Reviewing The Top Ten Country Singles From This Week In 1980

 

I didn't get out of the house much in 1980. I had a two-year-old and a four-year-old at home and up 'til May I was working part-time at a retail store ~ and by "part-time", I mean three or so hours a few weeknights and six hours on Saturdays. We needed to supplement our meager income, yet I wasn't comfortable leaving my children in the hands of a stranger. Thus, I found an evening job at a recently-erected catalog store located approximately one minute away from my house. Looking back, the pay was barely worth the gas fumes it took to motor there, and while I did get a ten per cent discount on merchandise, I really couldn't afford to buy anything. Like every job I've ever had, I only landed this one because I possessed one (just one) of the skills listed on the job description ~ I knew how to run a cash register. Thinking back over my long and varied career, if I had (or could bullshit through) at least one of the required competencies, I was pretty good at glossing over the ones I didn't have**.

**Note to job-seekers: Learn how to type. 

By May I'd landed a high-paying (for my town and my skill set) job as a Communications Clerk at the hospital where I'd delivered my boys. I think my success lay again in my typing skills, plus I was interviewed by a lovely, compassionate lady, who may have noted my earnestness (I really needed to make more money). My shift was from 3:00 to 10:00 p.m., which eliminated the need for paid child care, although my live-in caretaker wasn't necessarily vigilant. I loved that job. It was right up my alley. I worked on the medical floor, transcribing doctors' orders, getting the necessary forms ready for each patient, scheduling surgeries for the next day, preparing menu orders, assigning rooms to new admissions. I was often called upon to help lift or reposition patients due to staff shortages. I found the entire medical world fascinating. Plus, I even managed to sock a little money away every two weeks in my hospital credit union account to save up for a yearly vacation. 

Occasionally, my mom invited me to see a movie with her, which was odd because she and I weren't the best of friends. I guess my older sister must have been busy. We saw Coal Miner's Daughter together that year, and in 1977 Saturday Night Fever, which made me slink down in my seat when I got to witness the "sex in a car" scene with my mom. In 1980 (again for unknown reasons) my dad and I saw Ordinary People together. The film was great, but afterward I had to listen to Dad enumerating the many ways the film's cold mother reminded him of Mom. All in all, my movie outings with my parents were uncomfortable. But Mom and I also caught Urban Cowboy, which began with an uptempo Charlie Daniels song accompanying the scene of a black pickup barreling down a dusty country road.  The film was mediocre at best, and the music mostly ehh. But, oh, what a fad that movie wrought.

I'm curious as to whether any of those Urban Cowboy tracks made the top ten this week. My source is the American Country Countdown Wiki.  If you've been reading along, you know my rules:

• I review each single as a first-time listener.
  
• I must listen to the entire track before offering my critique.  
• I stick with the Top Ten only, because this is unbelievably time-consuming.
  
• I do my best to find music videos. If all else fails, I use a video of the recorded song
  

 

Grab that mechanical bull by the horns! Let's go!

 

#10 ~ Pecos Promenade ~ Tanya Tucker

As 1980 songs go, this is okay. I like the fiddles and the two-step beat and (of course) the singer has plenty of chops and attitude. The familiar voice of her (reputed) boyfriend can be heard singing one line ~ "needs a cowboy". This track would be a great one to dance to in a country bar, if I ever had the chance to dance in a country bar, though it doesn't match the quality of Tanya's earlier hits. People Magazine tells me she's apparently going through a period of abandon right now. I hope she gets her mojo back in the future.

B

 

#9 ~ Steppin' Out ~ Mel Tillis

I'm willing to bet that the 2022 me will have no recollection of this track, even though I apparently own the album from which it came. For some reason this song reminds me of something a future country star who I'm imagining is named George might record. It's got a nice shuffle beat and the requisite country instrumentation. I don't even have to guess whether Mel wrote it, but it's a filler song. It really says nothing new and worse, doesn't say the old in an interesting way. I'm a huge Mel Tillis fan, but it's no wonder I won't remember it.

