Reviewing The Top 10 Country Singles From This Week In 1973

 

Why 1973? Why not? 

I enjoy reviewing country music's changes across the decades, and frankly my resource only lists a finite selection of October country music charts. Plus, 1973 was a seminal year for me. That was the year I graduated from high school, which makes me approximately 132 years old. 

What was I doing in '73? Well, by October I was ensconced in my first "real" job (defined as a job that didn't involve my parents as employers). My years-long best friend and I had drifted apart, since I had a serious boyfriend and she had a bar band. At my job, though, I made a new friend who shared her name with my now-distant compadre. Thenceforth, I only made friends with girls named Alice (not really). 

I was still living at home, mooching off my parents. I suggested to my mom that month that I would move in with New Alice, but Mom threw a fit and decreed that I most certainly would not be moving out. I didn't argue, because nobody argued with Mom. I guess I saved money by living at home, though I never seemed to have any money because I got paid a pittance. 

I was a Clerk Typist II (the "II" being absurdly important because it conferred a lofty status that a measly "I" could only hope to attain). I worked the front desk of the Division Of Vital Statistics for the State Health Department, on the seventeenth floor (the top floor of the Capital Building if one didn't count the mechanical room on Floor Eighteen) and waited on the occasional visitor who needed a certified copy of a birth or death certificate. I'd dutifully type up the document, then toddle over to my scary director, Elna Kavonius, to scribble her signature and clamp her official stamp atop it. The remainder of my day was spent filing documents ~ climbing up on a rolling step stool and yanking heavy folders out of their slumbering cocoons. It wasn't the worst job in the world; it was undemanding. It sure beat cleaning motel rooms. And anyway, I wasn't demanding much. 

Friday and Saturday nights were date nights, but the rest of the week wasn't all that different from when I was a school girl. My parents never made me pay rent because they didn't need the money, and I barely ate anything, so I wasn't a drain on my mom's grocery tab. I essentially had my own "apartment" at home, having claimed Motel Room #1 years before, when I became too damn old to share the second bedroom with my little brother and sister (for God's sake). My older brother cut a hole in the wall leading from our industrial garage and installed a door leading to my new room, but I found a chain lock among the junk littering the garage and screwed it in myself to keep out unwanted visitors (which included my entire family.) Eventually Mom moved my little sister into my room, so we squeezed another bed inside, but my sister was a gadfly and seldom home anyway, and surprisingly my new roommate became welcome company. I still had a mostly private bathroom and a little black and white TV beside my bed and a long cubby to house my polyester dresses. Thinking back, it was probably the richest I'd ever been and I failed to appreciate it.

I still bought the occasional '45, but I'd mostly graduated to LP's. Most every track that appeared on the charts was contained within an album I'd already bought. Scanning the Top 40 chart from October 20 of that year, I don't recall purchasing any of them as singles. To be frank, there were few worth laying down ninety-nine cents for.

Regardless, I am primed to review the Top Ten. As usual, my rules are thus:

• I review the single as a first-time listener.
  
• I must listen to the entire track before offering my critique.  
• I stick with the Top Ten only.
  
• I do my best to find music videos. If all else fails, I use a video of the recorded song. (Since this is 1973, performance videos may be difficult to find.)

Let's look back! 

#10 ~ Don't Give Up On Me ~ Jerry Wallace

Immediately I'm reminded of Mickey Gilley, sans piano. This track is but one of the treacly country-pop singles emanating from Nashville around this time. It's not horrible; just not memorable. Wallace had a single that went to Number One last year (1972) ~ If You Leave Me Tonight I'll Cry ~ that my parents loved, and I will admit it outshines this one, but neither are exactly to my taste. Perusing Jerry Wallace's discography, it seems that he makes a good living recording songs that sound like 50's pop hits (a la Perry Como), but aren't actual remakes, but rather "sound-alikes", with only enough country touches to endear him to the charts. I don't want to be cruel, yet I really don't consider this country, so...

 

C

#9 ~ Sunday Sunrise ~ Brenda Lee

If this track is even remembered, it will be as an homage to early seventies cookie-cutter country pop. I get it; an artist needs to stay relevant, but Brenda Lee is so much better than this. Utterly forgettable.

D

 

#8 ~ The Midnight Oil ~ Barbara Mandrell

One thing I've always admired about Barbara Mandrell is her hair. And her petite frame. Oh, and her voice. I don't know where her career will take her, but I like the hard country tilt of her singles. Maybe she's not the preeminent country singer of her era, but her producer certainly knows what works. And there is maybe only one other female singer filling the vacuum in 1973. I like this; I like her. 

A-

 

#7 ~ Blood Red And Goin' Down ~ Tanya Tucker

For someone three years younger than me, I hate her....for being so damn good. I hated her when I first heard Delta Dawn on the radio and found out she was only thirteen. Well...just wait until she's sixty-four...then we'll see. 

Back to the song, however. This is so unlike the other songs in the Top Ten that I'd rate it as stellar, just for that fact alone. But this track is about the stars aligning ~ writer Curly Putman (Green, Green Grass Of Home, He Stopped Loving Her Today), producer Billy Sherrill, and naturally that Texas Tanya twang. Tanya is hard-core country, and just my cup of...beer.

A

 

#6 ~ Can I Sleep In Your Arms ~ Jeannie Seely

As a natural talent, Jeannie Seely is vastly underrated. She has just the right amount of cry in her voice to fit right into the sweet spot of country. I don't know if her producer just isn't a good song-picker (although Owen Bradley is no slouch) or exactly what derailed this promising career, but as a songwriter and singer, I think she's top-notch. 

That said, clearly this is Red River Valley, but I guess if you find a melody that works, why deviate? I hate to be a purist, but this track gets knocked down a notch simply for its unoriginality. 

C+ 

 

#5 ~ Rednecks, White Socks, And Blue Ribbon Beer ~ Johnny Russell

I know a person who's really taken with this track...freakishly taken with it...but musical taste is personal. I'm more interested in seeing the writer of Act Naturally in the flesh. As a simple country song, one can't argue with this, and I do appreciate Russell's nod to the working man. It's difficult to rate "meh" songs. I can't picture myself ever deliberately listening to it, but still it's fine for what it is.

