I suppose there is a little bit of country in all of us.
Even if we never lived outside the city limits, each of us still longs for that simpler life that is epitomized and romanticized in country music.
Romanticized, however, might not be the right word because country music, especially the vintage variety, deals more with heartbreak and tragedy than romance. Still, for some inexplicable reason, we are drawn to those melodical tales of woe because the stories appeal to something inside us all.
I grew up with rock ‘n’ roll and most of the songs I play are from the late 1950s until the mid-1980s, the classic rock era. Still, occasionally I pick up my guitar and spend an hour or so playing nothing but country. It mellows me out, so to speak.
Although I migrated to rock ‘n’ roll like many members of my generation, my roots were in country music. One of my earliest memories was the sadness in our home when it was announced over the radio that Hank Williams, whose songs are still part of the fabric of the music industry — country, pop and even rock — had died.
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Some members of my family followed the events of his death just as they probably did with the demise of President Franklin Roosevelt seven years earlier. Williams was that important to our culture, especially in rural areas.
I am alive in part because of country music. My mother and father met through my mother’s cousin, who was playing music with my father at the time. My father, who played steel guitar, went on to be a sideman in numerous country bands and for a while did studio work in Nashville. In his late teens, he had played with Ernie Ford in Bristol.
I remember my great uncle’s fascination with Jimmie Rodgers and especially the old “Mule Skinner Blues” song. I had no idea who Rodgers was at the time, but I grew to like the song, in part because my Uncle Roy sang it all the time. I still burst into that Rodgers’ yodel every once in a while.
I drifted away from country during my teenage years, with the exception of songs by Patsy Cline, Skeeter Davis, Jim Reeves and Eddy Arnold that crossed over into the pop market.
But when I went to work as a disc jockey at the local radio station, part of my job was a Saturday morning show where I played country records for a couple of hours. “Swinging Doors,” the old Merle Haggard honkytonk tune, and “Help Me Make It Through the Night,” written by Kris Kristofferson, are still part of my repertoire.
Actually, I sang with a country band on that radio station when I was about 10. Somehow my grandmother had some pull with the band’s leader and convinced them to let me do a song on their live show during the same timeslot I would DJ a decade later. I won’t say I was bad, but the show was canceled the following week. True story.
For several years I played guitar, mandolin and harmonica in a bluegrass band that featured one of the best banjo pickers I have ever met. That was one of the best times of my life.
My interest in country music picked up in the late 1970s when artists like Dolly Parton, Ronnie Milsap, Johnny Lee and Willie Nelson again began crossing over into the pop market. That, as far as I am concerned, was some of the best product ever produced in Nashville and it inspired me to try my hand at writing and producing.
During the early 1980s I was fortunate enough to work with some of the best studio musicians in Nashville, including Hargus “Pig” Robbins, Charlie McCoy, Lloyd Greene (all members of the Country Music Hall of Fame) and Pete Wade. During those sessions I learned just how talented and innovative Nashville musicians are, how they produce perfection on a record with minimal effort.
I was lucky. I got to hear some of my songs played on the radio, sounding exactly as they had in my head while I was writing them. It was a good feeling, one of satisfaction.
Rock is my favorite genre, but I still have a great affection for that twangy country of the 1960s and those crossover songs of the late 1970s. Growing up on a farm, I guess country music is in my blood.
And, having a tendency to sometimes sing through my nose, that music is just perfect for me. And those who know me well have been mortified more than once when I broke out in a yodel in the middle of a mall.
Something about yodeling country style that just makes a body feel good.
Jimmie Rodgers would be proud.
Donnie Johnston’s columns appear twice per week on the Opinion page. Reach him at djohn40330@aol.com.
Donnie Johnston’s columns appear twice per week on the Opinion page. Reach him at djohn40330@aol.com.