Showing posts with label roger miller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label roger miller. Show all posts

Saturday, May 8, 2021

The Weird, Brilliant Mind Of Roger Miller

 

Some guys are smart, some guys are clever, some guys are completely alien. Roger Miller, I think, was an alien. 

I first became aware of Roger Miller in (I think) 1964. You couldn't miss him. From '64 to '66 there was no one hotter in country music. 1964 was a time when radio stations weren't segregated by genre. We heard a little bit of everything -- The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Dean Martin, J. Frank Wilson (bet you forgot!), Manfred Mann, Al Hirt, Roy Orbison, Dionne Warwick, Bobby Vinton (!?) and Roger Miller.

In 1964 and 1965 alone, Roger Miller had Dang Me, Chug-A-Lug, Do-Wacka-Do, England Swings, Engine Engine #9, and of course, King Of The Road. You couldn't miss him. I was nine years old in 1964 and (just like now) I liked songs for their melody, not necessarily their lyrics, but Miller's words were so foreign, that even though I didn't actually understand their meaning, his songs were impossible to ignore. Part of the genius of Roger Miller's songwriting was the accessibility of his songs. Even a nine-year-old girl could sing along. He was an expert at unexpected rhymes. I knew even then that most songs were pap and only their melodies and production saved them, and I'm not excusing The Beatles here, either. I wasn't exactly jaded, but I could pick out originality. Miller's songs were unlike any other. I do believe, however, that as silly as some of those tunes were, they all had a grain of Roger Miller truth (maybe not You Can't Roller Skate In A Buffalo Herd). 

But let's start at the beginning.

He was a bellhop at the Andrew Jackson Hotel in Nashville before signing on with Minnie Pearl's band as a fiddler, although he didn't know how to play the fiddle. Eventually he joined Ray Price's Cherokee Cowboys and wrote this hit for Price, which he sings harmony on below:

 


In fact, Roger Miller wrote tons of songs for tons of artists, from Ernest Tubb to Faron Young to Jim Reeves.

"Roger was the most talented, and least disciplined, person that you could imagine", citing the attempts of Miller's Tree Publishing boss, Buddy Killen to force him to finish a piece. He was known to give away lines, inciting many Nashville songwriters to follow him around since, according to Killen, "everything he said was a potential song." (source)

It's impossible to list all the songs Miller wrote, or the swarms of artists who recorded them. He eventually went on tour as Faron Young's drummer, though he was as much of a drummer as he was a fiddler, before at last landing a recording contract with Smash Records.

And then he exploded.

One couldn't turn on network television without seeing Roger Miller. He appeared on everything from The Tonight Show to Shindig.  

(I like how Dick Clark calls him a "humorist" - I don't think Dick actually got it.)


 

This was self-loathing at its finest:


Well, here I sit high, gettin' ideas
Ain't nothin' but a fool would live like this
Out all night and runnin' wild
Woman's sittin' home with a month old child

Dang me, dang me
They oughta take a rope and hang me
High from the highest tree
Woman would you weep for me?

Just sittin' 'round drinkin' with the rest of the guys
Six rounds bought and I bought five
I spent the groceries and a half the rent
I lack fourteen dollars havin' twenty seven cents

Dang me, dang me
They ought-a take a rope and hang me
High from the highest tree
Woman would you weep for me?

They say roses are red and violets are purple
And sugar's sweet and so is maple syrple
Well I'm seventh out of seven sons
My pappy was a pistol, I'm a son of a gun

I said dang me, dang me
They ought-a take a rope and hang me
High from the highest tree
Woman would you weep for me?

(Don't feel bad, Dick. I didn't get it until recently, either.)

My favorite Roger Miller tune remains the same fifty-seven years after its release. At age nine, as opposed to age thirty-nine, I didn't internalize the heartache in this song. Maybe the brilliant rhyming obscured my emotional cognizance. Or maybe I was nine.


 

Naturally, this song was everywhere, and established Roger Miller's bona fides:




But long after Roger passed away, artists kept recording his songs:



(Okay, that's gotta be the actual, real, original Roger Miller in this video.)


Roger Miller was probably the most prolific, most original songwriter Nashville has ever, or will ever see. 

That only happens once in a century. 

It deserves to be remembered.

 












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...




Thursday, February 7, 2019

Kids

 (I was the one with crooked bangs on the lower right. K is behind me.)

I didn't know that life was stark when I was a kid. I never felt poor ~ my mom made sure I had all the same things that kids in my classroom had. The early sixties weren't the age of conspicuous consumption. Sure, the clothes she picked out for me must have been clearance items, because they were so ugly. Either that, or Mom had really bad taste. But I never cared about clothes anyway.