B 

 

#4 ~ Ridin' My Thumb To Mexico ~ Johnny Rodriguez

This singer's on my list of "new guys to watch in '73". Heaven knows, country has been in a drought. I am a booster of Rodriguez, ever since he released Pass Me By earlier this year. Shoot, I rushed out and bought his debut album. This one was written by Johnny himself, unlike his debut single, penned by his mentor, Tom T. Hall. This guy has something special. If he doesn't squander it, he can have a career in country for years to come. Nice, excellent track.

A 

 

#3 ~ You've Never Been This Far Before ~ Conway Twitty

Well, what the hell is this? Buh-buh buh? Is it just me, or is Conway Twitty just...icky? I feel myself shivering (and not in a good way) as I write this. I wish I knew what this guy's deal is. He needs some beta blockers or something else created in a future lab to decrease his libido. At the very least, he needs to stop foisting it on innocent radio listeners. As a recording, this doesn't have a terrible melody. Twitty probably could've come up with better subject matter if he wasn't such a horn dog. And let's face it, he's no Chad Everett.

Simply for the shudder alone...

D-

 

#2 ~ Kid Stuff ~ Barbara Fairchild
 

My initial thought is, what's with the hand claps? Were they just thrown in as an afterthought? I have not been a fan of Fairchild since that horrendous hit from 1972, "The Teddy Bear Song". Please, artists, have mercy on fans who aren't a hundred and seven years old. My mom probably liked How Much Is That Doggie In The Window, but we're more sophisticated in the seventies. I believe that if Fairchild embraced her country roots, she could have a substantial career. She's a fine singer, just out of her realm. 

C-

 

#1 ~ You're The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me ~ Ray Price

As a life-long Ray Price super-fan, I can't tell you how much I hate this track. Oh, the singing is fine. But if this is country, so is Tony Bennett. Guys who abandon their roots lose a modicum of respect with me. Truth be told, I kind of gave up on Ray Price around 1965, when his Texas drawl disappeared and he embraced the singing book, Bel Canto. I can only hope that a few years into the future, Ray will reclaim his first love; maybe move back to Texas and remember the guy he used to be. As for this Tonight Show affect, consider me gone.

D

 

As an eighteen-year-old, if I was to guess based on this chart alone, I would put my money on Tanya Tucker and Johnny Rodriguez withstanding the vagaries of the recording world. Perhaps Barbara Mandrell. But life is funny. Who knows what events, twists in the road, might intrude. Patsy Cline was inducted into the Hall Of Fame this year. Could Tanya Tucker someday be likewise honored? Stay tuned.

Conway? Maybe if there's an Oily Pervert Hall Of Fame.

 

 

Loretta

 

 

 "If you're citing The Pill as an iconic Loretta Lynn song, you're not an actual fan."

---- me 

 

Newspaper obituary writers tend to mold a legendary figure into the imaginary image they wish them to be. Face it, journalists situated in New York and Washington, DC are not country music fans. They're probably twenty-somethings dreaming of journalistic fame and instead they're stuck on the obituary beat. One can't be twenty-three and understand Loretta Lynn.

So I'll describe her as I saw her.

Loretta was more or less of my mother's generation, and no, those women were not "liberated", whatever that means. They were plain-spoken and they worried about everyday life -- their kids, their no-good carousing husbands, how they were going to pay this month's bills. They cooked, mopped, canned vegetables, hung clothes on the line, pulled weeds from the garden. Liberation was something that happened at the end of World War II. These women were pragmatic.

If you've ever seen Coal Miner's Daughter, you know it sure wasn't Loretta's idea to get into show business. If Doolittle hadn't pushed her to do it, she would have carried on as she always had.

Girl singers, as they were called then, weren't exactly setting the country music world on fire. Before Loretta, there was truly only one female country star, Patsy Cline, and Patsy's recordings were defined by silky-smooth production --- Country Lite™. Don't get me wrong; her singles were great. They just weren't hard-core country. Sure, there were other female artists who had hits here and there. Kitty Wells was big for her time, but only in country music circles. Jeannie Seely, Dottie West, and Jean Shepard each had at least one number one single, but even I didn't know their names when I first heard Loretta.

I think the first time I heard that voice was on my Uncle Howard's jukebox, when I was temporarily living one door away from his bar with two of my cousins and my own mom and my cousins' mom, who took turns managing my uncle's restaurant. 

During weekend morning hours before the bar opened, we lolled about on swiveling bar stools and breathed in the remnants of stale cigarettes and the pungent aroma of empty beer cans littering his overflowing trash cans. 

Uncle Howard tapped his cash register and handed us "red quarters", quarters with a red stripe painted across them that he used to feed the jukebox. My cousin Karen and I were into rock 'n roll, but the jukebox's selections in that field were limited, so we just pushed buttons and ended up with tracks from Bobby Bare and Roger Miller and mostly Buck Owens -- lots and lots of Buck Owens. I think there was only one female country artist contained within, so I heard this:

And this:

I can't say that nine-year-old me was all that impressed. It wasn't "my deal". I liked Roy Orbison's Pretty Woman and Manfred Mann's Doo Wah Diddy. I will say that her voice really jumped out of the jukebox, though.

But this Loretta kept showing up in my young life, whether I wanted her to or not. That September my sister got married in Fort Worth, Texas, and as part of the week-long celebration my new brother-in-law escorted us to Panther Hall, where guess who was the featured band? Yep, between bites of icky steak and lettuce salad sans dressing (I was a very picky eater) our party was entertained by the likes of Loretta Lynn and her band, which featured her albino-like brother, Jay Lee Webb. Somehow someone (not me!) secured Loretta's autograph and we passed it around at the table. I commented that it appeared to read, "Buffalo Lynn". I think I called her that for a long time afterward.

And that was before she even scored her biggest hits.

I will admit I liked this one:

 

My parents didn't buy records. They owned exactly two LP's and neither of them were by Loretta Lynn. But our local radio station, not country, not rock 'n roll; just a "radio station", sure wore out the grooves of those two singles. In my innocence, I didn't exactly know the subject matter of them, but I secretly kind of did. I certainly understood the "drinkin'" one.

