Kris Rutherford

As a caveat to what you’ll read if you continue reading this column, I admit I am no expert on Southern rock music. After all, Gregg Allman of The Allman Brothers — a band some label as the first Southern rock group — once said another term for Southern rock is “rock rock.” As most of my readers know, I have little interest in rock music … unless the word is followed by “-abilly.” I must admit, however, to a brief peer-pressured KISS phase in 1977 that I still work to live down. (Yeah, I was 11 years old. I got the belt buckle — and I later scrapped the KISS sticker off, leaving myself with a buckle that could easily display a Johnny Cash decal.) Gregg Allman had a good point. Despite what it became, rock music largely grew from the South, with Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis and Buddy Holly. The blues heavily influenced rock, and performers like Janis Joplin and Creedence Clearwater Revival appealed to fans of both rock and the blues with performances like “Me and Bobby McGee” and “Proud Mary.” Kris Kristofferson penned the former, and country artists ranging from Johnny Cash to Roger Miller have covered the tune. On occasion, what came to be described as Southern rock crossed over to the country charts. The Marshall Tucker Band’s 1977 hit “Heard It in a Love Song” reached No. 51 on Billboard’s country charts. The tune, featuring — of all instruments — the flute, still receives occasional airplay on classic country radio stations today. Other Southern rock bands touched the fringes of country music on occasion, especially those like Lynyrd Skynyrd and Barefoot Jerry. More recently, groups like The Kentucky Headhunters offered no apologies as they blazed a trail that blended Southern rock with country to the point that fans couldn’t tell the two apart. But when it comes to a Southern rock group that consistently walked the tightrope between “rock rock” and country, arguably, none managed to do it as well as The Charlie Daniels Band (CDB). CDB emerged from North Carolina shortly after Charlie Daniels graduated from high school in the late 1950s. Daniels was natural musician who played the guitar, fiddle, banjo and mandolin. Some critics credit Charlie Daniels with starting the “outlaw country” movement, one that didn’t officially catch on until the 1970s. But to prove his direct connection to Southern rock, Daniels often played with The Marshall Tucker Band and Barefoot Jerry. CDB officially crossed into the country genre in 1975 when the band recorded a Southern anthem, “The South’s Gonna Do It Again.” Another tune, “Leave this Long-Haired Country Boy Alone,” also helped cement CDB as a regular on country airwaves. But it wasn’t until 1977 that Charlie Daniels and his band hit their stride. “Million Mile Reflections,” an album now certified as triple platinum, took both the Southern rock and country music worlds by storm. The album — a compilation that reached No. 1 on the country charts — included CDB’s most popular song, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” A 1979 release, the single hit No. 1 on the country charts and No. 3 on Billboard’s Hot 100 before ultimately earning CDB a Grammy Award. Heavily influenced by bluegrass in both lyrics and instrumentals, the single made CDB a mainstay on country radio for decades to come. While Charlie Daniels performed until his death in 2020, the songs country fans best remember came in the 1980s. In fact, “In America” followed up “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and served as a direct appeal to country music’s patriotic fan base upon its release in 1980. The lyrics — a breath of fresh air to a nation mired in the embarrassment of the Iran hostage crisis, high fuel prices and double-digit inflation — reminded Americans and the rest of the world that the U.S. was not on the verge of collapse. The song capitalized on the U.S. National Hockey Team’s capture of the gold medal in the 1980 Winter Olympics, as well as on the “It’s morning in America” vision of hope Ronald Reagan promoted during his presidential campaign. “In America” offered Charlie Daniels a chance to summarize, in just a few words, the patriotic Southern man’s view of the status of the U.S. and the springing optimism about what lay ahead:      “The eagle’s been flying slow,      And the flag’s been flying low,      And a lot of people sayin’      that America’s fixin’ to fall.” From the three-line stanza summarizing the fears of many Americans and the hopes of some overseas foes, CDB then goes into a patriotic frenzy — one that, at least on country radio, helped pull the nation through some dark days.      “But speakin’ just for me,      And some people from Tennessee,      We’ve got a thing or two to tell you all.      This lady may have stumbled,      But she ain’t never fell,      And if the Russians don’t believe that,      They can all go straight to hell.” The song reminded those who believed, and some who even relished the thought, that America’s weaknesses would push the nation over the edge that the U.S. had started to rebuild its confidence. And when it arrived — well — “God bless America again.” CDB pointed out that Americans were “walking real proud” and “talkin’ real loud.” The U.S. was a country that might have seen a little infighting, but when it came to disrespect around the world, “We’ll all stick together,” and that included the “cowboys and the hippies and the Rebels and the Yanks.” After “In America” topped out at No. 11 on the Billboard Top 100 and No. 13 on the country charts, CDB followed with the haunting single, “The Legend of Wooley Swamp.” The song was a success on the Top 100 where it reached No. 31. But despite tremendous airplay, country fans dismissed it, and it only reach No. 80 on country charts. The band didn’t have another successful song until 1986 when “Drinking My Baby Good-Bye” rose to No. 8 on the country charts. To finish out the 1980s, CDB released “Boogie Woogie Fiddle Country Blues” (No. 10) and “Simple Man” (No. 12). After 1990, CDB’s new material never again reached the popularity of his string of 1980s hits. While CDB may have been a Southern rock band, it also had a tremendous influence on the country music scene. The proof is in the pudding. Charlie Daniels became a member of the Grand Ole Opry in 2007, and in 2016, he was enshrined in the Country Music Hall of Fame. Until next time, happy New Year! Let’s all hope this year someone like Charlie Daniels will step up and reunite our seemingly disjointed union again.