We lived in an old farmhouse that was eighty years old (that would be about one hundred and forty years old now, if it's still standing.) I liked it. It had a hard wooden winding staircase leading up to the second floor and there was a cross-hatched vent about midway down that I could peek through and see everything happening in our living room (not that anything was happening). It had a scary unfinished basement that is a prerequisite for kids ~ scary things are de rigueur. How else would we ever learn to navigate life if it weren't for being scared so much that our breath catches in our chest?

I was lousy at making friends. Granted, living in the country precluded sleepovers. I never even had a best friend until I was in the fourth grade, and I met her on a walking bridge on the way to Wednesday catechism. My only real friend 'til then was my cousin K. K's dad was my dad's much younger brother, and Uncle A worshiped my dad (who wouldn't?), so our families spent an inordinate amount of time together. It was one of those rare perfect storms in which my mom and her mom actually liked one another. You know how couple friendships are ~ either the women are best pals and one guy learns to tolerate the other, or through family, the married pairs are thrown together and everybody decides to make the best of it. K's mom brought out the best in Mom ~ taught her to loosen up; not be such a prickly thorn.

K was one year older than me, which was acceptable in the annals of little-kid approval. From about age five, we tagged along together, creating tiny-girl mayhem.

She was one of those flawless beings ~ golden-haired and sky-blue-eyed ~ who couldn't do anything wrong even if the notion had flitted like a fat bumblebee into her mind. I, on the other hand, was a mess of dense red hair with a tangled desire to create something, but no earthly idea how to do it.

My mom actually preferred K to me. It didn't hurt my feelings ~ much. I would prefer K to me. In later years, Mom actually took vacations with her. Nevertheless, my cousin and I bonded over Ricky Nelson songs, like this:


Our eight-year-old paths converged. 

My dad got it into his head that I should take accordion lessons (I was apparently the experimental kid in the family), and thus, K and her brother took lessons, too. Our music teacher thought it would be neat to form a little trio with the three of us. (Of course, K played her accordion perfectly while I was admonished for dragging my basses). 

Somehow we were coerced into buying matching bandolero outfits, with Cordobes hats, white-fringed black felt skirts, and plastic cowboy boots. We may have even had neckerchiefs. Our mothers paraded us out to local nursing homes to ply our trade. By then I had been relegated to snapping brushes against a snare drum (because my accordion skills were so lacking). K's brother claimed the accordion spot and K strummed a guitar. We were the complete package. Our big number was "Bye Bye Love", on which I somehow snagged the solo on the opening verse. We eventually harvested more money than any eight-and-nine-year-olds could dream of reaping ~ through drunken tips ~ not from nursing home residents! (see below).

K and I (and her big brother) actually ended up living together for half a year. Our bachelor uncle had purchased a triple-threat establishment in a small town that featured a bar, a restaurant and a service station; and he sorely needed a cook. So my mom and K's mom rotated weeks of short-order hash-slinging for extra seed money; and thus it only made sense to move us kids there permanently and enroll us in the local parochial school. We were ensconced in Uncle Howard's attached apartment and plied our trade as traveling minstrels, holed up in the service station lobby as drunks exiting the bar threw quarters and dollar bills at us. The three of us purchased glass piggy banks at the local mercantile and stuffed those hogs with loose cash and coin. K and I periodically raided our stash and bought colorful beaded necklaces and miscellaneous scraps at the five-and-dime.

Our first day at Catholic school, K, naturally, was a big hit; while I wanted to crawl inside a culvert. I think I eventually made one friendship ~ a girl who was as mousy as I. K was effervescent. Complete strangers would amass at her feet. She instantly became the most popular girl in her fifth-grade class. At home, she and I were best buds, but out in the real world K had many universes to command, and she precisely ignored me. I didn't have enough friends that I could afford to diss any of them. K was a princess in any company.

Our life in Uncle Howard's apartment was a cornucopia of new rock and roll sounds and images on the black and white TV. There was a syndicated program called The Lloyd Thaxton Show that was the poor itinerant's alternative to Bandstand, but, holy cow, was it great!

Here is what our eyeballs witnessed on our cathode-ray tube:










I guess you had to be there:


Albeit not rock and roll, this guy was everywhere in 1964:


Yep, The Beatles didn't appear on Lloyd Thaxton's show in '64. I guess Lloyd just didn't pay enough. Not that we didn't know who The Beatles were. We had to appease ourselves with our pocket-friendly transistor radios to hear the most influential band of all time.

