Tag: loretta lynn

An Incomparable Album, ‘White Noise/White Lines’ Is the Kelsey Waldon Experience

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

I’ve had the good fortune of knowing Kentuckian country queen-in-waiting Kelsey Waldon for almost the entire time I’ve lived in Nashville — more than eight years at the time of this writing. I’ve stood over her unfathomably enormous cast iron skillet, filled to the brim with bubbling, sizzling battered fish. I’ve sung harmony on one too many choruses of “Smoky Mountain Memories” after perhaps one too many slugs of Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey with her, too. 

And yet, in listening to her brand new album, White Noise/White Lines, I still found myself picking up fresh tidbits of her extraordinary yet downright ordinary approach to musicmaking, songwriting, self-expression, and artistic exploration. Waldon, despite limitless comparisons to almost every female country forebear to ever growl through a lyric, remains a paragon unto herself, a true singularity in realms of American roots music. 

White Noise/White Lines cements the fact (which has always been plain as day to those who dug deep enough) that Waldon will refuse tidy, one-for-one comparisons to any/all other country stars and writers who have come before her or who count themselves among her contemporaries. Except perhaps two: Loretta Lynn — whose “Coal Miner’s Daughter” inspired Waldon’s own “Kentucky, 1988” — and John Prine. The latter is fitting, in so many ways, now that Waldon makes her label home with Oh Boy Records, label of the denizen of Kentucky songs, meat and threes, and plain spoken oracle-like wisdom through lyrics. 

A brief album by many measures, White Noise/White Lines captures technicolor moments of Waldon’s life, her joys, her musings, and her homeplace, encouraging listeners to lean into the record’s brevity and engage wholly with each constituent moment therein. Because truth needs no more than a moment.

For BGS I made the trek out to Waldon’s cabin outside of Nashville and after a quick stroll around the vegetable gardens and a tour of the many Kentucky-themed decor items imported from one state north, we settled in the kitchen, sipping water out of mason jars, to talk.

People routinely refer to you as being similar to Loretta, similar to Tammy Wynette, Kitty Wells, Patsy Cline. People are constantly making these comparisons to these kind of foremothers of country and I wonder how that makes you feel, to be a bookend against someone like Loretta or Tammy Wynette?

Kelsey Waldon: Honestly, I think that’s an incredible compliment. Those are all, you know, my sisters that have gone before me, women that I’ve looked up to quite a bit. Especially in the country music realm. However, I also kind of feel like, especially with this new record, I think it’s apparent that hopefully I’m also finding quite a bit of my own thing. 

Sometimes when people say things like that to me it’s like, well maybe their scope of country music isn’t that wide. When someone would be like, “You sound like Patsy Cline!” I’d be like, “Uh, no I don’t.” [Laughs] I mean, I love Patsy Cline and I hold her up as something sacred, I wouldn’t ever even sing Patsy just because nothing touches that. 

I think it can kind of be, dare I say, a lazy comparison to just kind of name [some popular woman country star.] It’s definitely there. Even sonically, I was so inspired by them. Especially Loretta, absolutely.

I hope the new record showcases that with the years we’ve spent on the road — just using even my own touring band. It starts at country with me, I can’t just flip off a light switch and say, “Oh, it’s not country!” I guess some people can do that, but I don’t see it that way. Country is just so much embedded in me. No matter what form my artistic expression comes out, that’s still gonna be there. It just may not be cookie cutter, it may not be formulated. It may not even sound exactly like that. One thing that I think the growth of this record shows, hopefully, is that these are my songs, I’m not a throwback artist. I’m not a retro artist. I am an artist making music in 2019.

I did want to talk about your band, I think it’s remarkable. It’s getting more and more rare that folks tour with the folks who played on the record, because — and it’s not the fault of anybody — they’re trying to make money on the road. So if they stack their record, of course they aren’t bringing those people on tour. Why is it a priority for you to have the same band?

There are obviously all of these amazing musicians out there who are session musicians and a lot of people I’ve been fortunate enough to play with myself. I’ve learned a lot from [them]. This time around, this was always a goal of mine, to have a record that had a band I wanted on it. I worked really hard to find the band to really fit those pieces together. It took me a while…  just trying to figure out really what I wanted. My last record, I’ve Got A Way, caused the right people to gravitate towards my music. I mean, I eventually found the band that I have now because they heard those earlier records and they were like, “I would love to be a part of this.”

The band I have now, which is Mike Khalil, Nate Felty, and Alec Newnam — and Brett Resnick played on the record, but he doesn’t get to play with us a lot anymore, he plays with Kacey Musgraves, which is wonderful. But with the band I have now I just knew it. I was like, “I think this is it.” We all knew it. Even Brett. People were like, “We think this is the right combination.”

In that way, too, there’s nothing wrong at all with using session players, I just think, honestly — and I might be a little biased — my band is just as good as any. I think they could, and they will be one day, they will be those session players. They care so much about their craft and they work hard. I’m very lucky. 

One of the things that excites me most about this record is that I’ve always heard the bluegrass influences in your music, but they’re really forward in this record. Especially in your rhythm playing, in your rhetorical style in your writing, in your vocal phrasing, even in the arrangements with the twin fiddles and there are a couple of “fast waltzes” on the record. I love that “Lived and Let Go” really could be played on bluegrass radio. 

I think that is such a huge compliment, thank you.

It’s bluegrass! I wanted to ask, and not just because we’re The Bluegrass Situation, but in general, because this is a huge part of the canon of music you reference and that you listen to. Who in the bluegrass sphere influences you now and who has in the past — and I’m gathering Ola Belle Reed is at least one of them. 

I love Ola Belle, obviously, we did an Ola Belle song on the record. Well, I love that you can pick that out. To me, I feel like it’s plain as day that there’s a bluegrass influence all over it. To some people it’s not as apparent, I guess. I’ve had some people just be like, “What is this thing that you’re doing?” It’s because they don’t listen to bluegrass. I’m like, “I STOLE that!” [Laughs]

I guess I understand now why they don’t put those two together, if you’re talking about mainstream country, because that’s clearly not. But to me, I’m always like, “Of course bluegrass is country.” It’s also bluegrass, but it’s also country.  It’s like the OG country music. 

I would say one of my favorite influences, one of my favorite singers ever, is Dale Ann Bradley. She’s up there for me. I really think Dale Ann should be a legend, honestly. And Ralph Stanley, and obviously I love Bill [Monroe], and Jim & Jesse, and all those groups. And early Keith Whitley, I’ve been obsessed with that for a long time. 

I think it’s interesting that you mention both Ralph and Keith back to back like that, because you can hear elements of both of their vocal phrasing and vocal techniques, in what you do singing-wise. 

