My Start in Country Music
By Craig Ross

My memories only started collecting at age four. That year, 1969, my uncle was shot and seriously wounded in Vietnam. I had just started eating hamburgers for the first time. During the summer I saw Neil Armstrong walk on the moon on my parent’s bedroom black and white television set. And I knew the entire lyrics to only two songs, which I sang over and over again: “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” by B.J Thomas and “King of the Road” by the great Roger Miller. But growing up in a Baltimore suburb in a middle class, college educated black American home placed me in a rare position. My cousins listened to Motown, R&B, and some pop. The adults listened mainly to jazz. My parents were open to all types of music, and the one I fell in love with was country music.

In 1969 they still called it country-western music. And at that point in time it seemed to be everywhere. On the radio they played Roger Miller, Johnny Cash, Glen Campbell, and Eddy Arnold on pop stations. On television country music was coming into its own. In 1969 alone we watched Hee-Haw, The Porter Waggoner Show,  The Johnny Cash Show and The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour. The first time I ever saw the great Louis Armstrong was on Cash’s show.

And of course, every sitcom seemed to be about the country living in 1969:  Green Acres, Petticoat Junction, The Beverly Hillbillies and Mayberry RFD. It may have been the perfect time to fall for country music. At four I liked the finger snapping of “King of the Road”, the cowboy hats, and the pretty lady singers in their wigs and gowns on television. I wasn’t dreaming of being a bull rider, a farmer or honky- tonk singer. But music defines you in some way. And at forty-four I realize now that I was being converted to a sound that would anchor the rest of my life. Country spoke to me in way no other music of my youth did. The very nature of the raw storytelling was addictive. Truth undiluted, unfiltered, uncalculated – can be a drug like no other.

Ironically, 1969 may have been the start of the dilution of country music as an inimitable sound. The popularity of country music, as it opened up to a greater audience, invited a series of singers, musicians and producers who had previously only seen country music by its limits. Country music‘s national evolution exposed to its new audience all the strengths and flaws that still haunt country: its loyal audience, its simple form, and its openness to unique voices.

But I would not have come to know country music had it not blossomed at the same time that I was growing up. Country music adjusted my sense of self and values. I gravitated to the three minutes of twang because country music never seemed angry to me. The music wasn’t always happy. But like all great storytelling, happiness is usually not the objective. Country music talked about what happened after you grew up. That subject always attracted my senses. I wanted to know what happened when the tingle became the chill. At the same time country music never insulted me or used my faith or values in a trite manner.

Even though the voices of country music were primarily white and Southern, that point never seemed to distract me. Perhaps because during the seventies country music appeared to be a more welcoming sound. As though they had a secret to tell and I was their ear. As an only child I always wondered what the adults were whispering. They knew some truth, some secret, I didn’t. And adult talk in country seemed to fill in the details. That is really how I fell in love with country music. I thought I was being subversive.

But I was really being hypnotized. I was quietly being fed a form of poetry that emphasized substance over style and authenticity over flair. Behind all the wigs, gowns, and Nudie suits were real people who were using their life stories, or folks they knew, to provide a connection of humanity and honesty. Yes, they were famous. Yes, they got rich. But after all that, they still had problems; cold, hard problems. Fame and money only accented their troubles.

The stories from Glen Campbell, Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, George Jones and Dolly Parton invited my young, small mind to really think about the people around me. In many ways the black men and women I knew were, at that time, quite similar to country music. They were coming into their own, and starting to enjoy a status and attention, mainly because of a greater economic position, that was new and empowering to them. They were overwhelmed and attracted at the same time to having their voices taken seriously. And while they prospered their vulnerability was exposed. As a child I could hear and see in country music the same growing pains I saw at home. Those three chords played against lyrics of a truth that was not foreign to me. Country music filled in the blanks.

My father, although college educated and successful with his work, was a major alcoholic. My mother, a school teacher and devout Catholic, did everything within her power to create a meaningful, happy home. They had both been propelled by the civil rights movement into a new middle class life that offered more opportunities than they could have dreamed of as children. But the struggles and sufferings were still there. As I listened to country singers, I heard their feelings described in ways that they could not have expressed to me as a child. Country music helped me to understand who my parents were and how they got through the day.