B-

#8 ~ Hard Times ~ Lacy J. Dalton

I don't know this gal, but I'm not a fan of the tremulo. For my musical taste, this track has nothing to recommend it. It seems important to the singer to belt out those lyrics, but she slaps on a nothing tom-tom accompaniment. Apparently Bobby Braddock, who is a much better writer than this song demonstrates, penned the tune. And unfortunately, it's so unremarkable that I've already forgotten it.

D

#7 ~ Lady ~ Kenny Rogers

Oh, is this the one written by Lionel Richie? That explains a lot. Kenny has apparently been able to hustle the country music charts, I guess on the strength of his actual country hits. 

Disclaimer: I saw Kenny Rogers in concert one summer on vacation with my immediate family and my parents. We were in Duluth, Minnesota, and there are only so many times one can traverse the boardwalk and wave at the ore ships that breach the harbor. My mom learned from the local paper that Kenny was appearing at the waterfront arena, so we purchased last-minute tickets. I honestly wouldn't even remember the show except for that white suit.

I don't hate Kenny Rogers, but I can't say I'm a fan of even his country tracks. It's just that "you gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em" is so ubiquitous that's it's turned into an earworm. 

And I certainly am not a fan of this. The Commodores probably could have done it better, and at least they'd stay in their lane. I'm a country fan, so...

D

 

#6 ~ Old Habits ~ Hank Williams, Jr.

 Was this melody cribbed from Merle Haggard?

 

I fully admit my bias. I rarely like anything Hank does, and yes, I did walk out on his concert once in the 70's. That said, his uptempo songs are far better than this. It's dull and not in his wheelhouse. I don't know what else to say about this. It's a nothing.

D

#5 ~ I Believe In You ~ Don Williams

Don Williams is kind of the Perry Como of the eighties. He's impossibly laid back, which is actually a nice contrast to the more bombastic tracks spun by local DJ's. And Don picked a good one to record, written by Roger Cook and Sam Hogin. It definitely confers a vibe, a "snuggle under a blanket", "sip hot cocoa" ambience, and what's wrong with that? 

What the song has going for it: First, melody, Second, singer. Third, memorable chorus. Fourth, a nice warm feeling. I think this is one that will be remembered.

A

#4 ~ Could I Have This Dance ~ Anne Murray

Ahh, Urban Cowboy weighs in.

I read somewhere that Anne recorded this in a lower register because it was supposed to be a duet with Kenny Rogers. I like it as it is.

The first thing one can say about this track is that it is country. The second thing is, Anne Murray is one of the seminal voices of her generation. Thirdly, I'm a sucker for waltzes. This could and most likely will be the first wedding dance of just-married couples everywhere. The lyrics are lovely and the melody hits the sweet spot. Good songs don't have to be complicated; just honest.

A

#3 ~ I'm Not Ready Yet ~ George Jones

Like the Mel Tillis track, I'm willing to bet that I'll have zero recollection of this forty years in the future. It's got the required Jones recitation, which is kind of a lazy affectation, unless the song is Detroit City. The melody is pedestrian, the sentiment has been recounted countless times, in much better ways. Granted, unlike other die-hard country fans, I don't think George Jones is the best thing that's ever happened to country music, but I like a ton of his songs. Just not this one.

C-

 

#2 ~ On The Road Again ~ Willie Nelson

The first two or three times one hears this song, it's fine. Pedestrian, but fine. The third through the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time, it becomes grating. For a master songwriter, this must have been a throwaway written for his bandmates on the bus. A lark. Then somebody hollered out, "Hey! You should record this!" And the rest is history. I imagine that Willie will collect tons of royalties from all the future commercials that'll use this track. Everything from cars to first-aid kits (?) to probably dog food. An amateur songwriter could pen something like this, but he'd be afraid everyone would laugh at him. Kudos, though, Willie, for your success!

C

#1 ~ Theme From The Dukes Of Hazzard (Good Ol' Boys) ~ Waylon Jennings

 

I have a four-year old this year (1980) who somehow knows when it's Friday, at which time he plops himself on his stomach in front of the TV, his chin propped on his hand, to watch his favorite show of all time, The Dukes Of Hazzard. He, of course, doesn't know whose hands on the guitar are being shown on the screen, but his mom does. He's far more interested in Luke and Bo and the General Lee, which magically flies through the air in every episode. He knows all the characters, including the one he refers to as "Roscoe Peeko Train". 

