Showing posts with label johnny rodriguez. Show all posts
Showing posts with label johnny rodriguez. Show all posts

Monday, October 24, 2022

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.

 

#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.

 

#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.


 


 

Sunday, August 22, 2021

Tom T. Hall

 The first time I became cognizant of Tom T. Hall was via a hit record that I quickly grew to hate:

 

It was one of those tracks that intrigues you the first time you hear it, but over-exposure bakes in its more annoying features, like the dobro riff that completely devalues a wonderful instrument like the dobro.

Nevertheless, I don't even know how I knew that Tom T. Hall wrote the song, nor did I have a clue who Tom T. Hall was. Radio in 1968 didn't exactly tout the writer of a hit song. Maybe his name stuck in my head because he, like Jeannie C. Riley, incorporated his middle initial into his name.

As I became more cognizant of him as a pre-eminent country songwriter, I noticed something odd -- his songs rarely included choruses. They were a series of verses, prose; a narrative story. They didn't fit the verse-chorus-verse-chorus structure that everyone in music understood was the norm. Yet somehow they worked. Often the listener didn't notice there was no chorus. The most one could claim about Hall's songs was that they included a "refrain".

I suspect Tom T. was a frustrated novelist. Yet he had the magic spark that spun his songs into gold. 

I've written before about the first country song I actually swooned over the first time I heard it late one night on a scratchy signal from Ralph Emery's WSM:


It may have been simply because it was Faron or perhaps it was the arrangement, or both; but I can't deny that this track clutched my heart. And Tom T. Hall wrote it.

Then I found out that Hall also wrote this:


 And this:

(This one actually does have a chorus)

And this:

 
I bought a Tom T. Hall album. Not sure why, but I bought a lot of albums, basically whatever was available in J.C. Penneys' basement in 1968 - 1971. I think it might have been because I liked this track:
 

I confess I never understood Hall's songwriting method, but no one can deny that it worked. Somehow. Few can go against the grain and yet produce something timeless. 
 
And I'll always be in his debt for giving me my first country music swoon.
 
RIP, Tom T. Hall, who passed away on August 20, 2021.
 
"Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes
God bless little children while they're still too young to hate"
When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line
'Bout old dogs and children and watermelon wine


 



Sunday, May 27, 2018

1979

(Can you imagine taking your music with you?)


1979 was in many ways a depressing year. We had a depressing, nay, dreary president. He could sap the fun out of any gathering. He lectured us on TV about our "malaise", not realizing that he was the one who caused it. It was as if by telling us how disappointing we were, we'd snap out of it.

One exciting event of that year was the exploding Ford Pinto. When you drove a Pinto, it definitely took you for a ride. Lucky for me, I had a Chevy Vega.

The Iranian Ayatollah decided to take 44 Americans hostage in December, which resulted in the launch of a 10:30 p.m. TV show called "Nightline", starring Ted Koppel's hair. Our hapless president only managed to make things worse by authorizing an ill-fated mission to rescue the prisoners. The operation went spectacularly wrong. 

In household news, Black and Decker introduced something called the "Dustbuster", It was ingenious. Everyone who was anyone raved about their little cordless vacuum. One pitfall of the new invention was that the batteries went dead right in the middle of sucking up toast crumbs from the shag carpet in front of the sofa. Yet we all felt so "with it". 

ESPN came into existence in '79. I never watched it, because---sports. On the other hand, a new network called Nickelodeon showed up on cable and we watched it religiously, because---kids. Otherwise we watched 60 Minutes on Sunday nights and followed Mike Wallace as he stalked some unsuspecting scofflaw around dark corners. 

Jack Tripper and Chrissy and Janet lived upstairs from the Ropers and sexual innuendo ensued. Eventually, Suzanne Somers wanted to leave the show because she felt her salary was a mere pittance; so thenceforth she phoned it in, literally. Every episode featured a shot of Chrissy on the phone with her apartment-mates, to convince the TV-watching rubes that all was all right on ABC Tuesday nights. 

Friday night was "Dukes of Hazzard" night. My three-year-old was obsessed with the show. I wasn't sure why. I did get a kick out of the fact that my son thought the sheriff's name was Roscoe PECO-Train. For my part, I liked the theme song that I surely knew was performed by Waylon Jennings, even though they only showed his hands, but not his face on TV.



Musically, we still possessed stereo components. Sure, Sony had this new gadget that claimed to let one port one's music, but that was kind of goofy; silly. Why did we need to carry our music with us? We had the car radio! This seemed to me akin to the Dustbuster; a sad trail of dead batteries.

Country music was sad, and not in the traditional way. Our big stars were Kenny Rogers and Dave and Sugar.

There were a few sparks, though. This song featured Linda Ronstadt on the original recording. This performance, however, does not. But she couldn't be everywhere. I do want to say, thank you, Rodney Crowell. If it wasn't for you, 1979 would have been lamer than it already was.


Speaking of the Dukes of Hazzard and Rodney Crowell:



In kids news, a McDonald's Happy Meal was a treat that was affordable, even for us, at $1.00. The Muppet Movie was the tenth highest grossing film of the year, and taking a one-year-old and a three-year-old to the movie theater was an experience no parent should miss, for the wailing and the seat-climbing and the chaotic showers of popcorn. Oh, and the movie was good, too.

To relieve the stress and relax my tendons, when we reached home I listened to this:




Anne Murray was still making hits, and I liked this one:



Fashion-wise, we favored bib overalls. Beneath those, we wore blouses with puffy sleeves and a tiny bow at the neck. Throughout the seventies, women wore one-piece contraptions that were hell to undo when one had to pee. Therefore, we were careful to limit our liquid intake. I worked part-time at a retail establishment, so I had to dress up. Since my hourly wage was $2.65, I shopped at K-Mart for work attire. I picked up some below-the-knee skirts and twin sets and high-heeled plastic slides. I purchased my pantyhose at Woolworths, however, because they carried the size that fit best. I honestly don't think I took home any money from that job, after laying out all my earnings to buy appropriate work attire. Wearing pants to work was unheard of. Velour was also the fabric of choice, but if I ever owned a piece of velour clothing, I've blocked it from my mind.

At 9:30 p.m., when I landed at home after work, I poured myself a glass of....Coke...because I didn't drink. I slipped the stereo needle on this:



One can't underestimate the influence the Oak Ridge Boys had on country music in 1979. Aside from Kenny Rogers, who wasn't country, no act was bigger. This video is notable for the lack of giant white beard on William Lee Golden's chin:


In a nutshell, the biggest country acts of the year, aside from Kenny and the ORB's, were Eddie Rabbitt, Crystal Gayle (yes), Moe Bandy, and Don Williams. Some were nearing the end of their careers, some were one-offs, some had a couple of decades yet to go. 

In the daytime hours, TV was what TV was -- game shows in the morning, Days of Our Lives in the afternoon. In between, advertisers took great pains to inform moms what they needed to feed their kids to keep them happy and healthy -- KoolAid, Ore-Ida french fries, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese -- all the nutritious choices. On the plus side, however, mothers were still a "thing" then. And kids. 

Also, AT&T urged us to reach out and touch someone. I didn't know many people with whom interaction required a long-distance phone call, but if I'd made any "friends" on vacation, trust me; I wouldn't have called them.


Generally with music, I chose to avoid chaos. Life was chaotic enough, with two kids under the age of four, and with my part-time job that ostensibly "contributed to the family coffers". Better days were to come, but that's what days generally do, if one is lucky. 

Meanwhile, I relaxed to this:












Thursday, August 24, 2017

Buying Country Albums Was An Exercise In Futility

...yet I bought them.

Most people probably can't relate to my particular musical circumstances. I was one of the diehard country fans in the nineteen seventies who was not enamored with Johnny Cash. That left me options that were paltry. Johnny Cash was a persona. He wasn't a country artist; he was a folk singer. His three-chord ditties could be done by anyone -- heck, even I did them and I was a putrid guitar player. His songs were boom-chicka, boom-chicka, boom-chicka, boom-chicka. That's it. If it wasn't for the man that Cash was, he probably wouldn't have even gotten a recording contract. Country music, to me, was twin fiddles, steel guitar, and a voice that cried. I was a purist in a sea of muddy productions that yearned to be "relevant", which wasn't the allure of country music at all.

Looking back, John Denver was probably more country than the so-called country artists of the era. The Eagles were more country than the country hit-makers. No wonder Olivia Newton-John won Female Vocalist of the Year at the 1974 CMA's.

I liked Connie Smith, Faron Young, Merle, Johnny Rodriguez, and Gene Watson. In my early twenties, I was a fossil.

The new gal, Barbara Mandrell, had potential. There's no denying she was cute. She was tiny with huge hair. She could actually play an instrument. She liked real country, until she didn't. By the time she was sleeping single in a double bed, I was over her. Before that, though, she did songs that were "updated" country -- still country, but bowing to the hipness of the nineteen seventies. I wanted to be hip, too, so I decided Barbara would be my new go-to girl.

She did songs like this:



And this:


So I bought the Midnight Angel album. It had one good song, and that was the title track. That was my life of buying country albums, yet I persisted. It was apparently important to have that album cover on one's shelf. 

I bought Dave and Sugar. That's a relic of the seventies, if ever there was one.



Country albums were a retail lie. Stick the number one single on it and the rubes will buy it. Three dollars and ninety-nine cents in the bank!

The only artist who was making actual albums in the seventies was Merle. 





You can't count "Wanted:  The Outlaws". That was a slapped-together conglomeration of outtakes, the brainchild of a prescient record producer.

Certainly there were some other stellar albums released during the decade.



...but sadly, very few.

If one was to purchase albums, to, I guess, have on their shelf (singles were so much more prudent -- no waste -- and by the seventies, marked down to eighty-nine cents), here are some of the better bets:











Folks who don't know think the seventies were Kenny Rogers and Willie and Dolly. In fact, those artists were "almost eighties". There was a long-spanning decade between Tammy Wynette and Janie Fricke. One had to root out the Crystals and the Sylvias from the Gene Watsons. And trust me, there was a world of difference. If only for Gene Watson, the seventies were worth the pain.

Music is music is music. The vast majority of it is bad. We need to remember the jewels.

I still don't know what I'll ever do with my Barbara Mandrell albums, though.






Friday, March 30, 2012

More Great Country Singers From The Seventies ~ Johnny Rodriguez


Remember when country music was readily identifiable?  Unfortunately, we've now homogenized it, which is apparently great for milk, but not so great for music.

I don't really get the allure of making all music sound the same.  What if we don't like that sound?  Well, too bad, because we have no other choice.  It's all McMusic; take it or leave it.

Country music has always suffered from an inferiority complex, all due to the put-downs of people who never actually listened to it, or did hear one song, but hated the cry of a steel guitar (because those people were heartless), but we long-term fans got used to the barbs long ago, and we just shrugged them off.

So, country music, at least since the seventies and Kenny Rogers, tried hard to shed its true self, and become more like, let's say, the Bee Gees.

This self-loathing had a brief respite in the mid-1980's, when the neotraditionalist movement took hold, thanks to artists like Rodney Crowell and Dwight Yoakam.  That trend, unfortunately, did not last long, and look now what we're stuck with.  And I'll admit (again) that I don't actually listen to country radio, because, frankly, the few times I've had the courage to flick that dial over to a country station, I've wanted to pull my car over to the side of the road and regurgitate.

The argument is that new artists emulate the sounds they grew up hearing.  Fine.  Then why are these guys in country music?  The answer is simple; country music is easier to "make it" in than any other genre.  It's pure commerce.

Unfortunately, we, the fans, are the ones who suffer the consequences of their commercial aspirations.  

I used to live by the sage that the pendulum always swings back.  I lived through various bad times in country music, and it always eventually got better.  I don't think that's true anymore.

But I guess that's why we now have Americana.  Americana is country music, but we can't call it country music anymore, because that term has been appropriated by the new guys (I want it back).

A true Americana artist is Johnny Rodriguez.

1973 was one of those schizophrenic years in country music.  The established stars were kind of waning, and their output reflected that.  Their singles weren't what they once had been.  We still heard some real country songs on the radio, like "Satin Sheets", but we also heard Olivia Newton-John, and Dottie West's recording of a Coca-Cola commercial.

Probably the biggest star in 1973 was fifteen-year-old Tanya Tucker, and I liked her and hated her.  Hated her just because she was fifteen and she was so good.  I was eighteen and I could barely sing on key.  One likes to aspire to something; thinking, "I'll get better; just give me time".  But it's kind of a rude awakening when somebody younger than you is miles better, and you realize you just need to give up.

So, with the established stars on the wane, and with the pop world knocking on country's door, a new single by a guy named Johnny Rodriguez made us all perk up our ears.  This song was country, but it also was a new, young voice; and a good really good voice.

Tom T. Hall discovered Johnny, and he wrote his first big hit.  Tom T. is an iconic country writer, but the interesting thing about Tom T. is that he never wrote a song with a chorus.  I don't know how he got away with it, but he did.  I guess talent trumps, huh?

The debut single was called, Pass Me By:



Johnny followed that smash single with three more in 1973, all from the album, "Introducing Johnny Rodriguez".  Yes, I have the album, of course.

Ridin' My Thumb To Mexico:



Here's Johnny with his mentor, Tom T, doing, You Always Come Back To Hurtin' Me:



You know, and I know, that Lefty Frizzell wrote this next song, and that Merle Haggard recorded it, too.  But Johnny had a big hit with it; That's The Way Love Goes (sorry for the bad video quality, but this was all I could find):



Johnny also recorded We Believe In Happy Endings.  I always remember the Emmylou Harris/Earl Thomas Conley version, but Johnny did it first:



I'm always finding little surprises when I search out music videos.  I have this album (as I said), but I completely forgot that Johnny did a version of Easy Come, Easy Go.  This song is rather seminal for me, because, as a recent high school graduate, on a pre-summer trip with my best friend, Alice, I (and she) sang along to the radio to the Bobby Bare version, which will always live in, not infamy, per se.  What is the opposite of infamy?  Famy?  By the way, Bobby's version was called, Ride Me Down Easy.  I didn't know you could just change up song titles, willy-nilly.  But I guess you could back then!



Johnny had other great songs, including Down On The Rio Grande.  But alas, there is no video to be found of this recording (not even a static album cover with the song playing over it).  So, I guess you'll just have to hum it.

I'm posting this next song again, just to prove that Johnny is still out there; still performing.



You can't keep a good great artist down.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Making Life Simpler


Well, that's rather a misnomer, isn't it? Life is never simple.

I am of a mind, though, that life would be simpler without so much "stuff" to clutter it up.

I'm not certain, but the evidence tells me that, when I was in my twenties, I pretty much saved everything. That was brought home to me recently when my oldest son delivered about six or seven boxes of junk, once belonging to me, that he had been storing in his garage. Yes, junk.

I've been on a remodeling kick of late, so in conjunction with that, I needed to go through those boxes, to see if per chance there might be something I'd actually want.

Well, here's what was in those boxes of "treasures". About 50 picture frames of various sizes (I've always been a sucker for picture frames; don't ask me why); some random photos of people I couldn't pick out of a lineup if my life depended on it; a copy of Life Magazine, "The Year In Pictures, 1986"; three sizes of embroidery hoops, along with a couple packages of unfinished cross-stitch projects; a few of those cheesy CD's ~ you know, "The Best Of...", which were actually re-recordings of songs that you really loved in their original form, but you don't so much love the re-doing of them, twenty years after the fact. A copy of National Geographic from March, 1987; the cover story titled, "North Dakota ~ Tough Times on the Prairie". Guess we can't say that now, can we??

A microphone that I think was part of my reel-to-reel tape recorder, which I haven't a clue where that is, but I would kind of like to have that. A super-8 movie camera and projector. That's cool and all, but what I am really searching for are the actual super-8 films that I shot of my kids when they were little. A movie projector without movies is sort of worthless. I will find those movies; I think they're in the back of our closet somewhere. I'll be transferring those to DVD, just as soon as I can pinpoint their location; I'm thinking in two to three years, at the most.

An instamatic camera inside its very own faux-leather carrying case with the initials CJL pasted on the back of it. AND with a film still inside it! I'm giving that back to my son, and I hope he gets the film developed. That sort of mystery is just the kind of thing that I find ultimately cool.

Some sleeves of baseball cards, all from the Minnesota Twins, circa 1987 (their championship year). I'm sincerely hoping that these belong to my son, because I don't remember being dorky enough to collect baseball cards back then, even though I was sort of a Twins fanatic in those years.

Record albums. A whole lot of record albums. I thought my son had given me all of them awhile back. Apparently not.

That's the one thing that brought a lump to my throat. Why? Well, the thing is, when I was about 16 or 17 years old, I couldn't just buy a record album on my Visa card (cuz, you know, I didn't have one, and frankly, in 1971 - 1972, Visa cards didn't actually exist).

No, I had to save up my pennies to buy an album, and I was only making seventy-five cents an hour, so you do the math.

So, I pretty much wore out those albums. I'd study the covers. In fact, I drew facsimiles of some of them (I was into drawing back then; a hobby I abandoned shortly thereafter).

So, those albums, when I saw them again, brought back a ton of memories for me. They took me back to that room, that component stereo system that I saved and saved to buy. The fact that I couldn't really sing along with the songs on those albums without disturbing whoever might be lodging in the room next door. But I really, really wanted to sing along, so it was a conundrum.

It wasn't even so much the songs on those albums. It was the albums themselves.

So, I thought I would post some pictures of those albums. Just because. The flash sort of obscures some of the pictures, but I still like them. And these, by the way, are Part II. I got the first box of albums awhile back, and I think I will post pictures of those later.

These are some that hold a whole bunch of memories for me..





















It seems from these photos that I was a huge Dolly Parton fan. Not necessarily. But it was the late sixties/early seventies, and you couldn't turn around without bumping into Porter and Dolly. Seriously. Porter by himself. Dolly on her own. Porter and Dolly, singing some of Dolly's scribbles. We were all sort of relieved, frankly, in 1973, when Conway and Loretta decided to get together, just for the variety, if nothing else.

It was basically Porter & Dolly, or the Statler Brothers. That was 1970 through 1972, in a nutshell.

I can't explain it, but seeing those album covers kind of stabs at my heart. I guess you had to be there.

So, simplifying my life involves purging superfluous stuff, and stuff that at one time meant something to me, but just doesn't anymore.

The things I have on display in my computer room now are, pictures of family, my dad's AA book and his watch, a letter from my mom, pictures of people and things that hold a special place in my heart, and some funny stuff ~ cartoons ~ because we need to remember that life, and we, are sort of ridiculous.

And what do we need, other than the people we love, and the music we love?

I think that's about it.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Pass Me By

I could make all kinds of comments about Johnny performing at the Old Entertainers Home, but dang! He still sounds great!

This is one of my all-time favorite country songs, written by Tom T. Hall, and sung by Johnny Rodriguez.

I'm enjoying this, and I hope you do, too. Here's Pass Me By:

Friday, January 18, 2008

Whatever Happened To This Guy? - 2nd In A Continuing Series

This artist first arrived on the scene in 1972, with a song written by Tom T. Hall, "Pass Me By", released on the Mercury label. The record landed in the top ten (in my opinion, it should have gone to number one).

He subsequently had 14 consecutive number one songs, including, "Ridin' My Thumb To Mexico" and "You Always Come Back (To Hurting Me)". Other number one songs included "That's The Way Love Goes", "Just Get Up And Close The Door", and "Love Put A Song In My Heart".

"Down On The Rio Grande" was a top ten song in 1979, released on Epic Records.

So, whatever happened to Johnny Rodriguez?