It is absolutely and inconceivably wild, that in 1991, both Marty Brown and Aaron Tippin debuted on major labels in Nashville.
Wild to the extent both artists channeled an unfiltered and feral rawness that was more traditional than new in an era when Nashville intentionally wanted to move beyond its past, in both audience and artist.
I can still remember being silenced and stunned by the hard-country twang of Aaron Tippin’s vocals on his 1991 RCA debut album, You’ve Got To Stand For Something. I was equally as floored by the songwriting and production on the album. There are snappy drums, long violins, twangy telecasters, and lots of sliding and sailing steel guitar. The songs made blue-collar sense while also hyping a honky-tonk sensibility; the entire album was a hardcore country listening experience, with no concessions to current trends or apologies for what was being dragged forward. Thank you, Emory Gordy, Jr.
Tippin was muscularly pushing and pulling country music with this counter-trend debut.
The best country music will always have a reckoning with its past. Remember in the film Tombstone when Doc Holiday is asked about Wyatt Earp’s quest for revenge? Holiday says, “Make no mistake; it’s not revenge he is after, it’s a reckoning.”
I like to believe Aaron Tippin was after a reckoning with this collection of songs more than any rehashed-retro-reclamation project or musical revenge statement.
Nashville was all in on new artists like Garth Brooks, Brooks & Dunn, and Alan Jackson, but Aaron Tippin seemed too close to country’s past for Nashville’s comfort, which begs the question of why get behind such a seemingly antagonistic project in the first place.
Maybe it was just a case of Music Row conservatively hedging its bets should this “New Country” fad crash and burn, but I am forever grateful for their commitment to this project and their willingness to stand by Aaron Tippin.
In some ways, an album this spiritually country is the exacting of justice.
Despite the album ultimately going gold, only the title track crackled the top ten while the other singles flopped.
Tippin does not get enough credit for the sharpness and precision of his songwriting here. He co-wrote all ten songs on the debut which was classically country to the extent the entire playtime of the album was less than half an hour. The tenth song, “Up Against You” was omitted from the cassette version of the album and was only included on CD.
Coming in at three minutes and four seconds, “You’ve Got to Stand For Something” is the anthem that would prove to be the philosophic foundation of Tippin’s entire career. The single peaked at #6 on the Billboard Country charts. It is song chock full of advice that didn’t sound preachy or political then, and it still does not in today’s fractured society. The relatable father character is presented in such a gentle and reverential light that it is easy to get behind his wisdom. The song is a testament to respect and strength of character.
The wordplay throughout the other songs is fun and smart. In “I’ve Got a Good Memory,” the obvious, but enjoyable, hook is “It’s just too bad I’ve got a good memory.” The set up to the songs about a man coming to terms with selfishness and foolishness is “The Man That Came Between Us (Was Me).”
“Ain’t That a Hell of Note” is light-hearted and self-deprecating kissing-cousin of Vince Gill’s’ “When I Call Your Name.” “She Made a Memory Out of Me” is a showcase for both Tippin’s songwriting and singing. His wail and whine are a vision of the past and declare him part of country music history. People either love or hate country music because of songs like this. This was the third and final single from the album and it peaked at #54 on the charts.
The second single is where Tippin set the hook for me as a life-long fan. “I Wonder Just How Far It Is Over You” is a brilliant song. The spoken word intro slowly builds into an anguished recounting of how a man has been fleeing a lover’s memory sense he left Tennessee. The geography of the song is a bit disjointed. At some point he struck out across Texas only to find himself on the California coastline betting a man could lose his memory over on the other side, or his life, which goes brilliantly unsaid. This tortured suicidal ideation is the most beautifully bleak of songs. No surprise it stalled at #40.
As far as unheralded debuts go from the nineties country boom, this one has got to be close to the top.
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