Perspective

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.