-432 Missouri TF, G
Roy Drusky 433-434 Georgia NS, TF
Claude King 440-441 Louisiana CB, WC, TF, HT
Ray Charles 443-445 Georgia Soul country
Skeeter Davis 446-448 Kentucky NS, TF
Bill Anderson 449-452 South Carolina TF, NS, BG, G
Bakersfield Sound 455 HT
Buck Owens 456-463 Texas HT
Bobby Bare 464-468 Ohio TF, HT, OC
Nat King Cole 469 Alabama pop country influencer
Sonny James 474-478 Alabama NS PC (influenced by Nat King Cole)
Roger Miller 479-482 Texas TF
Connie Smith 483-486 Indiana NS, TF, G
David Houston 487-488 Louisiana HT, NS
Loretta Lynn 489-493 Kentucky TF, HT
Jack Greene 494-495 Tennessee TF, NS
Merle Haggard 497-502 California TF, HT
Tammy Wynette 503-506 Mississippi TF, HT
Glen Campbell 507-509 Arkansas TF, PC
Charley Pride 510-513 Mississippi NS, PC
Conway Twitty 514-520 Mississippi RR, NS, PC
Western Movie Themes 1964-1970 521-524
Bobby Gentry 531-535 Mississippi TF, PC
Jeannie Riley 537-540 Texas PC, G
Tom T. Hall 543-550 Tennessee TF, BG, CB
Townes Van Zandt 551-555 Texas TF,
Gram Parsons 560-570 Florida HT, TF
Lynn Anderson 573-575 North Dakota, TF, PC, BG, WC, G
Dolly Parton 581-607 Tennessee TF, PC, BG, WC, HT, CB, G
Tom T Hall 611-617 Tennessee TF, BG, CB
Freddie Hart 622-625 Alabama TF, PC, G
Mal Street 627-631 Tennessee HT, TF
Donna Fargo 647 North Carolina PC
Mel Tillis 648-657 Florida RR, HT, TF, PC, OC
Kris Kristofferson 661-667 Texas TF, NS, HT, PC, RR, G, OC
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band California 674-680 TF, BG, RR
John Prine Illinois 685-691+695 TF, CB
Gordon Lightfoot Ontario 696-702 TF, CB, PC
Charlie Rich Arkansas 706-70. RR, CP, G
Johnny Rodriguez Texas 713-716 TM, HT,
Billy “Crash” Craddock North Carolina 721-723. RR, PC, TC
Ronnie Milsap North Carolina 732-737 PC, HT
Olivia Newton John UK/Australia 738-741 PC
John Denver New Mexico 744-748 PC, TF
Don Williams Texas 757-759 TC, TF, CP
Freddy Fender Texas 764-766 TM, CP, PC
Pussycat, Netherlands, 771 PC
Outlaw Artists outline
Billy Joe Shaver Texas 773 OC
Waylon Jennings Texas 774-781 TC, HT, NS, RR, OC
Willie Nelson Texas 782-793 TF, TC, G, WC, CB, HT, RR, OC
Hank Williams Jr Louis 800-807 TC, HT, NS, RR, OC
Johnny Paycheck Ohio 815-821 TC, HT, NS, OC
Sammi Smith Okla 822-823 NS, TC, OC
Tanya Tucker Texas 824-828 TC, NS, RR, OC
David Allan Coe Ohio 830-836 TC, HT, RR, OC
Gary Stewart Florida 840-842. HT, TC, OC

 

[Professor Knowall]

Things went so well that I’m back from Kangaroo Island earlier than expected - but now have to go to Hobart on Friday. That doesn’t allow enough time to cover the iconic artist I’d originally planned, but does allow for an outlaw artist I’d originally very reluctantly passed over, only because of his relative lack of commercial success. Today’s artist played a pivotal role in the development of the Texas Outlaw music scene while also developing his own distinctive Texan sound. One major surprise for me in featuring this artist was that this most Texan of country artists wasn’t raised in Texas, but in the culturally totally different and, for country music, barren, foreign state of New York.

Born Ronald Crosby in Oneonta, New York, at the northernmost tip of the Appalachians -but hundreds of kilometres from its country music heart in the South, in a middle-class family that enjoyed participating in numerous community activities. Young Ronald Clyde Crosby grew up surrounded by music. His mother and grandmother were devoted pianists, and his maternal grandparents led a square-dance band - the one crucial connection to country music in that region. His grandmother gave the 13 y.o. his first guitar in 1954. He was enthusiastic about learning the instrument and found inspiration in his parents’ record collection by listening to such artists as Frank Sinatra, the Mills Brothers, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, and Benny Goodman. He was particularly fond of “cool jazz” trumpeter Chet Baker, and he enjoyed the contemporary hits he heard on AM radio by Bill Haley and His Comets, Elvis Presley, the Everly Brothers, The Platters, Johnny Horton, Marty Robbins, and others - showing a diverse taste in music. Inspired by these popular new sounds, he played with local teen bands such as the Pizzarinos, the Chymes, the Tones, and the Townies. His bartender father was also a basketball referee and Ronald starred on the high school basketball team. He was also an avid reader,

However, influenced by the writings of Jack Kerouac, whose beat generation classic On The Road had just been published, the post-WW II subterranean restlessness bit him, so Ronald quit high school to hit the road, which for him turned out to be bars where he could sing for drinks and pass the hat. But he returned to finish high school and graduated at age 18 in 1960. The taste for the road stayed with him. After high school, he did a stint in the National Guard, but upon returning home and feeling constrained by his tedious National Guard duties, he hitchhiked to Florida, where he participated in the very first Spring Break festivities. He then started singing and playing guitar at venues in the burgeoning Greenwich Village folk scene, which later spawned performers Bob Dylan and Joan Baez.

In 1963, Ronald gathered up his guitar and travel bag, threw away his driver’s license and all related identification and hitchhiked down to Florida then swung across the Southeast until his travels took him to the French Quarter of New Orleans. He went by “Jerry Ferris”, the name on a fake draft card he had used for his underage drinking adventures. He initially found work as a bartender like his father, but continued his musical education on the streets, busking in the busy French Quarter for spare changed. He sought out veteran performers like Delta blues musician Babe Stovall, who became a powerful mentor in his musical development. He routinely adapted his day-to-day encounters into lyric and melody thus solidifying his penchant for molding life’s everyday experiences into songs. With New Orleans as a home base, he ventured out on a series of performance and songwriting missions. His ongoing travels took him to coffee houses, ad hoc stages and roadside dives across the U.S. When he got to Texas in 1966, he stayed for awhile in its capitol, the university city of Austin, already with a burgeoning youth oriented music scene amongst its ten of thousands of students.

The performer adopted the name Jerry Jeff Walker in 1966. While in Austin, he met songwriter Bob Bruno, forming a band called Lost Sea Dreamers, which later became Circus Maximus. The group relocated to NYC in 1967 and were signed by Vanguard Records. Walker lived on a shoestring, later recalling - "We were based out of Austin, but we had gone to New York to try to make it. After we were there only about a week, all of our equipment was stolen. That left us in a financial bind. We decided to go where each member of the band knew how to make money quickly”. He spent 6 months on the Austin bar circuit until the band could buy new gear and return to play gigs at clubs in New York. He played the folk circuit in New York, and went on to join a rock band called Circus Maximus, who played a blend of folk-rock, jazz, and psychedelia.

One day back in 1965, while still located in New Orleans, Walker was arrested for public drunkenness during a police sweep, along with a number of other street musicians and dancers. They all had nicknames: Walker was "The Kid," while "Bojangles" was a white street dancer who paid tribute to the great soft-shoe artist Bill Robinson by stealing his moniker, “Mr Bojangles” told his cellmates the tale of his late, lamented dog. Three years later, in 1968, Walker recounted the story in song - which went on to become his signature song and a cross-genre standard.

