Showing posts with label connie smith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label connie smith. Show all posts

Sunday, January 23, 2022

Dallas Frazier

 
 
The first time I saw Dallas Frazier's name was in the liner notes of Connie Smith's "The Best Of Connie Smith" album in 1967.

Thereafter, his name kept popping up, like on this one:

Before long his name was everywhere. As one who was coming to country music as a neophyte, I paid attention to "important" names. It seemed this Dallas Frazier guy was important.



 

So, I met Dallas Frazier via Connie Smith.

Frazier started out as a prodigy vocalist, at age fourteen, then went on to write novelty songs like Alley Oop, recorded by the Hollywood Argyles in 1957. It wasn't until he moved to Nashville that his songwriting career took off -- and boy, did it. Different songwriters dominated the country scene depending upon the era. In the late fifties/early sixties it was Hank Cochran and Harlan Howard. By the mid-sixties/early seventies Dallas Frazier assumed the mantle.

A few examples:


 

(rendered by the songwriter himself)
 

 
 
Naturally, this is the song that is Dallas Frazier's claim to fame:
 
(Oh, you like it; admit it.)

I readily admit I don't know every single song Dallas Frazier ever wrote. But this one is probably my favorite:

(sorry, no decent live performance to be found)

In 1976 Dallas Frazier retired from the music business and became an ordained minister, which is sublimely cool. As poetic as his written words were, I bet he gave a helluva sermon.

Dallas Frazier passed away on January 14, 2022, and the country angels cried. I'm sure he saved some souls along the way, whether through his preaching or via my preferred way ~ a crisp, succinct musical message.

RIP, Dallas Frazier.

Saturday, August 1, 2020

Bill Mack





Around the time I finished eighth grade in May of 1969, life at home spiraled into chaos. For two years I'd dealt with my dad's blackout drunks and my parents' fighting over it, to the point of fingernail slashes and pummeling fists. I was a wreck; but loathe to let it show (a prime characteristic of a child of alcoholism). I have pushed many of those days from my mind -- all the days tended to melt into one anyway; but my pre-high school summer was not one of fun and frolic.

Mom's doctor prescribed tranquilizer, Miltowns, to help her cope; thus, she slept a lot and wasn't especially coherent when she was out of bed. My two older sisters lived with their families in Fort Worth and through second-hand feedback, became alarmed about the situation. Thus, my sister Rosie and her husband flew up to assess. I don't know if I ever learned how it was determined that my seven-year-old sister and I would return with them to Fort Worth to "stay a while". Why my eight-year-old brother wasn't included, I cannot explain. Of course, I was ignorant of the entire plan until it was sprung on me, so I wasn't privy to those conversations.

The four of us took the train from Bismarck to Fort Worth, with lots of little adventures along the way; some odd; but all of them fun for a newly-minted teenager who'd never ridden a train in her life. My other sister Carole had four boys and a husband, so we bunked with Rosie and her husband in their apartment and slept on a fold-out couch in their living room. I had no inkling how long this experiment would last; all I knew was that I needed to get back in time for the start of school in the fall. In the meantime, I had fun...especially without that ninety-pound weight of dread crushing my chest.

The two couples loved the night, maybe because it allowed them to escape the oppressive Texas heat. Thus the gaggle of us attended a lot of drive-in movies and otherwise stayed up late and played board games; my sisters drinking Dr. Pepper and their husbands chugging Dr. Pepper plus...something. In the background always was the radio, tuned to the hottest country station in the south, WBAP.

That's when I first heard the voice of Bill Mack. I'm not sure if it was circumstances; being lonely for home, yet afraid to go there, or my tiny mixed-up emotions, but Bill Mack's voice was a comfort to me. He just talked. Disc jockeys today, if any remain, love to fake it. Big booming radio voices; super-jazzed all the time over virtually nothing, even partly cloudy skies! Bill liked to have a conversation, albeit one way, with his listeners. He also liked to spin good country music. Bill didn't play much Glen Campbell; he did play Faron Young and Johnny Bush. Night after night, above the laughter and ribbing, we all listened to Bill Mack talk to us.

Summer's end closed in and sure enough, my little sister and I were sent home. Tears ensued. We flew this time, Mom or Dad having sent a check to cover our flight. Miraculously, everything at home was different! No, actually nothing was different. Life went on; I started my new life as a high schooler. My little brother and sister skipped on to their next grades. That may have been around the time that Dad entered rehab for his second shot at it, and I think Mom kicked her pill habit. I never believed any changes would last for long, and I was right.

On nights when I didn't have to kick back early, however, I tuned my portable radio to try to capture either WHO or WBAP, and I lay awake long past midnight just listening. On an occasional lucky night, through the static, I got to hear Bill Mack talk to me.

***

I would be derelict in my duties as an unknown blogger if I didn't talk a bit about Bill Mack the songwriter. I honestly had no idea that this giant radio voice could also write songs until I bought a Connie Smith album and perused the liner notes. In parenthesis beneath the song title, Clinging To A Saving Hand, I read "Bill Mack". The Bill Mack? What the hell?