The last time I saw K, I was eighteen and not quite moved out of my house, and she and some friends came to visit my mom. Not me. My mom.

But one can't sweep away what once was. K was a huge part of my life; at least a very momentous piece of it. 

I bet she's still out there, sweeping strangers off their feet.














Saturday, February 24, 2018

Life In 1964 ~ With Music!


It occurred to me that 1964 is akin to the nineteenth century to many people. To me it's my childhood, albeit somewhat hazy by now. My mind flashes on scenes, but they sort of run together. My "fun adventure" possibly lasted no more than six months, but my brain squeezes it into approximately one week.

My regular life wasn't what one would call exciting. I rode the orange bus two times a day and in between I endeavored to grasp knowledge inside my third grade classroom. Granted, third grade was my favorite grade. My teacher, Mrs. Thomlinson, abetted my natural show-off tendencies. I was a third grade star. Then came summer vacation and I tried to find adventures, but living in the country demanded that I engage my imagination in order to find things to do that didn't involve traipsing along a dirt road, riffling my outstretched hands across the tall wheat-heads. No wonder I made up little melodies and told myself stories. It was just me alone with the sapphire sky.

Then my Uncle Howard stepped in. He'd invested in a triple-threat business in a tiny town called Lisbon; a splotch of a village criss-crossed by Highways 27 and 32 in the southeastern sector of North Dakota.

This is it:


As you can see, it's now an Eagles Club. And smoke free? Ha! Not in 1964!

The establishment was called Triple Service - because it contained a bar, a restaurant, and a service station. One-stop drinking! The problem was, my uncle was a bachelor and he didn't exactly know how to cook. So he presented a proposal to my mom and my aunt. He'd pay them handsomely to alternate weeks functioning as fry cooks. My mom, scouring her checkbook, acceded. Farming was a credit business. One charged everything; gas, seed, groceries, clothes -- everything except ice cream cones -- and waited for a late fall certified check to grace the mailbox so the charge accounts could be settled up. 

Mom had two little kids and me. Luckily my big sister was eighteen and negligibly responsible, so Carole was tasked with minding the little ones while my dad harvested the wheat and potatoes, and Mom and I packed our pink Samsonite suitcases and crunched inside the Ford Galaxie and aimed it down Highway 81 toward Lisbon.

My Aunt Barbara had two kids roughly my age. The deal was that the three of us kids would reside in Lisbon, North Dakota, trading off "moms" every week. It wasn't at all strange, because we'd had sleepovers our whole lives, so Aunt Barbara was really my second mom. 

Living in an apartment attached to actual real life was an awesome experience. We could step outside our kitchen door and inside a tiny room stocked top to bottom with all manner of crystal liquor decanters. Next to that was a cavernous dance floor, hollow in the daytime hours, but slippery and shimmery when the klieg lights were flipped on.

The cafe itself was a parcel of cushiony booths and twirly stools straddling a long Formica counter. 

The Triple Service bar was dark and smoky, lit by lavender sconces, jam-packed on weekend nights, the glow of the Wurlitzer heating up the corner; smelly with whiskey/cigarette butts and hops in the bare-bulb light of day.

My cousins, Paul and Karen, and I, forged a new life inside Triple Service.

We'd formed a little trio, thanks to our accordion teacher back home. Paul manned the accordion, Karen strummed a guitar, and I burnished the snare drum, brushes in hand. We had costumes and everything -- white-fringed felt skirts and western shirts and boots. I don't remember if there were hats -- possibly only neckerchiefs. Rules prohibited us from actually entering the bar area (when it was open), so we set up in the "triple" area of Triple Service, abutting the service station counter, and put on a show. Our big number was "Bye Bye Love". It's a funny thing about men who'd imbibed -- they turn into philanthropists. We raked in dollars and quarters and nickels from patrons who exited the bar through the service station door.

We became jaded, as neuveau-riche people do; and stuffed our glass piggy banks with coin and greenbacks, until we made that Saturday expedition to F.W Woolworth's to stuff our pockets and plastic purses with candy necklaces and molded Beatle figurines.

