"...Not So Much Who's Gonna Fill Those Shoes As Who's Gonna Fill Those Stadiums...?"

The issue isn't evolution.

It's eviction.



At 81-years-old, female country legend and Grand Ole Opry member Jean Shepard is feisty as ever, fed up with what has happened to country music, and not afraid to tell anyone and everyone about it.



An Opry member for going on six decades, Shepard is set to celebrate her 60th Anniversary on the stage show November 21st. Ahead of the special night, she sat down with The Tennessean‘s Juli Thanki to talk about how she helped open doors for the women of country music at a time when most female performers were only a part of groups or family bands. Shepard was also very outspoken about how she feels about the country music of today.


“I’m very adamant about how I feel about country music. And I don’t care who knows it, I’ll tell the world,” Shepard said. “Country music today is not the country music of yesterday. It’s a lot more important than that. Candy coated country don’t make it. They candy coat it and try to be something they ain’t. Well it ain’t gonna work my friend.”


“It’s a good fight for a good cause and I mean that with all my heart,” Shepard continues. “Today’s country is not country, and I’m very adamant about that. I’ll tell anybody who’ll listen, and some of those who don’t want to listen, I’ll tell them anyway. … Country music today isn’t genuine.”


Shepard also had some more veiled criticism for the Grand Ole Opry.


“Sixty years ago, I loved what the Grand Ole Opry stood for,” she told The Tennessean. “I still love what it stands for, but not quite so much. Isn’t it terrible being so truthful?”


Jean also talked about how she is pondering retiring in a couple of months. Due to health issues, she has been unable to perform for the last year—even more reason to listen to the Grand Ole Opry on WSM November 21st for the 60-year celebration.


Shepard was first asked to become a member on November 21st, 1955. After the passing of “Little” Jimmy Dickens earlier this year, Jean is one of the institution’s oldest members.




The first response in the comment thread when this story was posted online coughed up a quote attributed a few months back to an impish (and a little shitfaced?) Blake Shelton...

"..aw, hell...she's just another old fart whose opinion don't matter...she needs to get over it.."

Ah, eloquence, thy name is contemporary country singer.

Lack of Dale Carnegie technique aside, Shelton's purported P.O.V., combined with this past week's resurgence of the whaambulance convoy bemoaning the end of country music in the "old school" sense of country music triggered by a CMA Awards show that highlighted every one (thing) from Justin Timberlake to William Shatner to Keefer Sutherland brought bubbling back to the surface the ongoing contemporary lament from the "purists amongst us" that whatever is is, or isn;t, may or may not be, the current offerings from the pens, pads and studios of Music City, USA "just ain't country music."

Well, here's the deal.

In the strict letter of the law sense, the naysayers are saying nay accurately.

What's coming, emanating, (spewing?) out of Nashville is not, in the strictest, purest sense, country music.

As defined by multiple decades and myriad generations of country music fans and/or lovers.

What is it?

Well, to borrow a phrase from the front runner for the Democratic presidential nomination,...

"...what does it matter...?"

It is what it is.

And you either like it or you don't.

Buddy Cannon, a renowned and respected Nashville musician, songwriter and producer, weighed in in plainspeak on Facebook as to the "bro boy" brouhaha.

I don't consider myself an expert on anything. I don't care about names of musical genres. I do know when a music moves me. The Stapleton/Timberlake performance did that. All this "It ain't country" crap seems to me to be just a soap box for people who aren't content to not bitch about something. I like to listen to some B. B. King, George Jones, Rolling Stones, Vern Gosdin, Randy Newman, George Strait, the Beatles, Kenny Rogers And The First Edition, Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, Del McCoury and lots of other artists that do not have to fit under a genre name but can still fit into a same box. Whine, whine, whine. Why can't you just not like what you don't like and stop trying to demonize it. I remember how Nashville music biz locals slammed a song called Achey Breaky Heart and called it the worst thing that ever happened to country music. The 13 million people who bought that album must not have thought the same. So don't like what you don't like and let others like what they like


No reasonable person can argue the logic of Buddy's take.

That said, here's a thing?

Why the whine?

Why the bitchin?

Why do so many folks have such a hard time embracing Buddy's philosophy and not simply listen and let listen?

I been a'thinkin' bout it for a spell now.

And I gots a theory.

People resist, but eventually accept, innovation.

On the other hand, people just naturally, and instinctively, resist and rebel against invasion.

And that's what happened (what's happening) to country music.

In 1964, The Beatles exploded on the pop music scene with a blend of rock and roll, rhythm and blues, country, even a little big band with some jazz sprinkled here and there.

And created what can arguably be described as a brand new thing.

Traditional rock and roll, meanwhile, while perhaps losing some of its power wattage in the blinding light of the British Invasion, remained the musical entity it had always been.

And, to a large degree, is, still.

So, accepting, enjoying, even adoring what the Fabs were cranking out was an "addition to"

Not an "instead of".

What's going on in country music these days isn't an addition.

It's a replacement.

Traditional country music purists aren't seeing the arrival of some new folks moving in down the street.

They're seeing their streets torn up and replaced with six lane expressways.

There goes the neighborhood.

A poignant irony on display here, by the way, is the lament of the citizens of Nashville themselves crying loud and long and constantly about the tearing down of so many of their beloved landmark buildings in favor of slick, cold condos.

Read that sentence again and substitute the words "George Jones" for beloved landmark buildings and "Florida Georgia Line" for slick, cold condos.

And you have a little better perspective on why Jean Shepard is a little pissed.

Country music isn't evolving.

It's being evicted.

"...Suddenly, The Term "Country Music Foundation" Seems Very Ironic...."

Life imitates art.

Art imitates life.

Potato, patahto. 



(reprinted from Music Row Magazine)
The landscape of Music City continues to change as one of Nashville’s longstanding music venues will close in late February. According to 12th & Porter owner Keith Hayman, the music venue will hold its last event on Feb. 28.

The business is being sold to a party with “intentions to enhance the North Gulch” area of Nashville, according to Hayman. Details of the sale were not disclosed.
As the home of classic live recordings dating back to Townes Van Zandt’s Live and Obscure, recorded in April 1985, the stage at 12th and Porter has hosted some of the greatest touring artists and songwriters ever to play including such notables as Mickey Avalon, Keith Urban, Kings of Leon, Ke$ha, Safety Suit, Jon Bon Jovi, Run-DMC, Vince Gill, Richard Marx, Jonny Lang, Marc Broussard, John Hiatt, Beauty School Dropouts, OURS, Bob Schneider, Jayhawks, Tim Easton, Amy Ray, Ryan Adams, Will Hoge, King Crimson, Angie Aparo, Medeski Martin and Wood, The Features, Radney Foster, Allison Moorer, Glenn Tillbrook, Michelle Shocked, Trent Sumnar, Jim Lauderdale, Buddy and Julie Miller, John Prine, Reckless Kelly, Pinmonkey, Jay Farrar, Kenny Loggins, Ben Folds, Jill Sobule, Jewel, Rodney Crowell, Steve Earle, David Meade, Muzik Mafia, Family Force 5, the Katies, Silvertide, Florez, Sam Brooker, Tyler James, Chris Mann, Jody Raffoul, Crew, Michael Inge, Vic Chesnutt, Bushwalla, Anthony Smith, Black Label Society, Wichita Stallions, Auto Vaughn, Big Fella and Te’Arthur, Chris Mann, Cecil Adora, Submersed, LIGION, The Black Andy Roddick Show, Jonathon Richman, Tyler Cain, Chris Milam, Mista D, Jeffrey Steele, Luna Halo, Atomic Blonde, and countless others.