Meanwhile, in the mid-seventies, the sound of country started coming from places that were not country. The Eagles sang country. John Denver sang country. Olivia Newton John sang country. Even Marie Osmond was hailed as a country singer. Those singers, while arguably interesting, were arresting the very sound of country. They were removing the core of country, only to replace it with music that was made to make country more welcoming to a bigger audience. Fame had swept country music off-balance.

And yet I know that most country music was not written for me. I am not a Southerner. I didn’t grow up poor or in a rural area. And from four to eighteen I wasn’t a hard drinking, good lovin’, good timing man. But from Alabama to George Strait to Bill Monroe to Bob Wills I was drawn to country music. As romantic as it sounds, the country music I have listened to since four never betrayed me in the real world. Other genres of music can express feelings and thoughts that have no roots in reality. Those themes are the reflection of want and desires that are meant to encourage the listener to think above and beyond their own senses. But country music only asks me to think about the here and now, the real life in front of me, and my hand in the choices of the future.

Which brings me to Bobbie Gentry’s “Ode to Billie Joe” and Marty Robbins’ “El Paso”. Every time I hear those songs, or country songs like them, it is like reading a short story in three minutes. I imagine every detail, every point of view, and I am still left wondering. Why did Billie Joe kill himself? Why did the cowboy kill and return? Was it merely for love? A great country song asks as many questions as it answers. That is what creates its intimacy, and establishes country music’s place among great American literature. I am a part of the story from beginning to end. And then I’m left to ponder and create my own feelings and thoughts. For all the stereotypes that label country music, its real reward is that it never insults the listener, and it is never aloof.

That is why I am nonplused about the state of country music. I wonder if the sounds and feelings of the country music I was married to are being retarded by overexposure to an audience not attuned to its history, by a music video format that condenses everything down to an image or a look, and by simple American greed for quick fame and even quicker profits. Where is the modern day Randy Travis who will save country music from itself? I am discouraged by the amount of time that modern country music spends on being country. Every music genre has to evolve with the core origins of that music intact. That doesn’t mean that any song containing a Southern accent and an obligatory steel guitar or fiddle is country music. That method is trite and pandering. Older country never seemed to pander. It didn’t list Southern clichés for the sake of a quick and general connection with the listener. The song took its sweet time, and said what it had to say.

Since the rise of Shania Twain and Garth Brooks was forged in those early days of expansion for country music. As the audience has grown, the music has slipped away from its base. Few artists are earnest enough to translate the same feelings I got as a child. The adult story isn’t as important as the youthful impulse. What stuns me about the state of country music is that the gatekeepers don’t seem to like or respect the genre. Are they only interested in what funds they can ring out of country music? Do they doubt the audience’s motives and intellect? Or am I just being nostalgic for a sound that was changing even as I was falling for it? Or is this a reflection of a broader audience who wants their country music decaffeinated?

When I was growing up, we lived in a beach house every summer in Delaware. During the seventies, we could only get three radio stations: an all news station, a pop station, and a country station. On weekend nights, after midnight, I would put my earplug into the radio and listen to bluegrass music on the country station. It kind of scared me, which was exciting within itself. The fiddles and the mandolins played against voices that sounded like a mixture of high, lonesome cries and rare elation. Bluegrass music sounded the way I felt when I heard country music. I still get that feeling when I hear country music, whether modern or old. I am still shocked that in my world I would be introduced to a sound that would stay with me all my life. I am honored by country music‘s integrity and dignity. I get to carry that sound around wherever I go. I know many of you feel the same way. And I hope that my story connects to yours, and is good enough to be a country song.

If you are interested in writing a guest post for Country Universe, send an e-mail to kevin@countryuniverse.net

With their eponymous debut, The Steeldrivers have delivered a stirring symphony of haunting rhythms and clever stories that are classified as bluegrass.  But the five-piece band, a collection of veteran musicians based in Nashville, isn’t constricted by that genre’s time-tested strategies. In the spirit of bluegrass legend, Bill Monroe, their work transcends labels, borrowing liberally from Americana, blues and country in an mix that alters the direction of contemporary bluegrass.