The only hitch in our (at least my) resplendent lives was the fact that our mothers had enrolled us in Catholic school. For my cousins, who were used to it, this was de riguer. For me, a dedicated public school girl, it was cataclysmic. My new fourth grade teacher was a nun! Nuns were evil, my catechism experience had taught me. Evil and sadistic. However, this teacher was semi-youthful and frightfully timid, so I settled in. The curriculum, however, was predicated on 1963 topics, and this was 1964! So, I was bored because I'd already learned all this stuff, and I hated my new school, because I didn't like new people. I wasn't what you'd call "easy to get to know". I'd always had a best friend back home, and it hadn't been easy choosing that honor. Best friends had to meet exacting standards. Karen, on the other hand, always had a group of friends, so the pressure on her was less. She adapted to our new school the very first day. I was miserable for at least a month.

And the nuns at the school, especially the "Head Nun" (sorry; I am not up on Catholic school lingo), heartily disapproved of our living arrangement. "Oh, you live at the place," she would comment. Yes, Sister Denunciatory, we lived at a bar. B-A-R. That sin-soaked den of people enjoying life. Scandalous!

Uncle Howard had a plaque affixed to Triple Service's wall that read:

There's no place anywhere near this place
Quite like this place
So this must be the place

I guess Mother Condemnation was right after all.

Kids being kids, we found all manner of off-duty pursuits, most of them stupid. Karen and I climbed up on the roof and perched between the big red letters that spelled out T-RI-P-L-E S-E-R-V-I-C-E and serenaded the guys who'd pulled up to the gas pumps below. "Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport" was our favored choice. Paul, Karen and I hid in the liquor room, which was right off the cavernous dance floor and did stupid things, like slide ice cubes across the linoleum. Paul, one night, captured a frog outside, and released it to hop across the floor. Essentially, we were scientists -- we just wanted to find out what would happen.

The juke box was Karen's and my tether. We inspected the white and red title strips and gleaned our musical education from Uncle Howard's ten-cent singles and fifty-cent album showcases. She and I created a comic book, the premise of which was, what happens to musical artists when they get old. That juke box really assisted our creativity. I do remember that Bobby Bare was a bear. Bent Fabric was shaped like -- well, I guess you can figure that one out. Uncle Howard passed our creation among his patrons and they loved it. We got orders for more, which we had priced at twenty-five cents each; but you know how it is with designing something -- once you've done it, it becomes monotony the second or third time. We made a half-hearted effort to produce more copies, but finally drifted away and into more interesting endeavors.

So, what did we glean from Uncle Howard's juke box? Bear in mind that Uncle Howard's clientele didn't go for that rock 'n roll "noise", so his musical choices were relatively sedate.

This was the hottest, I meant hottest, new act of 1964:




 Here's that "Bent Fabric" guy:


Little Millie Small:



One can never, ever forget Bobby Bare (who is not, in reality, a bear):


My dad liked this song; therefore, I, too, like it:



Dean Martin:



A gal named Gale Garnett:


Believe it or not, this was huge in '64. Astrud Gilberto and Stan Getz (I guess):




Karen's and my seminal number:


Roger Miller again:



There was no one, however, who dominated country music in 1964 like Buck Owens dominated. Buck Owens was everything. I wasn't even a country-western fan (I was a Roy Orbison fan), but all I knew about country music revolved around Buck Owens.




The couples who stepped onto Uncle Howard's dance floor on Saturday nights contented themselves with Ernest Tubb covers played by a bolo-tie-clad trio of local musicians.We, in the liquor supply room, listlessly tapped our feet to the thump-thumping bass guitar. Had Buck Owens suddenly made an appearance, especially with Don Rich and the guys, it would have been like Uncle Howard's juke box come to life.





Friday, December 20, 2013

Ray Price

If Ray Price wasn't the first country voice I ever heard, I can confidently say he was the second.

When I was a little, little kid, my parents owned exactly two record albums - Together Again/My Heart Skips a Beat by Buck Owens and Burning Memories by Ray Price. I had a little record player but I rarely had money to buy 45's, so I etched grooves in those two albums. I think, even today, I could reel off the track listings, in order, from Burning Memories.

On the album, released in 1965, Ray was beginning to teeter between his signature twin fiddle sound and the tinkling piano keys and sweet strings. The tracks were still clearly country, but it was evident then that Ray's sound was evolving. I wonder if the individual tracks were recorded several months apart, such was the dichotomy.

One of the best country songs ever was included on that album - Here Comes My Baby, written by Dottie West (track two, in case you're keeping score):


Being a little kid, I wasn't familiar with Ray's earlier work, but eventually I began to hear it on oldies hours and on reruns of syndicated country music TV shows. The twin fiddles were in rare form back then. For example, this song (extra points for the Nudie suit):


 And this song, written by Roger Miller (and Ray is coincidentally backed by Roger Miller on this performance!):




Time, of course, marched on, and I became a sullen teenager, slamming the bedroom door behind me to spin my Monkees 45's. Out of the blue one day, my mom came out of her bedroom holding an eight-by-ten glossy of Ray Price, swooning about how "handsome" he was. Handsome? That old guy? He must have been, I don't know, forty? Ray Price was the only entertainer my mom ever had a crush on, at least as far as I know.