Hayman took over management of 12th & Porter in 2014, acquiring 100 percent management of the venue. He is also an owner of Music City Pizza.



Among various laments and observations on this latest change to the Nashville landscape, Juliette Vara, a reporter for Fox News in San Diego and a country music radio host, had this to offer.



 This is VERY sad. Sadly, money will win every time. Have any of you guys gone down to meet the people in charge of housing and other city developments? Because I have--- and the ones I met were young and one was just about out of college--and making decisions on the cityscape. Nashville is losing it's HISTORY. If we're lucky maybe Tootsies will be around in 10 years. Lord knows--Broadway Avenue is getting more boutiques - than honky tonks. This makes me sad as someone who moved here to want to nurture and be around the history here of country music.



The ongoing saga of Nashville slowly but surely evolving (or mutating, depending on who you talk to about it) from musical mecca to money mad metroplex has been both a source of national conversation and a sore spot for locals for some time now. Most recently, the sale, or pending sale, of the legendary RCA studio building(s) on Music Row, for example, was fuel to the fire of resentment burning the beleaguered behinds of those who hold Music City tradition sacred and are almost instinctively chafing at a future that is looking more and more to be long on strip malls and short on studios.

I get it. 

My own autobiography will be good for at least a hundred pages or so on the twenty years I lived and worked there, being privileged to not only visit some of the industry sites and live music venues that were once numerous, yet special, shells scattered across a very unique beach, but, for some years, work them as well.

I made music with friends, peers, colleagues and/or clients in a least a dozen of Nashville's best recording studios.

And sat shoulder to shoulder on stage, or knee to knee in the round, as it were, with some of the finest writers, singers and players anywhere as we offered our words and music wares to sharp, savvy, song sophisticates in now fabled houses of harmony like Exit In, Douglas Corner, the Bluebird Cafe, 12th and Porter, et al.

Lots of music.

Lots of memories.

Time, though, marches on.

And landmarks come and go.

The knee jerk emotional response to the loss of a beloved place, be it a studio or listening room is both predictable and understandable.

Especially when that beloved place is replaced with something cold, calculated and cash flow oriented.

A lot of people feel that way about the evolution (or mutation, depending on who you talk to about it) of Nashville from musical mecca to money mad metroplex. 

Much in the same way, actually, that a lot of people feel about the evolution (or mutation, depending on who you talk to about it) of country music itself from songs of the soul to songs to be sold.

As art imitates life.

And life imitates art.

Potato, potahto.

As a sentimentalist, I can't help but feel some pangs of pathos as the passing of an era.

As a pragmatist, I totally understand that the business of the country music business, in so far as the music itself is concerned, has become the business of manufacturing.

Making it only natural, of course, that the city itself would follow suit.

Embracing the business of construction.

Transforming a musical mecca into a money mad metro plex.

Long on strip malls.

Short on studios.







 

".....The Thing With Stretching The Limits Is That Stretching Is Often Accompanied By Yawning...."

What goes up.

So to speak.


Eminem has gained yet another enemy. The entertainer rapped about raping Iggy Azalea in his new song “Vegas” that leaked this week — and she’s not happy about it. The Australian rapper took to Twitter on Thursday, Nov. 20, to respond to the cringe-worthy, controversial lyrics.

 

"I’m bored of the old men threatening young women as entertainment trend and much more interested in the young women getting $ trend. zzzz," the 24-year-old "Fancy" singer tweeted.

 

"It’s especially awkward because my 14 year old brother is the biggest eminem fan and now the artist he admired says he wants to rape me. nice!" she continued. "Women in music have the bigger balls anyhow we endure much more harassment and critic."

 

In his new track, Eminem appears to tell Azalea to put away her rape whistle. “Unless you’re Nicki [Minaj]/grab you by the wrist let’s ski/so what’s it gonna be/put that s—t away Iggy/You don’t wanna blow that rape whistle on me,” the song goes.

 

The lyrics come just days after Eminem threatened to punch Lana Del Rey in the face in his freestyle rap video “SHADYXV – THE CXVPHER” off his upcoming Shady XV compilation album.

First, and mostly as an aside, having been around since the days when parents thought the Stones were the end of morality on the planet as we knew it, I get a particular smile out of reading Mr. Mathers being referred to as one of "the old men".

Meanwhile, back at the ranch.

Or rap, as the case may be.

The issue here, despite every good indication to the contrary, really isn't so much about morality, sanctity or even quality.

And even though it ostensibly addresses a "cultural ill", it's not even about sociology.

What it's about....is physics.

And what a lot of these young people who fancy themselves as cutting edge "artists" don't seem to grasp.

The automatic, inevitable, unavoidable limit and/or shelf life they put on their own "creativity" with their particular choice of approach.

Theoretically, digging ever deeper into society's psyche on some kind of pseudo-intellectual quest to expose the darker side of man's inhumanity to man.

Or, more often than not, man's inhumanity to woman in the form of misogyny, sexism, gender bias, chauvinism and just plain good old fashioned disrespect.

Oh and, by the way, all of this assumes for the purpose of our discussion here that all of this loftier  perspective isn't simply wasted wind, given that the primary and, for that matter, only goal that modern day capitalists like Marshall have is the accumulation of as much money as possible by simply playing to the basest instincts of the lowest common denominator of the listening audience.

Which, of course, is the way likelier scenario.

But, for now, indulge me a little.

Life, being a living, breathing thing is never static.

It's either getting better...or worse.

Happier or sadder.

Healthier or sicker.

Put even more simply (for those who are just joining us from an evening of reality TV).....

It goes up.

Or it goes down.

Eminem, for all of his purported "edginess" and/or "envelope pushing" is obviously seriously lacking in one pretty primary area of awareness.

There's only so much down to get.

Even if the very rock hard bottom of the barrel proves to have be false, there is, at some inevitable point, a very rock hard bottom of the bottom.

The end. Progress concluded.

No. Mo. Go.

Up, meanwhile, is, to the best of our knowledge, limitless.

Now, only the truly naïve' (and maybe Elizabeth Hasselbeck) would believe, for a nano, that art, music, television, movies, novels, etc, etc, should always, and only, reflect the happy, the good, the light, the best, the brightest.

Because, in its most intimate and poignant expressions, art reflects a complete image of who and what we are.

In more ways than one, black can be beautiful.

For example, singer/songwriter Steve Earle once said to me, in an interview, that the whole notion that Nashville music decision makers were always looking for "up-tempo, positive songs" for their performers was essentially bullshit because, in Steve's eloquent turn of phrase....

"....life is not always up-tempo, positive.."

Fair point. And true.

That said, though, only the truly prurient (and maybe Bill Cosby, jury's still out at this writing) would find any real entertainment, let alone artistic, value in the depiction and, through depiction, the implied endorsement of the sexual violation of women.

And if modern day capitalists like Marshal Mathers don't understand that on any level of decency or morality or simple human courtesy, then maybe they can be persuaded from a profit/loss perspective.