The band’s central figure is Chris Stapleton, one of Music Row’s finest songwriters and a gripping vocal talent.  He’s an imposing figure on record with a bluesy howl that uncovers the brilliance in every murder ballad and forlorn love song that it meets. Joined with these stringband stylings, his voice is free to roam. The Steeldrivers is filled with pessimism, drenched in the rich, resonant harmonies of Stapleton and his bandmates.

Signs of discontent are evident from the beginning. On “Blue Side of the Mountain,” Stapleton’s vocal cloaks the desolate tune in darkness. It’s a place “where the sun don’t ever shine,” and the mandolin of Mike Henderson is the mournful witness to a man’s lonesome night. “Drinkin’ Dark Whiskey,” primarily known as a Gary Allan album cut, becomes transformed by the wicked fiddle weaving throughout the bottom-of-the-bottle confessional.  And “Midnight Train to Memphis” is a banjo-driven number that’s a dead-on portrayal of a desperate prisoner.

The sheer force of energy on The Steeldrivers can overwhelm, and Stapleton seems to compete with the fierce musicality on display during the album’s climactic moments. He’s most effective when he’s given space, and the pristine ”Midnight Tears” slows the pace with its exceptionally sad harmonies (courtesy of Mike Fleming) and tender instrumentation. The revenge-minded “If It Hadn’t Been for Love” calls to mind the dark murder ballads that informed Johnny Cash’s pair of prison albums (“Never would’ve loaded up a 44, put myself behind a jailhouse door, if it hadn’t been for love.”) With her high harmonies, Tammy Rogers is a riveting presence on a stunning chorus (“Four cold walls without parole, Lord, have mercy on my soul”). A sweet counterbalance to the gloomy atmosphere, “To Be with You Again,” possesses a swampy blues style that shows an ambition to stretch beyond the bluegrass realm.

In the early part of the decade, the O’ Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack, coupled with the Dixie Chicks’ masterwork, Home, led a resurgence in the popularity of acoustic musical settings. The Steeldrivers won’t lead a similar rebirth, but it does keep the tradition alive and well. The band’s careful assembly of these eleven songs is a promising entry to modern-day roots music.

There really isn’t anything that Dolly Parton can’t do. She has a voice like an angel, but is also capable of showboating with the best of them. She plays several instruments, has written more than her share of classic songs, is an actor, owns a popular amusement park and, most importantly, is involved in many philanthropic efforts.

Starting with traditional annual viewings of A Smokey Mountain Christmas on the Disney Channel, Dolly Parton is one of those people that I loved before I even knew what music genres were, let alone country music in particular. So, while I was nervous about whittling down my favorite Dolly songs to a mere 25, I couldn’t resist the chance to participate in Dolly Parton week at Country Universe.

While this is a list of my favorite Dolly songs, I fully realize that I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of her deep catalog with the songs that I’ve chosen.

#25
“Joshua”
Joshua, 1971

This is a strange little story, but Dolly proves that she’s a great storyteller. There’s talking, singing and even a little yodeling. What more can you ask for in a song?

#24
“Jolene”
Jolene, 1974

While it’s true that whenever I think of this song, I am reminded of The White Stripes’ intensely insane version that makes Parton’s version sound considerably tame, “Jolene” is still one of my favorite Dolly songs. She sings with her own quiet intensity that makes us appropriately feel for the jilted woman.

#23
“Shinola”
Backwoods Barbie, 2008

I just think this song is fun. She’s calling this guy out on all of his crap and I suspect that nobody can give a dressing down quite as effectively as Dolly can.

#22
“More Where That Came From”
Slow Dancing With The Moon, 1993

I was actually aware of this song before and liked it despite it being featured on recent Target commercials. She’s trying to convince her experienced man that she’s the one with whom he should settle down. After she gives him a list of things she can do to keep him happy, one can only imagine what she means by “There’s more where that came from.”

#21
“Cry, Cry, Darlin’”
Sing The Songs Of Bill Monroe, 2002

For the record, this tribute album to Bill Monroe, spearheaded by Ricky Skaggs, is no doubt worth purchasing. Dolly’s contribution is one of the clear highlights on an all around stellar record.