By that time, Ray had shrugged off the twin fiddles completely and had adopted the countrypolitan sound. I wasn't a fan. Although I had one foot in tween pop and the other foot planted in country music, I still liked my country to sound country. I never actually voiced it, but I felt a bit betrayed by Ray. Now he was some guy wearing a smoking jacket, sitting in his den, sipping a martini. Frank Sinatra-lite.

But then I heard this song, which, I think, was the B side of one of Ray's current hits. I never admitted to anyone that I liked it, but it was pretty groovy.

Thanks to Willie Nelson:


Naturally, everybody knows Ray's biggest hit. It rolled around in the year 1970, written by some unknown Nashville hanger-on named Kris. Wonder if that guy ever wrote any other hit songs.

Here's Ray in his ostentatiously-decorated living room:


By the 1980's, Ray had either moved on or lost his record deal with Columbia, and he was considered too old for the "hip" country market, which, when you think about it, is an oxymoron. Country music was never hip. He and Willie did record a duet album of country standards, a lot of them old Bob Wills songs, and I bought it and I still have it...somewhere. Here's a taste:


Seeing as how Ray was "washed up" by the early 1980's, it's unimaginable that he kept going for another thirty-odd years, but that's exactly what he did.

Here's what Merle Haggard had to say about Ray Price:

"He was probably the first outlaw," Haggard said. "I think Willie (Nelson) will agree. He was out there fighting for what he believed and doing it his way, and being criticized and all that. I remember when he laid the guitar down and started hiring violin players and all that, and everybody thought he was crazy. Crazy like a fox. He knew what he was doing."

Story

My mom and dad saw Ray and his Cherokee Cowboys in concert at Panther Hall in Fort Worth, Texas. I don't think I was there. I wish I was. I can never hear a Ray Price recording without thinking about my mom and dad. They're forever intertwined.

When I found out that my dad had died, I was living far away. A couple of nights before we set out to travel to my dad's funeral, I sat in the rocker in my bedroom and played this song over and over, and I cried:

Soft rain was falling
When you said goodbye
Thunder and lightning
Filled my heart inside
A love born in heaven
Had suddenly died
And the soft rain was teardrops
For the angels all cried

c: Ray Price

 

I'm feeling pretty melancholy knowing that Ray Price has passed away, but I feel sort of happy, too. I think he's putting on a concert right about now, and my mom is in the front row, swooning, and my dad is beside her, singing along.








Sunday, May 26, 2013

Album Review ~ Old Yellow Moon ~ Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell


For those who read my blog regularly, you know that I don't buy music anymore.  That is partially my fault and partially the music business's fault.

I will take the blame for being stuck in the past, but in my defense, if good music was being made, do you think I wouldn't buy it?

To me, an artist has to prove themselves.  I didn't buy Billy Ray Cyrus's album in 1992, and history has proven me correct.  BR was a one-hit wonder.  I'm not going to squander my hard-fought dollars on a flash in the pan.

Emmylou and Rodney, though, I know.  I've known them since the early nineteen seventies.  Okay, I didn't know that Rodney was "Rodney".  I just knew he was "that guy who sang backup for Emmylou", and he apparently (my liner notes told me) wrote a bunch of the songs she was singing.

Elite Hotel was a wondrous thing.  A country music album for music lovers who had been left in the dust by leisure-suited hipsters who were entranced by the likes of Dave and Sugar.


Rodney stepped out on his own a bit later; a decade or so later, actually. 

Apparently, Rodney liked to do things in a big way, because his 1988 Diamonds and Dirt produced five consecutive number one singles; and is, to me, one of the best country albums of all time.


So, when these two decided to get back together, lo these many, many years later, I was intrigued.

Old Yellow Moon was a birthday gift. 

Emmylou has white hair now; and Rodney probably does, too; under that hat.  But it bears repeating:  chronological age does not render one useless and hapless.   True talent triumphs.

So, I listened to the album tonight.

Is it sacrilegious to say that my favorite tracks were not written by Rodney Crowell?

My absolute favorite track is a song that I loved back when Waylon recorded it; and what could be better than hearing two of my favorite artists singing it?



