1962 - devil woman meets mountain man

Seeing as how all sorts of stuff seemed to do the trick in 1961, all sorts of stuff continued to be given the chance to in 1962.  It must have been refreshing for the artists and record companies to realize there was more than one way to make a hit record, and/or it must have been just as frustrating when something that seemed like a sure thing failed.  As the field of hitmakers grew a bit more diverse, recent successes like Ray Price and Johnny Horton found themselves on the outside looking in.

Relative newcomer Porter Wagoner kicked off the year with “Misery Loves Company,” a song that those of us raised on classic country probably assumed was called “Break Out the Bottle” since that’s the grabbiest line in the chorus.  It’s a fine barroom singalong, another entry in the longstanding genre of songs about a party-hearty dude who’s crying on the inside, with the only real critique being that given the large and prominent chorus of background singers it feels like it almost doesn’t matter who’s singing lead.  It’s still a lot better than its successor, Sheb Wooley’s “That’s My Pa.”  A novelty singer of some note in his day (and a decent actor), his childhood tale of his cotton-farmer dad coming back from market presumably (and audibly) drunk grates more than it amuses, especially when the semi-yodel schtick kicks in.  Hard to imagine anyone wanted to hear it more than once.

Fortunately, Patsy Cline was around to class up the joint with her second #1, “She’s Got You.”  More rueful than devastating relative to her previous one (“I Fall To Pieces”), it endures as one of the most stately and gorgeous couple of minutes ever committed to vinyl, a soulful lament playing forever in the dusky little cocktail lounge of your heart.  Billy Walker shuffled in behind her with “Charlie’s Shoes,” a classy-enough oldie with some clever lines about just how careful one should be about what one wishes for.  It’s no Cline, majesty-wise, but it is a winsome little number about winning over some other guy’s gal just to find out she’s a nightmare.  Rounding out the heartache trifecta of the spring of 1962 was no less an expert than George Jones with his third #1, “She Thinks I Still Care.”  For all the praises deservedly heaped upon Jones as a vocalist and performer, I don’t know if he’s ever got (or, to be fair, wanted) credit as an ironist.  But if he did, this would be his thesis on it, all twinkly honky-tonk piano licks winking at you from the dusty backbeat while his voice goes from bruised dignity to unfettered anguish.  “Just because I asked a friend about her/Just because I spoke her name somewhere …”  The word economy (courtesy of writer Dickey Lee) is just off the charts here, which is good because Jones tends to turn one-syllable words into threes or fours with his phrasing anyway.  Not as elegant as “She’s Got You,” but it hits even harder.

“Wolverton Mountain” by Claude King was a relative novelty, not only because it’s a colorful character study of one Clifton Clowers but also because the gentle swing of the beat and vaguely Disney-ish whistling hook seem more informed by frothy ‘60s pop even though the subject matter’s all rural mountain stuff.  There’s some vague creepiness to the old mountain man’s possessiveness of his daughter, and even to the younger narrator’s conviction that he’s just gonna go on up and get her, but hot damn it’s catchy and holds up way better to repeat listens than, say, “That’s My Paw.”  “Devil Woman” by Marty Robbins took over the #1 reins in September, and it’s a beauty, with a subtly percussive Caribbean-ish backbeat under some sweet Latin-ish picking and Robbins’ God-ish tenor croon.  Like “Wolverton Mountain,” the lyrics invite a little scrutiny under closer inspection – call your paramour a “devil woman” all you want, pal, but it took two to tango back then as now – but there’s hooks, harmonies, and smartly-chosen meter for days.  It brings us up to at least four stone classics for 1962.

Bill Anderson’s “Mama Sang A Song” strives for some deep emotional impact of its own, and must have achieved it with some folks en route to #1.  And it no doubt describes a way of sharecropper life that was common or at least relatable in its time, but to modern ears it sounds maudlin and manipulative, with the whispered delivery that was Anderson’s whole gimmick just coming off a little odd. After a couple weeks of that, Hank Snow’s “I’ve Been Everywhere” probably couldn’t have been more welcome: you could call it a novelty song I guess, what with Snow’s auctioneer-speed delivery of town names all over the country, but it’s got something more going for it. The trudging-locomotive start building to a breakneck boogie – if you didn’t speak English you’d probably think this was a train song instead of a road song – and genuine cleverness of the whole thing reward repeat listens more than the average novelty number. Especially if you want to keep listening til you hear the name of your own hometown.

“Don’t Let Me Cross Over” by Carl & Pearl Butler got an 11^th hour #1 on December 29 of 1962 but saw way more chart action in 1963, so we’ll just let it cross over into that year.

THE TREND?:

Again, a pretty solid and diverse year overall.  There wasn’t just one kind of song or even just one kind of singer allowed to dominate; George Jones is not Patsy Cline and neither one of them are Hank Snow or Marty Robbins, etc.  If there’s a trend to be gleaned, maybe it’s the at-least-temporary doubling-down on letting country be country; sure, Patsy Cline’s voice and arrangements had pop crossover potential for days, and “Wolverton Mountain” and “Devil Woman” were sophisticated enough to make a run at the pop charts (the former cracked the top ten, the latter the top twenty).  But still, the King tune was inherently country-themed, as were the hits of varying quality by Wooley, Wagoner, and Anderson, and you don’t get much twangier than George Jones and Hank Snow.  It was a good year for country songs that weren’t trying to be anything else.  Don’t let me cross over, indeed.

THE RANKING:

1. She Thinks I Still Care - George Jones
2. She's Got You - Patsy Cline
3. Devil Woman - Marty Robbins
4. Wolverton Mountain - Claude King
5. I've Been Everywhere - Hank Snow
6. Misery Loves Company - Porter Wagoner
7. Mama Sang a Song - Bill Anderson
8. Charlie's Shoes - Billy Walker
9. That's My Paw - Sheb Wooley

DOWN THE LINE ...

Southern Culture on the Skids have stylishly ridden that line between novelty act and sincere reverence for decades now, cranking out takes on rockabilly and classic country with the pedal-to-the-metal joy they deserve. 1995's Dirt Track Date was probably their highest-profile moment (including the undeniable original "Camel Walk") but another one of their best was 2007's Countrypolitan Favorites, which included this revved-up "Wolverton Mountain" throwdown with some pretty damn fetching background vocals. 

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