In 1968, Cal Smith recorded and reached number thirty-five on the charts with "Drinkin' Champagne". And here you thought it was an original George Strait track (silly!) Of course we don't get to "see" Cal performing the song:


Nor do we get to see George sing it:


We do, however, get to watch Dean Martin's version. Not many country songs lend themselves so readily to easy listening (I guess you'd call it). This one does. I'll take the country stylings, even though I like Dino a bunch. Drinkin' Champagne is apparently just a versatile as Yesterday, only a better song.



No, I didn't forget. LeAnn Rimes had a nice little career going before she abandoned it, and it was all thanks to Bill Mack. By 1996 country music had long begun its subtle shift toward pap. Oh, there were stone country hits certainly, "Blue Clear Sky", anything Alan Jackson recorded; but too came the nauseating drivel of Tim McGraw, John Michael Montgomery, Faith Hill. When "Blue" came pouring out of the radio, out of nowhere, I wasn't sure what decade I was in. This was indisputably a sixties country song. In fact, Bill wrote the song in 1958, and no, he didn't write it for Patsy Cline, but that's a nice story.


Rest in peace, Bill Mack. Thanks for the conversations.















Friday, September 27, 2019

Ken Burns "Country Music" ~ Episode Five


Proportionally, "Country Music" has become The Johnny Cash Show. I admit I don't see, and never have seen the allure. If country fans in the nineteen sixties had been tasked with listing their top ten favorite artists, I'm skeptical that Cash would have even made the list, except for sixty-year-old bachelors who lived in a tin shed with a broken-coil mattress and a bottle of Jack.

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, let's move on.

I truly appreciated the minutes dedicated to the Nashville session players. I was quite the scrutinizer of  album liner notes back in the day (what else does one do while the LP is spinning?), and certain names checked in the episode bring back fond memories ~ Hargus "Pig" Robbins, Lloyd Green, even Charlie McCoy, who I was completely unaware played the lead guitar intro to Detroit City (Bobby Bare's voice singing in the background of the segment was the only nod to him in this series ~ the story of his sadly uncelebrated career). We even got to see Green play a few bars of Steel Guitar Rag.

I was heartened that Roger Miller got his due. There was no one bigger in the first years of the sixties, except for Buck Owens. And I always liked Miller ~ the guy ~ as well as his goofy, dizzy songs. I haven't mentioned in past recaps how much I love seeing Ralph Emery, the "DJ Exalted", recount his memories. Ralph knows a lot, and I'm glad he agreed to share some of those secrets with the director. (I suspect there's a bunch that are best kept close to the vest.)

The first bars of Buckaroo gave my heart a jolt. This is my country. As much as I've denigrated what Buck Owens sunk to in later years, he re-ignited a country music that had slumbered into unconsciousness, thanks to Chet Atkins' "Nashville Sound". Based upon the outsize influence Owens had on country, his time on screen was unfairly brief and mostly dedicated to The Beatles having chosen to record Act Naturally. I think Don Rich was mentioned once. People who know country, as opposed to neophytes, know that Don Rich deserved more than a single name-drop.

"I guess you had to be there.". Okay, I was there, and I still didn't quite get what Loretta Lynn did ~ until now. In the moment, one judges music for its immediate appeal. We don't consider the sociological implications (hello?). I used to find Loretta corny. Don't get me wrong ~ I liked her early songs. I saw her in concert a couple of times, the first when I was around ten at Panther Hall in Fort Worth, Texas. And I bought her albums, but again, I pretty much bought what was available. I find Coal Miner's Daughter tedious in its repetition. But Loretta put herself out there ~ all her inner feelings and hurts ~ and didn't care who liked it and who didn't. Today I give her props. She wasn't singing songs penned by men who "imagined" how women felt. She wrote her own, and they were true.

Charley Pride's first album may have been the first country LP I purchased. When Alice and I first heard "The Easy Part's Over" on the radio, we agreed it was a good song. We didn't know he was African-American. Radio hid that, as if we'd care. I vaguely remember learning that fact and being flabbergasted, not because I was racist, but because I didn't think Black artists would stoop to singing country. My one-time favorite singer, Faron Young, became Charley's champion. So much crap has been written about Faron, it's heartening to hear sweet stories, especially coming from Pride himself.

Then there was Merle. Wow, did he get short shrift. How about if Ken re-packages the series and replaces all the Cash segments with Haggard? Let's' just get this out there ~ Merle Haggard was the most influential country artist ever. But thanks, Dwight Yoakam, for tearing up recounting Holding Things Together. I get a lump in my throat every time I see Merle on screen or catch the intro to one of his hundreds of songs.