As mentioned earlier....there's only so much down to get.

And once you hit bottom, you  have no where to go but up.

And if you think that up puts you at risk of losing your street cred, then your only option is to swim around down there at the bottom.

Putting yourself at a not so obvious, but certainly more potentially damaging, risk to your livelihood as a cutting edge "artist".

Being boring.

Kind of like the way Eminem is boring Iggy.

No upside to that at all.

Not So Much 1989 As 2.0

Today's "Yup, Nope, Maybe" Music Review for Non Taylor Swift Fans Who Might Be Curious:

                                                                TAYLOR SWIFT
                                                                           1989

Is this album a departure from her "country" stuff?                                         yup
Is there anything going on here that hasn't been done...and done?                  nope
Is this album going to resonate with her current fan base?                              yup
Is this album going to bring new fans into that fan base                                 maybe
Does this album break new ground sonically, lyrically or musically?            nope
Is this album going to sell sixty hundred gazillion copies?                             duh

"....Sure, It's Crap....But We Had Our Crap, Too, So Fair Is Fair....."

Good songwriters generally accomplish, at least, two things.

They get their songs cut.

And they make a few bucks.

Great songwriters accomplish those and, sometimes, two more, perhaps even more remarkable, things.

They speak volumes with just a few words.

They can actually effect changes.

Vince Gill is a great songwriter.

And in a recent interview with Rolling Stone, he not only did that volumes with few words thing, he also changed something.

My mind.


".......You have to look at a young person today and understand their influences were nothing like mine. I'm almost 60 years old. And so 50 years ago what taught me how to play and sing, it's gone. It's in our history and that's great, and if you go find it and learn it, you'll be better for it. But you take a young kid like Brett Eldredge or Kip Moore, guess who their mentors are? Tim McGraw and Toby Keith, and the biggest people from 15 years ago. So I'm not ever going to be critical of a young person that doesn't know [country's] history. I didn't either......."

Yet Gill did extend a challenge to a country music industry bloated with rural clichés and tropes when accepting a career achievement award at the 2012 ACM Honors ceremony in Nashville.

".......I feel inundated these days with music that's telling me how country it is," he said, his voice full of emotion. "And what I long for, more than anything, is to hear how country it is......."



Whoomp.

There it is.

Not to spill 80's booty bass references to Tag Team into an offering highlighting country music.

The current crop of country boys have that dirt road to Miami more than plowed.

The "it" that's there is, in my humble o, the simple, unambiguous summation of all the chit chat/debate/argument/lament/dissertation and good ol' fashioned country jaw flappin' about the state of contemporary country music as it affects millions of country music lovers who have felt like their beloved traditions are, to paraphrase the lovely literary pride of the South, Margaret Mitchell, a genre of music gone with the wind.

Die hard, true blue purists who are, so to speak, Jonesing for George.

Vince Gill, meanwhile, just basically did a flawless impression of Little Richard.

"Shut up!"

The complete interview (available online at http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/vince-gill-on-truck-songs-clapton-womens-unfair-role-in-country-20140604) is a very good read and deserves a few minutes of your attention if you're one of those folks standing on one side or the other side, or perched precariously on the middle, of the fence on the matter.

But the two points Vince made in the excerpts above were all I needed to close the case and move on to trying to solve the mystery of why television keeps giving big blocks of weekly time to idiots.

Point number one.

Today's country singers, both male and female, did, in fact, grow up influenced, not so much by George and Loretta and Hank and Patsy and Willie and  Faron and Conway, even Dolly, et al but, by Alan and Martina and Toby and Tim and Jo Dee and Garth.

Garth, who recorded and had hits with Billy Joel songs, for God's sake.

So it's neither surprising or unpredictable that the current crop would be finding ways to work in the hip hop with the hee haw, the booty bass with the bass boat, yo mama with mama's fried chicken.

Could be worse.

So far, nobody in country has opened up a can of K.C. sunshine.

Uh-huh, uh-huh.

So, while I will always be more a fan of Tammy than Two Live Crew, more Mother Maybelle than MC Hammer, even more Vince than Vanilla Ice, I've decided to put away my own denigrator ray gun and let the young folk do what the young folk do.

The remarkable Mr. Gill's other point, though, is not only spot on, it bears repeating.

 "I feel inundated these days with music that's telling me how country it is ......and what I long for, more than anything, is to hear how country it is."

That's a point of view on this whole today's versus yesterday's country music that no one had articulated.

Until Vince Gill and his few words that speak volumes.

Uh-huh, uh-huh.

"...Nashville Obviously Feels The Need....The Need For Speed....."

Ricky Bobby said it simply and eloquently.

"I wanna go fast."

You want fast?

I got yer fast.

How about Malcolm Campbell?

September 1937.

First person to drive over 300 mph on land.

How about Chuck Yeager?

October 1947.

First person to break the sound barrier in level flight.

How about Miranda Lambert?

May 2014.



(Kimberly Ripley/ WebProNews)

Miranda Lambert has her own exhibit at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum–or at least she will starting in May. It was just announced that the singer and husband of The Voice’s Blake Shelton will be featured front and center in the museum. Her exhibit, called “Miranda Lambert: Backstage Access,” will run from May 16th to November 9th and is expected to draw droves of fans.

“The Country Music Hall of Fame is a place to cherish what country music is all about,” Miranda said following the official announcement. “And I’m so honored to have an exhibit in this treasured hall.”

“Miranda Lambert is one of contemporary music’s most popular and acclaimed artists, and for good reason,” said Museum Director Kyle Young. “She’s a dynamic performer; an emotive and powerful vocalist whose voice is equally at home with lyrics tough or tender; and a songwriter with a deft touch for feeling and place.

“Her numerous hits, from empowering anthems like ‘Gunpowder and Lead’ to introspective set pieces like ‘The House That Built Me,’ are rich contributions to country music’s storytelling tradition,” he continued. “We are looking forward to taking our visitors behind the scenes with Miranda during her amazing successes in 2013.”

Miranda Lambert is the reigning four-time CMA and reigning four-time ACM Female Vocalist of the Year. Her most recent album, Four The Record, debuted atop Billboard’s Top Country Albums chart, making her the first country artist in the 47-year history of the chart to have each of her first four albums debut in that number one position. Mama’s Broken Heart is just one hit single from that album. You can see her perform it in the music video above. Lambert recently released her new single Automatic, which is the lead track from her upcoming fifth studio album.

Blake Shelton must be incredibly proud of his wife–in general, of course, and now even more so for her upcoming exhibit at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum.




What with the evolution of the country music business, and the particular results of that evolution, in recent years, it gets increasingly more difficult to simply observe and/or comment without, even unintentionally, adding a little "in my day" to the rhetorical recipe.

Be that as it may....

In my day...

The Country Music Hall of Fame, a remarkable and, even, iconic entity honoring and lauding (that's yee-haw-ing to all you long time country fan/purists) what is judged to be what represents the very best in accomplishment in the art of country music.

And, like any museum worth it's salt (or good ol' salted country ham), the Hall of Fame takes particular pride in the exhibits that have, since they first began, detailed and, once again, honored, lauded and yee haw-ed an historic and, again, iconic assortment of country music pioneers.

Among them...

Patsy Cline.

Eddy Arnold.

Hank Williams.

Earl Scruggs.

Ray Price.

Kitty Wells.

Brenda Lee.

Tammy Wynette.

Chet Atkins.

Wow.

And...wow.

Right?

In recent years, though, The CMHOF, like the country music business in general, has begun a not so subtle swinging of the spotlight away from the more iconic, the more pioneering, the more traditional and, instead, has begun to put a big ol' shine on the more contemporary, the more current, the more hip and groovy.

Taylor Swift.

Carrie Underwood.

And now, starting this May....

Miranda Lambert.

Okay, there's no point in trying to kid ourselves that the name of the game here is anything more than "sell tickets".

Just like the name of the game on, for example, Broadway is "putting butts into seats."

Due respect to the genius of Arthur Miller, his playwright ancestors, peers and heirs notwithstanding.

You want art for the sake of appreciating art?

Go Guggenheiming, already.

Want to see the boots Miranda wore on stage during her sold out show last Tuesday in Akron?

Country Music Hall of Fame, starting in May and running through November.

All of this might be regrettable to the hard core, old school country music connoisseur, but some slack does, in fairness, deserve to be cut.

After all, all the "artistic integrity" in the world don't mean horse hockey if there ain't nobody ponying up to take a gander.

Even if the implication is, as it has always been, that the exhibits offered in the HOF are, ostensibly, tributes, honors, lauds (yeee-haws) to those performers, writers, singers who have made foundational contributions to the genre, broken new ground, shattered old stereotypes, innovated new innovations, made, and left, an indelible impression and had an unforgettable impact on the history of country music, an impact that will be felt and respected and revered and remembered for generations and generations to come.

Once, and in the beginning, bet the farm.

Now, not so much.

Because, due respect to any of the current crop, does anyone who knows anything about country music, at its core, honestly think that, say, fifty years from now, the contributions of, say, Miranda Lambert will be viewed with anything coming close to the appreciation, even reverence, that those of, say, Patsy Cline are viewed?

Fifty years after one very country music history changing plane crash?

Many years ago, when Madonna was still a relatively new star, but the reigning, for the moment, queen of the pop charts, she had bestowed upon her, at that year's MTV ceremony, the Lifetime Achievement Award.

The following night, in the course of his Tonight Show monologue, Leno reported on that awarding and added, both in good fun and spot on satire.....

"Wow....that oughta give Ella Fitzgerald somethin' to shoot for...."

Miranda Lambert first came on the RFD radar when she finished third on the talent show "Nashville Star"in  2003.

She started charting with her songs in 2004.

She started her reign as award winning queen of the country charts in 2007.

A little over six years ago.

No question about her success.

And now, starting in May, she will be exhibited and added to the list of the past exhibited like.

Patsy Cline.

Eddy Arnold.

Hank Williams.

Earl Scruggs.

Ray Price.

Kitty Wells.

Brenda Lee.

Tammy Wynette.

Chet Atkins.

Making her not only honored, lauded and yee-haw-ed.

But prescient.

What with having gone from unknown to Country Music Hall of Fame exhibited in less than ten years.

And her 2012 song....

Fastest Girl In Town.

Not to mention giving Ella Fitzgerald one more thing to shoot for.

"....Play It Again, Sam.......Pharrell......As The Case May Be....."

Everything old is new again.

A while back, one FB friend or another posted a link to this song and commented that

a) they liked the song

b) they were curious as to why

Well, a) you like what you like when you like it because you like it.

b) that's a little trickier, kind of like why you think a joke is funny.

Usually, the fact that it made you laugh would seem like answer enough.

Enjoy the song.

And then I'll tell you the real reason you liked it.

Okay.

Here's the thing.

Pharrell's a talented guy.

Obviously.

Maybe not so obvious, though, to fans under the age of say, thirty, is that he is, also, either a fan of 60's and 70's music or he grew up in a household filled with 60's and 70's music.

Because this tune is, to these initiated into the pop music world by the Fab Four a long time ago ears, a wonderfully catchy casserole of, at least, two fairly iconic attitudes/presentations of 60's and 70's pop.

Bobby McFerrin's sing along, while not syrupy, optimism.

And Marvin Gaye's way with a groove.

To wit...

 

 

 

 

 

a) me, too.

 

b) that's why.



"....the "A" word...."

Fifty years.

That should be the mandatory minimum.

Tell you what and why shortly.




Not long ago, John Carter Cash uncovered, "among a huge stash of Johnny and wife June Carter's effects," the master tapes for an album his father recorded in the early 1980s but never released. The album, called Out Among the Stars, will finally come out in March, and, according to Rolling Stone, it features duets with June Carter and Waylon Jennings.

The first track to be released is "She Used to Love Me a Lot," which you can hear below.

For country fans, for that matter for music fans, the arrival of a "new" Johnny Cash album is obviously a pretty noteworthy occasion.

And, regardless of your particular musical tastes, preferences, et al, there's no reasonable argument to be made in opposition to the observation that this guy, among a very select few, deserves the title "legend".

If, for no other reason, because he contributed his country music artistry to the culture, and the world, for fifty years.

And even now, ten years after his passing, the interest in his past work continues while the excitement about "new" material is considerable.

Legend, indeed.

In fact, I'll go you one better.

Artist.

A word that, for the loose change in my portfolio, gets doled out far too often with far too little criteria, a term that almost automatically becomes an adjective in front of the name(s) of almost anybody who manages to get a song recorded and/or made available to the masses.

No matter the song.

No matter the singer.

No matter how much it actually matters.

Johnny Cash mattered.

And matters still.

As for the latest, the newest, the hottest, the "greatest"....

Here's a thing.

Get back to me in fifty years.

When there's buzz about new material of yours being discovered.

When your fifty career has come to an amazing, poignant, stunning, once in a lifetime conclusion.

Like this career did.

Then we'll talk "artist".

Till then, listen...and learn.

"...This Guarantees Your Success As A Songwriter...Or Not..."

Old saying.

Those who can, do.

Those who, can't.....

Came across this article on FB, the link posted by my FB friend, Garth Shaw.

No slouch himself when it comes to knowing great songs.

Me being me, though, with due respect to Ms. Yukiko, I have taken the liberty of adding a couple of cents to her observations based on my own experience/perspective.

And, as a value added, thrown in some songs you might find helpful as points of reference.

Happy to help.


9 Secrets to Writing a Great ChorusBy Robin Yukiko

Robin Yukiko is a Berklee College of Music grad, singer-songwriter, pianist, and music educator in San Francisco. She performs regularly and hosts the SF Singer-Songwriters’ Workshop at the Musicians Union Local 6. Robin is currently producing her second album and enjoying nerdly pursuits


One of the main tools in your songwriting arsenal is the almighty Chorus. Sometimes it comes naturally, sometimes it is elusive. Oftentimes, it gets lost in the other sections and needs a way to stand apart. Here are nine unabashed ways to make a chorus sound more like a chorus.



1. Use your hook at the beginning AND end of the chorus. Bookending it gives the listener a chance to hear it again and makes it clear that it’s important.

Two Cents-- Don't sweat the hook at the beginning or end of the chorus. If you are an unknown songwriter, the chances of your work tape/demo getting listened to all the way up to the first chorus are slim in the first place, unless, of course, you manage to pull of writing a song that sounds just enough like the current Florida Georgia Line song to keep the publisher subliminally intrigued while not writing it so much like the current Florida Georgia Line song that the publisher realizes you are trying to break into the business by writing songs that sound exactly like Florida Georgia Line.
   Meanwhile, if you are already an established, successful songwriter...."uh, I'm sorry, but we're gonna take a pass here because you didn't use the hook at the beginning and end of the chorus", said NOBODY EVER.

LISTEN TO:   "Red"   by Taylor Swift...and try to write something like that...except, maybe in a style more like Florida Georgia Line.



2. Place a solid I (one) chord at the beginning. Example: if you are in the key of C, give us a nice big C chord (or A minor) for that sense of arrival that marks a chorus. Bookend it for a classic chorus, or make it the second chord, but the ear wants it in there somewhere, especially at the start of the section. Avoid it, and your song will sound like it’s in a constant state of transition.

Two Cents--This whole chord thing is a "dependin' on".  If you are an unknown songwriter, the excitement you generate when playing your song for a publisher is going to be proportionate to the excitement generated by the current Florida Georgia Line song. If they placed a solid I (one) chord at the beginning of their chorus, then, for the love of dear God, make sure that you do, as well. If, on the other hand, they did not, then, well, duhh....also, be careful at all times to remember that they have moved on since "Cruise" and anything in your song that even smacks of that is going to tell the publisher that your writing is not only hopelessly derivative (which may, or may not, work against you depending on the publisher) but that, even worse, you are hopelessly out of date with your derivative.

LISTEN TO:   "Cruise" by Florida Georgia Line...and for the love of dear God, make sure your song doesn't sound like that.



3. Write big sweeping melodies (wide intervals, long tones) or short rhythms. Whatever you have in your verse, make it the opposite in the chorus--and make it extreme. These are often the most memorable.

Two Cents--Melody, Schmelody--Everybody from A (Aldean) to Z (well, everybody) is either on, or going to spend a little time on, this horrific morphing of rap and country known as hick hop...and rap/hip hop/hick hop wouldn't know a melody if it came up and bit it on it's Daisy Duke covered, honey dripping off'n ass (or big bad booty, as the case may be). So, if you can't write a melody with a gun to your head, now's the time to get while the gettin's good. Cause, just like tomatoes, yogurt and, God willing, the Kardashians, this whole rap crap country has an expiration date.

LISTEN TO:  Anything by Colt Ford...and then ask your particular God why, in the name of all things holy, He allows bad things to happen to good music.




4. Change the feel. It doesn't have to be as dramatic as Alex Clare going into dubstep in “Too Close”. No Doubt did it in Sunday Morning to smokin' effect going from half-time reggae to four-on-the-floor(ish).

Two Cents--Of All The Things That Don't Matter, This Is Probably One Of The Things That Doesn't Matter Most-- If the groove is attention getting, chances are that it's also attention keeping. Even if the "groove" is so mind numbingly repetitive that you break a nail reaching, in a rage, for the pause/next/off button before you drive your Prius off the next cliff. (See any week's current Pop Top 40 or any thing released in the last twelve to twenty four months by Britney Spears...or Colt Ford)

LISTEN TO:  "Tornado"  by Little Big Town---a huge hit, a catchy as all giddyup song and a drum track from beginning to end that could have been, but we're assuming wasn't, laid down by a machine set on "REPEAT"




5. Keep the chorus's melody in a different range to differentiate it even more. Typically the chorus is higher in pitch, but not always.

Two Cents-- This Is Basically That "Change The Feel" Thing Again Applied To The Melody And Matter Just About As Much--the only etched in stone rule that legitimately exists in the profession of songwriting is that there is no such thing as an etched in stone rule. One need only refer back to any song that has been popular in their lifetime that has made one shake their head and ask themselves "what the fuck?"  As far as this "secret to a great chorus" is concerned, we suggest that if advice you must follow, let that advice be that offered by Sheldon Cooper and let the chorus go "wherever the music takes you, kitten".

LISTEN TO:  "Wanted"  by Hunter Hayes---nary a quiver of difference in the melodies of verse and chorus...every now and then, you might experience a little confusion as to whether you've inadvertently stumbled onto a Rascal Flatts song, but, other than that...



6. Get vague. The time for lyrical specifics is usually in your verses. Let your choruses generalize/label, say how you feel, or have a catch phrase that will mesh with your entire song.

Two Cents-- Because "Getting Vague" Is Certainly Something You Want To Do With A Song You're Going To Play For Publishers Who Couldn't Hear A Hit Song If It Bit Them On The Ass (Booty)-- One of my very talented young up and comer friends wrote and recorded a song with a clever metaphorical use of farm life and how divine intervention can replenish us, as rain replenishes the soil. He played it for an established publisher in Nashville who responded "hey, I love the song, man, but tell me....what's irrigation?"   If the lyric feels right for the chorus, vague be damned, let it fly, baby.

LISTEN TO:  "Irrigation From God"   by Eric Karge---and then contact me, I'll send you the publisher's email address so you can explain it to him



7. Add a pre-chorus or transitional bridge. Taking a few bars before the chorus to set up the change can make all the difference in defining your sections. (There are lots of ways to use this section, including making phrases twice as long or twice as short to highlight that something different is coming, especially if your chorus is similar to your verses.)

Two Cents--Yada, Yada, Yada-- again, not to worry about this scenario..."oh, damn, you know I was knocked out of my socks by this one, right up to the moment I realized you failed to incorporate a pre chorus or transitional bridge...and, by the way, do you have any idea what the hell 'irrigation' means?"

LISTEN TO:  Any random five songs in the current top 10 of any musical genre and see if you can find more than one, if any, that add a pre-chorus or transitional bridge.




8. Color. This one is a little trickier but, if you can manage it, adds extra finesse to your lyrics. Create line in your chorus which, when repeated after each verse, takes on a new meaning. This is advanced stuff!

Two Cents--Good Intentions Here But Remember Your Audience--while a few writers of literary caliber (Bob McDill, Bobby Braddock, Hugh Prestwood, et al) get away with raising the bar on lyrical depth, they are exceptions....largely because, despite the ever broadening appeal of country music, the core audience remains primarily made up of people who think that erudite is a denture adhesive, the Peabody Award is something given to people who watch the most Rocky and Bullwinkle and pickups, dirt roads, beer and the aforementioned Daisy Duke covered, honey drippin off'n asses are required to be included in hit country songs by state, if not federal, law.

LISTEN TO:  "That's That"  by Michael Johnson (written by Hugh Prestwood) and weep, weep for the state, if not federal, law that mandates the current use of pickups, dirt roads, beer and the aforementioned Daisy Duke covered, honey drippin off'n asses in hit country songs.


And finally...

9. Know when you need a chorus. Sometimes, when you have a rocking verse, all you need is a refrain (a short hook that gets tacked on like "Come Together right now over me"). Sometimes the song calls for AABA and all you need is a bridge.

Two Cents--Ah! The Disclaimer in Disguise---kinda boils down to everything we've shared with you so far...listen to what's currently popular, try to imitate, while not plagiarizing, that style and get as close as you can to Florida Georgia Line...keeping in mind, at all times, they have moved on since "Cruise".....

Serve the song and she will serve you. Happy writing!


Uh, Robin said that. Not us.

Come to think of it, though, that might be a great hook.

I'm hearing Sting.

Just needs three verses, a pre-chorus or transitional bridge.

And a groove like Florida Georgia Line.

"...His First Hit Was 'It's Only Make Believe'....In This Case, Though, There's No Make Believe Involved...."

(SPOILER ALERT: Shameless name dropping ahead.)

Harold Jenkins was born eighty years ago today.

And sometime in the late 1950's, Harold decided that his name didn't have the zip and zing that would be required to make it household, so, as urban legend goes, he looked at a road map and borrowed the names of two towns, one in Arkansas, one in Texas.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome....

Conway Twitty.

55 #1 pop and country hits later, a record that lasted until 2006, the name that Harold Jenkins chose to become synonymous with country music is exactly that.

Synonymous with country music.

Lifelong fans of the Nashville persuasion need no listing of Conway's accomplishments.

And those who may not be aware need only take a look at Wikipedia and/or You Tube for a wealth of material.

So, no discography forthcoming in this piece.

Just two sharings.

The first, a song that Conway recorded late in his career, a personal favorite not, to my knowledge, released as a single.

The songwriter in me just appreciated the cleverness of the idea and the style that Conway brought to the interpretation.

And, as a fun value added, the song, recorded almost thirty years ago, features a splendidly arranged and executed back up vocal performance by a young guy who was just getting started, himself, on the path to some fame and fortune on Music Row with a voice that today's country music fans recognize almost immediately.

Vince Gill.

Enjoy.






The second sharing....

In the early 1980's, working as a staff writer for a Nashville publishing house, I had the good fortune to work with Conway's daughter Kathy on an album that she was recording.

As a result, we spent some time at Kathy's home in the family compound known as Twitty City.

One early 80's summer day, we were all pool lounging, listening to our own demos on a boom box, when who should appear to say hello but the patriarch of the family.

Conway was cordial and courteous, offering us all brief hellos as he grabbed a hot dog from the grill and prepared to make his exit.

The sound of the demo playing at the moment caught his ear and, quizzically, inquired "who wrote this stuff?"

Determined to find the fine line between credit taking and boasting, I replied, "I did."

He continued listening for a few seconds, alternately paying what looked like equal attention to the beat and the bun, then turned back to me and with a soft smile, said,

"Why aren't you rich?"

Clearly eager to come off cool, but unable to totally avoid expressing my ingrained personality traits, I replied,

"Cause you haven't cut an album of my songs, yet."

Conway gave a little chuckle, took another bite and wished us a pleasant, summer afternoon.

He never did cut an album of my songs.

But he did end up cutting one of them.

And while you have to do some digging to find it, as I did in the search for the video included below, I've never been shy about putting it right up there at the top of the resume of those things I was fortunate enough to accomplish during the songwriting years.

It was never a single.

And never a hit.

But considering that the guy who considered it worth recording was the guy who had chosen, at least, 55 other songs that became number one hits, I counted, and count, that as a major check mark on the list of cool things that have happened in this writer's adventure.

Conway passed away young, just 59.

But, as the old saying goes, the music lives on.

And, in this case, the music living on was written by a guy who was fortunate enough to be at the right pool next to the right grill at the moment Mr. Jenkins got a craving for a hot dog.

Happy birthday, Harold.

And, thanks again, Conway.

"...Well, Of Course, Some Of Their Work Was Crap....And They Managed To Pull It Off With Only Eight Tracks!..."

Found a fun article, courtesy of a Facebook friend.

Thought you might enjoy having a bash. (If you don't know, don't bother reading any further).



FIVE SONGS WHERE THE BEATLES SUCKED

There is much about the Beatles that’s easy to love. The ornate pop, the long-haired peaceability, the arguments over which one’s your favorite. Still, lend them your ear and you’ll discover a few duds.
Even a group as talented, and successful, as the Fab Four couldn’t help but round out a handful of albums with what could only charitably be called filler. Heck, they even had a few charttoppers that might qualify. (Yes, we’re looking at you “Hello, Goodbye.”)

In compiling our list of the worst offenders, we tried to stay away from easy targets. So, none of their earliest stuff. No Ringo Starr, either. We also left off experimental verite-rock tracks like “Revolution No. 9,” “You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)” and “What’s The New Mary Jane,” which weren’t really songs per se.
What remains is the stuff that didn’t quite make their hall-of-fame resume — the ones where they took a bad song … and made it worse. Our S. Victor Aaron and Nick DeRiso investigated:
No. 5–
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD (LET IT BE, 1970)
Beatles songs themed on the word “long” are bad karma — but more on that in a minute. This syrupy ballad was a favorite for senior proms at least into the 1980s, sending everyone hurtling into morbidly depressive states — and thus permanently halting generations of young men at first base. (Damn you, DJ!) Even at three-and-a-half minutes, it seemed to be overly long and, yes, winding. (Heck, the Beatles damned near fell asleep playing it. Don’t believe us? Just look at the video.) Producer Phil Spector, in a move that McCartney said precipitated the breakup of the Fabs, later came in and added 18 violins, four violas, four cellos, three trumpets, three trombones, two guitars and a choir of 14 women to the song.
 
Nick DeRiso: McCartney’s showy complaints about the Spector-ization of this track are funny even now, considering how many of his later songs had armies of violins, trumpets, girls, and so on.
S. Victor Aaron: Spector should have gone to jail much sooner for the heavy-handed way he polished this turd of a song. Paul wanted to kick his ass for that, but it’s his own fault for laying this turd in the first place.
Nick DeRiso: Loved Phil’s comeback to this harrumphing: “Paul had no problem picking up the Academy Award for the Let It Be movie soundtrack, nor did he have any problem in using my arrangement of the string and horn and choir parts when he performed it during 25 years of touring on his own. If Paul wants to get into a pissing contest about it, he’s got me mixed up with someone who gives a shit.”
No. 4–
ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE (MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR, 1967)
Composed for the first globally televised live event via satellite, “All You Need Is Love” has the wafer-thin depth and tinny feel of, well, a TV theme song. It’s perhaps of little surprise to learn that the Beatles didn’t sit down to work on the song until a scant 11 days before the broadcast. Falling back on his penchant for sloganeering, Lennon — who once said “I like slogans. I like advertising. I love the telly” — simply threw out a series of sayings, then gussied it up with effects, including snippets of the French national anthem and their early hit “She Loves You.”
 
S. Victor Aaron: Everyone tends to give songs from ’67 a pass for the hippy-trippy lyrics but we have to draw a line somewhere and John crossed it: “There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done/Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung. Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game/It’s easy.” Yes, it’s easy indeed … to write trite prose. He credited his then-four-year-old-son Julian for inspiring “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds,” but it wouldn’t have surprised me if young Jules also wrote the words for “All You Need Is Love,” too.
Nick DeRiso: This arrived amid a startlingly uneven period for Lennon, who was just as capable of kaleidoscope brilliance (“A Day In the Life,” “Strawberry Fields Forever”), as he was a number of under-cooked, cliche-riddled throwaways like “Good Morning, Good Morning,” “Baby, You’re a Rich Man” and this overplayed snoozer. Backed up against the wall by a deadline, Lennon followed more than he led — echoing the themes of that summer rather than coming up with something original.
S. Victor Aaron: And then as the song drifted off into lala land, who was being the ass clown mocking their earlier hits? Yeah, that’s right, Paul.
No. 3–
LONG, LONG, LONG (WHITE ALBUM, 1968)
Inspired musically by “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands,” the final track on Bob Dylan’s celebrated Blonde On Blonde album, this one actually had potential — but the muddled production (was George Martin on a smoke break?) sunk the song. First, Ringo’s too-up-front fills disrupt what little flow the song has, then there’s Harrison’s faint, echoing vocal, and finally a rattling bottle of Blue Nun wine on top of a Leslie speaker cabinet to end things. Maybe this sounded more interesting while baked. It must have.
 