I'm assuming most adults are like me, and only tolerate the goofy show for their kids, but I do appreciate hearing Waylon Jennings on my TV once a week.

Waylon wrote the song, and it's got something that the monotonous On The Road Again doesn't. Number one, it's got Waylon Jennings, one of country's legendary singers; but it's also got changes, appealing instrumentation, and creative lyrics. It's far more interactive than simply snoring along the highway on cruise control. This one is barreling down the road, feeling every bump, offering a wave (or the finger, depending on the situation) to fellow travelers.

Sure, the lyrics don't exactly relate to the average man's or woman's circumstances, but it still makes them feel good when they hear it.

A

Much to my surprise, only one track from Urban Cowboy appears in this week's Top Ten. I'm not dumping on the movie's soundtrack. There were actually several good songs inserted into the film; not just Could I Have This Dance. "Darlin'" by Bonnie Raitt, "Look What You've Done To Me" by Boz Scaggs, Charlie Daniels' "Devil Went Down To Georgia", and even "Love The World Away" from Kenny Rogers and "Here Comes The Hurt Again", a Mickey Gilley tune. 

Unfortunately, of those, only Charlie Daniels hit the jackpot. Instead we got Johnny Lee's "Lookin' For Love" ad nauseum. And it beget an unsavory fad that eclipsed more quality country songs. 

Still, this week included three A's. I think that's a record. Sometimes we forget that certain musical times were better than our cluttered brains recall.

 

 

2020 Country Music Hall Of Fame Inductees - Part 2

 

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

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

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

He did record a track I liked:

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

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

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

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

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

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

1989 In Country Music Was Damn Good

Sometimes I wonder if my life can be measured by the jobs I've held. I sincerely hope that's not true. But when I think back to 1989, I remember my work life being in flux. I'd left eight comfortable years of being the girl behind the desk on the medical floor of our local hospital, and I distinctly remember why I left. Monday evenings were a flurry of activity on the medical floor. Folks who'd been sick all weekend, but who'd told themselves, just hold on -- maybe I'll be better by Monday -- had finally given in and made an appointment to visit their personal physician, and found out, why yes, I really am sick! Sick enough to be admitted to the hospital, in fact. Thus, admissions came fast and furious on late Monday afternoons. The medical floor had three wings. One was for telemetry (heart) patients, and the other two -- Central and West -- were for general illness. I juggled admissions as best I could between the available wings. The nurses were sorely overworked and I endeavored to rotate new patients so none of the RN's and LPN's became overwhelmed. Sometimes that was an impossible task. I guess my final room assignment was the last straw for one of the RN's who I'd considered a friend. She took a moment out of her whir of vitals and wheelchairs and sputum cups to voice her displeasure. Essentially, her position was that I was deliberately tormenting her and she was disappointed and disillusioned with me. I don't think I said a word in response; I just stared at her, feeling like a bug she keenly wanted to stomp beneath her white oxfords. She and I had shared breaks -- sat in the nurses' lounge and smoked our cigarettes on moonless nights -- laughed together about goofy goings-on in the Pharmacy Department; shared anecdotes about our kids. And now she hated me. I left the hospital at the end of my shift and went home to my torture chamber bed and tossed and scrunched around most of the night. I felt unjustly accused. I had simply done my job the best I could, in impossible circumstances.

The next day I scanned the hospital bulletin board for open positions and promptly applied for one in the Admissions Department. I was hired in a flash. The medical center had a policy of filling jobs from within. Thus, I sat in a high-backed chair in an office with three open-air slots, evening after evening, right next to the switchboard operator's glass-encased cubicle, and awaited new "check-ins". Every department within the facility had its specific wardrobe requirements, so I switched from navy blue polyester uniforms to some kind of baby blue stiff starched linen. I guess that was how one could be readily identified -- slotted in, as it were. I hated registering new patients. I felt clumsy and asked the wrong questions or inevitably forgot to check a specific box on the admission form. I couldn't remember which forms I was supposed to stamp beneath the heavy iron contraption, and creating the little plastic identification cards with a "C" for Catholic and remembering to include the "Mrs." before Verna Schuffeltd's name seemed beyond my brain's capacity. The truth was, I simply hated my new job. I missed knowing what I was doing; missed the breezy efficiency with which I'd whipped out lab orders and missed the nurses I'd come to know so intimately. I hated the stilted quiet of the admissions office and longed for the familiar cacophony of real life.

