The ongoing reverent myth about country music – especially classic country music, usually defined as “about 15 years before whatever we’re dealing with now” – is that it’s the beauty of direct, honest, simplicity, the timeless comfort of “three chords and the truth.” And yeah, there are plenty of examples of that timeless ideal out there. Check out the top five, ten, even fifteen or more songs in the highly scientific rankings for any of these years. It’s an embarrassment of riches. The myth didn’t come out of nowhere.
But
let’s not kid ourselves too much. The country music industry is also about
making money. If it wasn’t, all these timeless legends would be singing on
their back porch to nobody, soulful trees falling in the forest and
theoretically never making a sound (much less a buck). And while that strive
for success often breeds excellence that soars on much more than a monetary level,
it also farts out some trend-hopping bullshit that resonates about as far as
the second it drops off the charts.
That’s
where something like “Convoy” comes in. Trucker songs were already a fairly
popular subgenre of country music and had been for well over a decade; in the
mid-’70s the big-rig mythos spiked again due to the overlapping public interest
in CB (“citizen’s band”) radios. Issues with the price and supply of fuel, new
55 mph speed limits imposed as a result, and aggressive law enforcement of said
limits turned CBs from a tool of specific trades to something any road-tripper
might find useful. People had fun with the jargon and coming up with handles
for themselves and all that … in the cell phone/internet age it’s probably hard
to imagine how fascinating this was for people, but it was a craze. I don’t
usually cram this much context into an entry, especially now that there’s
usually 40+ songs to at least mention, but without it the success of “Convoy”
(and some of the other 1976 songs) just doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.
“Convoy”
held down #1 for the last two weeks of 1975 and the first four of 1976. Six
weeks didn’t happen for anyone anymore. Not established chart-burners like
Charley Pride, not breakthroughs like Dolly Parton, nobody. One got the sense
that Nashville didn’t even want that to happen anymore … better to have a lot
of honors to go around. But CW McCall, a persona invented and portrayed by an
Omaha advertising director named William Fries Jr., held down six weeks, plus one
week atop the mainstream pop chart. Admittedly, the concept of the song is fun,
even clever. It sticks to its narrative and drops trucker slang and garbled CB
noise briskly and enthusiastically. But that weird, endlessly annoying
sort-of-chorus keeps kicking in, a sugary, weird, androgynous-sounding coo that
just highlights the ultimately artless, slapped-together nature of the whole
thing. It certainly spoke to a cultural moment but couldn’t be bothered with
musical craft; it’s more audio skit than song, and it’s baffling to me that
anyone listened to it more than once, much less made sequel songs and knockoffs
and even a feature film with Kris Kristofferson and Ali McGraw. Maybe if they’d
come up with a more congruous hook (what if Kristofferson guest-sung it?)
this’d still be prominently featured on classic country radio, but as it is the
most successful country song of the ‘70s (at least on paper) has been rusting
on the far back corner of the cultural truckstop lot for decades now.
Meanwhile,
Conway Twitty’s “This Time I’ve Hurt Her More Than She Loves Me” is still
fondly remembered, one of the catchiest tunes in his storied career and a
classic example of setting a sad-as-hell narrative to a bouncy melody. Bill
Anderson continued to stubbornly revisit the top of the charts; I know we’ve
given him some grief throughout the run here, but “Sometimes” is a pretty
morosely clever duet with Mary Lou Turner. Maybe “Convoy” has recalibrated my
tolerance for gimmicky b.s., but it feels like Anderson backs off on the whole
“Whisperin’ Bill” thing a bit here and conjures up some relatable yearning in
the process.
And
then here comes something called Cledus Maggard & the Citizen’s Band with
“The White Knight.” That title might set off some Johnny Reb alarms, but the
song itself is less horrifying than just annoying. Again, it’s an advertising
guy (this time Jay Huguely from South Carolina) inventing a folksy name and
cribbing together a bunch of trucker jargon into something resembling a song. This
time it’s just a more budget-friendly string-band ramble, but Huguely’s
affected cornpone accents are even more aggravating than Fries’ studio gloss
and wispy vocal hooks. It sucks so bad!