If your musical tastes are confined to Top 40 country radio, chances are you’ve never heard of Junior Brown. Despite a career dating back to the 1960s, Brown hasn’t logged an extensive list of hit songs. In fact, his discography includes only five singles, all released in the mid-1990s. Still, this artist, billed as an “American Original” (perhaps mixed with a dose of Ernest Tubb), has left his mark on alternative country genres. And, along the way, he even applied his unique style to an original trucking song. Born June 12, 1952, in Arizona, Brown’s family relocated to Kirksville, Indiana, before he learned to walk. And, as Brown tells the story, his dad taught him to play the piano before he could talk. During his childhood, Brown says, he found country music unavoidable. He notes that, in Indiana, country music was “growing up out of the ground like the crops — it was everywhere; coming out of cars, houses, gas stations and stores like the soundtrack of a story, but country music programs on TV hadn’t really come along much yet; not until the late fifties.” After learning to play a guitar he found in his grandparents’ attic, Brown spent his teenage years playing before audiences ranging from private parties and school functions to 5,000 scouts at the annual Boy Scout Jamboree. During the ’60s, Brown perfected his instrumental skills performing with bands like The Last Mile Ramblers, Dusty Drapes and Asleep at the Wheel. He later broke out on his own and became one of the most prolific performers at clubs throughout the Southwest. “I played more nights in honky-tonks during the ’70s and ’80s than most musicians will see in a lifetime,” he said. All the while, he worked to hone his skill on another instrument — the steel guitar. In the end, his repertoire featured so much guitar and steel guitar that switching from one instrument to the other on stage became cumbersome. The search began for a solution to the problem of playing two instruments simultaneously — and the result was enough to earn Brown his “American Original” tagline. In 1985, Brown teamed up with Michael Stevens to invent an instrument country music had never seen. The guit-steel, as it’s now known, is a combination electric and steel guitar. The instrument, which Brown describes as a “double-necked biscuit board,” is larger and heavier that a double-necked guitar. On stage, the guit-steel rests on a specially designed stand that takes the weight off what would be the player’s shoulders, allowing the guitarist to easily switch between the two instruments mid-song and play them both with precision. In many ways, the guit-steel turns a Junior Brown performance into something akin to a one-man band, with Brown performing self-penned songs ranging from serious ballads to high-energy, instrumentally focused tunes. Accompanied by Brown’s increasing skills as a songwriter, the guit-steel led to the development of a “Junior Brown” style that few artists have attempted to replicate. In the early ’90s, Brown relocated to Austin, Texas, the unofficial home of alternative country music. His growing local popularity, along with his unique style, led to his first recording contract, a seven-record deal with Curb Records. He recorded 12 albums, but his commercial success was fleeting. As a result, you’ll often hear his music in the most unexpected places. According to the Junior Brown website, the artist received several Grammy nods, a CMA (Country Music Association) award for “My Wife Thinks You’re Dead,” and has made numerous appearances in movies and TV shows, such as “The X-Files,” “Me, Myself and Irene,” “Blue Collar Comedy” (tours 1 and 2) and, more recently, “Better Call Saul.” And there were the ad campaigns — The Gap, Lee Jeans and Lipton Tea. As his notoriety grew, Brown collaborated on projects with some of the performers he’d grown up listening to on the radio. Over the years, he has performed with Ralph Stanley, Hank Thompson, the Beach Boys, George Jones, Doc Watson, Ray Price and others. His website adds, “He even played guitar for Bob Wills’ Texas Playboys in a radio commercial.” In 1996, Brown released his fifth album, “Semi-Crazy.” Critics said the album’s songs brought back memories of the type of music country radio “used to play” … “the essence of Western Swing,” packed full of Brown’s “casually irreverent humor.” The album remains his most successful, reaching No. 34 on the country charts. And while the title song was never released as a single, Texas Monthly magazine touted “Semi-Crazy” as the “first decent trucking song in more than a decade.” As the truck driver narrating “Semi-Crazy,” Brown describes himself as “a slap happy, gear jamming coffee drinking truck driving fool,” but the lyrics’ mild irreverence toward truckers should be taken as nothing