I lasted a week or so in my new position, and then I lied and told my new supervisor some tale about how the schedule wasn't working for my family.

If I hadn't been shot through the heart, maybe I'd still be at that hospital today. I'd be the elderly gray-stranded woman everyone allows to cut in front of them in the cafeteria line, because, you know, she reminds me of my grandma!

I padded across the sliding-door threshold of the hospital one final time. I had no plan. I had no options.

In my small town, the newspaper's want ads for "clerical work" encompassed a line space approximately the width of my thumb. I innocently assumed I could always get a job with the State Government -- my fallback. I'd begun my "career" working for the State, and trust me, they'd hire practically anyone they could confirm was actually drawing breath. And I sort of did get hired by the State, but it was a downtown (not at the State Capitol) temporary part-time job as a receptionist for the Teachers Retirement Fund. My duties consisted of passing out mail and typing occasional letters on an IBM Selectric with a correctable ribbon. No more Wite-Out for me! No sirreee! I worked from eight a.m. to noon and couldn't wait to escape that soul-sucking receptionist's desk when the big hand clicked on the twelve. Between mail delivery and the two letters per day I was required to type, I had approximately three hours of non-productive time. I don't recall how I filled those hours -- I'll guess by jamming a Kleenex between the numbers on the switchboard and whisking away the dust. If one wants to achieve invisibility, she should get a job as a receptionist. Most of the staff to which I delivered mail rarely bothered to show up for work, so I had no clue what they actually looked like. They were simply names on a business-sized envelope. Thus, I was taken aback when I finally found what I thought would be a better position -- and full-time! -- and hovered in the doorway of my anonymous supervisor's office to give my notice, and this woman, Mary Smith (as far as I was concerned) expressed dismay and told me they'd been thinking of offering me a permanent full-time position. What? And why? I only had fifteen minutes worth of work to do in the first place. But who knows? If I'd hung around, maybe I'd be the soon-to-retire director of that God-awful place today. I honestly still don't know what they actually did there.

I saw an ad in the newspaper for a medical transcriptionist. No, technically I'd never transcribed medical records, but I did know medical terminology and I certainly knew how to type. Voila, I was hired. This job did not work out well. The owner assured me that a "transcribing machine" was on order and I would settle into my new position just as soon as it arrived. In 1989, a transcribing machine was a 21-inch television-sized word processor. I don't know what was packed inside that behemoth, but knowing technology as I do today, I'm guessing it was a pile of lead plates that served no discernible purpose other than to make the contraption a hernia-inducing heave up a flight of stairs for two unfortunate delivery persons.  Alas, the transcribing machine was a mirage. I sorted mail (yep!) for months into individual slots, drank gallons of coffee, drove to the McDonald's window for a hamburger every day at twelve, came back and tossled envelopes around for a few more hours before checking out and heading home. I know transcribing machines actually existed, because the company had two busily-finger-tapping transcriptionists I envied daily for the fact that they actually had something to do. The highlight of that position was the company's annual trip to Kansas City for, I guess, a transcribing convention. I boarded the plane to KC with the two actual typists and proceeded to get sloshed. Once there, after our sirloin steak dinner, one of the girls (I'll call her "Jill" because I have absolutely no recollection of her actual name) cornered the company's CEO and vented all her frustrations about our boss. Jill then pointed to me and promised I could vouch for everything she was saying. I think I drunkenly muttered something about "not getting my machine". The next day we flew home. Come Monday, each of the three of us typists got called in separately to the boss's office to discuss our Kansas City faux paus. When it was my turn, the office maven asked me if I was dissatisfied there. I piped up that I still hadn't gotten "my machine". "I told you it's on order!" she huffed. "Well, it has been six months," I responded timidly. She then asked me if I wanted to retain my employment with the company. "Well....no," I said. And thus I tromped down the stairway and out the front door. That was the last day I had a single burger and a small fry for lunch from McDonald's.