The same thing with Dale Ann. They have such unique registers of their voices and it’s something that I really relate to. Sometimes I didn’t really know what it was that I was doing. I could kind of hear my own voice in [their vocals]. If that makes sense? I could really relate to that. It’s so soulful. 

I feel like Keith could sing on anything. [Laughs] He sounded exactly like Keith. That’s the beautiful thing about a country singer to me, he could sing on an R&B track and it would be sexy as hell. It’s like George Jones — and Dolly can sing on anything, as far as I’m concerned. That’s a great singer, to me. Ralph, I’ve always said that he is like the Pop Staples of mountain music. It’s like he doesn’t even have to be loud, but he is so loud. He’s barely singing. He’s just projecting. I love Flatt & Scruggs as well. 

New artists… Molly Tuttle, I love what she’s doing. That new record. She’s really taking a genre and making it her own. Something that’s not worn out or tired. Doing something fresh. She has accomplished making this new for people. In my own way, I hope to do that as well. 

I don’t guess there’s anybody else completely new, besides like Sister Sadie, and Dale Ann! [Laughs] They are some BAD girls!! Dale Ann, man. The mark of a true artist is that she can sing all of the covers she does. Like I said, I think Dale Ann should be a legend. 

Words are clearly your priority in your songwriting. You’re prioritizing what you’re meaning to say first and foremost, then making the melody and music and everything work around what you’re trying to say. It sounds effortless when you listen to it, but I wonder what kind of intention goes into that?

Songwriting is kind of interesting to me in that way. I’ve actually heard a couple people be like, “It sounds effortless.” Sometimes, it is effortless and you’re just like, “Wow that kind of poured out of me. I didn’t realize it was in there but it poured out of me in like five to ten minutes.” With this record, though, there were definitely a couple of things I had to go back to. I had the meat and taters, but there were a couple of things I rewrote and made sure made exactly the sense I wanted them to make. There’s a balance there, too. You don’t want to kind of go too far, over-analyzing the whole thing.

With “Kentucky, 1988,” I think your songwriting up to this point has felt so personal, and so tightly intertwined with who you are, that I almost didn’t realize that you hadn’t written this exact kind of song, yet. What brought you to the point of wanting to be that direct with telling your origin story? Was it more intuitive or more purposeful?

That was definitely purposeful. That is awesome that you’ve observed that, because I’ve felt the exact same way. I was writing new songs and I felt like, “You know, I haven’t written my ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter.’” I don’t really have something that is kind of like this definitive origin story. I just set out to write it. The title was actually kind of inspired by someone I forgot to mention, Larry Sparks — one of my favorite singers. 

Oh my gosh!! “Tennessee, 1949!!” 

Yeah! Yeah, it was inspired by that. That and a Tom T. Hall song that has Kentucky and a year in the title, with the comma and everything. In my head all of that sounded so cool. Everything about it, the rhythmic feel, it all rolled right off my tongue great. I just had to write it. People always [say], “That’s very vulnerable and transparent.” Well yeah, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? [Laughs]

I know a lot of artists say this, but I definitely think this is the most personal thing I’ve done so far. I think all of it has been very transparent, in a way. I want to completely embrace that. I want to be as much of a freak as I want to be. It’s not like I was afraid to before, I just don’t think that I was ready. My mom always said I was a late bloomer, but she said, “When you bloom, baby, you’ll bloom!”  

I did want to ask you about the significance of the Chickasaw Nation members singing on the record. We hear them at the end of “White Noise, White Lines.” What’s the personal significance of that for you? And are you a tribal member? Is anybody in your family a tribal member? 

No. All of the Rollins side of my family, which is my granny’s side, they were all of French and Native American descent, but I never claimed anything like that. I just think it’s been something that’s been such a part of where I grew up, culturally. Even just hunting for points [arrowheads] and having such a respect for that way of life and culture. 

It’s always really hard to keep this story short, when people ask me about the song, because I wrote it right after this amazing experience I had back home in Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky, my hometown. When I went back to watch a ceremonial dance that the Chickasaw from Ada, Oklahoma [performed]. They came to re-bless the Wickliffe Mounds. They ended up lodging at my Dad’s that night, for free, [he was] cooking the food, doing the catering and stuff. I ended up staying down there and visiting.

We just became friends with the members of the tribe. We had so much fun. They’ve kept in touch… My dad took them arrowhead hunting for the first time, and they were doing ceremonial dances out on my dad’s land as well. I think he really really was appreciative of that. We were kind of the only people who ever lived down there in those river bottoms, maybe besides [the Chickasaw]. I mean, it’s the river bottoms. That’s why we find all these artifacts. No one has been down there except us. 

I just remember thinking about how awesome the weekend had been and the radio had been on white noise for literally fifteen minutes and I had no idea. I was just in this tranquil moment. The song is just a detail of all these things. The solar eclipse had also blown my mind that weekend. Just realizing how small we actually are, compared to what is even going on in this universe. 

Naturally, I included the details. “Chickasaw man got a buffalo skin drum,” because Ace — Ace Greenwood and Jesse Lindsey, that’s who’s on the song — actually did have a buffalo skin drum. It was pretty badass. My dad asked them to sing some songs on the porch. I love Ace’s voice, it reminds me of Ralph Stanley. It’s a voice that just feels like it’s been there for a long time. It’s so pure. I just loved it, I was really touched.

He sang a song that had been in his family for generations. The message of the song was basically, “Though I’m far away I’m still near you. No matter where I am. We are together.” In that moment that really was something I needed to hear. I put that [on the record] not only because I thought it was beautiful, and I wanted people to experience what I felt, but I also wanted the record to feel like an experience. 

Ace told me one time when we were down there that the media likes to tell his people who they are and that’s not who they are. I think in a way, perhaps it’s also why I thought it would be really beautiful to have that at the end as well. I hope it doesn’t seem like it was for my own reasons, I guess. I was just writing about that weekend and I felt like it was so beautiful to me I wanted it to be documented. 

I think it makes a lot of sense. And I’m not saying it’s not a complicated thing to talk about, or that it doesn’t trip into some territory that we as settlers will never fully understand, but I do think that it follows perfectly with you bringing your whole entire self to your music. So much of what you do is tied to place and is tied to coming from Kentucky. 

That was another part of it, showcasing where I’m from. And the cultural background of it. 

And not just the colonial background of where you’re from? 

No. I mean absolutely not. To me, that’s exactly how I saw it. Nail on the head. It might cause a little bit of question, but I think that’s good. ‘Cause then I’ll get asked about it. And then I’ll tell ‘em. [Laughs] 

Photos by Laura Partain for BGS. See the entire photo story.

Old Crow Medicine Show: “Time to Start Doing Exactly What We Feel Like Doing” (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

I can still remember the first time I saw Old Crow Medicine Show live. It was a sweltering summer night in Nashville around 2008 (back before the bachelorettes and Bird scooters) and they played from a massive barge moored at Riverfront Park. The thing was huge — far too big for six skinny street musicians to budge — but I swear it moved while they stomped and hollered, the Cumberland rolling by lazily behind them.