But
“Good Hearted Woman” doesn’t, of course. Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings,
long lumped together through collaboration and alliteration, co-wrote this one
(inspired by a newspaper article about R&B star Tina Turner) but didn’t
initially record it as a duet; it was the title track on Waylon’s 1972 album
and went as high as #3 as a solo tune. But it did even better as the flagship
single for the slapped-together but uber-successful Wanted! The Outlaws
compilation album, the first platinum-certified LP in country music history. While
the project’s sometimes been critiqued as a cynical cash-in (fake crowd noise
mixed in, for example) it’s good to know there was something more worthwhile
than CB radio kitsch around to cash in on.
“The
Roots of My Raising” was still worthwhile Merle Haggard, a sincere and folksy
predecessor to songs like “The House That Built Me.” Tom T. Hall came blazing
in, ornerier than usual, with the absolutely sublime “Faster Horses (The Cowboy
& the Poet).” Yet again he proved he could squeeze prime prose into about
three minutes worth of country song; his imagined confrontation between a young
idealist and salty old bastard sounded lived-in on both sides, buoyed by a Tijuana-ish
horn section and possibly the greatest eight-word chorus we’ll ever hear. Don
Williams, as was his way, was considerably more chill on the earthy, devotional
“Til the Rivers All Run Dry” and Freddy Fender lent his fluttery Tex-Mex tenor
to a hit cover of the old R&B chestnut “You’ll Lose A Good Thing.” This is
all good stuff! “Convoy” didn’t get to wreck the whole year.
Tammy
Wynette was on one hell of a roll herself. No stranger to heartsick classics,
she might’ve made her best ever with the towering hurt of “Til I Can Make It On
My Own.” Seriously, she was to melodrama what Tom T. Hall was to vignettes: an
absolute master of the form, able to teeter on the edge of a sob and reign it
back into a whisper with nary a mishandled note. “Stand By Your Man” might’ve
been her signature, but this was her masterpiece. To the uninitiated: don’t
just listen to this one, set aside some time to listen to this one.
Eddie
Rabbitt, one of those guys who had a bigger and longer run than you might
think, snagged his first #1 with “Drinkin’ My Baby (Off My Mind),” a spry but
slight shuffle that he’d eventually improve upon. Right afterwards, Emmylou
Harris scored her first #1 as well with a dreamy cover of Buck Owens’ “Together
Again.” Dreamy covers were kind of her thing back then; like her doomed early
collaborator Gram Parsons, she could write a great song but was at least
as interested in reshaping the classics in her own image. As mentioned before,
Mickey Gilley wasn’t nearly as distinctive at covers, but he finally came
barreling out of the gate with a previously-unknown tune on “Don’t the Girls
All Get Prettier At Closing Time.” Laced with some self-deprecating humor (lest
the sexism accusations start rolling in), it’s honestly a piano-pounding blast.
Genial, sort-of-forgettable mid-tempo numbers took over for a bit: Charley
Pride’s “My Eyes Can Only See As Far As You” and Ronnie Milsap’s “What Goes On
When The Sun Goes Down” are neither man’s best work (or shortest titles) but
they aren’t gonna hurt anybody. On a more stirring note, Conway Twitty kept his
personal fire burning with an old-fashioned banger “After All the Good Is Gone”
that harkened back to his “Only Make Believe” years.
Speaking
of throwbacks, we hadn’t had a Johnny Cash #1 in quite a while. It’s not like
he disappeared, but between chemical misadventures and concept albums and
variety shows and whatnot, he likely just wasn’t focused on a prize he’d won
plenty of times before anyway. But “One Piece at a Time” probably benefited
from the CB craze – it indulges in a little jargon on a mock call there at the
end – plus it’s just a catchy, unique, funny song that made it sound like he
hadn’t lost a step since “Folsom Prison Blues.” It would be far from his last
triumph in a career that would never stop being interesting, but it would be
his last solo #1 hit.