My job prospects were dire. My family was incomprehensibly understanding. If I'd been a bystander, I wouldn't have been so patient. I compare the employment opportunities at that time to a choice between three entrees that are all putrid -- let's say, liver, seared cow brains, and boiled chicken hearts. Hmmm, what to choose? Okay, I'll take the liver. Maybe I can at least choke that down. Before long, I found a posting for a "Farm Records Secretary". I had no idea what that was, but I understood the three words, singly. I figured stringing the words together would produce a job I could perform, albeit begrudgingly. The Farm Credit office was located on the far edge of a different city from the one in which I resided, but there really was no such thing as "traffic" -- the interstate highway was clear and the morning drive was rather lovely. I could zone out and listen to the radio as the sun rose behind me. I did have a bias against the word, "secretary", since in my experience, secretary meant shuttling a mug of coffee to a man who didn't take the trouble to glance up from his paperwork and make eye contact. Fortunately, my new boss wasn't a man, but a woman who didn't take the trouble to glance up from her paperwork and make eye contact. She was prim. And awkward. Conversation didn't come easily to her. She'd migrated years before from someplace like Oklahoma and hadn't yet lost her Okie accent. Transcribing her recorded correspondence was a challenge. At first I would ask her to clarify a word, but later, finding our interactions less than scintillating, I simply typed the word that seemed to fit best. The previous secretary, who had recently been promoted, trained me, and she was impatient. She kindly ignored me when not giving orders. I didn't like her...at all. In a couple of months, we would become the best of friends. I'm not sure how things like that happen. Maybe we had a common enemy....Mrs. Park. I spent half of 1988 and the entirety of 1989 doing my farm secretary duties. One winter morn, as I endeavored to cajole my rear-wheel drive Ford up the steep hill to the FCS office, I found myself sliding backwards. I flipped the butt of the car into a roadside snowbank and tried again...and again. We'd had a rare freezing rain storm and I was not a well-lit bulb. After about fifteen minutes of fruitlessly trying to push up the hill, I gave up and backed/slid down to the intersection, parked and found a nearby telephone. I called up the guy whose office abutted my receptionist desk -- an older guy who spent his days jawing with ranchers -- kind of a dad-like prince of a man. He soldiered out to where I sat shivering in my Taurus and loaded me in his pickup and shuttled us to the office. As much as may hate our circumstances, there are always angels. Farm Credit Services was full to the brim with nice, nice people. Had it not been for Mrs. Hateful, I might have stayed. But I was basically miserable.

Thus, the music of 1989 was my salve. The Dakota Lounge was full of sawdust and regional bands and a loud juke box. Fridays and sometimes Saturday nights we ventured there, and here are the songs I remember:

 

 

I wonder if this was the number one country single of 1989. I'm going to guess yes:

I haven't left out the king. I wanted to give him a special place of honor, because in 1989 he released one of his top two best albums, "Beyond The Blue Neon". 

Ahh, 1989 in country music was damn good.

CMA at 50 - 1987...and Holly Dunn

Holly Dunn passed away this past Monday, November 14. She was 59; younger than me. Those things shouldn't happen.

I liked Holly's recordings -- she was a soprano, whereas I was always more drawn to more earthy voices like Patsy Cline's -- but Holly Dunn was country and that's what mattered. I've always liked my country to be...well, country...call me crazy; and 1987 was that kind of year. Holly fit right in.

At the CMA's that year, Holly won the Horizon Award, the award given to best new artist. She deserved it.

Holly wrote, produced, and performed her own songs, which was, in 1987, let's say unusual. As a pseudo-songwriter, I know how monumental that is.

“I think this gives me a real legitimacy, a genuineness,” she told The Associated Press in 1990. “I’m not just up there standing where they tell me to stand, singing what they tell me to sing.”  (source)

In 2003 Holly retired from recording, just like that. She said that country no longer wanted what she had to offer, and she was right. Country music gave up the ghost somewhere around 2001 and it's never come back. I once thought it would -- everything being cyclical -- but I was wrong. It never came back. Nineteen eighty-seven was a watershed year. Let's revisit it...