During his 2 year tenure with the band, Walker maintained a regular presence in the folk clubs of Greenwich Village and was joined by guitar virtuoso David Bromberg, who added a signature waltz-based guitar part to ‘Mr. Bojangles‘. Walker and Bromberg dropped by Bob Fass’s popular early morning radio show where they played a haunting version of ‘Mr. Bojangles‘ that Fass taped. The high profile DJ loved the song and played it in regular rotation on his broadcasts. This led to the strange situation of listeners hearing and liking the song then swamping record shops, requesting a recording that didn’t even exist! This caught the attention of Atco Records which promptly signed Walker and whisked the songwriter and the guitarist, Bromberg, to Memphis where they recorded the single that was released in 1968 as the title song of his “Mr Bojangles” album. It’s a sensitive profile of an itinerant song and dance man who still grieves for the dog he lost years ago but who is resilient with joy even waiting to get out of the jail cell -


Walker’s version of ‘Mr Bojangles‘ was only a regional success, coming out in the first flush of the counterculture rock wave, reaching just # 77 nationally on the pop chart - it actually did much better in Australia, reaching # 22. But because the song has Bromberg’s jazz/waltz beat, it meant many established artists from a variety of genres could cover the song. Walker’s newfound fame enjoyed a spectacular surge when the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band released their cover of ‘Mr. Bojangles‘ in 1970 (see post # 674) and the song became a Top 10 hit. Ultimately, the song was recorded by a diverse group of more than 100 artists, including Bob Dylan, Harry Nilsson, Nina Simone, Harry Belafonte, Dolly Parton, King Curtis, Bobbie Gentry, Neil Diamond, Chet Atkins, George Burns and Sammy Davis Jr, who also made it a concert staple. A steady stream of publishing royalties generated by the now standard, enhanced by revenues from other artists’ recordings of ‘Mr Bojangles‘ afforded Walker newfound financial freedom and a period of frenetic activity.

Tiring of what he saw as the pretentiousness and phoniness of the New York music scene, then spending time in Key West, Florida, where Walker brought out 2 albums, the rock-oriented “Five Years Gone” and the folk-infused “Driftin' Way of Life, but was frustrated with what he regarded as a restrictive studio recording environment, he signed a lucrative recording contract with MCA Records that guaranteed him the creative freedom to record his albums as he imagined them - all this some years before Waylon Jennings battled to get the same deal in Nashville! In 1971, Walker visited Austin, Texas for the first time since the mid-'60s, and he quickly fell in love with the city and was eagerly adopted by the local singer/songwriter community. Deciding Austin might be the place to flex his newly liberated creative muscle, Walker moved there in 1971. He was familiar with the city and sensed its potential as viable national music hub. Walker made new friends, such as aspiring songwriter Jimmy Buffet and shared song-centric adventures with old friends Michael Murphey, Steven Fromholz, Guy Clark, and Townes Van Zandt. He built a house in the hills near Austin and embarked on an odyssey that took a heavy toll on his body but left an indelible imprint on country music with the "Austin sound," a fusion of country, rock, folk, blues, traditional Mexican norteño and Tex-Mex Tejano.

Walker's music and personality were a comfortable fit for the loose collection of writers and performers whose music married rootsy country with a dusting of hippie sensibility. They were described as "Cosmic Cowboys" and their spiritual home was the Austin venue the Armadillo World Headquarters, a home to both rock and country artists - and went on to national fame when Willie Nelson moved to Austin and became a regular performer there.

One of Walker’s first Austin stops was a deserted 1950s-era motel where friend and fellow songwriter Michael Murphey and his band had set up shop. The nexus of the compound was the rehearsal room situated in the garage out back where jam sessions were the norm. Walker fell right in with this group of players and made arrangements with Murphey to borrow them for a series of recording sessions. To this end, he secured a sparsely-equipped recording studio downtown, set up the band in a loose circle, and let the tapes roll. He soon had the foundation for an album and, gathering select musicians in New York to lay down additional tracks, notably Guy Clark’s ‘L.A. Freeway’. These sessions completed a 12 song collection released in 1972 as the album “Jerry Jeff Walker”. The label was pleased enough with the initial sales (it even reached the Top 50 in the Australian pop album chart) and Walker was on his way to solidifying his “ragged but right” recording philosophy. Walker’s 1972 album was the first flowering of his new Austin-bred sound and is now considered one of his most celebrated albums.

Taken from his self-titled album, ’L.A. Freeway‘, written by Guy Clarke, expresses the hope the singer will make it back to his country home - if he can just get off the city's expressway without getting killed or caught! It became a minor # 98 hit on both the US and Australian pop charts in 1972. For Walker, ‘L.A. Freeway’ was a song about a man stuck living in the rat-race lifestyle of a busy city he never really wanted. By the time the song is over, he has moved back to his roots, leaving the freeway of madness behind him so he could rediscover himself -

Many incorrectly assume ‘ L.A. Freeway’ is a Walker original. He certainly owns it in a performance replicating the relaxed, easygoing Austin attitude that made Walker’s music so much a reflection of that city’s overall vibe back then (which it has since lost). It’s also an intermediate step in Walker finding his laid-back Austin/Texan sound - something he fully achieved on his next album, as his love for Texas deepened.

Walker began touring with a group of Austin musicians he called the Lost Gonzo Band. In 1973 Walker and the band settled into Luckenbach, 110 km’s west of Austin, for a week of recording. The Texas Hill ghost town, led by mayor and colorful character Hondo Crouch, was an ideal venue for Walker’s next project. The dance hall became a soundstage, haybales served as baffles between the musicians who set up in the now familiar circular fashion, and an endless assortment of audio cables snaked outside to a state-of-the-art mobile studio. Walker tossEd out a tune and the circle of musicians joined in with their musical impressions. The project ran for a full week. The resulting album, “Viva Terlingua“, was a cornerstone of the Texan country-western revival of the 1970s and 1980s. Walker’s style influenced many other artists, such as Nanci Griffith, Lyle Lovett, and Steve Earle. It was later commemorated by Waylon Jennings 1977 hit song. Walker began to celebrate his birthday in Luckenbach - an occasion that grew annually to Texas-sized proportions.

The opening track from Walker’s 1973 career defining “Viva Terlingua“ album, ’Gettin By’ encapsulates the lazy, bluesy, country lope, conversational vibe and overall laidback attitude for the by now 30-year-old veteran. The chorus of “Livin’ my life easy come, easy go” was perfect for clubs and honky tonks filled with fans enthusiastically singing along, making it an instant crowd favourite -


The Guy Clark written standard, ‘Desperados Waiting For A Train’, has been recorded by numerous singer-songwriters who, like Walker, a restless traveller himself in his youth, identify with the itinerant nature of travellers and the ravages of old age on once proud and vigorous lifelong drifters. Walker himself identified the lyrical tale with his grandmother’s boyfriend who served as a fatherly figure to Walker while he was growing up. Walker’s unassuming yet touching vocals and sympathetic backing made his version one of the best though which, with competition from Steve Earle and The Highwaymen, is quite an accomplishment.

As far as the lyrics themselves are concerned, it deals with people who have been traveling on the road together for so long that they almost feel like family in one capacity, yet in another capacity they feel restless, like they want something completely different from what they have. The train they’re waiting for isn’t necessarily a train in the literal sense as much as it is a figurative means of taking them away from everything that’s no longer suitable for or wanted by them -


Another track off the legendary “Viva Terlingua“ has Walker going tropical, leaning towards one of his Austin based friends, Jimmy Buffett territory bit replacing a margarita with the titular alcoholic libation. A bit of Texas tradition is captured in ’Sangria Wine‘, a recollection of nights passed in the company of friends, Mexican food, and the titular potent potable - something Walker knew all about. It’s a frothy, fun party romp as the singer and his Lost Gonzo Band once again go for Austin attitude over Nashville slickness - note love his voice breaking at 3:50 -


Now that’s my quota for today, leaving Jerry Jeff Walker in 1973 with his “Viva Terlingua“, with the band incorporating a combination of various Texan musical traditions - and creating a new distinctive “Austin Sound”, nothing like the slicker, much more polished Nashville Sound, but with a more authentic country sound. There’s more to come tomorrow from this pioneering and influential Texan outlaw.

 

[Professor Knowall]

MCA released Jerry Jeff Walker’s seminal “¡Viva Terlingua!“ album in November 1973, and in the following months it sold more than 100,000 units and eventually went gold with sales of more than 500,000 copies. This major accomplishment, coupled with the respectable showing of his initial MCA album, highlighted several aspects of Walker’s evolving career. “Ragged but right,” the notion of a like-minded band of pickers focusing on the song, the message, and the feel of a track rather than the technical aspects of the recording as typified by the Nashville Sound, definitely worked and would underpin Walker’s approach for years to come. He also exhibited his talent. Ot only in his own songwriting but in selecting songs from other songwriters. His intuition as a song scout served him well throughout his career. Songs such as ‘L.A. Freeway‘ and ‘Desperados Waiting for a Train‘, both penned by Guy Clark, Ray Wylie Hubbard’s ‘Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother‘ and Gary P Nunn’s “London Homesick Blues‘ all became popular recordings by their authors and by other artists. By including these covers on the early MCA albums, Walker boosted the careers of aspiring songwriters who were largely unknown in successful songwriting circles.