Surprisingly Connie Smith got her due. Let's be frank ~ I bought far more Connie Smith albums than I ever considered buying by Loretta Lynn. Frankly, Connie Smith was the female artist of the sixties. I'm also glad that Marty Stuart got to relay the story of their relationship. I'm a fan of both of them.

Sooo....then we begin Dolly Parton's story. The episode forgot to mention that Dolly met her future husband, Carl Dean, on her first day in Nashville, at a laundromat. Otherwise, it told her early musical story competently. It kind of brushed past the part about Porter and Dolly's many, many hit albums ("recorded a few duet albums together" ~ okay).

"Ode To Billy Joe" was mentioned, although frankly, that track got played a lot more on pop radio than on country. And how could we escape the sixties without "Harper Valley PTA"? (Tom T, what do you have against writing choruses?)

Annnnnd.......now back to Johnny. Yep, he recorded Folsom Prison Blues around '68, live, at a prison. And the rest of us were imprisoned by that song for about one long year (chunka-chunka-chunka).

I'm guessing Tammy Wynette is featured in Episode Six. I'm guessing Lynn Anderson is not. We already know that Bobby Bare is apparently a footnote.

As much as I like and appreciate "Country Music", Ken kind of fumbled this particular era. And no mention of Conway Twitty? I'm no fan, but come on.

But hey, Jeannie Seely, nice to see you! And "Don't Touch Me" is a great song.



















Saturday, September 14, 2019

September Is Country Music Month ~ Oops, Let's Go Back





I was so excited to begin country music month, I realize I gave short shrift to the decade of the sixties. Granted, for part of the sixties I was too young to remember much, but the wonder of music is, one can hear songs from eons before and fall in love with them still.

When I embraced country around 1967, I knew I had a lot of catching up to do. It wasn't that I was oblivious to country music entirely; my mom and dad's tastes had seeped inside my brain. But I was a sixties kid ~ I liked The Beatles and other assorted British Invasion groups. I'd had a brief interlude in the mid-decade of residing at my uncle's restaurant/bar establishment, and what else was there beside the radio and the jukebox? My uncle Howard stocked his machine with the latest country hits of the day, because that was expected by couples who stopped in to sip beer and whiskey sours and chance onto the dance floor for a two-step. So I knew who Buck Owens was, and I was familiar with exactly one Bobby Bare song.

As I researched "old" country, however, I found some gems; so let's stroll through the decade, shall we?

1960. This is not just the best song of 1960, it's one of the best country songs (er, instrumentals) ever. No one records instrumentals anymore ~ they died when the decade ended. It's quite a feat to grab one of the top twenty-five "best country songs ever" slots with a song that has no words. Words equal emotion. How can an instrumental do that? Here's how:



1961.

'61 is tough, because there is more than one song that tops the year. There are, in fact, three; and two of them were written by Willie Nelson:







1962. '62 is tough. It wasn't the best year for country singles (sort of like 1981). One looks for songs that later became classics, and there really weren't many. I'm going to pick a couple that I either like for my own reasons or were later re-recorded and became even bigger hits:





Things started getting interesting in 1963. Suddenly Bakersfield was giving Nashville a run for its money, but never fear ~ producer Chet Atkins was on the case, especially with a song written by Mel Tillis:



June wrote a song for Johnny:



Then there was Buck:



Something happened in 1964 ~ a phenomenon. This new guy who was sorta weird, but sorta mesmerizing, suddenly appeared. He was all over every network TV show, and none of the hosts actually spoke to him, because they were too busy having a laugh at his expense. Turns out Roger Miller was no flash in the pan and no joke. He'd written a lot of classic country hits before he embarked on a solo career. But what did network people know? Who's laughing now, idiots?



Take your Lorettas; take your Norma Jeans. This new girl singer (with the songwriting assistance of Bill Anderson) started racking up a string of number ones in 1964, and didn't stop for another decade:



I'm not one of those "George Jones is the greatest country singer of all time" adherents, but this song was pretty cool:



Truly, Roger Miller and Buck Owens dominated 1965, but since I've already featured them, let's find a few other gems.





1966 was rather a transitional year. Buck and Roger and Johnny were still dominating, but a few new voices appeared, such as David Houston and some guy named Merle. A young kid who called himself Hank, Junior, first appeared on the charts. There are those who worship Hank, Jr.; one of those people is not me. The fanatics are unaware of his early recording history ~ not me. But I digress.

You know that Ray Price holds a special place in my heart, and he had three hits in the top 100 in '66. Here's one:



Then there was this new girl singer:



1967 is where I come in, which is a weird time to show up, considering that the charts were dominated by yucky Jimmy Webb songs and pseudo-folk protest tracks like Skip A Rope. The first country albums I bought were by Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings, and Charley Pride. Even at age twelve I had good taste.







Here's a bonus:





By 1968 Merle was a superstar, Glen Campbell was still churning out pop hits, Tammy had the hit that would define her career. Johnny Cash had a network TV show.