Horizon Award

T. Graham Brown

The O'Kanes

Restless Heart

Sweethearts of the Rodeo

Holly Dunn 

Female Vocalist of the Year

Emmylou Harris

Kathy Mattea

Rosanne Cash

Dolly Parton

Reba McEntire

There was no denying that the late eighties was Reba's time. It was before she went off on her costume-changing frenzy (although I never actually witnessed it in concert, it made all the popular publications, like People Magazine) and while she still had the frizzy perm and an iota of country in her blood. Like this:

If I'd still been a CMA member in 1987, though, I would have voted for this:

You tell me which song holds up better. It's not even a fair contest.

Male Vocalist of the Year

George Strait

Randy Travis

George Jones

Ricky Skaggs

Hank Williams, Jr.

I'm not going to quibble with this one, although my heart lies with George. Randy Travis was and is a voice beyond measure.

Single of the Year
The Right Left Hand - George Jones (I have no recollection whatsoever of this song)
Walk The Way The Wind Blows - Kathy Mattea
All My Ex's Live In Texas - George Strait
Forever And Ever, Amen - Randy Travis
Can't Stop My Heart From Lovin' You - The O'Kanes

Nineteen eighty-seven was a great year! I'd forgotten how good it was. In the interest of diversity and fairness, I'm going to include one of the singles that didn't win:

Song of the Year (award to the songwriter)
Forever And Ever, Amen - Paul Overstreet and Don Schlitz
All My Ex's Live In Texas - Lyndia Shafer and Sanger D. Shafer
Can't Stop My Heart From Lovin' You - Kieran Kane and Jamie O'Hara
Daddy's Hands - Holly Dunn
On The Other Hand - Paul Overstreet and Don Schlitz

To be different, here's:

Vocal Group of the Year
Asleep At The Wheel
Exile
Restless Heart
Alabama
The Judds

This is a tough category. I would have given it to The Judds in 1985, and maybe they did win it then. I don't have photographic memory! (A-Ha! They did! I just checked!)  I love The Judds, especially for their early hits, but sadly, I find that Restless Heart never won the vocal group of the year award. That's shameful. Since they never won, I guess I can pick any song, from any year, I want. I pick this one:

Randy Travis won Album of the Year (naturally); fiddler Johnny Gimble was Instrumentalist of the Year; Vocal Duo of the Year was a bust (for the record, it was Ricky Skaggs and Sharon White); the Music Video of the Year was "My Name is Bocephus" by Hank Williams, Jr.; which leads me to the strangest award of the night:

Entertainer of the Year
The Judds
Reba McEntire
George Strait
Randy Travis
Hank Williams, Jr.

I'm not sure what happened. Perhaps it was a nod to an era that was ending. I'm not proud of it, but the only concert I ever walked out on was Hank's. I liked him once; thus, I bought a ticket to see him. This, unfortunately, was the time when Junior decided to "become his own man". The people who liked Lynryd Skynyrd, I'm sure, loved this concert. I hated it. Hank's thing was writing and singing songs about...Hank. Listen to any of his songs, and they're all egocentric. All good, if you like that sort of thing.

I checked Hank's discography, trying to discern which record, exactly, earned him the award. I'm truly perplexed. So, I'm just going to guess this one...

So, 1987 was a tremendous year in country music -- not necessarily a tremendous year for the CMA's. They got some things wrong and some things right. But I'm sure it was hard, with so much talent to pick from.

And God bless you, Holly Dunn. Thank you for the music.

The CMA Awards - Lookin' Alive in '85!

Twas the night before Thanksgiving, and what were we thankful for in 1985?

Well, certainly not world events. Quickly scanning the list, I find that there were a bunch of hijackings and other terroristic activities. We don't want to really dwell on that, though. This is supposed to be happy!

So, we (thankfully) move on to pop culture. On the TV front, this was one of the most popular shows; theme song sung by Johnny Mathis and Deniece Williams. And featuring some unknown kid named Michael J. Fox (Sit,Ubu, sit!)