Nick DeRiso: A wet blanket of a record, it’s as if you’re trapped in a some place dark with a guy who won’t get to the point. Is he in love with some girl? Has he found God? Can he speak the hell up? Everything about it seems claustrophobic, save for Ringo’s smashingly out-of-place fills.
S. Victor Aaron: The tune goes straight to the bottom in the last 30 seconds as George gets freaky and emits “ahhhhhhhh” as the song comes to messy end. But I can relate to him. Every time I hear this song, I want to cover up my ears and yell “ahhhhh” so I can tune it out.
Nick DeRiso: When ever I think I’m completely sick of this song, I think about the interminable sessions. The odd waltz time here forced the self-taught Beatles to go through an astonishing 67 takes to complete the rhythm track. (Talk about long … long … LONG!) That’s about 60 more times than I’ve listened to this song.
No. 2–
MAXWELL’S SILVER HAMMER (ABBEY ROAD, 1969)
Nothing like a jaunty little tune about a homicidal maniac to spark up an album, eh? Convinced somehow that this could be a hit anyway, McCartney, and a rotating group of his hapless bandmates, somehow spent three days — three days! — recording this track. “He did everything to make it into a single,” Lennon said years later, “and it never was — and it never could have been.” Bang bang!
 
S. Victor Aaron: Paul can get awfully damned silly at times but never more than he did here. The original meaning of the term “hammer time” was a story about … ah screw it, it’s not even worth getting into.
Nick DeRiso: When Paul sings the line “writing 50 times, ‘I must not be so-oh-oh-oh,’” he can be heard cracking up — reportedly, because Lennon had mooned him during the previous verse, which ends “so he waits behind.” All of that is funnier than anything that actually happens here. A pothole on the otherwise superlative Abbey Road.
S. Victor Aaron: Give it to Paul, though: This was the first recorded instance that a synthesizer was used in a cringe-inducing song. Awful prog rock owes a huge debt to Macca.
No. 1–
BLUE JAY WAY (MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR, 1967)
Another Harrison clusterfuck. Written while George was bored stiff waiting for his publicist to arrive at a house he was renting on Blue Jay Way in Los Angeles — and it shows. Befitting the times, the tune employs all manner of effects — copious flanging, vocal processing, backwards playbacks fading in and out. None of it distracts from the essential ennui of this deeply uninteresting jetlagged dirge.
 
S. Victor Aaron: The song is creepy and trippy but not at all in the right ways. George’s voice sounds like it was run through a Leslie speaker by way of a Hammond B-3 and the droning “please don’t be very long” is grating enough. But, no, this had to supplemented by a second droning voice repeating that insipid phrase out of tune.
Nick DeRiso: What bitter irony, the way George keeps repeating the phrase please … don’t … be … long. Too late. This song is the Energizer bunny of bad Beatles songs: It just keeps going and going and going. And going. You feel sorry for those poor bastards playing the cello.
S. Victor Aaron: Psychedelic music, like psychedelic drugs, had good trips and bad trips. This was a trip to musical hell.



Okay, let's skip the predictable apologist and/or advocate approach of defending any or all of these songs.

And let's not debate unnecessarily, agreeing to agree that any kind of list automatically falls into the category of "one man's treasure is another man's trash".

And let me simply offer this.

It's a fun read, if you're a Beatle fan with even a speck of a sense of humor, it's a validating read if you're not a Beatle fan and, in either case, I'd offer you that, if only unintentionally, misses the point of what The Beatles were all about.

Simply put, in the day, they could do no wrong.

Whether or not they should have, rightly or wrongly, been called on it.

When, in hindsight, I think anyone can see/hear their fallibility.

Put another way...

Let's all get back together in forty five years and have a bash at Taylor Swift. (If you don't know, don't bother showing up.)

"The Hero Isn't So Much Unsung, Here, As Unrecognized..."

Old saying.

It's the thought that counts.

More on that in a moment.

I came across this article on CNN.com written by LZ Granderson.

A young, black, gay man.

And I mention that not to sneak in one last, gasping Paula Deen reference (although, I guess that's exactly what I've done), but, rather, to give you a perspective on the cultural background of the fellow sharing his thoughts.

These thoughts.



LZ Granderson, who writes a weekly column for CNN.com, was named journalist of the year by the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association and was a 2011 Online Journalism Award finalist for commentary.

(CNN) -- Of all the parts that make up my somewhat quirky life, there are few things that raise a stranger's eyebrows faster than discovering I love country music.

Not a "I like that one song by Lady Antebellum" kind of love for country music either. Mine is a "Barack I would love to join you and Michelle for dinner next Saturday, but you see I have tickets to see Eric Church so ..." kind of love.

 

When did this love affair begin? January 24, 1988. The night I met Randy Travis.

 

Back then, it wasn't uncommon for families to gather around the television, and mine had done so that night to watch the American Music Awards. Michael Jackson was receiving a special honor, and Whitney Houston was scheduled to perform. At the time, those two were the most popular singers on the planet but for me, the night belonged to Travis.

 

I had never heard of him or his mid-tempo ballad "Forever and Ever, Amen" before the show.

 

Everyone knew who Kenny Rogers was, but usually the only country music you heard in my house was the theme song to the "The Dukes of Hazzard."

 

But something about the purity of Travis' voice captured me.

 

And even at the relatively immature age of 16, I found his portrayal of never-ending love so beautifully constructed by the lyrics of "Forever" that to this day, it eclipses almost every other love song I have heard.

In fact, when I put together a brief video asking my better half to marry me, "Forever" was the only song I put on the soundtrack.

 

That's why I was so sad to hear Travis was in critical condition in a Texas hospital. He was an unlikely voice of my youth. About as unlikely as you could be.

 

Instead of listening to the latest from L.L. Cool J or Public Enemy, I would go to the record store and play his song "Diggin' Up Bones" over and over again. My friends would snicker and mock the twang in his voice. What they couldn't understand was that the various inflections in Travis' voice were the commas in the stories that he spun. Stories so universal that a white adult man from a small town in North Carolina could touch a skinny black kid in Detroit without ever meeting.

 

When I'm in the car singing "Forever and Ever, Amen," I imagine someone 1,000 miles away is cranking that song up in the car and for three minutes and 31 seconds, we're connected.

 

"They say that time can play tricks on a memory,
make people forget things they once knew.
Well, it's easy to see
It's happening to me
I've already forgotten every woman but you..."

 

Complete strangers can stand silent next to each other in an elevator and not even look each other in the eye. But at a concert, those same strangers could find themselves dancing and singing together like best friends. That's the power of music. And when you've experienced this magical bond with strangers, there is even a greater connection to the artists that provided the vehicle for that bond.

 

That's why it's hard for to see Travis this way.

 

We've all watched once-beloved music icons such as Jackson and Houston fall from grace in similar fashion -- ensnared by drug abuse, publicly humiliated, fighting for and sometimes losing their lives.

 

As Travis lies critically ill in a hospital bed, those of us who count ourselves his fans, pray his story doesn't end in the same way.

 

But we've watched the declining grip he's had on his life for a handful of years now.

 

The bitter divorce.

 

The uncontrollable drinking, the arrests.

 

And now this. It's just sad.

 

Because of Travis, I learned Waylon Jennings was the man who sang "The Dukes of Hazzard" theme song.

 

Because of Travis, I have developed lifelong friendships with some amazing people who work in and perform country music.

 

Before Travis, I used to think "soul music" had one certain sound.

 

Because of Travis, I learned that wasn't true.
 

 

 

It's a pretty safe bet that every country music fan appreciates both the personal sentiments expressed on Randy's behalf, as well as the positive things this young fellow has say about country music as a genre'.

 

Rightly so.

 

And if there's any nit to be picked with his sharing, it is, admittedly, not a large one.

 

But, in my humble o, still worthy of said pick.

 

The impact that Randy's singing had/has on LZ is obvious.

 

And since LZ is a "civilian", music business wise, it's understandable that he would overlook something that has been, traditionally and unfortunately, eminently overlookable.

In the world of acting, it's expressed like this.

"If it ain't on the page, it ain't on the stage".

Simply put, if nobody writes, there is nothing to perform.

Laurence Olivier was once lauded as one of the great actors of his generation.

Indeed.

Without the words written by William Shakespeare, however, Olivier's star might have shined just a little less.

The Nashville Song Writers Association, a respected advocacy group looking out for the interests of those who aim to make a living creating catchy tunes and catchy lyrics has a pretty catchy slogan of its own.

"It all begins with a song".

Well, okay, not all that catchy.

But, "if it ain't on the page..." was already taken, so one does what one must.

The point, almost tediously obvious by now, is actors have nothing to act if writers don't write.

And singers have nothing to sing if songwriters don't write.

But, quick, pop quiz.

Who was the star of, say, Raiders of The Lost Ark?

Right.

Now, who wrote the script?

Ah.

Okay.

Who are Don Schlitz and Paul Overstreet?

Uh, nice try.

But, no, they didn't write the script of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

They wrote a lot of hit songs in Nashville.

One, in fact, titled "Forever and Ever, Amen".

Sung, as it turns out, by a guy who turned LZ Granderson into a country music fan.

Good job, Randy.

And Don.

And Paul.

 

 

 

"...He Stopped Loving Her Today.....They Stopped Paying Attention Years Ago...."

George Jones is dead.

And the tributes, accolades and lauding and magnifying of his glorious country star name began to flow, from the first beat of the news mere moments after the last beat of his heart, like a river of the smooth whiskey that was so much a part of the man's legend.

Given his life accomplishments, both professional and personal, the outpouring of praise was both understandable and, even to the most hardened cynics in the crowd, deserved.

Truth told, though, I feel a little inclination to squirm when I read other's offering up assessments that passionately proclaim George was "the greatest country singer ever" or "the singer by which other singers will always be measured".

But that's not meant as a denigration of the either the gifts he possessed or the manner in which he shared those gifts with country music listeners throughout the years.

I simply instinctively discount the kind of hyperbole that puts any one performer at the head of the line.

There's an apples and oranges thing that comes to mind.

There is one exception to my personal hyperbole rule, though.

And it applies here.

I'll be happy to grant any and all that the passing of George Jones represents the proverbial "end of an era."

With a slight exception to my exception.

Not to split hairs or intentionally annoy and/or irritate.

George Jones died Friday.

The era he most dynamically represented preceded him in death by, at the least, a few years now.

A period in the country music timeline where writing and performing were ends in themselves.

And not just means to the end.

A period in the country music timeline where style mattered less than substance, where gifted writers and musicians and singers collaborated to create their own unique, hopefully tasty, recipes, offering them up to the country music fan with an outward approach that said "friends and neighbors, we'd like to do a little number for you now and we sure hope you enjoy it", but always, lurking just underneath, a gritty, true to the country bone attitude that said, "but like it or not, this is what we do, so if you're looking for something from the cookie cutter, turn off the radio and wander on down to your local bakery."

A period in country music when , as a rule, only the first few notes of a vocalist's tone and timbre were required to recognize and identify that vocalist.

When you heard Patsy Cline, you knew immediately it was Patsy Cline.

When you heard Tammy Wynette, you knew immediately it was Tammy Wynette.

And when you heard George Jones....

...well, the rest, as well as the work, is history.

In fairness, it's naive', at best, to think that any era has been free of its "bandwagon" riders. And it's a mistake to overly romanticize or coat our perspectives of the past with too much "good old days" gloss.

The heydays of Patsy and Tammy and George, et al surely experienced singers who were doing their best to be the "next" Patsy or Tammy or George, et al.

The key difference being that, in those "good old days", very few of those folks kept listeners interest, or their record deals, for very long.

And none of them became the "next".

Put another way, lots of folks putting brush to canvas get their stuff hung on the walls of Holiday Inn's from coast to coast.

Only one Mona Lisa.

Having spent thirty plus years as a writer, producer and studio musician/singer in Nashville, I've heard and seen a lot of country roads country has traveled. These days, in the course of assembling a weekly country music broadcast, I spend, by necessity if not interest, a fair amount of time researching and reviewing pretty much the complete "library" of what's going on in contemporary country music.

Here's what I hear from my seat in the concert hall.

The craftsman's shop has been replaced by the manufacturer's factory.

The goal of making music in hopes of selling product has been replaced by the goal of selling product by means of making music.

The once upon a time studio atmosphere of "what can we all do to make this next song unique" has given way to the atmosphere of "what can we do to make this sound like PLACE THE LATEST TOP TEN HIT TITLE HERE?"  ...

The sweet smell of country cooking has been pretty much overwhelmed by the sweet smell of cookies.

Ready to be cut from the baking sheet.

When the platitudes and tributes currently being offered up include "there'll never be another one like George Jones", those paying that tribute likely don't fully appreciate the irony of the observation.

First of all, obviously, there will never be another one like George Jones.

George was, in every way, shape and sound, one of a kind.

But even if George could be "replicated", it wouldn't happen.

Today's country hopefuls are too busy trying to sound like Blake Shelton.

Or Luke Bryan. Or Carrie Underwood.

Or...

One more irony worth noting.

The flood of George Jones music that filled the country radio station playlists from almost the moment the Possum passed.

Country radio stations that, one second prior to that passing, wouldn't have played a George Jones song if they had a gun to their heads.

I suspect that a man of his life experiences had to be blessed with a pretty solid sense of humor.

It couldn't possibly have gotten past him that a hard living, hard singing, hard drinking country music icon like George Jones could have bent so many rules and flirted with the long arm of the law so many times.

Only to come to a place in his career, at the end, where he couldn't get arrested.

"Who's gonna fill his shoes?"

No one.

Those shoes went out of style a while back.

But they'll always be classic.

For that, and for a lot of great music, thanks, George.