I was familiar with the band and already loved the unapologetic mix of tradition and edgy intensity, but that live show was revelatory. It gave me a new appreciation for the sense of community Old Crow was trying to forge, so it’s always surprised me that they didn’t record live albums. That has finally changed with this month’s release of Live at the Ryman.

Backstage at the Grand Ole Opry House on another hot summer night, front man Ketch Secor spoke with BGS about the project, why Old Crow is just now getting around to a live album, and what their style of music needs most right now.

BGS: Part of the idea of this album is that Old Crow has played the Ryman over 40 times. For a band that started out busking in the Northeast, how does it feel wrap your head around that?

Ketch Secor: Actually, I wish I had a real count because Lord knows I’ve played there more than 40 times. I think that’s how many times we’ve headlined, but if you add them all up I bet it’s a triple-digit number. We’ve been openers there for Dolly Parton back in 2002 for, like, a daytime show. We’ve done a lot of film and television there, all kinds of awards shows. It always felt like the place to shoot for — it’s the moon, the Ryman Auditorium, and we were always a shoot-for-the-moon kind of band because we figured “Well, we’re not supposed to be here anyway, so we might as well try and go as far with it as we can.”

You self-released one live album in 2001, and then nothing else until now. Why did it take 18 years to do another, since the live show has always been the foundation of what you guys do?

Oh, I think because we’ve always tried to put out a new studio record every couple of years, and here at the 21-year mark it’s probably time to start doing exactly what we feel like doing.

You haven’t been doing that the whole time?

Nah, not with those studio records. There’s a lot of stuff you’ve gotta do. Yeah, we always did it “our way” in the fact that we always played our own music. But just being in the music business means doing it everybody else’s way.

So you had to make a few compromises here and there?

Oh yeah, there was a lot of playing the game in ways that never seemed to pan out, but it never stopped us. That was just the way it was, and we were impressionable, so that’s what we did. We did it the way we were advised to do it.

Can you elaborate a little?

Like playing Napster. Doing shows for radio programmers in L.A. who never played us. Trying to make videos for CMT that were never in rotation, ever. …Opening up for Carrie Underwood at [Country Radio Seminar], it’s like, “What were we doing there?” Those guys, they might have liked it, but they were never gonna play it. And I don’t care if they like it, I want them to fucking play it, or I don’t want to play that show.

So now that you feel freed up to do it your way, what’s that look like?

Live at the Ryman. Here we are singing a Merle Travis song! Here we are singing our songs or selling popcorn and tickets and people brought their buck-dance shoes! I mean, we’ve set beer records at the Ryman. I’d rather sell beer at the Ryman than sell records! …I’d rather sell beer at the Ryman than digital streams! What’s the fun in that?

“Tell it to Me,” “Methamphetamine,” those are interesting songs to present because rural America has a new drug problem going on with opioids. Why is it important for you guys to sing songs like that, especially at the Ryman?

Well, “Tell It to Me” was recorded in Johnson City in 1928 I think. The band that brought that song to the studio had been an original backing band for Jimmie Rodgers… Anyway, I’m just saying this because if you like country music, you should probably know that drug songs have been part of the canon since recording studios first illuminated a red light bulb and said, “You’re on.”

I don’t think people do know that. We’re just now starting to get radio songs with pot references that people don’t flip out over.

Yeah, I mean it was blow in the ‘20s and now it’s pot in the 2010s. And then “Meth” is a really different kind of song because it’s more topical. We recorded it a long time ago but it seemed important to bring it back and revamp it, make it more intense, and Charlie Worsham plays some really great electric guitar on it. It just feels like it’s knocking on your door, like a hurricane.

Tell me about doing “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” with Margo Price.

We were down in Oxford, Mississippi, doing a show with Margo. She was opening up for us down there near Ole Miss, and we were looking for a song that seemed to fit, so we tried that one. Our duo thing felt really good, and I feel like I’m a little bit in the Conway range — and she’s definitely in the Loretta range — so it worked out pretty good. We heard the playback we thought it sounded great so we wanted to put it out. I saw her at the grocery store the other day and she said she loved it.

Why did you include a song like “C.C. Rider,” which has Lee Oskar playing harmonica?

I really love his band War. We did “Lowrider” onstage at the Ryman, too, maybe that will come out on Volume 2. But what I really loved about that moment on the Ryman recording is that it has twin harps. You know the old guys don’t have their pictures up here [gestures at photos of Opry stars on the dressing room wall]. …But the story of the twin harp playing of the Crook Brothers — Herman and Louis Crook — lives a long time, because Herman and Louis lived, like, into their 90s. What they were great at was two harmonicas playing in unison.

That’s interesting. In your music you’re often looking to the past for inspiration, but what do you think is the future of string bean …. er, string band music, Americana?

You just answered it, man. We need a new Stringbean. Nobody’s acting like that and that’s what’s missing. Who’s gonna be the clown? What happened to the kind of entertainment that’s self-effacing? Everybody on this wall loves the clowns, but none of them are. They’re “the vocalists” and we’re supposed to take them seriously. I’d love to see this genre — whether it’s country or Americana or whatever — just not take itself so damn seriously. Let’s just have a grand ole time. Let’s poke some fun at each other, and especially at ourselves. I’d love to see that.

Editor’s Note: Read part 2 of our interview with Old Crow Medicine Show’s Ketch Secor.

Illustration: Zachary Johnson

Crystal Gayle Goes Deep into Classic Country

Posted on by Editor

It’s a little startling when Crystal Gayle pops into the hallway of her Music Row office and cheerfully waves for this writer to come on back. Along with being a charming and welcoming host, she’s also one of country music’s most identifiable entertainers, a Grand Ole Opry member, a Grammy winner, and a genuine class act.

She’s also a recording artist again, ending a 16-year absence with You Don’t Know Me, a collection of country classics that honors her heroes, as well as her sister, Loretta Lynn, and Loretta’s late husband, Mooney Lynn. It was Mooney, she says, that ushered her into the spotlight as a teenager, and that memory prompted Gayle to begin the album with “Ribbon of Darkness,” a Marty Robbins hit in 1965.

“‘Ribbon of Darkness’ was my first song on the Opry,” she recalls. “I was probably 16 or 17, and my sister Loretta was sick and Mooney talked them into letting me get on stage and sing a song in her place. It was just a thrill! Of course, later on when I started out, I opened for Marty Robbins. Marty was so incredible. I got to work with Jack Greene, Stringbean, Grandpa Jones, Bill Monroe. … My album is filled with songs that mean something to me. This is a part of my life that a lot of people don’t know about.”