In movies, coincidentally, here is the trailer for the biggest movie of the year; also starring that kid, Michael J. Fox. Wow! This trailer really wants to make me see the movie to find out what happens! (Ha! I kid! I've seen this movie about 1,537 times, and I still love it.)

Hello! McFly!



So, I'm thankful for "Back To The Future".

I'm also thankful that I get to see all the pop stars of the eighties, all in one place! This was one of the most popular recordings of 1985, and also won the Grammy award for record of the year.

And, as I said, they're all here; from Lionel Ritchie, to Stevie Wonder, Paul Simon, Kenny Rogers, James Ingram, Tina Turner, Billy Joel (my favorite and yours), Michael Jackson in an isolation booth, so he doesn't "catch" anything; Diana Ross, Dionne Warwick, Willie Nelson (representing the country crowd), Al Jarreau, an overwrought Bruce Springsteen, Kenny Loggins, Steve Perry (!!), Daryl Hall (unfortunately John Oates was relegated to the "chorus"), Huey Lewis, Cyndi Lauper, Kim Carnes, Bob Dylan (who was told to sing it more like "Bob Dylan"), and, of course, Ray Charles.

There were others there, too, but they, I guess, weren't good enough singers to warrant a solo. I mean, I can see Dan Ackroyd not getting a shot, but Smokey Robinson? Anyway, the song was writ' by Lionel and Michael, and the whole kaboodle was directed by Quincy Jones (you know, the dad of the girl who used to be on The Office? ha ha)

So, here you go; enjoy (especially Bruce and Bob - I know I do).



And, you know, the CMA's were not to be outdone. In 1985, they introduced a new category, MUSIC VIDEO OF THE YEAR. So, seeing the writing on the wall, Hank Williams, Jr. thought he'd get a bunch of people together, too - although it just didn't have the same cachet as We Are The World.

So, let me see. As I watch this, I see that little Paul guy who wrote "Evergreen". What's his name again? Oh, sorry. Paul Williams. Then I see that Ernest guy, from all those dumb Ernest movies, who used to do radio commercials, where he was always talking to "Vern". There's ol' George Jones on a riding lawn mower (as if that's not a cliche). William Lee Golden (and his boots) are hitchhiking. Little Jimmy Dickens is there, too, but then, he's in every country music video (right, Brad?) Not to be outdone by William Lee, the other three Oak Ridge Boys arrive by limo (and can you blame them for making William Lee hitch a ride?) Even Waylon and Willie are there! Grandpa Jones is cleaning his window (that he always takes with him), Jim Varney shows up, because at that point, he'll take any gig offered to him). Hey, wait a minute - isn't Jim Varney the "Ernest" guy? Now I've gotten my corny comic actors mixed up! I'm missing someone - help!

But moving on, Cheech Marin stumbles out of a limo. And whaddya know? There's Kris Kristofferson and Bobby Bare! Porter shows up. And even M-M-M-Mel.

Hank Williams Jr.

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So, it sort of would be the "We Are The World" of country in 1985, had it not been for the ringers, and of course, had it actually been for something benefitting humanity, and not just a prelude to Monday Night Football. But, as it is, All My Rowdy Friends Are Comin' Over Tonight won the very first music video of the year award at the 1985 CMA's.

Does it seem like this post is all about name dropping? Well, I am going for the record!

An oddity of 1985 was that an actual "duo" got shoved into another category to make room for this one-time pairing. And even after watching the video, nothing has jogged my memory about this. But here is the VOCAL DUO OF THE YEAR, Anne Murray and Dave Loggins:



Hey, I like both Dave Loggins and Anne Murray, but number one, this is not country, and two, a one-time duet doesn't deserve an "of the year" award, per se.

So, moving to the VOCAL GROUP OF THE YEAR podium were The Judds (and this was even before Wynonna gained her weight - so it was difficult to categorize them as a "group".)

Here they are at the 1985 Music City News Awards:



Did I mention that Chet Atkins was named INSTRUMENTALIST OF THE YEAR? Well, that's a given at this point, really.