Ray Wylie Hubbard’s classic ‘Up Against The Wall, Redneck Mother’ has been recorded by many others - Bobby Bare also had a hit with it. But it became one of Walker’s signature tunes when he unleashed it on “¡Viva Terlingua!“. Poking fun at the Oklahoma-based redneck stereotype (Hubbard was an Oklahoman), Walker performed a comedic narrative as a simple man constantly in trouble - but it ain’t his fault, it’s all because of his raisin’ by his mother. Recorded with plenty of hootin’ and hollerin’ from a well-oiled audience, the song catches some key Oklahoman stereotypes (a bit like Merle Haggards ‘Okie From Muskogee’) as the audiences sings along to “… kickin’ hippies’ asses and raisin’ hell …” - and seemingly meaning it -
“… Sure does like his Falstaff beer / He likes to chase it down with that Wild Turkey liquor /
He drives a fifty-seven GMC pickup truck / Got a gun rack, "Goat ropers needs love, too" sticker …” -

That line about “… kickin’ hippies’ asses …” later inspired David Allan Coe’s ‘Longhaired Redneck‘ famous lyrics about a dive -
“… Where bikers stare at cowboys / who are laughing at the hippies / Who are praying they'll get outta here alive …” (see post # 530).

‘London Homesick Blues‘ was penned in 1972 by Gary P Nunn while he was holed up with little money in a cold, unheated, London apartment in mid-winter while on a promotional tour as the bassist for Michael Murphey. Murphey was attending one promo function after another, leaving Nunn stuck with nothing much to do. So, mixing English and Texan sayings together, Nunn came up with lyrics reflecting his homesickness for Texas. In 1973, Nunn bumped into Walker at an Austin bar, who asked him to come out to Luckenbach (which Nunn had never heard of) and play piano on the recording for his next album. Nunn agreed and after a week of recording, Nunn later recalled - “… Saturday night of that week, we threw a concert and charged $1 a head. That’s the sign on the cover of the “¡Viva Terlingua!” LP. The place was packed to the max. Late in that show, Jerry Jeff looked over at me at said, “do that song you were singing under the trees this afternoon.” I did. The crowd went nuts! The tape was rolling. The rest is history! …” -

‘London Homesick Blues‘ became the official theme song for Austin City Limits from 1977 until 2004. In the lyrics, Nunn made reference to the Armadillo World Headquarters, which was located in South Austin. It was a popular hangout for fans and performers of the counterculture and renegades for about a decade, spanning from 1970 until 1980.

The success of “¡Viva Terlingua!“ solidified Walker’s roots in Austin, as he was playing music with his friends - known as the Lost Gonzo Band by that time (and included Nunn as its bassist) - and had a secure recording budget for the foreseeable future. During this period he met Susan Streit, a University of Texas graduate from the small North Texas town of Vernon. Streit worked in the Texas legislature for rep. Despite their seemingly disparate lifestyles, the couple was inseparable. They married in Luckenbach in 1974 and later had 2 children - Jessie Jane and Django Walker, named after legendary gypsy jazz guitarist, Django Reinhardt.

While Walker ultimately never became a major top-selling star outside Texas, “¡Viva Terlingua!“ represented the point where his cult following came to full flower, especially in Texas and the Southwest, and he and the Lost Gonzo Band cut a handful of solid albums for MCA throughout 1970‘s, including 1975’s “Ridin' High” album.

A deeper track written by Chuck Pyle from 1975’s terrific “Ridin' High” finds Walker finally leaving a two-timing “… angel whose wings just won’t unfold …”. He’s backed by kicking pedal steel and the tune is sung with the swagger and restlessness Walker exuded with such offhand charm, even in anger, with some subtly brutal lines -
“… Things are gettin' heavy / I'm traveling light / Goodbye jaded lover / you undercover queen for a day …” -


The final track from 1975’s “Ridin' High” album, ‘Pissin’ In The Wind’ is a jazzy (check out the Dixieland clarinet) country sing-along that perfectly captures Walker’s casual, offhand, loosey goosey attitude, as he tells stories about some of his Lost Gonzo friends, throws in a Dylan ‘Blowing in the Wind’ jibe and laments about sitting, grinning and telling his grandchildren about making the same mistakes he swore he’d never make again -
“… Now this Nunn called me up, it was eight in the morning / Wanted to know how in the world am I doin' /
He just laughed and he said get together boy, and fall on by the house /
Some Gonzo buddies would like to play anything your's picking now …” -


Now one from the 1977 “A Man Must Carry On” album, ‘Railway Lady’. This Walker co-write with his friend, Jimmy Buffett (apparently over a bottle of Wild Turkey), made its debut appearance back on Buffett’s 1973 album, but it went on become a sort of county standard when it was covered by Willie Nelson and, of course, Walker. The waltz-time gem tells of “… a semi-good looker …”, a bit shady with a checkered past, “… just trying to get home again …” - wanting to get home because she no longer has the youth and good looks that allowed her to live the high life - “… Once a pullman car traveler / Now the brakeman won't have 'er …”. But the song also serves as a metaphor for the decline of the railways themselves from their former glory days - a decline that was most apparent in the U.S. in the 1970’s, an era when thousands of kilometres of railings were closed as trucks took over the freight haulage and former prestige inter-city express trains ceased operating as plane fares became ever cheaper -
“… But the rails are now rusty / The dining car's dusty / The gold plated watches have taken their toll /
The railroads are dying / And the lady she's crying / On a bus to Kentucky and home that's her goal …” -

Todd Snider also did a version of ‘Railway Lady’ on the 2012 Jerry Jeff Walker tribute album “Time as We Know It”.

During the intensely productive years of 1972 through 1978 Walker cut 8 albums and played as many as 200 dates a year. Walker and the band appeared on the first season of Austin City Limits in 1976, the first of 4 episodes he filmed for the archetypal TV series. When the Lost Gonzo Band spun off in 1977 to pursue their solo career, Walker assembled the Bandito Band in 1978 and carried on with 2 new albums, “Contrary to Ordinary” and “Jerry Jeff (Red, White & Blue“, both in 1978. But, in typical outlaw style (think Waylon Jennings, Johnny Paycheck, Gary Stewart, along with George Jones and Merle Haggard in the late 1970’s), trouble was brewing that finally got the better of Stewart, putting a handbrake on his career - namely too much alcohol and drugs. More on this (with a redemption story and more music, of course) tomorrow.

 

[Professor Knowall]

As the 1970’s progressed, Walker's "outlaw" persona became legendary. The late 1970’s was the period when drug use amongst major country artists generally peaked. Cocaine became the drug of choice amongst country musicians including Waylon Jennings, George Jones, Merle Haggard, Johnny Paycheck, Johnny Rodriguez and Gary Stewart amongst others, while Townes Van Zandt got mired in heroin. All of them also loved loads of alcohol. Walker was no exception when it came to drugs and alcohol at that time. His wife, Susan, who took on the prodigious task of trying to manage her often wayward husband, later recalled his drug and alcohol fuelled excesses - “… Maybe he'd throw a coffee table through a hotel window, or sweep his hat through an aquarium to catch fish...". In the latter part of the 1970’s, years of drinking and drug abuse really began taking their toll - his vocals deteriorated, becoming weaker and croaky, his enunciation became slurry, he developed a reputation for missing shows or being too drunk to play when he did show up - and drank straight whiskey from the bottle during shows. This did noticeable damage to his touring receipts and he fell deep into debt thanks to a large bill for back taxes from the tax office aka the IRS (the IRS was the scourge of outlaw artists li,e Willie Nelson, Johnny Paycheck and David Allan Coe)

During the intensely productive years of 1972 through 1978, Walker cut 8 albums and played as many as 200 dates a year.. Walker later acknowledged this intense period was “… greased by drugs and alcohol …” but it came at a high price. American Express sued him for $90,000 for charges accrued through extravagant road spending, the IRS demanded a settlement on back taxes, and the pending financial and legal forecasts were bleak at best. With his wife’s considerable push and help, Walker managed to averted these potential disasters. Remarkably, and crucially, again showing what a difference a capable wife can achieve, he “… gave up drugs, whiskey, cigarettes and red meat …”, and settled into a new, subdued lifestyle.