1967 was the year I fully committed to country, solely because I wanted to fit in with my new best friend. Left to my own devices, I would have blithely carried on with The Hollies and The Turtles, but nevertheless, once I committed I never looked back. Granted, I had a lot of catching up to do, but one can never say I didn't know who Loretta Lynn was. I bought her albums, but then, I bought a lot of albums. I remember these two in particular:

These are my favorites from those LP's:

Loretta also recorded a couple of songs that made me cringe a bit, one being Your Squaw Is On The Warpath; and Fist City seemed a bit unladylike, though I would listen to the second one before I'd ever hit "play" on the first.

My mom and I went to see Coal Miner's Daughter together, and I might have henceforth confused cinema with reality. Tommy Lee Jones was a redheaded hunk, whereas Doolittle Lynn was a puny little guy, but Loretta loved him. And Sissy Spacek wasn't a powerful singer like Loretta, but no other actor of that time could have come close to capturing the real woman. As for the title track, I was never in love with it. I found it repetitive, and it was hard to move past the hayseed pronunciations (no offense to hayseeds).

Well, I was borned a coal miner's daughter

Mommy scrubbed our clothes on a warshboard every day 

At night we'd sleep cuz we were tarred

Had it not been for the key change halfway through, the song would have died a merciful death. 

And let's finally address "The Pill". It was pedantic and cringey. Every thought doesn't need to be expressed. But kudos, I guess. Contrary to the dearest wishes of obituary writers everywhere, it will be but a blip in history.

Around 1971 I was sitting in my mom's kitchen when a new duet exploded out of her portable radio. I cocked my ear, confused at first, my trained country ear flummoxed. Soon enough, though, I realized who the singers were. And I knew this was an instant classic.

So here's the deal about Loretta -- she wrote almost every damn song she recorded. She was who she was; and she didn't give a crap whether you approved or didn't. 

She had a voice that bullied its way out of a jukebox or a car radio, and terrorized your phonograph needle.

You will never forget her.

 

1975 And Me And Country

1975 was a bridge year for me. I'd experienced life in the real working world and found I didn't care for it. I was playing at being married but didn't completely grasp the concept. Shoot, I was twenty. Nobody should ever -- ever -- get married at age nineteen. In the seventies, though, it was expected. To be honest, I wasn't even quite nineteen when I got married. I became pregnant in early 1976, so nineteen seventy-five was the last time I lived life in a semi-independent state. I'd gone back to working for Mom and Dad, not so much because I'd failed in the outside world, but because I was more comfortable working alone -- without the drama. Yes, I was cleaning motel rooms, but I had my portable radio that I carried with me from unit to unit, and that was all I needed. Alice had moved on. She worked for the Bank of North Dakota, and frankly, things were never the same with her once I changed my life status by getting hitched. In my defense, at least I found a husband who wasn't two decades older than me, and my marriage lasted far longer than her ill-fated coupling.

Musically, I was alone. It's funny how one gloms onto music based on what others like or buy. Nineteen seventy-five was the first time since 1964 I actually had to rely on myself to choose what music to like or not like.

Not that the music was necessarily good, but one plucks the best from the paltry offerings bestowed upon helpless listeners by the local DJ. It's a misnomer that pop culture wasn't as pivotal in the seventies as it is now. In fact, it was probably more crucial, because there was so much less access to it. One would stay up way past one's bedtime (if they had to get up at six a.m. to get to work) just to see a particular artist on The Tonight Show, because this might be our one and only chance. Record it? On what -- my reel-to-reel? We endured a lot of sickly-sweet variety shows, sat through Gallagher's "comedy" act, simply to see ABBA lip-sync one song. I suffered through Hee Haw for the musical vignettes. Choice? There was no "choice", unless one "chose" to get up off the sofa and flip the dial on the TV to CBS or ABC.

Radio was the same. We had a country station. ONE country station. You took what you got, heard the same pre-recorded local news stories every hour on the hour. Found out that it was "partly cloudy" without even venturing outside whichever room we were currently sanitizing the toilet of, with our scrub brush and a can of Comet.

It's interesting to learn which singles hit the top of the charts in '75 -- and which ones didn't. Funny, the ones I remember best are the ones that didn't. The ones that did, I don't care if I ever hear, ever again.

Like this one:

I remember that Mom and Dad were enamored with this song and I don't know why. Three-chord songs can be great -- shoot, Merle Haggard even recorded a two-chord song that was extraordinary. But a three-chord song needs a bit of oomph -- something to break up the monotony. Freddy Fender's single didn't have that, unless one counts the tink-tinkling of a tiny sad guitar.

This next song would be good if it hadn't been sung by Conway Twitty. Readers of this blog know that I just never got on board with Conway. I can't put my finger on why exactly. People are people; some like chocolate; some detest it. Again, Mom (especially) loved Conway Twitty. Ish. But that was Mom.

I never gave the song a second thought until I watched George Strait perform it in concert. Then I thought, wow, this is a good song! (It's all about the singer, folks.)

Dolly Parton was recording odd things that had queer melodies. I guess it was a phase. "Jolene" was bad enough, but "Bargain Store" was worse. I won't subject you to any of these, but since she charted at number one with the thrift shop ditty, I felt an obligation to mention it. I essentially gave up on Dolly once she parted ways with Porter.

Just like now, even at age twenty I gravitated toward "country" songs. You know, there's country and then there's "country". There's a difference. True lovers of country music know.

I loved Gary Stewart the first time I heard him (and saw him). I was always drawn to artists who were a bit different; intriguing. Those who I wondered, "what's up with this guy?" Gary Stewart didn't have a classic country voice. It was a bit high for the rugged country stalwarts of the time. A tenor, I guess. Of course, I love Faron Young, who was also a tenor, so perhaps my ear is attuned that way. I also appreciated that he played piano. Gary had a sad life, and it's kind of a punch in the gut to know how it all ended. I saw Gary Stewart in concert once, from my perch in the nosebleed seats of the Civic Center. I'm really glad I did.