Gayle co-produced the album with her son, Christos, and continued the family connection by recording “Put It Off Until Tomorrow” with both of her singing sisters, Loretta Lynn and Peggy Sue. She also unearthed “You Never Were Mine,” a tearjerker written by her late brother Jay Lee Webb. Surrounded by fan gifts and photos from throughout her career, Gayle visited with BGS about her earliest days in Nashville, how she found her own voice, and why she’s still fond of her own country classic, “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.”

BGS: What was it like for you as a new artist in 1970, meeting Jack Greene, Marty Robbins, and all of these stars?

CG: I was in awe of everybody, but of course when Loretta would come through town — because she was singing as I was growing up — she would be with maybe Ferlin Husky. I remember loving that. Or the Wilburn Brothers. They were incredible! I loved the harmony that they did. I could sit and listen to their music all day long, I just loved it. Of course I was a fan as well, but you have to give them their space. [Laughs] I learned that from Loretta.

I’m curious about Mooney. How did he influence your career?

Mooney really believed in my ability of singing. He loved my voice and he actually got my contract with Decca Records, but the best thing about it, he got a very short contract. It was the long ones that can ruin a lot of artists, because now they’re on this label, they’ve got so many years left, and they can’t do anything and [the label isn’t] helping them at all. They are not pushing the records.

So I was very lucky when my contract was up and Owen [Bradley] called me in. It was like, “Well, you’re going to do this, this, this, or we say bye.” I said, “Okay, bye.” [Laughs] I mean, it was hard. It was a hard time and I really thought at that time, “I’m just going to go back to Indiana and do what I’m doing.” I was married and my husband was going to Indiana University. Then when we moved to Nashville, he went to Vanderbilt in law school.

But I was just lucky. I was in the right place at the right time because before I left town, I was fulfilling my [appearance] obligations and I ran into Lynn Shults, who was with United Artists. We were just talking and he says, “Well, what label are you with now?” I said, “No one.” He said, “Will you come and talk to me Monday?” So things fell into place. And they put me with Allen Reynolds.

To say the least, that worked out.

Oh it did.

There was one song here I didn’t recognize – “I’ve Seen That Look on Me a Thousand Times.”

That was a song that our engineer Eric Prestidge loved. He said, “You’ve got to listen to this.” It was a song that I thought, “You know, a girl doesn’t really sing this… And I’m going to do it.” And I loved that it was a Harlan Howard song.

Several times on this record, it’s a woman singing about the drinking and the cheating. What is it about those flawed characters that makes you want to step into those shoes?

I’ve always said that if I had all the heartache I’ve sung about in my songs, I’d be in poor shape. So you’re a little bit of an actress or an actor. I’ve worked so many little clubs and bars on the way up — and even in high school I’d work the little places I could get into without getting anybody in trouble — that you saw the heartache. You saw the people that these songs really was their life.

So you can get into that and sing about it. “Just One More” was one of Mooney’s favorite songs and when they’d come through and stop at Mom’s house, I’d have to sing a cappella — he had me learn “Just One More.”

How old were you?

I was probably in sixth or seventh grade. [Laughs] “Just one more and then another…”

A drinking song from a 12-year-old.

“I’ll keep drinking, it don’t matter….” [Laughs]

You’ve included “Hello Walls,” written by the great Willie Nelson. As a co-producer, what kind of vibe were you going for?

I was actually going to go for the style that Faron Young did, and have the type of harmonies with the “hello, hello” … and we didn’t [use that idea] because I let other people influence me. They said, “No, you can’t, you’ve got to change it a little.” But I did my own harmony on that particular song. You know, I opened for Faron. I used his band and we did some dates together.

I remember rehearsing with him and the group. They were incredible guys, and very, very special to me. They’d watch out. I was that young girl that — all of them, even Conway Twitty — if I was on their shows, they were going to watch out for me because as the little sister of Loretta, they knew that she’d kill them if they didn’t!

Here you are, this young woman, 20 or 21 years old, starting out with these middle-aged guys who are stars. I wondered how they treated you.

Everyone treated me great and I think it really showed a lot of respect as well for my sister. And you know, I’m not someone that’s going to come out there and be that floozy, too. I think the way you present yourself is a part of it. But no, they were all very, very, very good.

And with Faron, when I wanted to do “Hello Walls,” I had completely forgotten that Willie Nelson had written the song and I’m starting to sing it, and I said, “Of course, the phrasing.”

Your phrasing is distinct, too. At what point did you find your own voice, do you think?

I think working with Allen. He would say, “Now sing this song, do it different ways, and then listen back and see which you like the best.” See, he let me listen to my voice and not just go in and sing the song. Because I was a belter. I remember going in the first time and Charles Cochran’s playing the piano and I’m singing at the top of my lungs. Allen grins and he says, “Can you sing it a little bit lighter?” [Laughs] … Allen was laid-back like me, and was not forceful, but he did pull out things within me. He’d say, “Do you like this song? Because you’re going to be the one singing it. You better like it.”

What a gift, instead of a producer just telling you what to do.

Oh, it was incredible. I was used to people telling me everything but Allen knew it was going to be me out there pounding the road and he wanted me to have the songs that I felt really comfortable with. I get asked the question, “Do you ever get tired of singing ‘Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue’?” I don’t, because that song — Richard Leigh wrote it — is so well-written. I’ve always said it says so much in so little. I love it that it’s not all these words I have to think about to sing. There are so many songs out there where it’s like, “OK, what verse is next?” But this song just flows, and I think that’s one of the reasons that it was as big as it was.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

Tanya Tucker Remains a Songwriter’s Muse (Part 2 of 2)

Posted on by Editor

Tanya Tucker isn’t known as a songwriter, although “Bring My Flowers Now” from her newest album, While I’m Livin’, shows she can hold her own. Across four consecutive decades of charting singles, she relied largely on the Nashville songwriting community — and in turn, she’s served as a muse for them. Among her forty Top 10 country hits are classics like “Delta Dawn,” “Strong Enough to Bend,” and “Two Sparrows in a Hurricane.”

Now, her life is the inspiration behind the songs of While I’m Livin’, produced by Brandi Carlile and Shooter Jennings. A bulk of the material was written specifically about Tucker by Carlile and her musical comrades Tim and Phil Hanseroth (a.k.a. The Twins). At her producers’ insistence, she also cut material formerly recorded by Miranda Lambert (“The House That Built Me”) and Waylon Jennings (“High Riding Heroes”).

In the second half of our Artist of the Month interview, Tucker talks about the songwriters she’s known, the mysteries of songwriting, and the left-of-center producer that she credits with her career. (Read the first half of the interview.)

BGS: I read that you had Loretta Lynn in mind while writing “Bring My Flowers Now.”