And, oh, by the way, Ricky Skaggs and his Band* were once again named INSTRUMENTAL GROUP OF THE YEAR.

As for FEMALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR, well, Reba McEntire won again! If you recall, back around 1985, Reba was still "country". She was good then! And she looked "natural", as opposed to whatever she's done to herself lately.

This song is from the year that the award was bestowed, but alas, there is no actual video available. I thought it was good enough to include this "picture retrospective", however. At least we can listen to the song together, while we look at the pictures.



As the CMA was wont to do around this time, it liked certain things so much that it awarded them twice! And that's the case with the SONG OF THE YEAR. I can't actually begrudge them doing it. It's just that I maintain there were enough "new" songs/singers/et cetera to choose from, making it unnecessary to engage in reruns. Nevertheless, they liked this one a lot (and rightly so, I guess), to give the award again to Lee Greenwood for "God Bless The USA".

Last time around, I featured a live performance of the song by Lee. This time, I found the actual music video for the song. But to be honest, I can't believe this is the real music video. Because when I think about being proud of my country, the first thing I think of is not football. So, this is probably another one of those promotional things, but here it is anyway:

Lee Greenwood

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More CMT Music Videos

The SINGLE OF THE YEAR happens to be one of my favorite country songs. But wouldn't you know it, there's no video to be found of The Judds singing this live, or even in a music video.

So, let's watch the out-of-focus pictures as we listen to one of my favorites, Why Not Me.



The HORIZON AWARD went to a workhorse band, Sawyer Brown. Of course, in 1985, no one realized what a workhorse band they were. But believe me, I saw the band in concert more than a few times, so I know they were out there on the road a lot.

I don't know why, but it's really difficult to find Sawyer Brown videos anywhere. But thanks to Windy, I found a site with lots of cool Sawyer Brown videos. Click here:

kokosuniverse.com

Mark Miller is a cool guy. And did you know that the band got its start on a show called "Star Search", emceed by Ed McMahon? Well, I remember it. And they were a completely different band at that time - more "jaunty"; less "country". But they redeemed themselves. I just don't know why they don't allow any of their videos to be posted anywhere. But I'm sure they have their reasons.

I have sort of been saving these two awards, cuz well, this is one of the best country singers of ALL TIME. But alas, the available videos are sparse. This has something to do with MCA Records and their short-sightedness. Not to judge, but they could make George's videos available for embedding. I mean, what's it gonna hurt? For pete's sake.

But we work with what we've got (which isn't much). The MALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR and ALBUM OF THE YEAR were awarded to George Strait. And no, this song isn't technically from the album of the year, Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind, but go ahead and try to find any videos from this album. Good luck. So here's another song from around that time:



This was 1985, mind you. Now it's 2008, and George is still scoring number one records. So, hmmm.......I guess we know who is a legend and who's but a flash in the pan.

That brings us to the ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR. And I do believe this is the longest CMA post that I've done, and hopefully will ever do again. I don't know how this post got out of hand, but it did. In spades.

Nevertheless, the entertainer of the year was Ricky Skaggs. And here's a number one song by Ricky - an oldie - with his mentor, Bill Monroe:



Tonight, I downloaded a bunch of Ricky Skaggs recordings from Amazon. These posts are influencing me! I had forgotten how much I liked Ricky.

Hall Of Fame

Flatt and Scruggs

Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs brought bluegrass into the mainstream. And yea, they did it partly by providing the backdrop to that sixties chestnut, The Beverly Hillbillies.

But that's not Flatt and Scruggs' only claim to fame.

Here's an old video:



One of the biggest movies of 1967 was "Bonnie and Clyde". And this song set the tone:



Yes, "Foggy Mountain Breakdown".

Marty Stuart started out touring with Lester Flatt as a mere tyke. And Marty won't steer you wrong. So, take it from Marty, and take it from "Bonnie and Clyde". This bluegrass group is a legend.

Thus ends our (long) look back to the CMA's of 1985. Either there was a lot of stuff to talk about, or I have lost my editing ability. But there it is. I don't think 1986 will be quite so wordy, but time will tell.