I don't know why he's not playing piano here, the way I remember him, but here is "She's Acting Single":

I'm not going to wait until the end of this post to feature the song that defines nineteen seventy-five for me. Writers (good writers) would say, save the best for last, but the song has been on my mind. There was this new guy, someone whose name I'd never before heard, that apparently my local DJ really liked, because he played this single a lot. No, it wasn't classic country. Yes, it was good -- captivating. I remember wheeling my maid's cart to the next room down the row and hearing the intro to this song squawk out of my radio; then hurrying into the room with my portable and flipping up the volume:

To me, Gene Watson is like Mark Chesnutt -- sorely underestimated. Except to those of us who know, really know country. If you want your guts ripped out, listen to "Farewell Party". I can't believe that "Love In The Hot Afternoon" only reached number three on the charts. I could have sworn, and that long-ago DJ could attest, that it was a number one -- with a four-decade bullet.

In 1975 I detested John Denver. John Denver was everything that country music wasn't. And to top it off, the stupid CMA rewarded him with the coveted Entertainer of the Year statuette. For what? Yelling, "Far out!"? I mean, come on. I don't know what exactly John Denver was -- my husband's friend could perhaps illuminate, because he loves the guy. My friend Alice also told me, in our sole telephone conversation in '75, about how she was "into" John Denver, and my brain registered, "okay?"

My hatred has since softened, as all hatred naturally does as the years tick by. Guys (and gals) I once detested, I've learned, actually have something to offer. One needs to knock that chip off their shoulder and truly listen. And I will admit (now) that this song had something:

Okay, hello? I just realized that Roger Miller is playing fiddle here, and Glen Campbell is strumming the banjo. What was this? Some kind of country super band?

Another artist I think I saw once live really dominated the early nineteen seventies. I'd first heard Ronnie Milsap in 1974, with his Cap'n Crunch song, and he subsequently had hit after hit after hit. 

This is one of his best:

The first time I remember hearing BJ Thomas was around 1968, with "Eyes Of A New York Woman". His was a voice I tucked inside my pocket and pulled out when I wanted to hear a good, country-pop, but mostly (come on) country singer. 

This song was a number one in 1975, and you know it's catchy. Give it up! I even bought a Chipmunks album for my toddler son sometime around 1980 that featured this song. And divining music critic that he was at age two, he gave it two chubby thumbs up:

So, you can have your Outlaws and In-Laws and Jessie's. Oh, and don't forget your Tompall's. 

That's not what 1975 was for me. And since I was there, I have a say in the matter.

Oh, that picture at the top? Yea, I found this girl by accident. Maybe a snippet of a song played on my local station, and maybe I thought, hmmm, she sounds good! This gal was an album act. One could not experience Emmylou Harris without listening to a full album. "Elite Hotel" was the first of many Emmylou albums I would buy. 

The thing about Emmylou is, she didn't forget. She brought back the old, reveled in the new, but cherished what came before. I like that. Everything isn't new. Sometimes it's old and the old is a treasure. Maybe you just forgot to listen the first time.

I Remember 1970

In 1970 I was fifteen and carving out my own, independent life. Things had been bad at home for about four years, and I was frankly tired of it -- tired of being mired in the constant physical and verbal battles between my mom and dad. Too, by fifteen I'd acquired the best thing that ever happened in my life -- my own room. My mom and dad owned a motel, which was the thing that started our lives on the unremitting slide off a slippery cliff. On the plus side, a motel in the sixties meant a ready supply of unoccupied rooms; a fact that I seized upon in order to whine and cajole my mom into finally giving in and agreeing to let me move out of the closet-sized room I shared with my little brother and sister and the bunk bed shoved up against the wall, and into Room Number One, which was a bit further than hollering distance away from our tiny "living quarters" behind the sliding door of the motel office.

My new living arrangements were sublime. I didn't eat, so I was able to avoid family dinners, if we actually had them. What I actually remember is my brother and sister being fed once we'd arrived home from school and my mom grazing throughout the evening. Dad wasn't around. He was busy working on his hobby -- getting drunk out of his skull and passing out anywhere he could find a safe place to land.

I had a best friend and hobbies of my own -- music! And smoking. I'd learned how to chord on a guitar a few years before and by now I was pretty proficient at the basics -- A, D, G, E, and sometimes B (if needed). The callouses on my fingertips were well-developed. If there was such a thing as tuners back then, I was unaware of them. I'd bought a '45 record Buck Owens had issued (I think with one of his songbooks), "How To Tune Your Guitar". That record was my "guitar tuner".  I locked myself behind the locked and chained door of my room and listened to country records and strummed along with them...and sang. Nobody could hear me anyway, so what the heck? I became pretty good at singing harmony, as long as I had the record to prompt me.

I'd latched onto country music because Alice (my best friend) was a die-hard country fan who was also the featured vocalist in a local country band. By 1970 rock was a faint memory and I knew all the top country artists and had developed my own tastes, rather than simply mimicking what Alice liked. I'd discovered all-night country radio, WHO in Des Moines, Iowa, with DJ Mike Hoyer. WHO had the strongest signal. I loved Bill Mack from WBAP, too, but a Fort Worth signal was only audible in the wee small hours. Ralph Emery? Forget it. The night had to be crystal clear and the moon full before I could ever get WSM to be more than a crackle on my radio. Mike Hoyer was my guy. He also played full albums, around two in the morning. (Yea, in the summer, I stayed up and waited for them).

In 1970 we country fans were still worshiping the old guard. It would take about three years before new acts would arrive on the scene and take over. Country music moved at a slow pace.

Don't get me wrong; the old guard was excellent -- Merle, Ray Price,Tammy, Marty. If one was to name the greatest country artists of all time, these four would make the top five...or at least top ten. Merle was hitting his stride in 1970, becoming recognized as a musical phenomenon. If one were to scan his career, however, Merle's best recordings came before '70. The same with Ray and Tammy and Marty Robbins. They were all "mid-career" by that time. But there were other artists, too.

