Losing a legend

The first record I ever bought (and, yes, for any of you young 'uns, it was a record) was "He Stopped Loving Her Today."

It's the greatest country music recording of all time. Period. Don't argue. You're not going to change my mind. (Kudos must quickly be given to its composer, Bobby Braddock.)

George Jones, the singer who performed it, didn't think it would be a hit. He bet his producer, Billy Sherrill, $100 bucks saying as such -- and lost.

The Possum is dead. He was 81. Talk about the end of an era.

George was colorful, an understatement to be certain. He drank too much at one point, snorted too much coke, fought too much with ex-wife Tammy Wynette, even drove a lawn mower to the liquor store. He earned every one of those lines on his face.

You could hear the pain in his voice. My favorites are his Epic hits: "The Grand Tour." "These Days (I Barely Get By)." "If Drinkin' Don't Kill Me..." "He Stopped Loving Her Today," of course. "A Picture of Me Without You." Others.

In 1985, he sang a smash called "Who's Gonna Fill Their Shoes?" I've been asking myself that question since Keith Whitley died and I've got news for you: it ain't this bunch of models and pop singers. If that makes me an "old fart or a jackass," Blake Shelton can kiss my you-know-what.

Picture this scenario:

One day anthropologists or music historians will be digging through what will then be old recordings. Once they finish with whatever the hell this era is called, they'll find "He Stopped Loving Her Today."

And one of them will say: "Oh. So that's what country music sounds like."

Rest in peace, Possum. You sang from your soul.

Ain't nobody gonna fill your shoes.

The greatest country song of all time

On this date in 1980, George Jones hit No. 1 with what is generally considered to be the greatest country song of all time, "He Stopped Loving Her Today."

And there's a funny story behind the song. Jones didn't want to record it.

The Possum's career had hit something of a snag when he came across Curly Putnam and Bobby Braddock's weeper about a man who loved a woman who didn't love him back -- until it killed him. Jones' producer at Epic Records, Billy Sherrill, loved the song and just knew it would be a smash. Jones wasn't so sure.

Sherrill kept after him, going so far as to make a monetary bet with the Possum. Jones finally recorded it, snarling as he walked out of the studio, "Nobody will buy that morbid son of a bitch!"

It proved to be Jones' first No. 1 hit in six years and served as a "comeback" single. Jones won a Grammy Award in 1980 for Best Country Male Performance. The song also took home the Academy of Country Music's Single of the Year and Song of the Year. It also helped Jones win the CMA's Best Male Vocalist of the Year for 1980 and 1981.

Oh, and yep, Jones paid his bet.

I long to see you...

Heard a song getting ready for work this morning that took me to the beginning of my long love affair with American folk/roots music.

Oh Shenandoah, I long to see you/Away you rolling river...

I was back in music class at Brickey Elementary School, that beautiful old brick building that no longer stands. I can still see me sitting there on the bleachers, wearing an alligator shirt and singing to my little heart's content, full of naive wonder about the world.

Away, I'm bound away/Across the wide Missouri...

Wikipedia says that "Shenandoah" originated in the early 19th century as a river chantey. The song spread up and down the Missouri and Mississippi rivers and eventually became a haunting installment in the American songbook.

The meaning is disputed. Obviously a tale about a wanderer's love for an Indian girl, arguments have arisen over whether Shenandoah is an Indian chief or the famous Virginia river. Apparently the doubt was enough to keep the song from becoming a Virginia state song a few years ago.



The version I heard this morning was from an old late 60s/early 70s Glen Campbell album. His cover is full of lush strings and a choir; it is a wistful treatment that fits the moment. One can almost feel the longing.

Away, I know I'll go/Across the wide Missouri...

The song has made its way into our popular culture. Bob Dylan recorded the song on one of his albums. Richard Nixon, who apparently loved the song, left instructions for it to be played at his funeral. Filmmaker Oliver Stone used the song to close his 1995 biopic on the 37th president.

Good stuff.

Sad song of the week: Found a new sad song that I'm climbing the walls over.



A few weeks ago, I read News Sentinel columnist Wayne Bledsoe's interview with The Everybodyfields, the Alt-Country Johnson City duo Sam Quinn and Jill Andrews. I missed the group's appearance at the World Grotto because of illness, but their new album "Nothing is Okay" is a sight, er sound, to behold.

I'll write an elaborate review later, but you simply have to stop what you're doing and find a copy of this song "Savior." This may replace George Jones's "He Stopped Loving Her Today" and RobinElla's "Teardrops" as my favorite sad song. Here, listen:

Love's not a savior/when you're messed up/when you're messed up, forever

You feel you're drowning in red hearts/Wrapped in red ribbons/And blue skies

Then somebody pulls the plug/It all goes down the drain/Don't we all change?

God, that should be illegal.

Anyway, I think I've found a new favorite. I'm going to catch these folks next time they are anywhere near East Tennessee.

Beautiful, simply, wonderfully, heartbreakingly beautiful.