Next
up was another #1 debut. Crystal Gayle, younger sister of Loretta Lynn although
she never came across as much of a coattail-rider, scored with the sweet,
subtle swing of “I’ll Get Over You.” And then there was another quasi-comeback
for a legend: Marty Robbins, who had only occasionally tasted the Top Ten in
the ‘70s after being one of the defining country artists of the ‘60s, came
roaring in with “El Paso City.” Sort of like an aging action-movie hero that
rebounds from a string of flops by finally agreeing to do a sequel to something
that did sell, Robbins wrote “El Paso City” as a pretty fascinating
follow-up to his onetime crossover smash “El Paso.” The narrator of “El Paso
City” is entirely aware of the song “El Paso” (but conveniently unable to
recall the singer’s name) and, while flying (presumably in an airplane) above
the city, feels a spooky supernatural connection to the tale as if he was the legendary
cowboy in a past life. Sometimes late-arriving sequels are lame and cynical,
but this is awesome.
Occasional
top-chart-visitor Joe Stampley scored again with “All These Things,” a
repurposed Allen Toussaint song that he bravely managed to not whitewash too
much. The next one up was considerably cheesier: Dave & Sugar were as solid
a block of country Velveeta as the ‘70s ever heated up. “The Door is Always
Open” is a solid moral trainwreck of a country song (it’s basically Johnny
Paycheck’s “Slide Off of Your Satin Sheets” without the memorable imagery)
that’s been covered by the likes of Waylon Jennings, Dolly Parton, and some
band called Tennessee Pulleybone. But Dave & Sugar couldn’t wring sincerity
out of a Hank Williams record, and they made this one sound like variety-show
drivel. Still, they didn’t fall off the face off the earth as soon as you might
think.
Back
to the CB radio stuff … you could argue that “Teddy Bear,” by trucker-country
vet Red Sovine, was cheesy as well. Or maudlin or saccharine or whatever other
unkind adjectives you want to hang on it. It’s the spoken-word story of the disabled
little grade-school son of an untimely-deceased trucker who staves off his
grief by talking to his dad’s old trucker friends on his CB radio and shit now
I’m crying a little just typing about it. Whatever it is it works, I’m just
glad they didn’t pile on even more with the mom getting tuberculosis or
something. Sovine got us with the similarly lachrymose “Giddy Up Go” about a
decade prior and now he got us again, all the way to a three-week run at #1.
“Golden
Ring,” from the golden voices of George Jones and Tammy Wynette, is a different
kind of tearjerker from a couple folks who knew their way around one. They were
divorced by the time this came out; admittedly I don’t know what their status
was when they actually recorded it, but the ups and downs of the protagonist
couple do sound mighty lived-in. Don Williams had a little extra spring in his
step with “Say It Again,” which still only means he was at around mid-tempo,
but he was great at being subtle so it’s hard to gripe. Meanwhile, Mickey Gilley
took a loungey pass at the stone-classic Sam Cooke oldie “Bring it On Home to
Me” that us white folks are still trying to live down.
Ronnie
Milsap continued to peddle sunny, tuneful devotion and unnecessary parentheses
on “(I’m A) Stand By My Woman Man.” He
was getting to be kind of the Freddie Hart of his day, although his heyday
would be considerably longer. His
two-week run ceded to another one, a stiff and untuneful head-scratcher by
journeyman Jim Ed Brown and his new duet partner Helen Cornelius called “I
Don’t Want to Have to Marry You” that I’m sure Brown’s wife just loved the hell
out of. Willie Nelson’s galloping revamp
of the Lefty Frizzell romp “If You’ve Got the Money I’ve Got the Time” was
infinitely more fun, and Tanya Tucker’s raspily tender “Here’s Some Love” was
way sweeter and more playful, but they only got one week apiece.
Conway
Twitty also only got one week with “The Games That Daddies Play.” Between the sharply observed storytelling and
juxtaposition of kid-level observations with grown-up problems, it sounds like
what you’d get if Tom T. Hall and Tammy Wynette hit the writers’ room together
(although apparently Twitty wrote it himself).
Tammy Wynette herself followed up with “You And Me,” which earned its
two weeks with a song so supple and dynamic it only suffers in comparison to
her landmark from earlier in the year.
It sounds awful damn romantic until you listen close enough to realize
it’s basically a whispered come-on to an old lover while her current dude is
obliviously right there in bed with her.
Sleep tight, guys!
Sidebar
(as if these things aren’t getting long enough already): in a way, it’s too bad
that so many of the country legends seemed to pick one primary duet partner and
more or less stick with them for years and years. George and Tammy. Conway and Loretta. Porter and Dolly. Jim Ed and Helen, if you’re not picky. I get that it probably often just came down
to who’s on the same record label, or who actually liked spending time together. I just wish they mixed it up enough that
there was a Conway & Tammy record floating around out there somewhere.