So, against the odds, Walker, now in his forties, got clean and sober, settled his finances, settled down to family life and in 1986 he formed - or more accurately, his wife formed - his own production company, Tried and True Music, designed for the interests of a single client - Jerry Jeff Walker. The business venture fell largely to Susan who consolidated and organized all the trappings of Walker’s 20 year music business career and studied contract law, copyright and publishing procedures, booking policies, and road logistics. In the effort to streamline operations, they elected to let the band go and put Walker on the road as a single act, a practice they maintained for three years.

Free of the demands of major labels for continual output, he began to take more time with each of his recording projects. In December 1988, Walker (or his wife) assembled a group of notable musicians to record a live album at the historic and iconic Gruene Hall, between Austin and San Antonio. The lineup included Paul Pearcy on drums, Roland Denney on bass, Champ Hood on lead guitar, Brian Piper on piano, and Lloyd Maines on steel guitar.

Walker’s goal was to recapture the spontaneity and spark of his 1973 recording, “¡Viva Terlingua!”. Released in 1989, “Live at Gruene Hall“ succeeded on several levels - it artfully channeled the verve and vitality of the 1973 Luckenbach recording; it produced 3 strong singles that all charted, albeit modestly; and it boosted Walker’s profile in live-performance markets around the country. He was in demand again and needed a strong touring band, so he sought out the Gonzo veterans Bob Livingston and John Inmon, along with Bandito drummer Freddie Krc, to create a new group. This band, The Gonzo Compadres, accompanied Walker well into the 21st century. “Live at Gruene Hall“ ultimately became the most successful album in the Tried & True album catalog.

I know this whole history series has not a few songs about country music’s greatest legend, Hank Williams (and not all of them from Hank Jr - the last 2 featured artists, Coe and Stewart amongst others). Well here’s another - ‘I Feel Like Hank Williams Tonight’. This cover of a Chris Wall written track felt like it emerged from Walker’s pen as it became one of the breakout tunes from 1989’s “Live From Gruene Hall”, and his first chart appearance in 8 years. The weeper describes how the singer’s wife called to say she‘s leaving him, and even though he loves Beethoven, Charlie Parker and Chuck Berry’s music, the sorrowful situation makes him play Hank’s records tonight Profoundly felt and moving - as no-one has ever sang of heartache and pain better than Hank Williams -


Also from the 1989 “Live at Gruene Hall” album, ‘The Pickup Truck Song’ is not, in any way, to be confused with the so-called “bro-country” crap songs of the last 15 years about being in love with a pick-up truck. This classic song revolves around Walker’s close mate, Hondo Crouch’s old Chevy pickup truck that didn’t look like much and seemed to serve as a garbage dump for the bloke who owned it. When riding the truck, the memory inspired Walker to perform what was a bittersweet song that had a bit of comedy to its history -

There’ll be a bit more on Hondo Crouch and his place in the Jerry Jeff Walker story tomorro.

‘Trashy Women‘ was the 3rd single from the 1989 “Live at Gruene Hall” album. For Walker, he first heard “Trashy Women” from its writer, Chris Wall. Inspired, he asked to be taught the lyrics so he could record it and release it as a single. The tale of a sophisticated man taking an interest in “Trashy Women“ became a big fan favourite on Walker’s now sober live concerts, especially with the bit revolving around the man’s prom date and her Dolly Parton wig -
“… Shoulda seen the looks on the faces of my Dad and Mum / When I showed up at the door with a date for the senior prom /
They said: "Well, pardon us son, she ain't no kid / That's a cocktail waitress in a Dolly Parton wig” /
I said: "I know it dad, ain't she cool / that's the kind I dig" …” -

A cover of ‘Trashy Women‘ by Confederate Railroad became a Top 10 hit in 1993.

By age 50, Walker was seen as a reliable, mature performer, a pioneer of the Texan outlaw movement and with a strong on-stage presence and personality, making him one of the more popular live performers in Texas, despite having relatively modest success on the charts. So in 1991 Walker landed a job as host of the TV music show, The Texas Connection on the Nashville Network (TNN) cable channel, but filmed in Austin. It featured mainstream country acts as they toured through Texas. Walker engaged his guests by swapping songs and stories and joining them onstage. Many of the performers were iconic industry figures such as Willie Nelson or Kris Kristofferson, or genre pioneers such as the Texas Playboys, but most were high-octane country/pop stars, including Jimmy Buffett, Garth Brooks, Trisha Yearwood, Vince Gill, Steve Earle, Mark Chestnut, and Mary Chapin Carpenter. The broadcast was particularly popular with the younger country music demographic.

The success of that show brought him new, enthusiastic fans. Describing his audience of college students and older followers, Walker said - "We call 'em flatbellies and roundbellies. [The younger fans] whoop and hoot and do that little I'm-not-worthy bow. They call me ”The Man“. It's kind of neat. They first heard me while riding around with their dads in old pickup trucks with 8-track players“. Accordingly, Walker’s concerts and public appearances and his renown as a performer, filled auditoriums past his 50th birthday, including an enthusiastic college-aged component.

During the early 1990’s Walker became more politically involved and supported the campaign of Democrat, Ann Richards for Texas governor. He subsequently performed at her inauguration in 1991. In 1992 he joined Richards on the campaign trail with Democratic presidential candidate Bill Clinton and sang ‘Up Against the Wall, Republican President’, a political adaptation of one of his most popular recordings. Walker and the band had the honour of playing at the Bill Clinton Presidential inauguration in January 1993. Meanwhile, Walker continued to produce a series of high-quality recordings that defined the remainder of Walker’s career, including 1991’s “Navajo Rug”, 1992’s Hill Country Rain” and 1994’s “¡Viva Luckenbach!“ - loaded with honky tonk humour, Texas twang and unashamedly aimed at a Texan regional audience.

Now it’s said that there’s nobody more zealous than a convert - and this seems to be the case with the New York State born and raised Walker. I’ve long thought of Walker as the most Texan of Texan musicians - I was really surprised he was a New York product - about the least likely place on earth likely to produce a country music star. Though he had a stint in Austin in the mid-1960’s in his restless travelling stage, it wasn’t until 1971, at age 29, that he chose Texas as his home - and as the years went by, he wasn’t shy about showing his love for Texas in his music. On the 20th anniversary of his definitive 1973 live album “¡Viva Terlingua!”, Walker returned to the Luckenbach Dancehall to record a sequel, “¡Viva Luckenbach!”, released in 1994, which included such gems as the sentimental ‘Keep Texas Beautiful’ and the patriotic toe-tapper ‘What I Like About Texas’.

Gary P. Nunn’s love letter to the Lone Star State could be its official anthem. ‘What I Like About Texas’ gets an appropriately swaggering Jerry Jeff treatment in the frisky live version, all done to a western swing beat with a fully supportive participatory audience at the Luckenbach Dancehall. The very vocal crowd provides extra hot sauce as Walker sings about burritos, Lone Star beer, the Alamo, dancing to ‘Cotton Eyed Joe’ and other attributes residents of the state typically love. The band opens and closes the song with the melody to the famous Texan ode ‘The Yellow Rose Of Texas’ and also the traditional cowboy classic ‘Red River Valley’ in the middle. It don’t get more Texan than this -


As Susan Walker, taking care of busines, built the Tried & True brand, she and Jerry Jeff established a home-away-from-home in Belize and in 1994 began hosting fan club functions on the Caribbean coast. These tropical excursions sparked a pioneering recording session on Ambergris Caye in 1997 that resulted in the Tried & True release of “Cowboy Boots & Bathin’ Suits” in 1998. One of a handful of songs Walker wrote about the Caribbean locale (others are ‘Down in Belize’ and the popular laidback ‘Come Away to Belize With Me’) is ‘Gringo In Belize’. Though not as popular as ‘Come Away to Belize With Me’, I prefer it and can’t think an Aussie version would be titled ‘Bogan in Bali’. It’s a typically self-deprecating, musically jaunty portrait of the titular tourist who has some unhealthy characteristics - that Walker likely shares. An “… happy little camper in Belize…”, he sings with barely hidden antipathy -
“… He's a planner, he's a dreamer, he's a sordid little schemer, / Seems to think that money grows on trees /
He's a whiner, he's a loser, he's a pothead, he's a boozer / He's just another gringo in Belize …”


Walker published his autobiography, Gypsy Songman, in 1999. The book was accompanied by a new album, “Gypsy Songman: A Life in Song”. The recording entered the Top 10 of the Americana Radio Albums Chart in 2000. He followed up in 2001 with “Gonzo Stew”. In 2003 Walker assembled a group of Austin jazz players to channel some of his early influences like Frank Sinatra, the Mills Brothers, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, and “cool jazz” trumpeter Chet Baker. The result was the release of 14 American classics on “Jerry Jeff Jazz”. In 2004 he released “The One and Only”, a DVD of his solo performance featuring 23 songs tracing his travels and adventures since leaving his home as a young man. The following year, he released a twin disc package, “The Best of the Rest”. Walker wrapped up his recording efforts for the decade with the release of Moon Child in 2009.