I've been trying not to repeat artists, but this particular hit has special meaning to me ~ not because I was in prison or anything ~ but because this was a hit the year I actually "met" Merle Haggard:



Just because live performance videos of David Houston are infinitesimal doesn't mean he wasn't huge in the sixties, because he was ~ I was there. It bothers me that simply because an artist died years ago, we tend to erase them from history. I would feature one of Houston's hits, but I can't find them. This phenomenon also applies to Wynn Stewart, who, if you don't believe me, none other than Dwight Yoakam cites as one of his early influences. Here he is, with none other than Don Rich:



Something interesting happened in 1968 ~ a rock 'n roll icon decided he wanted to go country. And if you know anything about Jerry Lee Lewis, you know he does exactly what he wants. I love Jerry Lee:



This new duo showed up in 1968, featuring a girl singer with impossibly high blonde hair. I wonder whatever happened to her:



Lynn Anderson was more (much more) than Rose Garden, a song I came to truly hate after hearing it on the radio one bazillion times. Lynn is another somebody who should not be forgotten. Before her then-husband got his hooks into her and moved her to Columbia Records, she was truly country, and her Chart albums prove it. Here is a hit from '68:



No disrespect to Merle, but this is the best song that came out of 1968. On the rare instances when I hear it on Willie's Roadhouse, I am right there croaking along (he sings higher than I can). Johnny Bush:



1969 was Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. And Merle. You might not know that there were others, and there definitely were. Faron Young was my favorite country singer for years, until George Strait showed up. And speaking of sing-along country songs, well, here you go:



Maybe it was my pop roots peeking through, but I played the hell out of this '45, recorded by a former member of Paul Revere and the Raiders and written by Joe South (curse you, Joe, for Rose Garden).

Freddy Weller:



Yea, the sixties ~ that decade became imprinted on my musical mind and never left. Maybe it was my age; maybe it was simply that country was so good; so pure. So new? The sixties were a renaissance. The nineteen eighties were an epiphany, but they couldn't have happened without the sixties.

And so the river flows...




Friday, May 24, 2019

Sixty-Four Years of Music ~ Taking a Sharp Turn


Kids are very durable. Flexible ~ sort of like Gumby. The first time a bad thing happens, they freak out, but freaking out night after night is exhausting; so intuition eventually kicks in. It's amazing what a kid can disregard while remaining keenly attuned to her surroundings. It becomes a way of life. I'm not certain that my sense of hearing is sharper than most people's, but it's damn good. It's all those years of practice. Inevitably, bad things would happen at night, because that's when a drunk manages to stumble home. Night is when the screaming brawls occur.

There was a time in my life when I could fall asleep easily. That ended around age eleven and I've been cursed with insomnia ever since. Every little floor creak, even with foam plugs shoved inside my ears, startles me. It's the "fight or flight" phenomenon. My dad was a falling-down, albeit happy drunk, while my mom was enraged, spewing sailor's epithets, her fingernails clawing his face. At ten o'clock at night, with an early morning bus to catch,

I essentially ignored the rows and tried to fall back asleep like my younger brother and sister had done quite effortlessly on the bottom bunk. Still, I had to be on guard for that moment when my mom would scream, "Call the sheriff!" and I would have to slide down from my second-story tower and stumble to the telephone and lie that my dad was assaulting my mother, when in fact, he was deliriously content on his makeshift bed on the shag carpet, and she was the one who was dangerously homicidal.

This new reality began right at the time I'd been uprooted from the only home I'd ever known and plopped down in the middle of the parched prairie with no friends and no lifelines ~ because life would be "better" here.

My pop singles soothed me for a time. If I cranked up the volume enough, I could almost drown out the screaming. Then a completely unexpected thing happened ~ I made a friend. When kids meet other kids, the primary topic of conversation (at least then) was music. "Who do you like?" "What's your favorite record?" I expected to hear The Beatles or at the very least The Monkees, but Alice said, "I like country music." Well, this was an unanticipated response. Country music? My parents owned a Ray Price album and a Buck Owens album. I also knew who Bobby Bare was. That, in a nutshell, was my encyclopedic knowledge of country.

Becoming friends with Alice was like jetting across the ocean to a foreign country for the first time. I had to forget everything I'd ever known and take a crash course in Esperanto, otherwise known as twang. I sat cross-legged on the floor of her living room while she spun records by people I'd never heard of once in my life. Granted, she had some very obscure tastes, like Carl Butler and Pearl (as they were booked) and Porter Wagoner, who wasn't at all good until he teamed up with a blonde bee-hived little girl singer.

The most revelatory artist Alice introduced me to was named Merle Haggard, who was brand-spankin' new on the scene, but definitely had a certain something I could get on board with. This Haggard guy's recordings were heavy on Telecaster, bass, and crying steel. His music reminded me a bit of my parents' Buck Owens albums, only with far superior singing and heart-searing harmonies. This was someone I could claim as my own and stamp myself a country fan. Thank God. Because I was worried I wouldn't like anybody and then I'd lose my new friend as quickly as I'd found her (or, more accurately, as she'd found me).