Anyway,
the Marty Robbins comeback continued with the sweetly autumnal “Among My
Souvenirs,” an implicit embrace of being one of the kind-of-old guys on the charts
even though that wasn’t much of a hindrance back then; right after him was
Merle Haggard, pushing 40 but looking and sounding more like Robbins’ 50, and
covering an old-as-hell Cindy Walker/Bob Wills song “Cherokee Maiden” to boot. Great rendition though, and it’s nice to
think that even back in the mid-‘70s there were not only revivalists topping
the charts, but they were already at least borderline legends themselves.
Speaking
of, Loretta Lynn scored again with “Somebody Somewhere (Don’t Know What He’s
Missin’ Tonight).” Unlike some of her
other recent #1’s, this one didn’t make any obvious attempts to update her
sound or approach; it sounded like it could’ve been an outtake off of one of
her records a decade ago, with all the downhome charm that implies. Mel Tillis rolled out kind of a throwback
himself with the Jimmie Rodgers-quoting “Good Woman Blues”; it’s no
masterpiece, but as a macho barroom shout-along you could do much worse. Johnny Duncan sounded pretty state-of-the-art
on his first chart-topper, the uber-catchy and smooth but not-quite-slick
horndog anthem “Thinkin’ of a Rendezvous,” which set the blueprint for his
brief and oft-forgotten run at country stardom.
But retro vibes swung back in to close out the year at #1: Emmylou
Harris’ then-new yet timeless voice rethinking the Patsy Cline standard “Sweet
Dreams.” Harris was a very different
sort of singer, leaning more on harmonies and flutters and layers than the
starkly pristine beauty of the Cline original.
But she was, as always, reaching for something timeless and real, and
that seemed to be a common vibe among a lot of fellow artists that might’ve
been a little concerned that the future could be less Cline and more “Convoy”
if they didn’t pull something together quick.
THE
TREND?
- Faster Horses (The Cowboy & the Poet) (Tom T. Hall)
- Til I Can Make It On My Own (Tammy Wynette)
- One Piece at a Time (Johnny Cash)
- Good Hearted Woman (Waylon & Willie)
- The Roots of My Raising (Merle Haggard)
- After All the Good Is Gone (Conway Twitty)
- You & Me (Tammy Wynette)
- El Paso City (Marty Robbins)
- If You’ve Got the Money I’ve Got the Time (Willie Nelson)
- Golden Ring (George Jones & Tammy Wynette)
- Here’s Some Love (Tanya Tucker)
- Among My Souvenirs (Marty Robbins)
- This Time I’ve Hurt Her More Than She Loves Me (Conway Twitty)
- Say it Again (Don Williams)
- You’ll Lose A Good Thing (Freddy Fender)
- Sweet Dreams (Emmylou Harris)
- I’ll Get Over You (Crystal Gayle)
- Til the Rivers All Run Dry (Don Williams)
- Together Again (Emmylou Harris)
- Cherokee Maiden (Merle Haggard)
- Teddy Bear (Red Sovine)
- The Games That Daddies Play (Conway Twitty)
- Thinkin’ of a Rendezvous (Johnny Duncan)
- Somebody Somewhere (Don’t Know What He’s Missing Tonight) (Loretta Lynn)
- (I’m A) Stand By My Woman Man (Ronnie Milsap)
- All These Things (Joe Stampley)
- Bring It On Home to Me (Mickey Gilley)
- My Eyes Can Only See As Far As You (Charley Pride)
- Sometimes (Bill Anderson)
- Don’t the Girls All Get Prettier At Closing Time (Mickey Gilley)
- Good Woman Blues (Mel Tillis)
- Drinkin’ My Baby (Off My Mind) (Eddie Rabbitt)
- What Goes On When the Sun Goes Down (Ronnie Milsap)
- The Door is Always Open (Dave & Sugar)
- Convoy (CW McCall)
- I Don’t Want to Have to Marry You (Jim Ed Brown and Helen Cornelius)
- The White Knight (Cledus Maggard & the Citizen’s Band)
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