I was surprised to learn that Allen Reynolds had written "Dreaming My Dreams".  What I remember about Allen Reynolds is that he wrote a bunch of pop-tart songs for Crystal Gayle; but I guess I sold him way short.  Dreaming My Dreams is a gorgeous song.  I'm just glad that Crystal Gayle didn't make a hit of it.

You may or may not know that Vince Gill was also one of Emmylou's backup singers; way back when.  Here he is, introducing Emmylou and Rodney; in an admittedly poor quality video; singing another of my ultimate favorite country songs, "Invitation to the Blues"; which was written by Roger Miller:


Oh, but it's not just old songs.  Nay.  This album contains many good tracks, including "Spanish Dancer", "Back When We Were Beautiful" (written by the great Matraca Berg); "Here We Are"; actually written by Rodney!  And the title track, "Old Yellow Moon":


 I give this album a solid B+.

But you know me; I'm a sucker for the old (or new) tried and true.






Thursday, October 22, 2009

Shelby Singleton - How To Produce A Hit

On October 7 of this year, famed record producer Shelby Singleton passed away at the age of 77.

Folks who are younger than me won't recognize the name, but in the sixties, Shelby Singleton was a major force in the world of country music.

Right now, if I think of the Smash label and the Plantation label, I can still picture the 45's and albums that I spun on my cheap-ola turntables. And I think of names such as Roger Miller and Ray Stevens, not to mention, of course, Jeannie C. Riley ~ but we'll get to her later.

Before his producing days, however, Mr. Singleton worked as a record plugger for Mercury Records. Here is a sampling of the music he discovered:

Bruce Channel (featuring harp by Delbert McClinton on the original recording) ~ Hey Baby

As any chick-flick aficionado could tell you, this recording was also featured in the movie, "Dirty Dancing". (I like to throw in trivia, when I can.)

Paul and Paula (nee "Jill and Ray" ~ doesn't quite have the same ring, does it?) ~ Hey Paula


"Hey Paula" was a sappy song, but it was 1963 and sap was in style. Looking back, one might think, hey, wasn't Rock & Roll getting going in 1963? Sadly, not really. A quick check of the charts shows that the top songs of 1963 included "I Will Follow Him" by "Little" Peggy March, "Sugar Shack" by Jimmy Gilmer & the Fireballs, "Blue Velvet" (!) by Bobby Vinton; not to mention "Dominique" by the Singing Nun. A sapfest galore.

Running Bear ~ Johnny Preston

As you will note by the record being placed on the spindle, this song was written by J.P. Richardson (the "Big Bopper"). J.P. (or B.B.) was kind of politically incorrect, wasn't he? Well, it was the late fifties.

Later, as Shelby transitioned into a producer role with Mercury, he recorded LeRoy Van Dyke's seminal hit, "Walk On By":

LeRoy was known as the Singing Auctioneer, but that's a different song, another day. "Walk On By" was a huge hit in 1961. I was six years old. I didn't know why somebody would walk on by if they saw someone they knew on the corner, but I guess I figured it was one of those spy versus spy things, like in my brother's Mad Magazine.

On the same day in 1961, Shelby also produced this recording by Ray Stevens ~ Ahab The Arab:


Let me just say that I am a big fan of Ray Stevens' "serious music". I just can't get on board with this one, though. It's not so much that it's politically incorrect; it's just that it's stupid.

Shelby also produced this song, by Roger Miller ~ Dang Me:


Roger Miller - Dang Me (early 1970's)

Men In Black | MySpace Video

Sorry for the crappy Hee Haw video, but it's the only one I could find. Although if it wasn't for Hee Haw in the sixties, we country fans would have never found country music anywhere on our TV dial.

Roger Miller was a great songwriter, and this hit is from the album, "The Return of Roger Miller", which was a rather audacious title, considering that Roger really didn't have anywhere to return from at that time. But make no mistake; novelty tunes aside, Roger wrote great songs, such as, "Invitation to the Blues" and "Husbands and Wives", among many others.

Shelby Singleton will, of course, always be associated with this huge hit that he produced for Jeannie C. Riley, written by Tom T. Hall ~ Harper Valley P.T.A.

If you were alive in the year 1968, you could not escape this recording. It was played ad nauseam on the radio. I could repeat every riff, dobro and otherwise, of this song in my sleep. I bet even people who didn't listen to country music have this song seared into their brains. I guess that's the mark of a true hit!

And speaking of marks, Shelby Singleton definitely left his, in the annals of country music. And to top it all off, he went and bought Sun Records!