Tucker: Yeah, I was on the way to Christmas in Texas on the bus. And she called me, or I called her, and we’re always talking songs. She says, “We gotta write something together. You gotta come on over here and write. Me and you gotta write a hit.” And I said, “Well, I got this idea, let me sing a little bit to you. I’ve had it for years, but I just can’t find anything to go with it.” And I sang her the chorus and she goes, “When you come back through here, you gotta stop in here. We’ll finish that song. I love that idea.”

So I went out to California in the meantime, and I guess I’d sung it for some reason to Brandi — and I’m sure I sung a few ideas to her. But then she brought it up the last day of the sessions and we cut it right after we finished writing it. And then it became the title, so yeah, that’s pretty cool.

Yeah, it’s such a minimal production on that song.

That was always her thing. She told me, “It’s time that we hear your voice and it’s been so covered up, and so in the mix. And it’s time for people to hear the real Tanya Tucker, and you don’t need a lot of crap over it and a lot of production.” She’s very into that — very raw, real, flaws and all.

I wanted to ask you about Tom T. Hall because he’s popular among our readers, and he’s in the Bluegrass Hall of Fame now. He’s written a lot of bluegrass hits.

Oh! I had no idea. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. We text, I text him. Johnny Rodriguez and I were together the other day, talking about how Tom T. brought him to Nashville to play guitar. And how I toured with him. I used his van when I was a kid. That was always hard because some people didn’t like you using their van. But he was very cool with it.

I was 14. We had dinner one night and even back then he said, “You know, you gave me a great idea for a song.” So I guess I’ve always come by it naturally. Now songwriters hang out around me, just knowing any minute something’s gonna come out of my mouth. I can’t tell you how many big songs that were my idea. But I didn’t write it, so that’s the way it goes.

I’m a great idea person. I’m a great hook person. But it’s just like “Bring My Flowers Now,” I had the chorus but I could not find the meat. I had the bread, but no meat. And if you don’t have that, then you might as well hang it up. Sometimes it takes a catalyst to get that out of you. Gary Stewart was that way with me. … He could somehow get things out of me. I’ve known some people that can just be in a room, while you’re in the room writing, and just bring it out without even realizing it.

I don’t know what it is. Writing a song is very hard to explain in words how it happens. It’s almost like you have to explain it after, “Well that happened. Curiously, it happened this way.” I don’t really think about it much. Harlan Howard always told me, “Oh, you’re a writer trying to get out of a singer’s body.” Max D. Barnes was a good friend of mine and he said, “If you just sit down and focus for a few minutes, I bet we would write at least three standards.” At least three. So I’ve had the greats say things like that to me — and mean them.

You’ve been listening for great material from the very start of your career.

When I was a kid, one day I said to Billy Sherrill, “I’m getting a little irritated. You know, you write all these songs for Tammy Wynette and you ain’t never written one for me.” And he goes, “Well, let me tell you why.” Either he knows how to build a fence real quick or he was really being honest, and he said, “It’s because I have never written a song that’s as good as you are a singer.” And I went, “Oh, well that was really cool. I’m not sure I believe that shit.” But he did finally write me one and I did record it. It wasn’t a single. It was called “I Guess I’ll Have to Love Him More.”

I used to fight with him about recording some songs. “Almost Persuaded” — he goes, “Nah nah nah, we don’t need to do that.” And I’d go, “WE’RE GOING TO DO THAT!” I had someone tell me the other day, “God, I loved the way you sang ‘Almost Persuaded.’” It was a totally different change from the boy to the girl. But he never did want me to cut any of his songs and I had to fight him to do it. Sure miss old Billy. I give him all the credit. Without him, I don’t think any of this would have happened.

He set the stage for you.

Well, he listened to me. They’re walking out of there going, “What the hell?! This guy’s lost his mind listening to this kid.” Because I turned down “Happiest Girl in the Whole USA.” I said, “Love the song, it’s great, but it’s not my song.” And then when he played “Delta Dawn,” with Alex Harvey on guitar/vocal, and I went, “There you go. That’s my song.” And he listened. I didn’t record anything that I didn’t want to with Billy.

He was a little left-of-center and I’ve always said that anybody that gave me a chance in life was… maybe dealing with more decks of cards, a little off-center. Because anybody logical, who had a watch, was on time, never gave me a shot. It was always those people that were just a little crazy…

I’m so proud to have known some of those boys. Oh my god, all my boys at CBS [Records] were really great. When Billy signed me, the record label thought he was crazy, too. But they couldn’t mess with him too much because he had all the hits on the charts. They thought he was kind of strange, actually very strange. And he was. He wasn’t a normal kind of guy. At all. So, those kind of people, I have a soft spot for because they’re the ones that gave me my chance, my shot.

Your fans are going to hear this and might say, “Well, this is different.” What do you hope they hear in this record?

Well, I hope they like it. “The Wheels of Laredo” is a good song, but it’s not “Only two things in life make it worth living.” It didn’t grab me like that, but it’s grabbed everybody. I’m amazed that they like it as much as they do. People have come out of the woodwork, they’re sending me videos of them listening to it in Canada and in the pool, Buck Brannaman riding in the arena to it — and it’s just like, “Whoa, what is it about this song?”

I really don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m glad it’s happened. I bet it’s like what Elvis felt when they gave him “Hound Dog” – “What the hell?! I ain’t singing this: ‘You aint’ nothing but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time.’” Like, “OK, no…” And then he cuts it and it’s a big ol’ smash. Makes you second guess yourself a little bit.

So I really don’t have any explanations of how all this happened and why. I look at all that stuff up there [plaques on the wall]. It’s not all the stuff I’ve done, but it’s a lot of my work and my catalog and my albums. But I never would’ve imagined this album would do what it’s done. Really. I have no answer for it, I have no explanation.

Photo credit: Danny Clinch
Illustration: Zachary Johnson

22 Top Country Duos

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

Country music was made for duets. Not only because those tight, tasty harmonies are a foundational aspect of the music, but also because country accomplishes heartbreak — and every other make and model of love song — better than almost any other genre. (Thought quite possibly better than all other genres.) It just makes sense to have two singers, one to play each role in a lost, soon-to-be-lost, or (rarely) divine, never-perishing romance. But the format isn’t restricted to lovers or their placeholders, it can just as seamlessly fit heroes and acolytes, parents and children, siblings, peers, fellow pot smokers, and on and on.

Take a scroll through these twenty-two country twosomes:

Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton

We couldn’t have this list without these two. They should be the start, middle, and end of any definitive list of country duos. So we’ll just make the easy choice and kick it all off with Kenny and Dolly — that extra intro about their friendship and the years they’ve known each other? Swoon.

Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty

After saying what we did about Kenny & Dolly we knew this pair needed to come next — so as to not rile anyone. Out of countless duets we could have chosen, how could any top “You’re The Reason Our Kids Are Ugly?”