less than admiration. “The more I try to make a buck in this beat up truck, the more semi-crazy I get,” he sings, admitting he’s “half nuts to keep running up and down the road in these semi-trucks.” And make no mistake, this driver has thought about doing something else for a living — but “I’m never gonna give it up ‘til I’m pushing up daisies.” Why? Because he’s crazy for semi trucks. Two stanzas of “Semi-Crazy” are excellent displays of Brown’s dry humor, as the unique songwriter attempts to pay homage to those who keep the nation moving: “‘I’m just a truck driving fool who never finished school, I got my learning at the old truck stop. They said I won’t amount to much when a gear shift And a clutch was the only education I got.” And “I’m just an old blue collar, semi-crazy road scholar They tell me that I’m half insane. And I’ve been driving so long, I got diesel in my blood And ninety weight oil on my brain.” And for those who question the real intent of Brown’s lyrics as being something more sinister than humorous, another stanza casually (though still humorously) reflects the performer’s admiration for the truck driving profession: “Everybody says we’re dingy ’cause we’re too semi-crazy to stop. That’s the handle that we’re stuck with, no matter if we like it or not. Through the desert and the mountains The sunshine, the rain and the snow, We’ll be double clutching daddies ’til we’re over the hill And we’re never gonna take it slow.” To put the dot in the exclamation point, the final words Brown utters as “Semi-Crazy” fades offer a nod to one of country music’s best-known performers of truck driving songs: “What do you think of that, Dudley?” And with the song ended, Brown heads off to another tour stop where he pays his dues to the professional entertainers’ version of “Six Days on the Road.” Until next time, don’t forget to search the far corners of country music for alternatives to Top 40 radio. After all, listening to those same songs for days on end is enough to drive anyone semi-crazy.

Big rigs, and of course, big rig drivers, are hardly unique to the U.S. Large numbers of Canadian and Mexican trucking firms employ drivers, and these three North American countries are likely the occupation’s geographic area for drivers. There are plenty of big rigs in Europe as well. But when it comes to matching the cultural popularity of drivers on a scale that the U.S. reached in the 1970s, perhaps Australia comes the closest. And, where truck drivers travel, trucking music follows. Considering trucking music is best connected with country music in the U.S., it’s only natural that fans in a place where other forms of country music are popular have their fair share of trucking music. Although the U.S. truck driving census of 3.3 million drivers dwarves that of Australia (245,000), the continent has a long connection to country music — both that popular in the U.S. and its native form. So, if you’re looking for foreign trucking songs, Australia is a good place to turn. And when you’re looking Down Under, there’s one name to search — Nev Nicholls. Nev Nicholls was born on a farm in the New South Wales area of Southeast Australia. After his father died when Nicholls was still a boy, he worked both the family farm and nearby farms to help the family make ends meet. In the meantime, when he was 11, Nicholls discovered the guitar and taught himself to play and write songs. His farming jobs kept his musical ambitions on hold for several years, but when time allowed, Nicholls appeared on the local radio station performing both his original songs and covers of popular music. In 1952, Nicholls left the farm and headed for Sydney on Australia’s Pacific Coast. There, he made some custom recordings that caught the ear of executives at Regal Zonophone Records. Soon he was recording original material for the record company. He became popular on Australia’s “Amateur Hour” and Tim McNamara’s “Talent Quest.” Nicholls permanently moved to Sydney to pursue his career, but he found opportunities in short supply. He made more money as an insurance salesman than a musical performer. In 1954, Nicholls signed with another Australian recording company, EMI. His popularity grew, and three years later, he went on tour with several other country recording artists. A year after his first tour, he set out on his second throughout New South Wales and Queensland. But his success didn’t hold. Unfortunately, fans soured on Australian country music through most of the 1960s. But in 1968, U.S. country music became popular on the continent, and for the next 10 years, Nicholls teamed up with numerous acts to play at a honkytonk, the Texas Tavern. Others appearing at the venue included Buddy Emmons, Roger Miller’s steel guitar player and the U.S.’s own Charley Pride. During this period, Nicholls formed the band that would bring him his most successful years, The Country Playboys. By 1974, trucking songs were all the rage in the U.S. Nicholls, always on the lookout for a niche, had a hunch that tales of truck drivers would attract listeners in Australia as well. His first album of such songs, “Keep on Trucking,” was certified gold. While Nicholls had a boatload of U.S. trucking songs he could have picked from to cover on his albums, he opted for original songs focused on Australia. Between 1974-1981, Nicholls recorded seven albums containing truck driving songs, and his new niche was well received. With albums titled “Just My Truckin’ Luck,” “Truckin’ Around,” “Supertrucker” and “Blazing Diesels,” it was clear Nicholls had cornered the market on Australian trucking music and had made his mark on his country’s music scene. In 1977, Nicholls was inducted into the Tamworth Hands of Fame, which is on par with Hollywood’s Walk of Fame. Nicholls’ trucking songs were most often based on tales and issues facing the Australian trucking industry and Australian drivers. But his music took on the unique sound of American country music, primarily the Bakersfield Sound, made popular by Buck Owens and Merle Haggard. With driving rhythms led by electric guitars, instrumental introductions to Nicholls’ music signal the listener a trucking song is on the way — the rhythm of the highway beats at a regular pace behind the lyrics. On occasion, however, Nicholls strayed from the ways of American country music and inserted a brass section into his tunes. The brass, out of place to American listeners, helped set a tone for some of Nicholls’ songs, particularly those with upbeat and positive lyrics. Geography has always played an important role in country music, and it’s evident in trucking songs. After all, Hank Snow set the stage with “I’ve Been Everywhere,” and most American trucking songs also have a sense of place to enhance the story behind the lyrics. Nicholls recognized the importance of geography, and his lyrics include many references to the highways, cities and landmarks of Australia. Whether it’s Western Australia, the Northern Territories or the informal “Outback,” Nicholls sang of drivers covering terrain across most of the Australian continent. To an American listener, however, Nicholls’ geographic references can be confusing. In his 1975 hit single “Truck Me Dead,” Nicholls sings of the last moments of Harry, a truck driver from Townsville, an oceanside city in Australia’s “Sunshine State” of Queensland. Unfortunately for Harry, the character was on his deathbed in southern Australia, and he knew he’d never find his way northward before he died. He laments being laid to rest in what he considers to be the “cold” area of the continent (even though southern Australia is considered to have a mild Mediterranean climate). He begs his “mates” to “truck me dead to Townsville,” where the climate is warmer and more suited to Harry’s tastes. To an American listener, it’s hard to conceive of the north being cooler than the south, but that’s the way it is in the southern hemisphere. After the long discography of trucking songs Nicholls turned out in the 1970s, he spent most of the remainder of his career performing on a roadshow heard on 90 radio stations throughout Australia. In the late ’90s, Massive Records re-released many of Nicholls’ trucking songs on albums such as “Aussie Truckin’” and “Interstate Truckin’.” Those releases brought renewed attention to Nicholls’ body of work. In 2002, he retired from the music business and was inducted into the Australian Country Music Broadcaster’s Hall of Fame. He died in 2012 at the age of 93. Until next time, when those old trucking songs get stale, spread your wings and see what performers in other countries have to offer. You’ll find a lot you’re already familiar with, but there’s plenty that will be new to the ear.  

Just a few decades ago folks referred to almost any type of country music as “hillbilly” — a genre known primarily as bluegrass among music historians. When rock ’n’ roll came along and influenced country music, what came about was “rockabilly.” Now, you’ll hardly find bluegrass undertones in Jerry Lee Lewis’ or Carl Perkins’ rockabilly records, but the fact that the two played rockabilly music back in the 1950s and 1960s stands as proof that, to the average Joe, the two terms were interchangeable. Then again, some bluegrass music is pure hillbilly, and a few artists carried the unamplified strings into topics other than skinning mules or living in Appalachia. Charlie Moore, along with his instrumental partner, Bill Napier, did just that during the mid-1960s. Moore was born in 1935 in Piedmont, South Carolina. He learned to play guitar growing up, and primarily performed gospel bluegrass in local churches. Moore didn’t perform professionally until 1956, when he joined Cousin Wilbur Westbrooks’ Asheville, North Carolina show. The gig didn’t last long, and a year later Moore was back in South Carolina where he formed The Dixie Partners bluegrass band. Soon, Moore showcased his baritone vocals on a gospel bluegrass show he hosted in Spartanburg, South Carolina. By 1962, he had joined forces with instrumentalist Bill Napier, a West Virginian and former Stanley Brothers sidekick. With the addition of Napier, The Dixie Partners grew in popularity. Over the next five years, Moore, Napier and the band recorded nine albums for the King label. In fact, during their first recording session with King, Moore and Napier turned out what would become one of their most popular songs: “Truck Driver’s Queen.” “Truck Driver’s Queen” was the first in a long discography that included an emphasis on truck driving songs. “Lonesome Truck Driver” and “Georgia Bound” are two of Moore and Napier’s early recordings that enjoyed continued popularity throughout the duo’s career recording together. Moore and Napier primarily played out of Panama City, Florida, where they appeared on a number of television shows. In fact, it was said the duo had a “monopoly on live entertainment” in the Florida Panhandle. A humble Moore complained that the gig wasn’t as good as it seemed — half the signal covered a swamp and the rest the Gulf of Mexico, he said. But they remained popular in the area, eventually moving their show to Pensacola, Florida, where they enjoyed some of their most successful years. The two also appeared regularly in Wheeling, West Virginia, on WWVA, home of the “World’s Original Jamboree.” While the duo did experience commercial success and Moore was said to have the best voice in bluegrass, the addition of Napier did not come without controversy. After all, Moore had formed The Dixie Partners before Napier’s arrival. Napier, an apparent prodigy on the guitar, mandolin and banjo, soon overshadowed the rest of the band. Some critics claimed that since he couldn’t play all three instruments at once, whatever instrumental he played dominated fellow band members. Still, without Napier, it is questionable if Moore would have ever achieved the level of success that led him to continue The Dixie Partners after Napier moved on. “Truck Driver’s Queen,” featuring a heavy dose of Napier on acoustic guitar, is typical of bluegrass (and most country songs) of its time. Just over two minutes long, the lyrics waste no time getting to the point. First, as The Dixie Partners name suggests, Moore narrates as a truck driver running in the heart of Dixie, from the Carolinas to Alabama. Along the way he’s seen plenty of pretty women, but he’s never been tempted. After all, he sings, none are “as sweet as mine.” And like Dave Dudley in “Six Days on the Road,” the truck driver has no intention of stopping for pastimes like shooting pinball or worrying about radar guns along his way. He’s “gotta keep these big wheels rolling” because he’s heading home, where he’ll rejoin his truck driver’s queen. In the second verse, Moore gives the listener a vocal glimpse into the beauty of his girl back home. In short, she’s “the sweetest ever seen, with big blue eyes that sparkle” — all the makings of a truck driver’s dream. And that, in short, is what Moore and Napier have to offer with their debut single. After Moore and Napier parted ways in 1967, The Dixie Partners went on to record 10 albums during the 1970s under the Old Homestead label. However, they never found the same success they had with Napier. Moore and Napier did get together for a reunion album, but Moore’s greatest successes during the second half of his career came in Europe, where he recorded live albums in Belgium and The Netherlands. Moore struggled with alcoholism for much of his life. Just after Thanksgiving in 1979, his health failing, Moore’s band members checked him into a West Virginia hospital. He died there, just a few days before Christmas. As for Napier, his time with Moore was the highlight of an impressive career as an instrumentalist. By 1970, he had semi-retired to Detroit, but he made occasional appearances in recordings and on stage. He continued to perform during the 1980s and 1990s; in fact, in 1984 he recorded his only solo album with Old Homestead. He also played the stage with his wife, Carla Napier, fairly frequently. Napier was still performing when he died in 2000, having outlived his former singing partner by more than 20 years. Until next time, if you’re going to keep those wheels rolling fast, make sure you’re doing it for a good reason. Getting home to your own truck driver’s queen (or king) might be the best motivation.

By the late 1970s, Mickey Gilley was a bona fide country music headliner. But he couldn’t have imagined what lay in store for him as the decade ended, even as a hint of the success he was about to enjoy came from a 1977 song by his famous cousin Jerry Lee Lewis. The next to the last of Lewis’ string of Top 5 singles came by way of his No. 4 hit “Middle-Age Crazy.” The plot of the lyrics revolves around a successful businessman’s mid-life crisis. Despite his success, something is missing from his life. To deal with growing older, he remakes himself. As Lewis sang, he traded his business suit for “jeans and high boots with an embroidered star.” Neither Lewis nor Gilley realized that the minor hit set the stage for a cultural shift in the U.S. “Middle-Age Crazy” was released as a movie starring Bruce Dern in early 1980, but it largely failed at the box office. However, the motion picture’s theme was about to become ingrained in American culture. The “cowboy look” soon became the American style of the early 1980s — only it wasn’t Lewis who helped bring cowboy dress to the forefront. Instead, it was Gilley, with a healthy dose of John Travolta, who led the revolution. When producers of the movie “Urban Cowboy” looked for a location to shoot their film, they knew they needed a country nightclub, and a big one. The so-called largest honky-tonk in the U.S., Gilley’s Club in Pasadena, Texas, offered the perfect backdrop. John Travolta, who was fresh off starring in the anything-but-country motion pictures “Grease” and “Saturday Night Fever,” found himself cast in the role of country boy Bud Davis, a young man who relocates to the Houston area and starts frequenting Gilley’s club. Looking back over four decades, the plot of “Urban Cowboy” is easily forgotten. But for those who lived through the era it ushered in, the movie’s impact is hard to forget. Gilley and several nightclub employees had parts in the movie, and Gilley’s band provided much of the soundtrack. Gilley himself was featured on the soundtrack album. “Here Comes the Hurt Again” brought Gilley a lot of air play — but it was his countryfied rendition of the soul song “Stand by Me” that elevated him from being an occasional hit maker to one of the 1980s most prolific artists. Likewise, it was Gilley’s style — cowboy boots, western hats with feathered grommets, and just a general western style of dress — that became all the rage. Areas of the country like New England, where few followed country music and only a handful of true cowboys lived, were suddenly overrun by Yankees donning the “Urban Cowboy” style. The period did much to increase the popularity of country music nationwide, and western retailers popped up from coast to coast. In short order, the image of the “Urban Cowboy” shifted from John Travolta’s character to the real-life Gilley. Gilley’s nightclub became a sensation and spawned the opening of similar country clubs across the nation. It also created an environment in which one of country music’s most popular female singers, Barbara Mandrell, could record her signature song, “I was Country (When Country wasn’t Cool).” By the time Gilley’s career slowed down, he had charted 39 Top 10 singles, 17 of which reached No. 1. The likes of “You Don’t Know Me,” “That’s All that Matters to Me” and “True Love Ways” became classics of the 1980s country era. As the decade passed, Gilley shifted his music to a more orchestrated style, featuring strings and his iconic piano in his recordings rather than the hard-driving piano of his earlier sons like “The Girls All Get Prettier at Closing Time.” This fresh Gilley style was largely inspired by the crossover success many country artists experienced during the decade. The change in his music also reflected a change in Gilley’s persona. The man who had ridden a nightclub to fame made himself over for a new audience. He sold his nightclub and relocated to a new spot in the U.S. where country music was taking off — Branson, Missouri. Branson was a growing community that centered around country music-related entertainment. For a performer like Gilley, the area was a godsend. The city became packed with theaters and boasted as many current and former stars per square mile than anywhere other than Nashville. And the town became a saving grace for more than one artist’s career. “Branson works because it provides the best conditions for the fans and the entertainers,” Gilley said. “The fans get to see us under the best setting possible … theaters have good seats, and we have the best stage setups.” What’s more, performers in Branson often owned their theaters. They didn’t have to deal with the daily grind of putting together and tearing down a stage show. The grueling pace of touring didn’t wear down the performers, most of whom owned homes not far from their theaters. Throughout the 1990s, Branson grew, and Gilley found himself at the center of another seismic shift on the country music scene. He became one of Branson’s most popular stars, raking in profits from hundreds of fans who’d visit for both afternoon and evening shows held year-round. While the new hits stopped coming when Gilley shifted to Branson, the audiences his show attracted didn’t seem to care. Promoters marketed Branson toward an older crowd — people who remembered the likes of Andy Williams, Floyd Kramer, Mel Tillis and numerous comedy and variety shows. These people didn’t expect or want to hear new material from the performers whose shows they frequented; they wanted to hear the hit songs of days gone by. Gilley’s former popularity provided enough hit songs to fill a show, and recording wasn’t as important as it had been earlier in his career. Branson became a prime retirement area for people looking for a nice place to live, and it served semi-retired performers as well. For the most part, Gilley played out his life in Branson. His shows were among the most popular in the city. Gilley’s name became as much a part of Branson as the ever-popular theme park Silver Dollar City. And it provided an iconic setting for a popular artist to complete a career that headlined two of the most noted contributions to late 20th century country music. Until next time, don’t wear a cowboy hat in a Ford Focus. It just ain’t right.

Few American performers are as closely associated with nightclubs — or in the case of country music, “honky-tonks” — than Mickey Gilley. The long-time musician, who died in early May at the age of 86, was the king of the honky-tonk movement that consumed country music during the 1980s. Before there was a “Billy Bob’s,” Gilley held the reigns of the most notable honky-tonk in the nation. Gilley’s Club, the self-billed “World’s Largest Honky-Tonk,” in Pasadena, Texas, served as the Houston area’s most popular hot spot in the 1970s before bursting to both national and international fame in the 1980s. And as Gilley raked in the profits from his nightclub, his notoriety as a performer grew. Gilley’s Club not only served as a business venture for Mickey Gilley, but it also became a springboard for his success in Nashville. But it was a long road to the spotlight for Gilley, a man who had to step out of the shadow of not one but two successful cousins who drew enough limelight for any family. Gilley made a name for himself in Texas, but he hailed from Mississippi, born there in 1937. Gilley’s first cousins — and best friends as a youngster — were future rock ’n’ roll icon Jerry Lee Lewis and television evangelist Jimmy Swaggart. But while his cousins each found their way into their chosen high-profile occupations, Gilley stumbled. Like Lewis, Gilley excelled at playing the piano, but he learned his style from his older cousin who burst onto the Memphis music scene in the mid-1950s and soon became a headlining rockabilly act. Gilley could see that the market only needed one Jerry Lee Lewis, so he turned his attention to Jimmy Swaggart’s niche. In fact, Gilley once said that he, Lewis and Swaggart all tried their hands at evangelism, but they didn’t have the same natural talent as Swaggart — a talent that eventually turned the young minister into a multimillionaire. While his cousins made their way to international fame, Gilley settled into a domestic life in Houston, marrying and working at an engineering firm. In fact, he had all but given up thoughts of a music career … until he heard one of Jerry Lee Lewis’ early recordings on Sun Records. Lewis’ success motivated Gilley enough to enter a Houston recording studio to turn out his first record. Gilley later described the forgotten single as “awful.” Despite a disastrous first record under his belt, interest in the entertainment business burned in Gilley’s heart. He eventually became proficient enough on the piano to work as a studio musician, and by 1960 he was on the road, playing nightclubs between Houston and southern Alabama. However, his recording efforts, even after signing with Dot Records, didn’t succeed like his personal appearances. Eventually Gilley had a local hit in Houston with a cover of a Warner Mack song, “Is It Wrong?” But then again, the tune reminded audiences of Gilley’s more famous cousin Jerry Lee Lewis who, by this time, was a full-blown rock ’n ’ roll star. Gilley continued playing nightclubs through the 1960s, focusing on the Houston area. He had a regional hit with “Lonely Wine” in 1964, but the song attracted little national interest. In the early 1970s, Gilley became enamored enough with nightclubs that he joined forces with longtime friend Sherwood Cryer to open Gilley’s Club just outside of Houston in Pasadena. While Gilley became a well-known musician headlining his own nightclub, recording fame continued to elude him; he just couldn’t overcome the similarities between his music and that of Lewis. When he received an opportunity to record a complete album, Gilley decided he needed a change. Taking an “I can’t join ’em, so I’ll beat ’em” attitude, he recorded an album in 1974. Once again, his efforts failed. The lack of success began to impact Gilley’s mental state. He noted that he felt Lewis’ style as his own, and his inability to compete nearly “drove him nuts.” But later that year a new style found Mickey Gilley. At the urging of someone in the Gilley’s Club ticket office, Gilley recorded “She Calls Me Baby,” intended for play in Houston area jukeboxes. The B-side of the recording was a steel guitar-led rendition of “Room Full of Roses.” While the primary song met with no success, Gilley won over Houstonians with the B side tune. He took the record to Nashville, and after being turned down by every studio in town, he traveled to California, where he signed with the newly formed Playboy record label. In short order, “Room Full of Roses” succeeded and landed Gilley a Top 10 record. By the end of 1974, Playboy released “City Lights,” a single that reached No. 1. Mickey Gilley had finally climbed out of his cousins’ shadows. Through the latter half of the 1970s, Gilley’s popularity as a recording artist grew. Songs like “Bouquet of Roses” and “Don’t the Girls All Get Prettier at Closing Time” landed on the charts, as did two more No. 1 hits, “Honky-Tonk Memories” and “Chains of Love.” This success gained Gilley a new recording contract, this time with Epic Records. While his recording and new-found touring demand took up much of Gilley’s time, he continued to headline in his nightclub as much as possible. There he played to honky-tonk music-loving crowds and had the freedom to perform both his music and the Jerry Lee Lewis style he continued to love. Soon, he had to hire other performers to play piano at Gilley’s Club, as his work outside of Houston became overwhelming. Gilley had been trying to become a country music star for over two decades, and success arrived in a big way. But he had little idea that Hollywood, not Nashville, would provide the boost he needed to become not only a bona-fide country music superstar but a cultural icon as well. If you had told him the boost would come from actor John Travolta, best known as the star of the disco-laden movie “Saturday Night Fever,” Gilley might have shied away. Until next time when we discuss Gilley’s burst into the stratosphere of country music, don’t let the lights of honky-tonks along the sides of the interstates distract you. Dial up a little of Mickey Gilley’s 1970s music and you’ll have a personal honky-tonk show in your cab.

It’s been six decades since Gene Watson emerged from his childhood home in Sumner, Texas, with a hobby that would eventually land him a spot as one of Nashville’s most prolific recording artists of the 1970s and ’80s. Strangely enough, it seems, that hobby wasn’t music. From an early age, Watson knew the career path he wanted — the auto body repair business. He was so sure, in fact, that he spent more time at the local salvage yard than he did in school … except on the days Miss Opal Horton came to Sumner, that is. Miss Opal taught music to kids across Lamar County, and when it was her day in Sumner, Watson made sure he sat in the front row. Between singing at church and for Miss Opal, a lot of kids in the county learned about music. In fact, 15 miles south of Sumner, future Oak Ridge Boy Duane Allen was busy learning from Miss Opal at the same time as Watson. Allen went on to get a college degree in music. On the other hand, by the time Watson turned 16 he was so sure he knew where his path would lead that he dropped out of school altogether. He eventually made his way to Houston, where he took a job in an auto body shop. However, his love for music didn’t fade. By the early 1960s he was singing in nightclubs around Houston, and he released his first album in 1962, when he was just 19 years old. Still, it would be another decade before Watson’s path turned in a drastic new direction. Watson’s early attempts at recording didn’t take him far. But by 1975, with the support of several Nashville stars, including The Wilburn Brothers, he signed a deal with Capital Records. That summer he released his first major label single, “Love in the Hot Afternoon.” The sultry lyrics about a summer love in New Orleans took Watson to No. 3 on the country charts and launched his new career. Labeled the “Singer’s Singer” because of his voice inflection that jumps octaves with ease, Watson followed that debut hit with plenty more. In fact, in the years since, he has recorded 34 studio albums, charted 72 songs, landed 23 Top 10 hits and placed six singles atop the charts. Despite his years on the road, Watson’s voice is still as strong as ever. In fact, if you listen to the original recording of “Love in the Hot Afternoon” and then hear him sing the song live, you’d never know so many years have passed. The same holds true with his other early singles like “Paper Rosie,” “Should I Come Home (or Should I Go Crazy)?” and his signature song, “Farewell Party.” Along the way, Watson’s songs have turned up on television shows like “WKRP in Cincinnati” and in movies like “Convoy.” In 1982, Gene Watson released the single “Fourteen Carat Mind.” It reached No. 1 on the charts and started a string of hits. “Speak Softly (You’re Talking to My Heart),” “You’re Out Doing What I’m Here Doing Without,” “Sometimes I Get Lonely” and “Drinking My Way Back Home” all helped Watson become one of the most successful artists of the mid-1980s. He largely abandoned an on-stage presence with a guitar in hand and truly became a singer’s singer, backed by the Farewell Party Band. By 1990, Watson’s popularity began to wane — but only if judged by the record charts. He continued to record prolifically. As recently as 2007, USA Today referred to Watson as “one of the most underrated singers” in the business. He’s certainly not underrated by longtime fans, however, as he continues to pack the house at casinos, music halls and county fairs across the country. In fact, the organizers of the Lamar County Fair annually invite Watson as its headline singer, often for two shows — and fans flock in to see the hometown boy who made good. In 2012, Watson gave up on traditional commercial recording companies and started his own label, Fourteen Carat Music. The first release was one of the greatest re-recorded albums you’ll find: “Best of the Best, 25 Greatest Hits.” At nearly 70, Watson went to the studio and recorded his favorites a second time. When listening, you can’t distinguish the original from the remake. Watson has seen the best and worst of times. While growing up, he lived in a school bus that his family drove for itinerant farming work. He was poor, but no poorer than anyone else, he recalls. “My dad was kind of like a gypsy,” he said. “His attitude was, ‘If there is a dollar out there, I’m going to make 50 cents off it.’” The work ethic Watson learned at age 6 in the cotton fields paid off. By the time he was 12, he landed a job at a salvage yard — a good starting place for anyone planning to work in the automotive repair business. While some may think Watson gave up his true love of auto repair for music, quite the opposite is true. “I didn’t go searching for a career in music,” he once said. “Music found me.” Throughout those early years when the hit songs weren’t coming, Watson’s work in a Houston auto body shop kept the food on the table. A half-century later, music might pay the bills, but Watson hasn’t forgotten where he started. Today, auto body work just happens to be his hobby rather than his cash crop. After growing up poor, living with the ups and downs of the music business, and surviving a bout with cancer, Watson is still going strong at age 79. He’s about to release a new album, and recently the Grand Ole Opry recognized him on stage following an “as good as the album” rendition of “Farewell Party.” The standing ovation he received that night is hardly the last a crowd will offer. He maintains an active touring schedule and plays to adoring fans across the country. Gene Watson won’t be throwing his farewell party any time soon. Until next time, keep that classic country loaded on your playlist and satellite radio.