It's nice to look back and remember, and to acknowledge those who worked with little recognition, to create what became a snapshot of the history of popular music.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

50 Years Ago! Top Country Hits Of 1958

Okay, fifty years ago - really? Geez, it seems like only yesterday, or maybe 20 years ago at the most. Okay, it doesn't really seem like yesterday, because I was only 3 years old in 1958, so I hardly remember these songs when they were hits.

I thought it might be fun to see what was hitting the charts, lo those 50 years ago. And to contrast the country music of then to the country music of now.

Well, we all sorta know where country music is now, and it's not pretty.

I think this quote from Jennifer Nettles (of Sugarland) in the latest Entertainment Weekly pretty much sums up the general attitude in Nashville today:

At the very least, Nettles sees Nashville changing.

"What is country anymore?" she asks.
What, indeed?
The article goes on to call Sugarland's third album "an unusually diverse CD that attempts to expand the template of mainstream country by embracing old-school R.E.M, Marvin Gaye, even hair metal.

"We've earned the space to express ourselves," says (Kristian) Bush.
O-kay! So, now we know, I guess.

So, let's cleanse our palates with some offerings from the year 1958.

This first video is one of many hits for Johnny:

JOHNNY CASH - BIG RIVER


"We've earned the space to express ourselves". Give me a break.

Ray Price had a bunch of hits in 1958. Here's one of the best:

RAY PRICE - INVITATION TO THE BLUES

Recognize the harmony singer? Look closer. Why, it's the songwriter himself, ROGER MILLER!


Well, here is one of my all-time favorite singers:

FARON YOUNG - ALONE WITH YOU


Here is someone you don't see anymore (well, he's passed away, but you know what I mean.) Don Gibson had FOUR number one hits in 1958. Here's one:

DON GIBSON - OH, LONESOME ME

I think this song was covered numerous, numerous times by many artists. Good for Don.

Remember this? Yes, this is not the 1958 performance. Conway did re-record this song a few years after he made this song a HUGE hit. The 1958 performance was grainy and had poor sound quality. The one here will just make you dizzy (sorry). But I still like the sound better on this one:

CONWAY TWITTY - IT'S ONLY MAKE BELIEVE



You know, people tend to forget Webb Pierce, but there was no one bigger in country music in the late 1950's. Not to cast any aspersions, but he did insist on a co-writing credit for any song that he recorded. But I guess it was a win-win situation for all. At least Mel Tillis holds no hard feelings about that (I read his autobiography). I guess either you accepted Webb as a "co-writer", or you didn't get your song recorded at all. Not a hard decision when you have a family to feed.

Here's one written by Mel:

WEBB PIERCE - TUPELO COUNTY JAIL



Again, not a video from 1958, but still worth watching! Yea, I'm a huge Marty Robbins fan. Here he is, singing:

THE STORY OF MY LIFE


Well, this is not a 1958 rendition of this song (because Hank Locklin wasn't old and bald in 1958), but you have to give this guy credit! Much like Ray Price, even at an advanced age, he's still going strong!

HANK LOCKLIN - SEND ME THE PILLOW THAT YOU DREAM ON


Interestingly, a lot of artists we think of as "rock" actually had big hits on the country charts in 1958. Elvis, for one. I can't find any of those videos, but his hit songs from that year were:

Hard-Headed Woman
I Beg Of You
Wear My Ring Around Your Neck
Don't

By the same token, the Everly Brothers were major country stars that year:

All I Have To Do Is Dream
Devoted To You

And this one:
(No, this video is not from 1958. The one from '58 was very poor quality.)

THE EVERLY BROTHERS - BIRD DOG

Oh yea, there was one other guy who seemed to have racked up a bunch of hits that year. He was sort of country, then rock, then country again.

Let's have a gander, shall we?







Oh yea, and THIS one:


One more time:



Okay, so where were we? Oh yea.

"We've earned the space to express ourselves."
Ha ha ha ha!

You ain't earned nothin' yet, honey.


Friday, July 11, 2008

Blast From The Past - Top Country Songs Of 1961

I thought we might look back to the year 1961 tonight. I sort of grabbed that year at random; however, it occurred to me that there could well have been some classic country songs that were hits in 1961, so, in consulting my trusty Wikipedia, I found that I was right! There were a bunch of them!

Oddly, my old friend, Wikipedia, does not seem to want to tell me which song was the TOP hit of 1961, but I could take an educated guess. More on that later.

Let's start with this one, shall we?

DON'T WORRY - MARTY ROBBINS


What can I say about Marty Robbins that I haven't already said in a previous post? But, without even reading that, this video speaks for itself. It captures the essence of Marty in concert; his personality, and above all, his wonderful voice.