David Houston first hit it big with a song that in 1967 made me cringe. I was twelve and at that awkward stage at which my dad had the car radio tuned to country music and I was held hostage if I ever needed him to traverse me anywhere. David Houston sang about being "almost persuaded" and I knew it was kind of dirty, but I wasn't sure why. Hearing a song about s-e-x at age twelve with your dad in the car is the ultimate nightmare. Nevertheless, David Houston went on to record several tracks that became hits, and by fifteen, I was okay with the story lines.

David Houston lived a short life. He suffered an aneurysm in 1993 and passed away. He was a huge star in the late sixties/early seventies, an artist who would have continued to carry on.

Here is his 1970 hit (very few live performance videos exist of David, mainly those in which he performed duets with Barbara Mandrell, so appreciate this for its music):

And then, of course, there was Merle:

My memories of Ray Price will always be tied up with my dad. There was a time when my dad was my hero, back before the "bad things" happened. Childhood memories are like a hand print on one's brain. They're stamped there for perpetuity. "My" Ray Price was a singer of three-part harmony songs and twin fiddles. The Ray of 1970 was a sort of a betrayal. 

I didn't like this song. I do now. I like it "sort of". It's a Kris Kristofferson song. Kris Kristofferson, at one time, was the most prodigious songwriter in country music. He's no Merle, but he's different. Kris said things that nobody else said in quite the same way. If I was to emulate anyone, as an amateur songwriter, Kris would be the one.

For The Good Times:

Charley Pride is an artist who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. I first became aware of him in 1967 (?) with "Just Between You and Me", which is one of the most excellent country songs ever written. He was just a guy on the radio who sang good songs. By the time Alice and I attended the immortal Merle Haggard concert in 1968, we'd learned that Charley was Black, so we weren't shell shocked when he took the stage as Merle's opening act. Granted, it was odd for a Black man to sing country music, but if he was country, we were okay with that. 

By 1970 we'd settled into a state of comfort with Charley. The production values on his recordings could have used some improvement, but he was still recording good songs:

Johnny Cash had a network TV show on ABC, and Alice and I watched it with religious fervor. I wasn't even a Johnny Cash fan. I was more fascinated by the Statlers. who sang harmony and by Carl Perkins who, by then, was relegated to a backup player in Cash's band. The most memorable thing I remember from Johnny's show was a song called, "I Was There" that featured the Carter Sisters and the Statler Brothers; a gospel song that those in the know label "call and response".

"Sunday Morning Coming Down" was yet another Kristofferson song. I was in my second year of Spanish, so I actually translated this song into the Spanish language as an exercise. I can't listen to this song without hearing, "no fue mal". 

I love Marty Robbins. The first concert I ever attended, when I was five, was a Marty Robbins concert. My mom took me. I have no recollection of how that came to be. I didn't even know my mom liked music. I'm guessing the concert venue was the Grand Forks Armory. I have a vague memory, like a dream, of Marty strumming a teeny guitar. That's all I remember, except for after the show, when Mom tried to cajole me to go up and get Marty's autograph. I was mortified at the prospect and I flatly refused. I note that she didn't get an autograph, either.

I got the opportunity to see Marty again, sometime around 1980, this time in Duluth, Minnesota. We were on vacation, with -- what do you know? -- Mom and Dad. I also had two tiny boys by that time. Not as tiny as the guitar Marty liked to play, however. By then, I wouldn't have been too embarrassed to get Marty's autograph. I would have been sort of embarrassed, but I still would have done it, had we not been perched in the nosebleed section of the auditorium. By the time all of us made our way down to the floor, Marty was no doubt back on the bus, zooming down I35 on his way to the next stop on his tour schedule.

Marty Robbins was a helluva entertainer. I, as a rule, don't like a lot of goofing around by the artist I've paid dollars to see. But Marty was funny. Not in a "canned jokes" kind of way, but in the way he interacted with his audience. He was one of the few artists I've seen (and I've seen many) who seemed to actually enjoy performing. Most of those I've seen treat a live performance like a paycheck they're begrudgingly obliged to dance for. (Randy Travis is an exception to that rule.)

This is, by far, not one of my favorite Marty Robbins songs, but heck...it's Marty:

On the other hand, there are a handful of artists I never connected with. I never could quite figure out Conway Twitty. The blue-haired ladies loved Conway. Of course, they also loved Elvis. Maybe when I'm eighty I will grow an appreciation for Conway Twitty. I'm keeping an open mind. I can't put my finger on what it was -- he did have some good songs. And his early recordings with Loretta Lynn were damn good. 

I attended a concert in my hometown around 1992 - 1993. It was a three-fer:  Vince Gill was the main act, for me at least. Also on the bill was George Jones. And then there was Conway. I'd seen George Jones and Tammy Wynette in 1968 when they were still flirting and hadn't yet left their respective spouses. Strangely, Tammy's then-husband played backup for her on that show. Well, it was country music...

So, after Vince did his set and George did his, I decided it was time to leave. I didn't stay to see Conway. Shortly thereafter, Conway died. I kind of regretted I hadn't hung around long enough to see him perform. I felt a tiny bit guilty, disrespectful.

Conway (nee Harold Jenkins) had his biggest, bestest, hit in 1970. This song defined his career:

Speaking of career-defining songs, I guess 1970 was the year for that. I could recount my attendance at a Loretta Lynn concert...okay, I will.

I was, I will guess, nine years old. My sister was getting married. She'd moved to Fort Worth, Texas, to be near her fiance, who was a Texan. Dad, Mom, my little brother and little sister and I had taken the long car trip from Minnesota to Texas in our trusty Ford Galaxie, the car Dad was so proud of. Amidst all the wedding festivities, we all attended a concert at Panther Hall. Panther Hall was distinctly Texan. Long, long dining tables, where one was seated next to complete strangers. The entree was steak. Just steak. One did not get a choice in the matter. It was steak. Waiters hovered about. Our waiter asked me what kind of dressing I wanted on my salad, and I said, "none". "No salad?" he asked. "No, no dressing.". Yes, I ate my lettuce plain. I did not like foods then. I might have liked toast. 

Panther Hall was "dry", or something. One had to bring in their own booze. The waiters would serve "mix", and patrons would mix their own drinks with the whiskey they'd brought in with them. 