Willie Nelson & Ray Charles

For inexplicable reasons people tend to forget Ray Charles’ incredible forays into country. His collaborations with Willie are stunning for the extreme juxtaposition of their voices and styles — they feel and swing so distinctly and differently, but all while perfectly complementary. “Seven Spanish Angels” ranked a very close second to this number in our selection process.

Glen Campbell & John Hartford

The most-recorded song in the history of recording? It’s said “Gentle On My Mind” holds that honor. And goodness gracious of course it does. Here’s its writer and its popularizer and hitmaker together.

Lee Ann Womack & George Strait

Together, Lee Ann and George were beacons of the trad country duet form, especially in the ’90s and early 2000s. This one from the jewel in the crown of Lee Ann’s discography, Call Me Crazy, is crisply modern, but with decidedly timeless vocals.

George Jones & Tammy Wynette

A broken, country fairy tale of a love story, George and Tammy’s relationship was infamously fraught, but damn if that didn’t just make their duets ever more… ethereal. Which doesn’t justify that Tammy Wynette kinda pain, to be sure, but it does remind us that if country can do anything better than all other genres, it can be sad.

Reba McEntire & Linda Davis

One of the best country songs, duets, and music videos EVER MADE. Theatrical and epic and a little silly and downright catchy and Rob Reiner and… we could go on forever.

Tanya Tucker & Delbert McClinton

Tanya is back with a brand new album and its well-deserved level of attention has been helping to re-shine the spotlight on her expansive career. Forty top ten hits across three decades. Who does that? Here she duets with Delbert McClinton on their 1993 hit, “Tell Me About It.”

Alan Jackson & Jimmy Buffett

Hey, if this has to be stuck in our heads for the rest of the month, it should be stuck in yours, too. Fair’s fair. It’s only half past [whatever time it is], but we don’t care.

Johnny Cash & June Carter Cash

One of the most recognizable duos in the history of the genre, immortalized not only in their discography but in a film adaptation of their love as well, Walk the Line. We all know “Jackson” as familiarly as the ABC’s, so here’s a slightly lesser-known beaut. (Keep watching til the last verse for an adorable bit from June.)

Eric Church & Rhiannon Giddens

Country is at its best when it surprises us. This collaboration is certainly, on the surface, unexpected, but the message of the song isn’t the only way these two artists can relate to each other. Over the course of their careers they’ve both fought their way from the fringes to the centers of their respective scenes. More of this, please.

Dolly Parton & Porter Wagoner

Dolly got her start with Porter Wagoner on his television show in the 1960s. They can certainly be credited with pioneering, popularizing, and epitomizing the country duet format. One of her most famous hits, “I Will Always Love You,” was written for Porter as she lamented leaving their act to go totally solo. (We’re a little glad she did.) You can tell they sang this song just a few gajillion times together, give or take.

Pam Tillis & Mel Tillis

Father/daughter duos in country aren’t as common, but they certainly aren’t unheard of. Pam and Mel are a perfect example. (The Kendalls are another.)

Patty Loveless & Ralph Stanley

Patty Loveless received the first ever Ralph Stanley Mountain Music Memorial Legacy Award in 2017 at Ralph’s home festival, Hills of Home, in Wise County, Virginia. Patty and Ralph were longtime friends and collaborators during his lifetime and even through her mainstream country success she referenced bluegrass and Ralph as influences — and she cut a few bluegrass records as well.

Alison Krauss & James Taylor

It’s. Just. Too. Good. Like butter. Like a warm bubble bath. Like floating on a cloud. Two voices that were meant to intertwine.

Charley Pride & Glen Campbell

These two were made to sing Latin-inflected harmonies together, weren’t they? Charley Pride gets overlooked by these sorts of lists all too often. But dang if he didn’t crank out some stellar collaborations, too!

Gram Parsons & Emmylou Harris

“Love Hurts” and boy, if Gram and Emmylou don’t make you believe it heart and soul and body and being. The definitive version of this Boudleaux Bryant song? Perhaps.

Willie Nelson & Merle Haggard

Icons being icons. And friends. And amazingly talented, ceaselessly musical comrades. You love to see it. (We could’ve/should’ve chosen “Pancho & Lefty.” We did not.)

Vince Gill & Amy Grant

There are quite a few reasons why the Ryman Auditorium basically hands this husband and wife duo the keys to the place each December. Basically all of those reasons are evident in this one. It’s fitting that this video came from one of those Christmas shows, too.

Dolly Parton & Sia

Dolly literally outdoes herself, re-recording “Here I Am” for the original soundtrack for her Netflix film, Dumplin’, after she first cut the Top 40 country single in 1971. Clearly she and Sia have much more in common than an affinity for wigs; their soaring, acrobatic voices seem so disparate in style and form until you hear them together. Listen on repeat for the best therapeutic results.

Robert Plant & Alison Krauss

[Insert entire Raising Sand album here, because how could we ever choose?] Lol jk, here’s “Killing the Blues.”

Carrie Underwood & Randy Travis

Cross-generational, meet-your-hero magic right here. Little did we know what was in store for Carrie Underwood then. But the way Randy looks at her up there, you can tell he knows she’s goin’ places.

Artist of the Month: Tanya Tucker

Posted on by Editor

Tanya Tucker is just as surprised as you are that she’s made a brand new record, While I’m Livin’. In an upcoming two-part interview with the enduring country artist, she talks about working with her producers — and new best friends — Shooter Jennings and Brandi Carlile, her friendship with icons like Tom T. Hall and Loretta Lynn, and the shock at seeing the overwhelmingly positive response so far to the new music.

From signing to a major label as a teenager, to rebounding with an award-winning career in her 30s, Tucker placed milestone singles at country radio throughout the ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s, and she’s earned her reputation as one of the most important female country artists of her generation. Enjoy some of her most significant musical achievements in our Essentials playlist.

Photo credit: Danny Clinch

MIXTAPE: Wild Ponies’ Favorite Duos

Posted on by Editor

Ah, the mixtape. Playlists. Songs. BGS asked us to do a mixtape and we decided it would be fun to ‘mix’ it up with a bunch of our favorite duos. A lot of them we just pulled off of our Wild Ponies Friends and Neighbors playlist. The hard part was narrowing it down. We threw in a few ringers who aren’t really our friends or neighbors — but we wish they were. There are so many ways to present music. We love a great big band, a power trio, a solitary soul with an acoustic guitar…

But there’s really something special about two voices working together, spiraling into that rare space that makes the whole room levitate. There’s a push and twist. If you’re at a show you can see it in the performers’ eyes when it locks in and happens. But if you can’t be at the show the next best thing is to close your eyes and just listen to the music. If you sit real still you might even be able to levitate at home, just a little. It’s worth a try. — Doug and Telisha Williams, Wild Ponies

Stacey Earle and Mark Stuart – “Next Door Down”

Oh, y’all, where do we even start with Stacey and Mark? We would not be making the mixtape or probably even be in Nashville without the support and love of these two. We picked “Next Door Down” from Simple Girl, because it was this release that began our love affair with Stacey and Mark. I’m pretty sure we can still play each and every song on that record!

Gillian Welch & David Rawlings – “Annabelle”

Well, our first dog was named Annabelle, after this song. That’s just how much we love Gillian, Dave, and this record.

Buddy & Julie Miller – “Keep Your Distance”

We’re so excited about Buddy and Julie’s new record, but we reached back in time a little on this one. When I listen to this song (by Richard Thompson?), Buddy and Julie’s influence on Wild Ponies’ sound is so evident.

Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton – “Put It Off Until Tomorrow”

Oh, Porter and Dolly, one of the original duos. Each of them is such a talent, but together, there is magic — a third, indescribable element that elevates the song,

John Prine and Iris Dement – “In Spite of Ourselves”

Come on, John Prine AND Iris Dement. Our love for both of these superstars runs deep, but the blend of their quirky authenticity is stunning.

The Louvin Brothers – “My Baby’s Gone”

There’s nothing like family harmony. We were lucky enough to get to know Charlie Louvin later in his life, and the stories he shared about singing with his brother were slightly terrifying and beautiful. All the years after Ira’s death, Charlie could still hear Ira’s voice and his part every time he sang. The way that they could seamlessly switch parts and cross each other’s lines is something that maybe only those that share blood can accomplish.

Wild Ponies – “Hearts and Bones”

Singing this song live each night has become a favorite spot in our set. There’s something in the intimacy of our vocals — even just the “ooohs.” It almost feels like we’re sharing something that the audience shouldn’t be allowed to see.

Robby Hecht and Caroline Spence – “A Night Together”

Robby and Caroline are both amazing singers and songwriters. Two of our favorites in Nashville, right now. This duet record is absolutely stunning. I hope there’s another coming.

Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn – “Easy Loving”

This song was released before I was born, but feels like the soundtrack to my childhood. I think I can even smell the chicken casserole cooking in the oven.

The Everly Brothers – “All I Have to Do Is Dream”

This is what every duo wants to sound like. Period. Anyone who tells you different is either lying or they’ve never actually heard this track.

Freddy and Francine – “Half a Mind”

I’m so happy that Lee and Bianca (aka Freddy and Francine) are in Nashville now. Their show and sound is amazing! Don’t those tight, powerful harmonies make you want to move?!

The Sea The Sea – “Love We Are We Love”

I challenge you to pick out who is singing what part with these two. Chuck and Mira’s voices blend so beautifully together, that it’s easy for me to get lost somewhere in the space between.

The White Stripes – “In the Cold, Cold Night”

Bad. Ass. The White Stripes make me want to break all the rules. This is such a cool track, because it’s mostly just Meg’s voice and Jack’s guitar. I guess not technically a duet, but it still feels like one. So intimate and creepy.

Anana Kaye – “Blueberry Fireworks”

Anana and Irakli are just weird and cool. Their writing is so big and theatrical. I love what they do. You should really go see them live — you can’t look away. They’re so good.

Waylon Jennings & Willie Nelson – “Pick up the Tempo”

Similar to the Conway and Loretta tune, this sounds like my childhood, only this time the smell is my daddy’s truck instead of chicken casserole.

Photo credit: Rob Hanning

BGS 5+5: Chely Wright

Posted on by Editor

Artist: Chely Wright
Personal nickname: Chels

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I don’t mean to sound like I’m too cool to acknowledge that books, films, and paintings affect me (of course they do), but I think the single biggest influence on the work I do comes from human interaction and my observations of it. I absorb communication (spoken and non-linguistic) between people — whether it’s firsthand or from the sidelines — in the ways that one might go to the Met to see their favorite Degas. I do think, at times, that the way people interact is a form of art, because the composition matters and because it requires context and begs for interpretation.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

When I was just a little kid, I’d sit in front of stacks and piles of my parents’ vinyl record collection as my mom would curate the playlist of the day. Buck Owens, Loretta Lynn, Emmylou Harris, Bobbie Gentry, Conway Twitty, Hank Williams Sr., Elvis, and The Beatles… those were some of the artists in heavy rotation in our household. I remember being four years old and all I wanted to do was listen to those records. I was learning to read at that time too and my mom would help me as I sounded out the words written in the liner notes. I recall saying to my mom, “I want to do this. I want make my own records.” To which she replied, “You can.” And in that moment I really believed that I could and that I would.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

Mission Statement: Find joy in every part of the work. The music. The people. The solitude. The airports. The chaos. The struggle. The triumph. The songs. Find The Joy.

Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?

I try to walk a lot wherever I am. I’ve always cherished the experience of putting my feet down on dirt, gravel, pavement, and stone in places where I’m pretty sure I’ll never walk again. There’s something profound about it for me. Like most folks, I do my best thinking on my walks. Usually, on these walks, I don’t think about melodies or lyrics, but rather, I think about characters. The characters I consider (mostly fictitious) have free reign of my imagination for 1-2 hours to share their monologues or dialogues with me. I remember being a kid on my paper route and doing the same thing. I don’t know why I enjoy it, but I do.

Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?

I’m not a big foodie and I’ve never answered questions about the intersection of food and art with any style or substance, to be honest. I can say this though– if you give me a night of Rodney Crowell and Joe Henry together on stage, I’d be pretty damn happy with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Photo credit: Matthew Rodgers

Nicolas Winding Refn Brings Rare Country Music Films to UK’s Black Deer Festival

Posted on by Editor

Since he made a name for himself with the 2011 neo-noir film Drive, director Nicolas Winding Refn has become synonymous with sleek, glossy visuals and pristine synthetic pop. That makes him an unlikely figure to participate in this month’s Black Deer Festival, the new boutique, UK weekender celebrating Americana and country music.

But the 48-year-old Denmark native has demonstrated his interest in US culture throughout his career, starting with an obsession with cult exploitation and horror movies that spawned a coffee-table book of posters (The Act of Seeing, 2015). Then there’s the archive of some 200 movies that he’s restored under the banner of his byNWR project – three of which are to get a rare public screening at Black Deer. They include a 1965 concert film featuring George Jones and Loretta Lynn, as well as a musical country and western comedy he describes as “like a Carry On movie, shot in the South.”

Based in Copenhagen, Refn is a frequent visitor to the States, where he once lived as a child. It explains the light transatlantic twang to his near-perfect English. But the fascination with American culture began before that, he suggests. “I think it started back when I was eight years old,” Refn recalls, “and my mom was in New York, basically assessing if this was a place we were gonna move to. So, she had been away for a couple of weeks, and she sent me a package with a 45 of Willie Nelson’s ‘On the Road Again.’ Ever since then, I’ve always had an infatuation with that kind of country and western, and the more that I started learning about it, the more I started getting into it.”

Refn’s taste in Americana and country should be apparent from the films he’s selected for Black Deer. The first is Forty Acre Feud (1965), featuring comedy turns and musical performances from a host of stars from Minnie Pearl and Skeeter Davis to Ray Price. “It’s one of those strange country and western films that was specifically made for the Southern market,” says Refn. “It’s from an archive of a director called Ron Ormond. We happen to own his entire library in the collection. He made these very peculiar Southern-oriented drive-in movies. They very rarely even made it to the north in America. They’re very, very much part of a specific kind of illusion of America.”

Refn is as fascinated by the director’s backstory as the film itself. “The interesting thing about Ron Ormond is that he and his wife June ran a mom-and-pop exploitation business down South, and they would fly around in a private plane to collect revenues from the various drive-ins. Then they had a near-fatal crash that made them very religious, and they turned their bag of tricks to the whole religious crowd in the South, and started making films like If Footmen Tire You, What Will Horses Do?, which was produced by a guy called Estus Pirkle, who was a real hardline pastor. It’s quite an infamous religious propaganda movie about Communism spreading through the US.”

Perhaps the more conventional of the three titles is Ray Dennis Steckler’s Wild Guitar (1962), in which a young rock ’n’ roller gets into the music business and falls foul of a manipulative manager. “That’s a really interesting flick,” says Refn. “It’s a great kind of document of Los Angeles in the early ‘60s. It was shot by Vilmos Zsigmond, a famous cinematographer that went on to win multiple awards for his work with much bigger directors, like Steven Spielberg. But as a film it’s actually quite a groovy coming-of-age, kind of cautionary tale about rock ‘n’ roll. It has some great rock songs in it. In fact it has everything in it: dames, music, good photography, gangsters, guns, fights, love, and mayhem.”

Rounding off Refn’s three choices is Cottonpickin’ Chickenpickers (1967), one of only two films directed by the lesser-known Larry E. Jackson. “It’s an amazing, low-grade It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World kind of thing — with fantastic country and western music in it. And they play the whole songs until the end. It’s quite surreal in a way. It’s a bit like a Jacques Tati movie, I guess. It’s more like a comedy really. It’s just a really, really fringe comedy of a certain era that’s gone. It’s very innocent and kind of quirky in a way. But the music is just absolutely outstanding, and the way that the musical numbers are introduced is just fantastic.”

Each of these films, with their ragged edges and primal, analogue sounds, will come as a surprise to those who only know Refn from his recent English-language work and see him as a pioneer of the digital era. “I always say you have to love and embrace all kinds of music,” he observes. “For me, a lot of it is about, ‘Is it sincere? Is there something within it?’ I think if you always approach music like that, then in a way there’ll be something in all genres that touches you.”

Photo credit: Kia Hartelius (portrait); Scott Garfield (with car)

14 Songs for Roller Skating in Buffalo Herds

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

No matter where you may stand on the Lil Nas X viral sensation “Old Town Road” and the associated media firestorm, Twitter debates, and raging country-purity authenticity signalling, we should all be able to agree on one thing: country music has always been a welcoming home to musical memes. Sure, that term may be more recent, a product of the internet age, but ever since the dawn of country as a format silly, tongue-in-cheek, self-deprecating, hilarious, and downright foolish songs have been just as integral a part of the genre as heartbreak, cheatin’, booze, and trucks.

We thought it’s high time we celebrate the knee-slappin’, gut-bustin’ history of country music’s meme-ready songs from across the decades. Here are fourteen of our favorites — yes, just fourteen. We can assure you there are dozens and dozens more where these came from.

“A Boy Named Sue” – Johnny Cash

The man in black, one of the most iconic personas in the history of country music, famous for his grit, his stoicism, and his rough-hewn voice wasn’t even “above” recording a song steeped in satire. Hopefully in 2019 life is getting easier for boys named Sue.

“What a Waste of Good Corn Liquor” – Tennessee Mafia Jug Band

Originally recorded by Country Music Hall of Fame and Bluegrass Hall of Fame member Mac Wiseman, this disconcertingly happy-sounding song tells a story with a moral: moonshine will melt you. Don’t spoil the moonshine.

“The King Is Gone (So Are You)” – George Jones

A song about Elvis, Fred Flintstone, drinking, and heartbreak. This one ticks all of the boxes. Even the “use yabadabadoo in a song” box.

“Did I Shave My Legs For This?” – Deana Carter

Country, after all, is all about the relatability of the human condition. Jilted would-be lovers everywhere have felt your pain, Deana. We truly have.

“Don’t Let The Stars Get In Your Eyeballs” – Homer & Jethro

The original Weird Al Yankovics of country and bluegrass, Homer & Jethro wrote (and re-wrote) scores of songs with wacky, eye roll-inducing, laugh-out-loud funny lyrics, ad libs, and arrangements. Check that steel solo!

“I’ll Oilwells Love You” – Dolly Parton

No, Whitney Houston did not cover this one. But that would have been magnificent.

“You Can’t Roller Skate In A Buffalo Herd” – Roger Miller

One of country’s humorous kings, Roger Miller recorded a host of silly songs over the course of his career. We chose this particular number because of its evergreen wisdom. Of course.

“You’re The Reason Our Kids Are Ugly” – Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty

But you know what? Looks ain’t everything. And money ain’t everything.

“I’m My Own Grandpa” – Willie Nelson

Get out a piece of scratch paper and sketch this family tree as you go. Does it seem a little… circular? Yeah… that’s the problem.

“Would Jesus Wear A Rolex” – Ray Stevens

A modern country parable. Again, an artist with plenty of silly and sarcastic songs to choose from — and Ray Stevens is being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame this year. Sounds pretty country to us…

“Cleopatra, Queen Of Denial” – Pam Tillis

Yes. More country songs with outright puns as their hooks, please. And of course, we’ve all been there, Pam. Denial is a popular destination.

“Illegal Smile” – John Prine

On the opening track of his debut album Prine immediately set the tone for his entire career with some of the most nonsensical and witty lyrics ever set to song. “Well done, hot dog bun, my sister’s a nun.”

“I’ll Think Of A Reason Later” – Lee Ann Womack

If you’ve never driven down the road shouting along with this one, we highly recommend that you do — as soon as possible. The song’s main character has a remarkable sense of self-awareness for being so viscerally incensed. If you really hate someone — who may or may not have ended up with your former significant other — it may be your family’s redneck nature.

“My Give A Damn’s Busted” – Jo Dee Messina

Look, if you’ve gotten to the end of this list and you haven’t enjoyed yourself, or maybe you don’t get the point, or maybe you think this is just useless clickbait… whatever the case may be, this song counts as our response. “Nah, man. Sorry.” (Isn’t country the best?)