Merle Haggard cites Marty Robbins as one of his influences. You can hear a bit of Marty in Merle's singing. Merle always did have excellent taste.

CRAZY - PATSY CLINE


Sorry about the buzzing in this video. This was the only one I could find. Old Willie is still counting his money from Patsy's recording of this song - the money he's hidden from the IRS, of course.

Patsy also had another number one hit in 1961 - I Fall To Pieces. There is, unfortunately, no video available of that one.

You'll notice that Patsy is wearing some kind of weird headband in this performance. That's because she was injured in a car crash shortly before this song became a hit. You remember the scene in Coal Miner's Daughter - Beverly D'Angelo lying in her hospital bed, drinking beer from a straw. Ahh, if we didn't have movies, how would we learn about history?


WALK ON BY - LEROY VAN DYKE


Talk about a blast from the past! Here's Leroy in all his long sideburned glory and his patchwork sweater and Elvis bouffant, hiding behind some sliding panels, to sing his big hit song from 1961.

Have you ever seen a more disinterested audience? One girl actually looked away, trying to get the barmaid's attention, because, alas, no one had any drinks on their tables. What kind of b***sh** bar is this?? And the main act doesn't even work from a stage. He has to sneak out from the coat closet to sing his song.

And that one helmet-haired woman right next to him will barely make eye contact. She really doesn't approve of the subject matter of the song. She gives him some tepid applause at the end, but she's steaming. "Where'd he meet this hussy, she's wondering. Probably at some sleazy bar. Oh wait, I'M at some sleazy bar."


JIMMY DEAN - BIG BAD JOHN


Sorry, but this was the only video I could find. He starts out with that old chestnut, "Bill Bailey", but eventually, if you stick with it, he does get to "Big Bad John".

Whatever happened to Jimmy Dean? I mean, yea, he's got his sausages and his breakfast bowls, but what about the man himself? Remember when he had a variety show on ABC? He even had one of the earliest Muppets as a regular on his show. Okay, yes, I'm dating myself, but is Jimmy still around? Still out doing grocery conventions, hawking his wares? He does have good sausage, I'll grant you that. But, you know, he did music, too. Or at least, "talk-music".


ELVIS PRESLEY - ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT


Here's Elvis, with the Leroy Van Dyke sideburns and bouffant -- oh wait, that's the ELVIS sideburns and bouffant.

I could have used the clip of the bloated, drug-addled Elvis doing this song, but that seems kind of disrespectful. Let's remember Elvis in his more youthful days.

And yes, this was a hit on the COUNTRY charts.


BUCK OWENS & THE BUCKAROOS - FOOLIN' AROUND


Yes, this is a later version, but I always like to include the Buckaroos, featuring Don Rich, whenever possible.

I wonder, in watching this, if Dwight Yoakam is imitating Buck, or is he actually imitating Don Rich, in his singing style? Listen to some of the phrasing and compare.

This song and performance is a prime example of simplicity in songwriting. Nothing much to it, really, but it made a big impact. We really don't need to over-think these things.


WANDA JACKSON - RIGHT OR WRONG


At one time, Wanda Jackson was considered the "Female Elvis". Long before Tanya Tucker.

This clip proves that the voice is still as strong as ever. Yes, she now sings the song in a lower key, but give me a break! We all get older. Geez!

I'm not crazy about the spangled plus-sized blouse, but you know, it's not easy losing weight when you get to a certain age. Believe me. I'm fighting valiantly against that. I've lost 26.4 pounds in the last 4 months, but it's hard work! But kudos to Wanda Jackson! She still sounds great.


Here's a couple of top hits from 1961 for which I cannot find performances by the original artists, but I didn't want to exclude these songs, because they're really good. So, I'll label these with the artists performing in the video, but I'll also list the original artist in parentheses.


HANK WILLIAMS III - YOU'RE THE REASON (BOBBY EDWARDS)



LEANN RIMES - I FALL TO PIECES (PATSY CLINE)



I really hate to leave out Don Gibson (Sea Of Heartbreak and Sweet Dreams) and Roger Miller (When Two Worlds Collide), because they are both classic, CLASSIC songwriters. But I couldn't find any videos of these songs.

Which leads me, finally, to what I THINK was the top song from 1961. I don't know this for a fact, but I'm willing (willie) to bet money on it:

FARON YOUNG - HELLO WALLS


It just doesn't get much better than that. One of my favorite singers; one of the world's best songwriters.

I guess 1961 was a red-letter year for country music.