Adaptability is innate. Once you discover something, then you discover other somethings. The first thing I discovered without Alice's help was Waylon Jennings.


There was a new guy who was being played on the radio (I'd since switched my allegiance from KFYR to KBMR) and both Alice and I liked this song. Later we heard rumors about him that couldn't possibly be true, because he was stone country:


As for female singers, there were a few, but she was the ultimate:



Although this new gal was pretty good:



Yep, I'd become immersed. And it didn't take long. Eventually I saved up my pennies and bought that red acoustic guitar in the window at Dahmer's Music and Alice came over and taught me how to form chords. Now I could play along with my favorite Haggard and Pride songs.

I became even better at drowning out the scuffles happening outside my bedroom door. I'd found a reason to soldier on.

Country music turned into everything for me. Until it wasn't. Until it disappointed me.

But that would take a few years....












Friday, October 19, 2018

Yay For Women Artists?

So CMT (which used to be a network), in a shameless publicity grab, decided to anoint all women as "artists of the year". First of all, if you've got about twenty of them, that kinda dilutes the artist of the year moniker. Secondly, who is CMT to decide anything? The only admirable thing CMT has done in the past thirty years is pick up the series Nashville after ABC canceled it.

I remember CMT when it was actually watchable. That's when the great Ralph Emery had a nightly talk show that featured real country artists, and when videos were broadcast that one could distinguish from crappy pop. Everything doesn't get better with age.

Carrie Underwood, Miranda Lambert, Maren Morris, Kelsea Ballerini, Hillary Scott of Lady Antebellum, and Karen Fairchild and Kimberly Schlapman of Little Big Town were the honorees. I know what you're thinking ~ who now? I know Carrie Underwood from watching American Idol all those years ago, and I know Miranda from the tabloids. I didn't watch the telecast, but it seems that the gals honored those time-honored country artists Aretha Franklin and Gladys Knight.

I understand that Carrie is a true country girl at heart, but she's a slave to radio and has to record the stuff that people (apparently) buy, but I don't really admire an artist who sells out. Doesn't she have enough cache now to record whatever the hell she wants? The gals paid lip service to Loretta Lynn and...apparently that's it....and sang a bunch of songs written by guys, which rather undermines the whole #women rule meme.

The problem I have with women who claim they're all powerful is that they seem desperate to prove it by whining a whole lot. That's not powerful; that's pitiful.

For those "artists of the year" who don't know country history (which seems to be all of them), here are some women who didn't whine:














The number one non-whiner was a broad who didn't give a damn that Roy Acuff and Faron Young were on the same bill. She knew she commanded the stage, and she didn't need a hashtag to tell the world she had arrived.

So, for all you Aretha and Gladys fans out there, here is some real country music:


But just keep thinking you're "all that". Those who don't know better will believe you. 

I am one who knows better.

 







 




Saturday, August 1, 2015

Lynn Anderson


“I am a huge fan of Lynn’s,” Reba McEntire said. “She was always so nice to me. She did so much for the females in country music. Always continuing to pave the road for those to follow."

In the country music world of the sixties, there were essentially two tiers of female artists. The top tier consisted of Loretta Lynn and Tammy Wynette, who got all the press, good and bad. The second tier, and the chart gobblers, were Connie Smith and Lynn Anderson. I'm not saying Connie and Lynn had more top ten hits than Tammy and Loretta, but I'm also not saying they didn't. Look it up.

In my research today, I came across a site where a guy listed his thirty-six favorite female artists from the nineteen sixties, and he didn't even include Lynn Anderson! Number one, I didn't even know there were thirty-six female artists during that decade (well thirty-seven, ahem), and number two, the dude is either a hater or a dweeb. He even listed Jeannie C. Riley, and she only had one hit!

But that's sort of the story of Lynn's career. It seemed to me at the time that she didn't garner respect from the Nashville establishment - of course, they hated Buck Owens, too, because like Lynn he was from, of all places, California! And don't even get them started on Bakersfield's Merle Haggard, although they pretty much couldn't ignore him after awhile (snicker). Connie Smith was always placed on a pedestal, as she still is, and rightfully so. I love Connie Smith. It didn't hurt, though, that she had the backing of Bill Anderson, a songwriting and Nashville god. Meanwhile, Lynn just kept racking up the hits.

People remember Lynn Anderson, if they remember her at all, from her nineteen seventies hits. I prefer the tracks from her Chart Records days, before she moved on to bigger, shinier Columbia Records. Chart Records was an independent label that had the good taste to sign artists who were languishing without a deal, for no apparent reason other than that some of them were from California. LaWanda Lindsey, whom you've no doubt never heard of, had her first hits on Chart Records, before, like Lynn, moving on; in LaWanda's case to Capitol. Look her up sometime. Needless to say, I was a big Chart Records aficionado.