#20
“My Tennessee Mountain Home”
My Tennessee Mountain Home, 1973

Dolly’s love of her family is evident throughout her career. She’s proud of where she came from and hasn’t forgotten to pay tribute to her roots no matter how famous or glamorous she’s become. This song is one of the superior tributes.

#19
“The Twelfth Of Never” (with Keith Urban)
Those Were The Days, 2005

All of the covers of this Johnny Mathis song have been pretty, but slow. However, this version by Dolly and Keith Urban is sped up quite a bit with a banjo added for good measure. While Dolly often tends to overshadow her male duet partners, Urban manages to hold his own in this recording.

#18
“I’ll Make Your Bed”
Slow Dancing With The Moon, 1993

While this song is somewhat silly, I love the sparse production. Likewise, Dolly sings with unusual restraint. She admits that there are a lot of things that won’t make her housewife of the year, but she assures, “you won’t go hungry and I’ll make your bed.”

#17
“Traveling Man”
Coat Of Many Colors, 1971

This poor girl is so worried that her mother wouldn’t approve of her “steppin’ out with that travilin’ man” that she’s blindsided when her mother is actually the one to run off with him. Dolly’s little rant at the end is priceless. Fun stuff!

#16
“Daddy’s Old Fiddle” (with Charlie Daniels)
Deuces, 2007

I’m typically not much of a Charlie Daniels fan, but I’m really glad I picked up this album on a whim. I like just about everything on it, but this duet with Dolly is one of its highlights. It’s catchy and Dolly adds her signature quirkiness that elevates the song to something it wouldn’t have been without her.

#15
“Cash On The Barrelhead”
The Grass Is Blue, 1999

I’ll admit that it took some effort not to fill this entire list with songs from Dolly’s trio of bluegrass albums. Limiting them to five was rather difficult, but this is one of the many superb covers that can be found on them. I love this song and I love Dolly, so it stands to reason that this would be my favorite version of this widely covered classic.

#14
“Shattered Image”
Halos And Horns, 2002

While I like Dolly’s original version of this song, from her All I Can Do album, I think this version is superior, likely due to the bluegrass production. There are so many lines that I love in this song that I must refrain from quoting the whole thing. My favorite verse, however is: “If you live in a glass house don’t throw stones/Don’t shatter my image ’til you look at your own/Look at your reflection in your house of glass/Don’t open my closet if your own’s full of trash.” Words to live by, don’t you think?

#13
“9 to 5”
9 to 5 and Odd Jobs, 1980

While many people aren’t necessarily working 9 to 5 jobs these days, this is still a great relatable working person’s anthem that has stood the test of time. I never fail to blast it from my speakers when I get the chance.

#12
“To Daddy”
I Will Always Love You: The Essential Dolly Parton One

As the story goes, this gem penned by Dolly was originally slated to be included on her All I Can Do album until she heard Emmylou Harris’ version. She liked Emmylou’s version so much that she replaced her own version with another song. While Emmylou’s rendering is worth seeking, I’m glad Dolly finally included her own version for this Hits project. She sings this heartbreaking tale of a Mamma finally reaching her breaking point and leaving her family with both a twinge of regret and sympathy. To make the song more intriguing, it’s debatable whose side the child narrator is on, though I’ve personally chosen a side.

#11
“Little Sparrow”
Little Sparrow, 2001

I actually usually prefer it when Dolly belts out in her songs, but it’s also nice when she shows vocal restraint once in awhile, which is what she does in “Little Sparrow.” This is an achingly beautiful song with harsh lyrics: “All ye maidens fair and tender/Never trust the hearts of men/They will crush you like a sparrow/Leaving you to never mend.” Ouch!

#10
“Put A Little Love In Your Heart”
Slow Dancing With The Moon, 1993

I’ll admit it; I’m a sucker for these hippie inspirational songs that promote love and peace. Who better to cover a song like this than Dolly Parton? You can tell that she means every word of it, which, in turn, makes me want to live it.

#9
“Rockin’ Years” (with Ricky Van Shelton)
Eagle When She Flies, 1991

I love this song! It’s both simple and gorgeous and there’s just something calming about it. Ricky Van Shelton’s deep voice meshes perfectly with Dolly’s to create this waltz that celebrates the longevity of love.

#8
“Just Because I’m A Woman”
Just Because I’m A Woman, 1968

In this song, Dolly points out to her lover that it’s not fair for him to be able to have a past, but just because she’s a woman, an equal past is somehow unacceptable. She rightly sings, “Just let me tell you this/Then we’ll both know where we stand/My mistakes are no worse than yours/Just because I’m a woman.” While this song is forty years old, the premise remains relevant today, which is disheartening.

#7
“The Grass Is Blue”
The Grass Is Blue, 1999

Unless she can pretend that “the opposite’s true”, she’ll never be able to get over her lost love. As the title suggests, “The Grass Is Blue” is a clever lyric. It’s the same concept as George Strait’s “Ocean Front Property”, but far superior.

#6
“Hard Candy Christmas”
The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas, 1982

Ah…a Christmas song! Not a very joyful one though. Sadly, it captures the way many people end up feeling at Christmas time all too well. While I love Christmas, this is one of the songs that helps to give me perspective about those who are rightfully less enthused than I am about it.

#5
“Islands In The Stream” (with Kenny Rogers)
Eyes That See In The Dark, 1983

I’m fully aware that this cheesy song that really makes no sense would not end up on very many people’s favorite Dolly Parton lists. In fact, my husband is a little horrified that this song makes an appearance on my list at all, especially at the expense of songs that he deems far more superior. With that said, there is absolutely no way that I could take this Kenny Rogers duet off of my list. It’s bouncy and I love the way Dolly and Kenny play off of each other. Kenny is right when he says that the song was lifeless before Dolly added her vocals and personality to it. I enjoy this song so much that I don’t even notice the eighties production that I would normally detest.

#4
“Marry Me”
Little Sparrow, 2001

The way that Dolly sings this song with joyful exuberance is absolutely endearing. The fact that it’s pure bluegrass ear candy doesn’t hurt either.

#3
“Light Of A Clear Blue Morning”
New Harvest…First Gathering, 1977

I love this inspiring song of perseverance. It starts off slow, as if she’s trying to convince herself of the truths of which she is singing. As the song progresses, however, the vocals and the song as a whole get stronger and more convincing, as if she’s finally starting to believe her own pep talk. By the end, I believe her.

#2
“Creepin’ In” (with Norah Jones)
Feels Like Home, 2004

Norah Jones clearly has a respect for country music and most particularly, Dolly Parton. I simply can’t get enough of this song. They sound excellent together and it actually sounds as if they’re really enjoying themselves. Moreover, you can’t miss Dolly’s signature laugh at the end.

#1
“Coat Of Many Colors
Coat Of Many Colors, 1971

As it seems to be with most of the songs that end up at the top of my Favorite Songs by Favorite Artists lists, this is certainly not an original or surprising choice. Much has been written about this song, including the fact that the inspiration for it came from Dolly’s real life experience, which is heartbreaking to say the least.

It’s about how her mama painstakingly made a coat of many colors out of a box of small rags for her, because they were too poor to buy her anything else. While she made the coat, she told her the Bible story of Joseph’s special coat of many colors. The story of Joseph’s coat and the fact that the coat was made with her mother’s loving hands made her innocently proud to wear the coat to school, whereupon the other kids laughed and made fun of her. While the teasing confused her and likely embarrassed her, the sweetest part of the song is that she understood the significance of the coat. She understood that the coat was the best that her mother could do. Therefore, she appreciated it despite the memories of social awkwardness that it likely created in her young life.

There are many things that are noteworthy about Dolly Parton, but her sincerity and a heart that truly cares about the human condition is what is most impressive about her. This sensitive heart is what is sufficiently evident in both her life and her songs. There is no doubt that the one who created Dolly’s coat of many colors is the one who also helped to lay the foundation for the Dolly Parton that was able to so eloquently teach us “That one is only poor/Only if they choose to be.”