The featured act was Loretta Lynn and her band. I hazily remember hearing, "You Ain't Woman Enough", but I frankly was too focused on my lettuce to pay much attention. Somebody in our party went up after the concert and got Loretta's autograph. I remarked, upon spying the signed photo that it looked like it said, "Buffalo Lynn". Loretta apparently did not have good handwriting. 

In 1970 Loretta released her autobiographical single. I had some issues with the song, such as how she sang "borned" instead of "born". Additionally, the song was rather tedious. It was essentially a recitation of everything that had happened to her in her life, with no chorus. Also, she sang that at night they'd sleep cuz they were "tarred". Regardless, eventually a movie was made of the song and the book that followed, which began my longstanding infatuation with Tommy Lee Jones.

Coal Miner's Daughter:

These songs were not number one hits, but they bear mentioning, because, well, I like these guys...

Jerry Lee Lewis:

Buck Owens and Susan Raye:

Sorry, no live video, but I really, really liked this song...

Del Reeves and Penny DeHaven:

Here's David Houston with Barbara Mandrell, before Barbara became the precursor to Reba McEntire in the desperate claw to become relevant in the world of pop. Barbara Mandrell was so cute then. I wanted to be her:

No one should doubt how iconic and influential this duo was in the late sixties/early seventies. They were the golden fleece all duos yearned to snatch.

Porter and Dolly:

The first time I heard this next song on the radio, on a staticky signal out of Iowa, I fell in love. It was the perfect country song, sung by the best country singer in the world. I didn't know Tom T. Hall had written it, and I was surprised. Tom T. was the Harper Valley PTA guy, the guy who never felt a chorus was necessary to a song. I really, really loved Faron Young, but he was a troubled soul. I talked my dad into driving us up to the State Fair to see Faron in person, and I felt ashamed I'd forced him to make the trip. Faron was possibly drunk; or if not drunk, simply a bad performer. The concert was disillusioning. I didn't know then that Faron had problems and that it took him a while to get a good recording. I only knew the records themselves. I still love him, though. I don't care how many takes he had to do to get it right. I only care that I am in love with Faron's songs.

Sorry (or maybe not sorry) that there is no live performance video of this track:

This post has gone on forever, and it could go on for miles more, because 1970 is perpetually stamped on my brain.

I will end with this....

Lynn Anderson showed up on my adolescent radar by way of Lawrence Welk. My folks watched that ABC show religiously. I was beguiled by Lawrence's accordion player, who I thought was in the navy, because the V that crossed his chest looked like a navy uniform. I hadn't yet begun my accordion lessons, so I apparently thought Myron Floren somehow balanced that behemoth instrument between his hands; an unsuspecting strongman. (Yup, the V was the accordion straps, I, a short while later learned.)

Lynn was from North Dakota -- Grand Forks, to be exact -- just like me! In truth, she was born in North Dakota, but raised in California. However, that minuscule connection convinced Lawrence to hire her for his show. Lynn possessed the sweet voice of an angel. Truly. I loved Lynn's voice. Unlike the country fan latecomers, I knew Lynn Anderson before she moved to Columbia, when she was but a wannabe star contracted to Chart Records. 

To me, the move to Columbia spelled the downfall of her career, but of course, others would say, what in the world are you talking about? She had her biggest, career-defining hit at Columbia!

Yea, she did; that's true. But tell me; how many times are you willing to listen to this song?

Nevertheless, it was the giant song of 1970. Thank you, Joe South. I guess.

Lynn Anderson:

I'm guessing this has been the longest post I've ever written. I have lots to share about 1970. It was kind of a watershed year for me in many ways; ways I don't necessarily like to recall.

I gave the year short shrift, though. It was pretty awesome -- at least in the annals of country music.

The CMA Awards - 1974

It was after these awards, I think; or maybe it was following 1975's, that a group of disgruntled country music entertainers got together and formed their own association. I think they called it the "Pissed Off Brigade" or something (no, I'm sure that wasn't what they called it). But it is true, that an alternate association was formed, to counter the "pop-ishness" leanings of the Country Music Association.

Now, maybe it was 1975, because looking at this year's winners' list, I'm not finding too much of what you'd call non-country.

Unless they were po'd because Charlie McCoy and Danny Davis kept winning. "We hate harmonicas!", they whined. "It's like a cat screeching!" "Oh, and enough with the trumpets! Oy! I can hardly hear myself think with that thing blowing!"

"And also, what's with Charlie Rich and his hat? Is he trying to be Frank Sinatra or somebody? We don't need that riff-raff hangin' around the Ryman!"

So, I guess I gave away the Instrumentalist of the Year and Instrumental Group of the Year winners. Oops. And I don't think they really hated Charlie Rich - at least I hope not.

No, what they were upset about, and it's sort of silly in hindsight, was the Female Vocalist of the Year winner.

Yes, I suppose her hit song wasn't technically country - at least not typical 1974 country. Now it would never get played on country radio, because it would be too country.

But it was harmless enough. I don't know what all the fuss was about. I like the song myself.

And, you know, she wasn't exactly depriving another deserving soul of the prize. The other nominees were Loretta Lynn (and I think she got more than her share of awards, don't you?), Anne Murray (oh, a paragon of country music), Dolly Parton (who also carted home a bundle of awards over the years, and who, by the way, made her own foray into pop music later, if you recall), and Tanya Tucker. Well, Tanya was what? Fourteen then? She had plenty of time.

And just for the fact that she didn't wear long Little House on the Prairie dresses, I think Olivia deserved the award!

FEMALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR

Olivia Newton-John



I don't know who could harbor resentment against Olivia Newton-John. I mean, just look at her, with her Bee Gee shiny white teeth. I'm thinking that Australia had a lot of fluoride in their water. And she had nice hair. I wished my hair was like that in 1974. I've got no problems with Olivia winning the female vocalist award. For cuteness alone, she deserved the prize.

MALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR

Ronnie Milsap

I see no reason why the Pissed Off Brigade would have any problem with Ronnie Milsap. Unless they were prejudiced against the blind. And that would really garner no sympathy for their movement.