Lynn was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota (like me) to songwriting parents, Liz and Casey Anderson. Liz wrote "(My Friends Are Gonna Be) Strangers" for Merle Haggard. He liked the song so much he named his band after it. Liz also wrote "I'm A Lonesome Fugitive" for Merle. As a kid, Lynn's family moved to California (gasp!) and Lynn later became a featured vocalist on the Lawrence Welk Show (Lawrence, like me, was from...well, you get the gist.) As an aside, my mom always claimed she was a cousin, a few times removed, of Lynn's. I never did obtain definitive proof, so it may be a wishful fable.  Oh, and my last name, too, is Anderson. Whoo! Eerie! (kidding).

There was never a time that the Lawrence Welk Show wasn't thought of as cheesy. I certainly considered it so. But Mom and Dad loved it. Again, it was the sixties, so there were three major broadcast channels. Therefore I am willing to cut Mom and Dad some slack. But honestly, where was a young California girl to go to launch a singing career? She wasn't seasoned enough to join Buck's stable (oh, that doesn't sound good - I mean, stable of artists). So, network exposure? Why not? She was the only good thing about the show, except maybe for that ragtime piano player, who fascinated me as a kid. Yea, I took accordion lessons, too; no doubt my dad's decision was influenced by that damn show. Thanks, Dad. If I remember, when I wasn't snoring into my floor pillow, Lynn only got to do one number per week, but it was the highlight of that snooze-fest. And Lawrence seemed to like her.

This show was where Lynn introduced some of her first hits.

Like this:



Wow, she looks like a little kid here! I was such a dork, I learned all the words to this song.

 Okay, one more. Both of these songs were covers, but what the heck? (I never learned how to do this, by the way.)



Yes, she is lip-syncing both of these, but maybe Lawrence didn't have a steel guitar player. Also, I guess a drum kit isn't the only thing that has a "high hat". But it was the conservative sixties - conservative in some corners, including my parents' living room.

Soon Lynn moved on to bigger things like Hee Haw? I guess you had to be there.


Liz Anderson wrote this song, along with many of Lynn's early hits. 

Naturally, all the songs I love have no live performance videos. Lynn was at her best on ballads. She had the voice of an angel.

Here's one (just pictures, sorry):



One more:


When Lynn married Glenn Sutton and moved to Columbia Records, somebody (I'm not pointing fingers) picked out for her some inferior material.

It didn't start out too badly:


At least this track had a banjo (when banjos weren't de rigueur, like they are now, to prove that country artists are actually country - doesn't really work).

She even dusted off an old Johnnie Ray torch song from the fifties (yea, I don't know how I know that, either):


No respect.

I can't blame Glenn Sutton for Lynn's omnipresent hit from 1970. She picked that one out all by herself. Written by Joe South to be sung by a man, Lynn was enamored by it and insisted on recording it during a session which had fifteen minutes left and no more songs to record. I didn't like the song then; I don't like it now. But that's just me. It's...monotonous? And imagine hearing it fifty times a day on the radio. One would get sick of a song real fast, even one they initially liked.

Nevertheless, this recording cemented Lynn's career. So, who am I to quibble?


Some of the Lynn Anderson albums I own?





(It really doesn't look this goth in person.)





I most likely own more. 

I am a Lynn Anderson geek. I love Patsy, I love Tammy, I love Connie Smith; but I never felt the personal connection with them that I did with Lynn. Time (decades?) goes by and we get distracted by life. I hadn't listened to a Lynn Anderson track in years. And then I read that she'd died. She was only sixty-seven; far too young. Lynn had some hard knocks along the way; I'm not interested in rehashing those.

A lot of artists don't get their due. I don't know why that is. I don't believe Lynn got hers. She only drew attention when she became a pop star. Everybody missed the beautiful country recordings that came before. Well, not everybody.

Memories come tied with raffia - often pretty, sometimes rough to the touch.  This news is rough, but the music is so pretty.





















Friday, July 20, 2012

Kitty Wells ~ A Good Life

Kitty Wells, the queen of country music, died Monday, July 16.  She was 92 years old!

It's hard, now, to imagine a country music world without female singers, but there was a time.  1952, to be exact.

To say that Kitty Wells opened doors for women singers is an understatement.  Without Kitty, there would be no Loretta, no Tammy, no Dolly, no Shania; certainly no Carrie or Taylor.

Apparently, in the world of country music, in 1952, women weren't only to be seen and not heard, they weren't even supposed to be seen!

Kitty only recorded her signature song in order to earn the $125.00 that the recording session paid.  She was a wife and a mom, and was looking forward to getting off the road, and staying home.

If only she'd known.


How many girl singers have covered that song?  Which ones haven't?

This is my favorite cover.  Why?   Well, there are four legends on this recording (sorry, no video to be found):



Tonight, I thought I'd let a couple who have followed in her footsteps pay their own tributes to Kitty:






Rest in peace, Kitty.  What an admirable life.






Friday, June 1, 2012

Golden Voices






NPR (one of my faves?) has an online article, titled, "50 Great Voices".

Lists such as these are always interesting, but are generally consensual ~ a group of individuals gets together and hashes out their mutual top 50; weeding and eliminating and ranking artists as they go.

Music, however, is personal, emotional, and, I believe, mostly biographical.  Perhaps most of us can agree that certain voices are technically superior.  That does not account, however, for each of our life stories, and the way certain singers have influenced our own lives.  It's not necessarily the vocal prowess; often it's the way they have laid their hand upon our shoulder.     

And who, really, can even think of their own top singers, without first hearing them and realizing, hey!  This is one of my top singers!  Truly, one cannot even narrow the list to 50.  Somebody else is inevitably going to pop up; someone we hadn't even thought about.

I do know who my ultimate favorite singer is, but, in fairness, I have had almost 60 years to ponder the question (although I don't think I actually ever pondered it.  Maybe I did, when I was around 13, but what did I know then?)

But, for fun tonight, I thought I would search out some video performances of singers I really like.  All of them may not be the world's greatest singers, but don't forget the emotional and biographical aspect of this exercise.

There is no order to this, so I'm not ranking anybody.  I will, however, save the best for last (at least my best).

Steve Perry




Burton Cummings (and the Guess Who)



Art Garfunkel





Sam Cooke





Gordon Lightfoot



Daryl Hall (Hall & Oates)



Al Green (yea, the real one)



John Lennon (and the Beatles)




Eddie Brigati (and the Rascals)



Brian Wilson (and the Beach Boys)



Bill Medley (and the Righteous Brothers)



Connie Smith



Gene Watson




Tammy Wynette



Patsy Cline



Merle Haggard




George Strait



Dwight Yoakam



Roy Orbison




I know I have left out a bunch.  Inevitably.  I'm one of those people who is all about the songs, more so than the singers, usually.  I mean, if I was just going to list songs, I'd include Sheena Easton here.  Seriously. And ABBA.

I did try, however, to include the singers whose bodies of work are, to me, indisputable.

And yes, Alex, ultimately, I will go with Roy Orbison for the win.  I've heard a bunch in my 57 years, but I have never, and will never, hear one better.

But the question remains....Who are your golden voices?  Let me know, please.   I would love to discover artists I've missed, or don't even know about.

What's better than sharing music?  Nothin'.






























Friday, April 6, 2012

Yet More Great Country Artists from the Seventies ~ Faron Young


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



This song was written by Jeannie Seely:



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



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



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



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



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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

But here is "Four In The Mornin'":



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

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

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



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



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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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






















Wednesday, March 14, 2012

2012 Country Music Hall of Fame Inductees


On March 6, the 2012 inductees into the Country Music Hall of Fame were announced.

I'm always interested in the inductee announcement, because, let's face it, these guys/gals are closer to my generation than someone named Dierks or Luke or Carrie or the gender-neutral name, Taylor.

And thus, they are naturally better.  But that goes without saying, although I just said it.

Every year, there are good surprises and "eh" surprises, I guess.  The only problem I have with the annual choices, in actuality, is that so many deserving artists are passed over (Bobby Bare).

But I can't quibble with the 2012 inductees.  I can quibble about the timing, in one case, but that's all.

So, let's begin.

GARTH BROOKS

The class of 1989 was comprised of a bunch of valedictorians.  People whose names now roll off the tongue were "these new guys that are pretty good", back then.


There was Clint Black; there was Alan Jackson; there was Travis Tritt.  There was also Lorrie Morgan, Mary Chapin Carpenter, and Lionel Cartwright.


I was a rabid fan of country music back then (unlike now), and I two-stepped in the honky tonks, too.  I know what was being played the most, not only on the radio, but in the clubs.  It wasn't actually Garth Brooks.  It was Clint Black, Dwight Yoakam, George Strait, Highway 101, Rodney Crowell, and the Judds.


Garth was sort of an afterthought in 1989.  He had some tune about being much too young to feel so damn old.  That song was basically what any fan knew him by, if they knew him at all.

On the other hand, one could not escape "Better Man", even if they'd wanted to, which they didn't.  It was a good song, as was "Killin' Time".  There was, of course, "If Tomorrow Never Comes", but you couldn't really dance to it.  It was one of those, "let's admire it" songs, but not a "fun" song.  As was, "The Dance".


It wasn't really until 1990, when that ubiquitous ditty, "Friends In Low Places" began playing non-stop on one's car radio; so much so that, even if you finally had had enough, and you flipped the radio button to the "off" position, the damn song just kept playing.


I distinctly remember driving somewhere in my little town, and hearing that song for the five millionth time, and thinking, oh my God, I just can't take it anymore!

So, Garth, of course, hit us with both barrels, as they say.  He started out bland, and then became vociferous, and then finally just overwhelmed us with his "Garth-ness".  Face it, the albums weren't very good.  I bought them.  At least the first three.  Aside from the radio singles, the songs were throwaways.  Although to watch Garth in a TV interview, or read a magazine article, one would think these songs were chosen with the UTMOST care; they were the CREAM OF THE CROP, and if we (the fans) didn't "get" them, then there was something wrong with US.

Garth also overwhelmed us with his narcissism.  I wonder if he realizes that now, and possibly regrets it.  I wonder if maybe he decided to retire because he instinctively knew that we (the fans) just couldn't TAKE any more of his ego.  And meanwhile, good ol' Alan Jackson just kept steadily rolling along, doing his country songs; ones that weren't written by Billy Joel, but rather were written by Alan Jackson.


But, all ego aside, one cannot deny that Garth Brooks was THE biggest thing to hit country music in...well, a long time....at least until Shania Twain came along.  So, that's why the Country Music Hall of Fame has now inducted him.  Gotta give the guy his ($$) due.


The other thing that I have found out, the hard way, is that it's really difficult to find Garth Brooks videos on the web.  Why that is, I can only speculate.  My deduction is that Garth does not WANT to make his videos available.  I don't know why.  I honestly don't know why any artist would not want to make his videos available.  I thought artists were all about the publicity.

But I did manage to find a couple, from the 1989-ish era.  Here is one:


Watch Garth Brooks "The Dance" in Music  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com


Garth Brooks Central Park-Friends In Low Places by bigjmac0815

I obviously would include more videos, if there were any.

HARGUS "PIG" ROBBINS

Anybody who ever bought a country album, and who ever read the liner notes, knows the name Hargus "Pig" Robbins.  Hargus "Pig" Robbins' name was listed on practically every country album, ever.


The greatest piano session player that Nashville ever saw.  That was Pig.


The first hit song that Pig played on was this one, in 1959:




Here are some of the other artists Pig has recorded with:  Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, Connie Smith, Tanya Tucker, Crystal Gayle, Ernest Tubb, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Bobby Bare, the Statler Brothers, Gary Stewart, Kenny Rogers, Conway Twitty, Lynn Anderson (Rose Garden), Merle Haggard, Bob Dylan (on his 1966 classic Blonde on Blonde album), Joan Baez, Peter, Paul & Mary, John Denver, Doug Sahm, the Everly Brothers, Ray Charles, Tom Jones, etc., etc.  Obviously, I'm leaving out a bunch.

Let me tell you, it is IMPOSSIBLE to find any performance videos of Pig Robbins.  I tried, and I tried, and I tried for about half an hour, before finally giving in.

You're just going to have to take my word for it.  Or read your album liner notes.  He was there on all of them.

This is an award that is much deserved, and much too late.

CONNIE SMITH

Dolly Parton said:   "There's really only three real female singers in the world.  Straisand, Ronstadt, and Connie Smith.  The rest of us are only pretending." 

It's a truism about female country fans:  they (we) prefer male voices.  That's just the way it is.

The true female country fan does not enjoy the thin and reedy.  We like our female singers to sound full-bodied.  Soulful. 

Patsy Cline, Tammy Wynette, Patty Loveless, Loretta Lynn.  If you're going to sing, then sing!  Belt it out like you mean it!

I don't go for the whispery, breathless sound.  If I wanted to hear that, I could just record my own weak vocalizations, and listen back.

In the timeline of country music, after Patsy, and before Tammy, we had somebody who filled the void.  Her name was Connie Smith.

Connie began her career recording songs written by Bill Anderson.  Bill basically discovered Connie, and nurtured her career.  And what a run they had!

This is, I suppose, her biggest, written by Bill:



Connie and Bill had a bunch more, though.



Introduced by Bill:



From the Marty Stuart Show:



Doing a Gordon Lightfoot song:



One written by Bill Mack:



I just like this (with Merle and Johnny Gimble on fiddle):



An Everly Brothers song:



This song was written by Don Gibson, and it holds a special place in my heart.  Alice and I sang along to the radio to this song:



Really, I could go on and on, and on.

There are, thankfully, endless videos of Connie Smith performances.

I remember the black RCA label.  I remember the album, "The Best of Connie Smith".  I remember the album, "Clingin' To A Savin' Hand".

I remember the joy I felt, just listening to that voice.  I remember belting them out myself, when no one was around.  I really was an excellent country singer, in my mind, when I was singing along to Connie Smith records.

The female country singers of my formative years were Tammy, Lynn Anderson, and especially Connie Smith.

If I sing like anyone, or let's say, try to sing like anyone, it's Connie.  She's the role model.  Unconsciously, she's the one I emulate.


Tammy's already there, in the hall of fame; Lynn will never be there. But now Connie is there. 

Pig Robbins is a class act.  Garth is a big dollar sign.  Connie Smith is my influence.

Who outlasts who?  Silly question.