In 2016, the Austin Theatre Alliance unveiled the Jerry Jeff Walker Star on the sidewalk in front of the Paramount Theatre in downtown Austin. The ceremony preceded Walker’s 74th Birthday Bash, an annual event that had come a long way since he celebrated his 40th birthday on the shores of Austin’s Town Lake with an all-day concert in 1982. The year 2016 marked the 30th consecutive year that Walker had held his annual Bash at the Paramount. Through the years, the Birthday Bash had evolved into a cultural institution by bringing together singers, songwriters, sidemen, music business operatives, and entertainment icons for an Austin-style convention and guitar pull - not quite as big as Willie Nelson’s famous 4th of July picnic, but the next best thing.

Although Walker had given up smoking, drugging and alcohol some 35 years earlier, and had enjoyed good health after changing his ways, he was diagnosed with throat cancer in 2017. The prognosis was deemed “isolated and treatable,” and he began what promised to be a successful recovery plan. Toward the end of the 7 week regimen, he developed life-threatening complications and almost died. He battled back and finished a highly reflective, autobiographical album. Tried & True released “It’s About Time” in 2018. This turned out to be the last recording of Jerry Lee Walker‘s long career.

In a star-studded tribute, the Texas Heritage Songwriters Association inducted Walker into itscHoF in February 2020 at the Paramount Theatre. The ceremony included a film segment of Walker’s fellow songwriters - Michael Martin Murphey, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Bruce Robison, Todd Snider, Rodney Crowell, Django Walker, Ray Benson, Jeff Hanna, Bob Livingston, Kix Brooks, Gary P. Nunn, and Jack Ingram - paying tribute to and congratulating the Texas icon.

Jerry Jeff Walker died of complications from throat cancer in October 2020, in Austin. He was known as the man who contributed one of the most important folk songs in American history, as well as the founding father of Texas progressive country music as we know it.

Thus ended the life of Jerry Jeff Walker. He never achieved national stardom like his fellow Texans, Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson. But in Texas, and especially in Austin, San Antonio and surrounds, he’s still an icon - and I have just a little postscript to add tomorrow, before I depart to Hobart, to fully conclude his story.

 

[Professor Knowall]

For today’s postscript “extra” on the Texan (albeit New York State born and raised) Outlaw pioneer, Jerry Jeff Walker, I have 4 items and 2 just songs to complete his story.

Jerry Jeff’s son, Django Walker - named after one the greatest of all guitarists, the legendary gypsy jazz pioneer, Django Reinhardt - was born in 1981 and, like his father, grew up to carve out a solid career as a Texas Country singer-songwriter and the frontman for the Django Walker Band. Here we have Jerry Jeff covering a breezy tune on his favourite themed - Texas and women - penned by his son Django in 2000. ‘Texas On My Mind’ had already topped the Texas music charts in a recording by Pat Green, but dad’s performance on 2001’s “Gonzo Stew” album adds an extra dollop of fatherly sentimentality as the singer longs for a girl he foolishly left behind in Texas.

But, even at the cost of some sound quality, I prefer this slightly earlier live performance, filmed not long after Django, at age 20, had written the song - he hadn't even decided the name of the song yet before Jerry Jeff played it live - with some help from Garth Brooks on backing vocals and guitar and Walker’s old Gonzo brother, Bob Livingston holding it down on the low end on bass. Ironically, Walker sings about … standing’ in the Texas sun …” while holding it all together in the pouring rain and gusting wind - and the Texan audience loved it -


In 2016, when Walker was first diagnosed with cancer and he was inducted in the Texan music HoF, Brooks and Dunn released a heartfelt and earnest tribute to the Texas troubadour, ‘The ballad of Jerry Jeff Walker’, which gets an extra dose of authenticity by Walker’s featured appearance. They capture everything that’s essential about him too, musically and in the lyrics of -
“… Buckaroos and jaded lovers / L.A. freeway and redneck mother / Mothers who had raised a son so well /
Talking outlawed, long hair loners and stoners / Singing about to come back home and / Most likely too far gone to get there …” -


Just 5 months back, in October 2022, many went to Luckenbach Texas, a tiny hamlet in the isolated hill country, an hour west of Austin and north of San Antonio, for the unveiling of a new bronze monument, reuniting 2 Texas icons whose soul-deep friendship helped ignite Texas’ declaration of music independence, almost 50 years after Walker recorded his legendary “¡Viva Terlingua!” album in Luckenbach’s dancehall. Lone Star Music commented - “…the Jerry Jeff Walker most fans know and love was born fully grown in that Texas ghost town in the summer of 1973.”

One of Jerry Jeff’s closest friends, Hondo Crouch was the self-declared “mayor” and imagineer who personified the Luckenbach pastoral wisdom that Walker idealised and their friendship transformed him. From that point, his bond with Texas was eternal, their friendship, deeply profound. When Hondo died in 1976, Jerry Jeff’s broken heart produced “A Man Must Carry On,” an album dedicated to Hondo. These two did more to save Luckenbach from literally becoming a forgotten ghost town, and turned it into a pilgrimage site for country music lovers travelling the Texan country music circuit - a long way from Nashville in so many ways.

Jerry Lee Walker‘s seminal “¡Viva Terlingua!” album, which packaged together a range of traditional Texan music in a new, contemporary form, put the old Luckenbach Dancehall (old dancehalls in Texas, with it’s strong western swing traditions, are as cherished as old honky tonks) on the country music map. Then came Waylon Jenning’s national 1977 # 1 hit, ‘Luckenbach Texas’ (post # 779), about a jaded couple leaving the city for a simpler way of life, paid Walker the ultimate compliment by putting him in the company of Hank Williams and Willie Nelson (referencing his massive hit ‘Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain’), in the closing lines -
“… Between Hank Williams' pain songs / And Jerry Jeff's train songs and ’Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain‘ /
Out in Luckenbach, Texas / there ain't nobody feelin' no pain.”

Finally, Jerry Jeff Walker’s old backing band, The Lost Gonzo Band, have also gone on to become something of a Texas institution. Amazingly, all of the members of the original band still have active music careers and still reunite for concerts. The Lost Gonzo Band returned to the stage for the first time in 9 years for a sold out show at Gruene Hall in October 2021 and have performed several times since, including the Luck festival held at Willie Nelson’s ranch, just outside Austin. The lineup includes original members Gary P Nunn on guitar, Bob Livingston on bass, John Inmon on lead guitar and Steady Freddie Krc on drums. More shows are being planned to coincide with the approaching 50th anniversaries of both the Lost Gonzo Band, Murphey's “Geronimo's Cadillac“ and Jerry Jeff Walker's ¡Viva Terlingua! in 2023.

Now I’m about to fly off to Hobart but should be back early next week, but I’m still unsure for how long - if I’m back home for more than a week, I’ll do that iconic country music artist I mentioned when finishing Coe, but if it’s shorter, having now done Jerry Jeff Walker, I have another Texas outlaw and peer of Jerry Jeff in mind.

 

[Professor Knowall]

I’m back and after featuring Jerry Jeff Walker, and (though it seems ages back now), Townes Van Zandt, I felt compelled, as soon as I decided to include Walker, to also include the other artist of what I see as a Texan trinity - artists who didn’t have great commercial success, and didn’t even really chase stardom (this was definitely the case with Van Zandt, but also applied to a large extent to the other two), but who layed the groundwork for the today’s artist had much in common with Van Zandt and it was no wonder they formed a close friendship after they first met. Both were better song-writers than singers, and as singers, mainstream commercial success mostly eluded them. But both were great songwriters, masters of poetical, poignant, meaningful lyrics. It was also fitting it was Jerry Jeff Walker who first gave today’s artist his ticket to prominence by recording two of his songs on his groundbreaking “¡Viva Terlingua!” album.

Born in 1941 in a small, rugged West Texas oil town near Odessa, Guy Clark spent much of his early life living with his grandmother in a run-down hotel, providing the inspiration for many of his later songs. At age 13, he moved to Rockford, an outer bayside suburb of Corpus Christi in South Texas, where his father, a WW 2 veteran and army lawyer (Guy’s mother also worked in a law office), lead the family through dinnertime poetry readings, ensuring his son learned to use his imagination. There were no TV sets or even radios allowed at home, so young Guy had to turn to literature instead and eventually sports, playing on multiple teams in high school while he learned the ropes of the guitar, an instrument which he would eventually not only master playing but learn to build. He studied not just traditional strumming but was enchanted by the Mexican folk and flamenco music - sounds commonly heard in South Texas that would often influence his own writing and playing.

In 1963, Guy joined the Peace Corps, and, after realising that he’d rather play music and delve much deeper into the folk tradition than attending college could ever offer him, he moved to Houston, making a living repairing guitars and playing gigs at various venues around town at venues, including Sand Mountain - it was there he met fellow struggling songwriters and musicians Townes Van Zandt, Jerry Jeff Walker, Mickey Newbury and KT Oslin amongst others. He married his first wife, folksinger Susan Spaw, and they had a son Travis in 1966. Guy and Van Zandt went on to become close friends, colleagues and admirers of each other's work throughout their lifetime together, often known as the two most ardent poets of the Texas folk-country tradition.

In 1969, after splitting with Susan, Guy moved to San Francisco, again working in a guitar repair shop, but within a year, he moved back to Houston, met and fell in love with prominent Oklahoman painter, Susanna Talley. Susanna sold a painting to fund the couple’s move to L.A., figuring it was the best place for the chance of stardom for each of them - Susanna pushed the 28 y.o. Clark to be more ambitious. Guy found work building dobros at the Dopyera Brothers factory and played with a bluegrass band on the weekends, pitching his songs to publishing companies in between. But he soon found L.A. wasn’t for him - a hatred he later took out in his writing of ‘LA Freeway‘ - “… if I could just get off of that LA freeway without getting killed or caught …“. By then his Houston friends - an expanding circle including Van Zandt, Jerry Jeff Walker, Steve Earle, Billy Joe Shaver and Rodney Crowell - were all gravitating toward Nashville.

So in 1971 the couple fled California and moved to Nashville for Guy to pursue his songwriting career. They arrived in Nashville at a time when the popular image of country music was being wrestled from the bland embrace of the commercial and conservative establishment. Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings, from within the establishment, and Gram Parsons, from without, had revitalised country forms, and re-introduced to the music an integrity that had been lost for too long. had just signed a publishing deal with Sunbury Dunba. Guy’s move to Music City, one of 3 cities where Sunbury had offices and where his maye, Mickey Newbury made him welcome, proved fortuitous. The Clark’s Nashville home became a Mecca for aspiring songwriters, with youngsters like Steve Earle, Rodney Crowell all hanging out there with the more established Newbury, Van Zandt, Billy Joe Shaver, Dave Loggins and David Allan Coe. Guy and his wife, Susanna, would become the axis for this groundbreaking fraternity of singer-songwriters for whom Nashville felt like “Paris in the 1920’s”.

Bonded by their egalitarianism, the troupe’s favoured “cafe” was the Clark’s dining room table, where they gathered frequently for guitar pulls and show-and-tell song swapping sessions and where they celebrated their successes and facetiously threatened to kill whoever had presented the best new song. Susanna, despite being a talented, successful painter, tossed her brushes aside for a while, joined the invasion and began writing songs herself.

In 1973, Jerry Jeff Walker released his seminal “¡Viva Terlingua!” album, recorded live in the Luckenbach Dance Hall and including Guy’s L.A. Freeway, and the ballad ‘Desperados Waiting For A Train’ (post # 844 from last week) As much as any others, these 2 Clark songs on Walker’s album arguably set the tone for a musical revolution that was first known as progressive country. By 1975, the revolutionaries would be defined as the Outlaws. Like the Bakersfield sound of the 1960’s, the new sounds were a reaction to the formulaic rigidity and paternalism of Nashville’s record producers and label executives. In this alternative musical world of the early 1970s, inspired by the storytelling poems of Dylan Thomas, Robert Frost and Stephen Vincent Benet, Guy began to write what he knew “… with a pencil and a big eraser“. Like almost all his songs, these 2 early masterpieces were expressions of personal memory and experience, further characterised by words that have a melody all their own.

Clark’s songwriting success eventually saw him signed to RCA Records. He recorded an album in 1973, but scrapped it due to personal dissatisfaction - Clark was something of a perfectionist, never satisfied, continually re-writing what seemed to others like perfectly completed poetical songs. A return to the studio in late 1974 finally resulted in his critically acclaimed (though commercially mostly ignored by the mainstream) “Old No. 1” album.

The opening track of “Old No. 1”, upbeat, meandering, and Texas-textured rhythms bring ‘Rita Ballou’ to life. A song with legs, it could waltz through every beer joint, pool hall and dodgy honky tonk around and know how to show you a good time. The 34 y.o. Clark still sounds somewhat youthful yet experienced in this song. Here, Clark takes you right into that alluring, mostly convivial but also sometimes dangerous world of the Texas beer joint honky tonk, with the timeless lesson of - beware of those honky tonk angels, as some just lead you on -
“… Hill Country, honky-tonkin' Rita Ballou / Every beer joint in town has played a fool for you
Backslidin', barrel ridin' Rita Ballou / There ain't a cowboy in Texas would not ride a bull for you …” -


As per above, before finally settling in Nashville, Clark briefly lived in L.A., where he pursued a publishing deal and worked at a local dobro factory. But the Texas native didn’t like the lure and phoniness of L.A. and Hollywood one little bit (he showed good judgement -and it’s now crappier than ever) – the long hours on the highway weren’t feeding his soul and one day while on the road back from a gig in San Diego, a thought popped into his head. “If I can just get off of this L.A Freeway without getting killed or caught”, he thought, realising the power of the line and quickly jotting it down on the back of a burger sack with his wife Susanna’s eyebrow pencil. The note became the basis for ‘L.A. Freeway‘, the second song on “Old No. 1“. Opening with a simple strum soon met with a wistful fiddle, it was not only a tune about leaving California (as heaps are now doing, it’s population is declining while Texas is booming) but the restless spirit of anyone who feels the crush of a reality they often dream about escaping -


‘She Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere’ is a song full of mysteries. Who is she? Where is she going or where will she end up? It’s a musical narrative, riddled with delicate poetry and thoughtful prose. A restless woman hits the highway in this ballad from “Old No. 1”. There’s no motivation or destination mentioned, just a need to get the hell out of dodge. Emmylou Harris sings harmonies on the recording, which hit stores the same year as her own career-launcher, “Pieces of the Sky”. What’s most striking about ‘She Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere‘ though, is the strength of Clark’s hitchhiker, a determined deserter who’s smart enough to avoid the dangers of the road - Clark sings by way of warning -
“… She had a way of her own / like prisoners have a way with a file / She ain't goin' nowhere, she's just leavin’…”


What is that “old time feeling” of the title, exactly? Clark doesn’t give any easy answers, but teases out the sensation with a series of breathtaking couplets. “… And that old time feeling goes sneakin’ down the hall / like an old gray cat in winter, keepin’ close to the wall …” and then, later, it’s circling the block “… like old women with no children / holdin’ hands with the clock...” Again from Clark’s influential “Old No. 1“ album, ‘That Old Time Feeling‘ waltzes through 4 taut verses (with Emmylou Harris adding the occasional harmony) describing mortality and loss, and the inevitability of both of those things - not as literal scenes of death, but of their spectres hovering nearby -


We’ve already seen Jerry Jeff Walker‘s original rendition of this one on his 1973 “¡Viva Terlingua!” album (# 844) and that the Highwaymen - country music’s most super-sized supergroup - would release this song as their 2nd single speaks volumes about ‘Desperadoes Waiting on a Train‘. Guy’s mother worked and his father was in the Army, so he was raised mostly by his grandmother, who ran the town hotel in the rough west Texas oil town of Monahans. One of her residents was an oil-well driller, who ended up the subject of one of Clark's most moving and stunningly beautiful songs. The verses read like vignettes, each one shining a light on an unlikely friendship between a boy and an aging, larger-than-life Texan. By the end, the boy is all grown up and the man is dead, having caught a ride on that train bound for somewhere else. Rather than the album version, I‘ve chosen this live clip from some years later on Austin City Limits -
“… He's a drifter and a driller of oil wells / And an old school man of the world / He taught me how to drive his car /
When he's too drunk to / And he'd wink and give me money for the girls / And our lives was like some old western movie …” -


By 1976, Guy Clark was considered one of the most promising writers in country music, and while he didn't live in Texas anymore, the state's influence still ran thick in his blood. Kathy Mattea called “Old No. 1" - “the strongest collection of songs I think I've ever heard". It set the pattern for the way his later work would be received - critical praise coupled with modest sales. Reviewers appreciated the plainspoken but eloquent phrasing of his folktales of heartbreak and happiness as well as the simple acoustic accompaniment. But it was too authentic for the mainstream pop or country-pop market. Clark’s career shall be continued tomorrow.

 

[Professor Knowall]

Pam Tillis once said, "In my wildest dreams I look like Michelle Pfeiffer and write like Guy Clark", while Lee Roy Parnell admitted - "Guy's one of my heroes. I don't have very many. I choose them carefully. His music always feels good and it's medicinal for me.... It's pretty easy for me to shove a Guy Clark cassette in and start feeling better right away. Music is medicine and he's a good little medicine man." Thei words reflect the high regard in which the private Clark was held by other musicians. Hen confronted with such testimonials, the reserved Texan attributed the quality of his body of work to a simple dedication to his craft - "My whole background is poetry, literature and that whole thing, and I just can't bring myself to sing something that's not really good. My percentage of keepin' songs is pretty low."

We start today’s music with one more from Clark’s classic 1975 debut album “Old No. 1”. Clark is a master storyteller and in ‘ Let Him Roll’, he tells of a sad descent from rejection in love into despair and a life on the edge, alcohol his subject’s only solace. Taking us from a story recounted to the singer, “… and he told me a story that I heard before / how he fell in love with a Dallas whore …” the song ends at the character’s funeral, attended by few, but with the aforementioned Dallas whore, now with silver hair, sitting alone at the back of the church -
“… Now it's been seventeen years right in line / And he ain't been straight none of the time /
Too many days of fightin' the weather / And too many nights of not being together …” -


Clark’s second album, 1976’s “Texas Cookin’”, was equally impressive, but even with guest appearances by Waylon Jennings, Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell and Hoyt Axton, failed to provide any hit singles. A ballad he recorded for the album with Emmylou Harris and Waylon Jennings (so by pedigree alone, it’s got to be good), ‘Anyhow, I Love You‘ is that rare love song that’s a salty savoury, not sugary sweet. It captures such urgent emotion without a hint of cliche, pretense, or even much romance - “… anyhow, I love you …”, as if he’s saying - “anyhow, that’s all I’ve got to say” -
“I wish I had a dime / For every bad time / But the bad times always seem to keep the change …” -


It’s not the bullet that puts the titular gunslinger in his grave in the stark ‘The Last Gunfighter Ballad’, but, seemingly anachronistically for a western theme, a car - a reminder that a few of the old wild west’s notorious characters managed to survive well into the 20th century. The tale of an old cowboy who can’t forget the smell of the black powder or the “… son of a bitch…” into whom he empties his gun, over the course of a sprawling narrative, he remembers standing his ground in a once dusty street that’s now paved and overrun by traffic - which ultimately causes his demise. The song details the bitterness and bravado of an old outlaw who “… relived the days of living by the gun / When deadly games of pride were played / And living was mistakes not made.” Still feeling the weight of his gun and the smell of the gunpowder, he watches as time passes him by while railing against current circumstances where he’s dodging cars rather than dodging bullets as he did in days gone by. Half crazy, he takes to the street for one last showdown, only to be mowed down by a car.

But Clark’s lyrics here, as in ‘Desperados Waiting for a Train‘, are, on a deeper level, more about the cruel passage of time than some superficial hit-and-run. The song was later cut by Johnny Cash as the title track to his 1977 album. For his own original version, the final track on 1976’s “Texas Cookin’“, Clark again enlisted the era’s alpha outlaw for harmony vocals - Waylon Jennings. A song with a Wild West bent, shrouded in gun smoke and riddled with Wyatt Earp-isms, the pathos is pervasive -


Frustrated by RCA’s seemingly inability to capitalise on his songwriting successes, he ended his contract with the label with some bitterness and regret and in 1978 joined Warner Bros. During the next 5 years he recorded 3 more superb albums and also made brief appearances on the chart with his only Top 40 hit, ‘The Partner Nobody Chose’ in 1981 and ‘Homegrown Tomatoes‘ in 1983.

A fun and carefree classic, ’Homegrown Tomatoes’, from Clark’s 1983 “Better Days” album, is one of his best-known compositions and even nearly cracked the Top 40, the single reaching #42. There are few songwriters in existence who can sing about something as simple as bacon, lettuce and tomatoes and make it sound truly poignant, not silly - and, certainly, Guy Clark was one of them. It’s a sweet and simple tribute to life’s simpler, quieter moments and to the things often lost in an increasingly fast-paced world. One of the few self-recorded Clark songs to make any chart impact, it was later covered by John Denver on his 1988 “Higher Ground” album - it’s theme perfectly suited to Denver’s music. And Clark is right - take it from me, fresh, just picked homegrown tomatoes always beats the hell out of any store bought. It’s poetry in its own right. It may sound simple - maybe even a little juvenile - but it speaks the loudest truth -
“… Only two things that money can’t buy / That’s true love and homegrown tomatoes” -


Written for his father after his dad’s passing, this vivid, tear-stained narrative revolves around a family heirloom that’s passed from father to son and emblazoned with more meaning than any tool of the trade could convey. Clark’s father was a lawyer, but he was a complex man - he fought in WW2 and long held on to the knife that his own mother had given him before he went off to battle. (Clark once joked - or maybe he was being serious - that is was a Texas rite of passage to receive a “pocket knife and a wet stone” as and later, a much younger Clark broke its blade, as he recalls -
“A better blade was never made / it was probably forged in hell …”.

Originally released on 1983’s “Better Days” album, then re-recorded for Clark’s 1995 “Dublin Blues” album, ‘The Randall Knife‘ is about the true layers in which a death washes over us - the memories we attach to simple objects, the doubts we place on our own grief and the emotions that keep creeping in when we least expect them. Sad yet stately, it illustrates how a seemingly innocuous object can offer vivid memories for those left behind. Clark understood where real value truly resided - “… They asked me what I wanted / not the law books, not the watch …”. At a deeper level, it’s also about tradition, principles and taking the harder challenges, even when the easier tack allows for cutting corners - “… I need the things he’s haunted”.


Even though Clark’s early songs would prove commercially viable when sung and recorded by more established, chart-conscious singers such as Johnny Cash and Bobby Bare or even then relatively unknown newcomers like Jerry Jeff Walker, Rodney Crowell, Vince Gill and Rick Skaggs, his own albums - lost classics “Old No. 1“ and “Texas Cookin’“, among others - made no concessions to Nashville’s fickle standards. In true outlaw style, regardless of the commercial appeal, he wanted his songs sparingly produced, with the focus on the lyrics telling the story, sans bells and whistle. But, just like Townes Van Zandt and John Prine, fellow musicians and music critics were full of admiration for Clark’s music and particularly his song-writing. And there’s more to come tomorrow as we leave off for now in 1983.

 

[Professor Knowall]

Guy Clark - after his close friend, Townes Van Zandt, was one of the first to push the parameters of country music and give it a wider point of view. His songs were told from the vantage point of many a tattered troubadour - the losers, loners, drifters and dreamers - and, just like Van Zandt, as a mentor any number of up-and-coming artists, people like Steve Earle, he helped make that no-nonsense style an indelible part of country music. Indeed, it was that same rugged, tattered perspective that gave his material its air of authenticity, for as he once said - “If I didn’t see it happen, I know somebody that did”.

However, for all the commercially successful hits other artists scored from his songs, Clark frustrated one meddlesome Nashville producer after another, always keeping to his acoustic-folk roots, resisting “adorning” his songs with commercial pop production values, even if it meant sabotaging his relationship with major labels by not appealing to the mainstream. It also didn’t help that live on stage, in contrast to a natural entertainer like the Jerry Jeff Walker, whose live shows were lively and popular, Clark was introverted, performing his material in an unplugged, unadorned and underrated way, with the aid of constant cigarettes and mumbled introductions. Lover’s of great song-writing and authentic pure song delivery loved that, but the majority who really just want to be entertained by a spectacle (like the masses that just went to recent huge stadium concerts around Australia), weren’t interested in going to a Clark concert, held in typically small, intimate venues where you sat quietly and took in every lyric of every song, transporting in one’s own imagination to the situation described in the song.

Like so many other outlaw and other country artists we’ve seen in this series (e.g. George Jones, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Paycheck, Johnny Rodriguez, Gary Stewart, Jerry Jeff Walker and especially Townes Van Zandt, who spent many months bunking at Clark’s house, drinking and drugging with him, Clark‘s career was hampered by his substance abuse issues. In the 8 years from 1984 to 1991, Clark, now in his forties, released just one album, teaming with eccentric producer Miles Wilkinson for the first time to record his debut album for Sugar Hill, the decidedly average “Old Friends” in 1988. The record has backing vocals of old friends Rodney Crowell, Vince Gill, Emmylou Harris, Rosanne Cash and some new ones including guitarist Verlon Thompson, Sam Bush and slide boss Mike Henderson. It sounds like his 1970s records and most of the songs were covers, like Van Zandt’s ‘To Live Is To Fly’ and co-writes. There were only 2 songs he penned solo, marking this period as his least creative.

Clark never quite fitted any format until the so-called Americana subgenre arrived in the early 1990s to claim Clark as its own. A rejuvenated Clark eventually found his footing with smaller country-folk-friendly labels including Sugar Hill and wrenched back full control of the recording process. Finally, in his cocaine-and-whiskey-ravaged mid-50s, his vocals, seemingly more layered by his years of liquor and hard living, he was set free to be the autonomous fingerpicking acoustic-folk singer he always wanted to be.
So in the 1990’s, Clark well-established himself as a quiet, mythological force on the Nashville singer-songwriting scene – never achieving massive fame but seeing his work cut by others who, thanks to flashier personalities, more dynamic vocals or bigger machines, could take them to the charts. But he was respected and adored by many and proved that he knew what really mattered in life.

Four years after the release of the tepid 1988 “Old Friends”, Clark signed to the newly revitalized Elektra Asylum label, dedicated to recording and marketing American roots music. Teaming once again with producer Miles Wilkinson, Clark delivered an ambitious, soulful, and state-of-the-art batch of songs in 1992’s “Boats To Build”. There is an all-star cast here, as per usual, but this time it worked seamlessly, and virtually all of the musical arrangements and sounds serve the songs. Players and singers included Jerry Douglas, Sam Bush, Verlon Thompson, Foster & Lloyd, Marty Stuart, Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell, Suzy Ragsdale, Brian Ahern and drummer Kenny Malone. More of the world - at least that portion of it with a taste for thoughtfully crafted acoustic music - was able to see Guy Clark as both a returning legend and someone doing some of the best work of his already long career, now in it’s third decade..

A songwriter’s work is rarely ever finished (especially to the perfectionist Clark), and with a literary mind like Clark’s, the songs become a vivid journey to some other place and time - often a crystal-clear glimpse of the world through someone else’s eyes. ‘Boats to Build’, the title song from the 1992 album, hits on the idea of the songwriter as restless creator of those musical vessels. Clark sings over soft acoustic guitars, but makes a point to acknowledge the hard work and sweat that goes into converting those raw materials to something tangible - the vehicle for truth that can “… sail into the light of day…”. While ‘Boats to Build’ is beautifully literary and poignantly self-reflective, it’s also the sure-fingered guitar picking in time with Clark’s rugged and wise phrasing that make this song -
“… Sails are just like wings / The wind can make ’em sing /
songs of life, songs of hope / songs to keep your dreams afloat…” -

Appropriately, seafaring poet Jimmy Buffett recorded his own version of “Boats” for his 2004 album License to Chill

In ’Ramblin Jack and Mahan’, the Mahan referred to is rodeo rider Larry Mahan - now saying that Mahan is just a rodeo rider is kind of like saying Charlie Parker was just a saxophone player or Hank Williams just a country singer - Mahan is one of the select officially named legends of the rodeo. And Ramblin’ Jack is, of course, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott. Elliott is one of those semi-mythical characters on the folk music scene - born in Brooklyn to Jewish parents, he reinvented himself as an itinerant guitar picker and singer, running away from home as a teenager to join a rodeo, later hoboing around America with Woody Guthrie and greatly influencing a young Robert Zimmerman (aka Bob Dylan) along the way -
“… So ol' Ramblin' Jack said / He said, "I recall a time / I set my soul on fire just for show / All it ever taught me was /
The more I learn, the less I seem to know / Ol' Mahan crawled out from behind a couch and said / "Jack, as far as I can see /
Mistakes are only horses in disguise / Ain't no need to ride 'em over / 'cause we could not ride them different if we tried … -


”Only” 3 years after 1992’s “Boats to Build” album, Clark offered “Dublin Blues”, a 1995 album filled with sizzle, inspiration and his best batch of songs in years. Again teaming with Miles Wilkinson and using his road band in the studio for the first time, Clark delivered a batch of searing portraits, intimate observations, first-person narratives and one dumb throwaway cut - ‘Baby Went to Memphis in a Limo’, with lyrics suitable for an inane pop song. As usual, some old friends returned to help the recording - Rodney Crowell, Emmylou Harris, Sam Bush, Verlon Thompson, Kenny Malone, and Suzy Ragsdale, with new faces, Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Nanci Griffith and Kathy Mattea.

The magic begins with the title track. Haunted Celtic melodies played on the fiddle and a mandolin with an acoustic guitar usher in a country song that could be from the countryside of Ireland. With Mattea on the backing vocals, the listener is transported between worlds in time and space. Both self-destructive and self-reflective, the title song, ‘Dublin Blues’ plays like part ode to Clark’s Texas home - all its haunts and watering holes - and part soliloquy to lost love with all its bittersweet heartache. Clark’s vocals are contemplative and coarse, making the tune’s liquor and longing lyrics sparkle along with the lustrous guitar strums -


“I got an old blue shirt and it suits me just fine …” the perpetually denim-clad Clark sang on this track off his 1995 “Dublin Blues” album, with songs like ‘Stuff That Works‘, an ode to how holding on to our simplest, defining pleasures is more vital than collecting shinier, newer things: - “… the kind of stuff you don’t hang up on a wall…” Like a great love, a good pair of boots - or a brilliant tune, another of Clark's quiet observation tunes, where his words speak volumes and the instruments underline their meanings. It's a workingman's anthem sung seemingly from the workshop bench. The song plays like a conversation, like getting advice from an old friend. ‘Stuff That Works’ is a reminder to appreciate the -
”… Stuff that's real, stuff you feel / The kind of stuff you reach for when you fall” -


The shadow of Hank Williams still lay over the wider country music world even decades after his premature death. It seems we can’t get through this history without an outlaw artist singing a tribute song or two (or in Hank Jr’s case, a whole string of them), or at least reverently referring to the immortal Hank, as in this one from “Dublin Blues”. ’Hank Williams Said It Best’ references Hank’s ‘Be Careful Of Stones That You Throw’, a morality tale of the dangers and hypocrisy of superficial and/or premature judgment. Clark’s song picks up a haunting momentum as a master writer basically plays a word game with himself - “One man’s rock is another man’s sand and one man’s fist is another man’s hand / One man’s tool is another man’s toy, and one man’s grief is another man’s joy …” and so forth, getting deeper and better as it goes, urging us to consider different points of view -


So by the mid-1990s Clark had emerged from country music's shadows, his music acclaimed by leading critics as well as loads of fellow musicians, but even his strongest supporters recognised his gruff voice and low-key stage presence would never make for full-blown popular stardom. But Clark finally reaped the benefits of an ever-growing musical legacy, finding contentment in mentoring and collaborating with younger songwriters, not to mention building his own guitars. This was also a time when advancing age and years of alcohol and drug abuse began to disband the once-inseparable trio of Guy, Susanna and Townes, with their whiskey-and-weed picking parties. It was Van Zandt’s premature passing in 1997 that sent Susanna on a slow spiral of her own, assisted by pain pills and terminal depression. But Guy Clark, even as ne entered his sixties, still had more to give creatively - as we shall see tomorrow.