There's a couple of really good singers from the country genre who get little recognition, but nevertheless, they're (as I said) really good singers. One of them is Ray Stevens, whom I've written about before. The other is Ronnie Milsap.

Listen to this rendition of a Don Gibson song, "Legend In My Time", and see if you don't agree that Ronnie is a really, really good singer.



Wow! Great ending here! I frankly have always been a Ronnie Milsap fan, and I wish he'd gotten his due, like he deserved. Maybe one day.....

ALBUM OF THE YEAR

A Very Special Love Song - Charlie Rich

Charlie'd been around for a long time before he got any kind of recognition or fame. He didn't just start out with "Behind Closed Doors", you know. He was one of those artists who just kept on keeping on, and hoping that maybe lightening would strike one day.

And I guess it was sort of like lightening, because one year he was on top of the world, and then one day, people were asking, "Whatever happened to Charlie Rich?" Fame or popularity is a weird thing. I think that Charlie was supremely talented, but he only had a couple of years on top, really, and then we never really heard from him again, unless we were paying close attention.

So, 1973 - 1974 were Charlie's years. Here's a major hit from (I'm guessing) the album of the year:



VOCAL DUO OF THE YEAR

Conway Twitty & Loretta Lynn

Okay, here's a video for which I apologize, because it's got a bunch of that Hee Haw "comedy" before we actually get to the song. But in watching this, I realized that I'd totally forgotten about this song, and it's pretty good! In fact, it's way better than a lot of the duets that C & L were famous for. My memory being jogged, I realize now that this was the lead-off track to Conway and Loretta's first album. I'd sort of gotten tired (or "tarred") of posting C & L videos, but I just kinda really like this one!



VOCAL GROUP OF THE YEAR

The Statler Brothers

Yes, the brothers win once again! I'm hoping (selfishly) that they don't keep winning, because I'm running out of video choices.

As I've said before, I like the Statler Brothers. They maybe did some stuff sometimes that wasn't my cup of tea, but they more than redeemed themselves over the many, many years that they were on the country music scene.

So, here's one of their nostalgic songs (again) that most likely kept them running up to the podium year after year.



Wow, one of these guys actually graduated in 1957! And I thought I was old! I guess age is relative.

SINGLE OF THE YEAR

Country Bumpkin - Cal Smith

SONG OF THE YEAR

Country Bumpkin - recorded by Cal Smith; written by Don Wayne

I've searched and I've searched, but unfortunately, there are no videos to be found of Cal singing this hit song from 1974. I was almost going to skip 1974, since I couldn't find a video of the song/single of the year winner. But then I thought, no. That's not really fair. So, I'll give you a link to the song (no video, however).

But if you want to know how the song went, it was basically: A guy walks into a bar and orders a beer from the barmaid, who proceeds to cut him down relentlessly, calling him a hillbilly and worse. So he marries her! The end.



I don't mean to be flip about this song. It's just that I heard it so dang many times in 1974, I don't care if I ever hear it again. But it was a good song. And the only song that I know of that rhymed "bumpkin" with "pumpkin".

ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR

Charlie Rich

Charlie won the big prize! Yay for Charlie! This was Charlie's heyday. Never to come again. So let's just enjoy Charlie performing live here:



So, if you think the Pissed Off Brigade was pissed off in 1974, just wait 'til 1975......

But before we say goodbye to 1974, let's take a look at the Hall of Fame inductees.....

Owen Bradley

Legendary producer Owen Bradley, famous for Bradley's Barn, and famous, of course, for producing Patsy Cline's records, among many others, including Brenda Lee, Conway, and Loretta. Bradley had his own team of hand-picked session players, and he developed a sound that became legendary.

Here's a glimpse of Owen in this fun video featuring KD Lang, Brenda Lee, Loretta Lynn, and Miss Kitty Wells.


Pee Wee King

Here's a really old video of Pee Wee singing the song he wrote, Tennessee Waltz, which later became the state song of Tennessee. That's a pretty good accomplishment! And a very pretty song.

CMA Awards - 1972

Again, like 1971, there was good and bad to be found at the old Ryman Auditorium in October of 1972.

In some ways, these posts are getting easier, because there are so many repeat winners, and I'm just not gonna fight the futile battle to find videos on YouTube that just aren't there. C'mon country fans! Somebody must have some old obscure videos of some of these folks!

But, on the plus side, we do find some new winners each year, so that makes it interesting (at least to me).

A strange thing happened with the Song of the Year category in 1972. The winner repeated from 1971. Now, I don't know how that's possible exactly. Aren't there cutoff dates for eligibility or something? I don't know what the other nominees were, but they couldn't have been so bad that the voters decided, ah, the hell with it, let's just go with last year's winner. I don't know. But kudos, I guess, to Freddie Hart, because he won again!

SONG OF THE YEAR

Easy Lovin' - written by Freddie Hart; recorded by Freddie Hart

Here's the link again, in case you missed it the first time: Easy Lovin'

The INSTRUMENTAL GROUP OF THE YEAR was, again:

Danny Davis & the Nashville Brass

(Just a heads-up -- this goes on for a few more years). You know, I liked these guys, but I'm ready to move on already. Aren't you?

INSTRUMENTALIST OF THE YEAR

Charlie McCoy

We have a new winner! Yay! Charlie was a very much in-demand session player in Nashville back in the day. I don't know how much harmonica gets put on country records anymore. Lord knows I don't listen to the radio, so how would I know? It could be rampant.

I am not a big harmonica fan. Hey, did you ever get one of those cheap 25-cent harmonicas at the five and dime when you were a kid? They were just worthless. They played about three notes, and it was hard to find a lot of three-note songs. Three Blind Mice is the only one that comes to mind, and that's really a boring song, and it probably has some sinister hidden meaning, going back to the late 1600's or whenever the hell the song was written. And here they were, marketing the song to kids. I hope kids nowadays aren't forced to listen to that macabre song.

Yes, I do digress sometimes. But I was just bored thinking about Charlie McCoy and his harmonica, although I'm not denigrating his talent at all! He was (is) very talented.

So, let's give a listen to the Orange Blossom Special. And I'll just alert you ahead of time, he will continue to win this award for a few years to come, and I'm not going to post any more harmonica videos in the future. Sorry, Bob Dylan.



So, now we come to Single of the Year. Remember I told you how much I HATE the song, "Honey"? Well, here's another hateful song. Again, I'm sure the woman is very nice, and I would love to have tea with her sometime, if she promised not to sing this song in my presence.

It's a funny thing about songs. Obviously, this was a major, major hit, and thus won the award for Single of the Year. So, a lot of people liked it. And I (generally) like three-quarter time songs, so what's my problem with it? Maybe it's because I left nursery rhymes behind when I was about, oh, five years old. I know (in hindsight) that she probably used those types of words to express her "exuberance" about being in love or something, but that still doesn't excuse the "I'll fix your lunch if you fix mine" line. What kind of Candyland world is this woman living in? I can barely muster the energy to fix my own lunch in the morning. Everybody else is on their own, as far as I'm concerned. So, as I said, she is no doubt a wonderful woman, and it's nothing personal. I just REALLY dislike this song.

SINGLE OF THE YEAR

Happiest Girl in the Whole USA - Donna Fargo


P.S. I had a bridesmaid's dress in 1974 that looked a lot like the dress she's wearing.

MALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR

Charley Pride

There's not one iota of doubt in my mind that the song I'm posting here won the male vocalist award for Charley in 1972. That doesn't mean I have to like it. Perhaps I'm coming across as an old curmudgeon. I don't mean to. This song is nowhere near as hateful as Donna Fargo's song. It's just that it was done TO DEATH on the radio! And it wasn't that interesting to begin with! I mean, it's just verse - chorus - verse- chorus - chorus. Blah, blah, blah. I think Donna and Charley should get together and compare notes. He's kissin' his angel good morning and she's fixin' lunch for her zippity-do-dah guy. Gag me.

Anyway, here ya go:



FEMALE VOCALIST OF THE YEAR

Loretta Lynn

It's not often that I get to feature a video that has an introduction by Kermit the Frog, so hey! Unique!

I can never hear or watch a performance of this song without being reminded of the movie, Coal Miner's Daughter. I'm almost surprised to see someone other than Sissy Spacek singing it. I'm kidding, of course. I remember this song. I think I even had the album. In fact, I know I did.

1972 was Loretta's turn, so here's You're Lookin' At Country (backed by the Muppet Show Band):



ALBUM OF THE YEAR

Let Me Tell You About A Song - Merle Haggard

Now, there are no videos available of any songs from this album, but I will tell you, I had this album, and I now have it on CD, and it's worth buying! Merle actually did "tell us about a song" as an intro to each track. It was an early concept album (for country, at least). It's really quite good. I recommend the old Bob Wills song, "Bring It On Down To My House, Honey". I'd post it (not that I would know how to do that), but that would be copyright infringement, and I'm not of a mind to do that.

But here's a link to the CD (combined with the album, "Hag"; another one that I highly recommend):

Hag/Let Me Tell You About A Song

VOCAL DUO OF THE YEAR

Conway Twitty & Loretta Lynn

Yes, sadly (for them), Porter & Dolly got shut out in 1972 for the vocal duo award. Well, time moves on. Not that it was a new generation or anything. It was basically their peers (or older) who took the mantle.

I'm sure Porter was hoping to win, and he probably spent hours in front of the mirror, getting his blonde bouffant just right for the big awards show. And picking out which upholstered sports coat he was going to wear. And Dolly was probably still in the dressing room when the nominees were announced, combing out one of her many frosted wigs.

Well, you know, these things happen. And Conway and Loretta, while certainly not my favorites as solo artists, did seem to meld quite nicely as a duet. And, if you think about it, they were kind of the anti-Porter-and-Dolly, looks-wise. They were both dark-haired, as opposed to bleached blonde. And they certainly dressed way worse (at least Loretta, with her patchwork quilt dresses). Anyway, I always really liked this one:



VOCAL GROUP OF THE YEAR

The Statler Brothers

I like 'em! They've been around for a long, LONG time. And I just like 'em. I liked 'em when Lew DeWitt was the tenor, and I liked 'em when Jimmy Fortune assumed Lew's role.

I'm not saying that all their songs were stellar. Cuz they really did have a lot of clunkers. That whole "back when I was in high school" bit got old after awhile.

But I even liked the Lester (Roadhog) Moran and his Cadillac Cowboys albums. And, before that, when they were featured players on the Johnny Cash Show. And when they recorded "Flowers On The Wall". The Statlers certainly earned their awards.

This song is from 1970, so a couple of years before they were voted vocal group of the year, but I think this is one of their best, and I'm sure the CMA voters were thinking about this song when they checked off the little box next to the Statlers' name in 1972.



I love Lew's high part at the end.

And now we get to the entertainer of the year category. Well, unlike real life, it really didn't take too long for a woman to win the top award. Let's see, the awards were first given out in 1967; this was 1972. I'm no math genius, but I'll guess that's roughly five years.

I really don't know what kind of entertainer this woman was (is). I did see her around 1964 at Panther Hall, but c'mon! I was, what, nine? I was too fixated on the whole atmosphere of Panther Hall, with the long, white-clothed tables, where people had to sit with a bunch of strangers to eat (interesting concept), and the fact that people were carrying around booze in a brown paper bag, to notice how well or not well the show was going. But I take the CMA voters at their word, and concede that she was (is) a pretty darn good entertainer.

So, the 1972 ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR was:

Loretta Lynn



COUNTRY MUSIC HALL OF FAME

(Governor) Jimmie Davis

I think, if you write a song like, "You Are My Sunshine", you can just sit back and say, "Okay! My work is done!"

Because who, as a child, didn't sing this song? And this guy wrote it!

We don't see videos of Stephen Foster, because obviously, video wasn't yet invented when ol' Stephen was writing his songs, like Camptown Races or Old Folks At Home. But, like those songs, "You Are My Sunshine" is a standard. One that kids all over the world are forced to sing in elementary school.

So simple, yet so annoyingly catchy. It's not rocket science, folks. You're singing it now in your head, aren't you? See? That's the mark of a standard.

So, here you go, Governor Jimmie Davis: