CMT Blog: Bill Anderson

For the last year and a half, I have been obsessed with The Doyle and Debbie Show - a country music send-up that is still going strong in Nashville. See, Doyle Mayfield is a washed-up country star who never really had too many hits to start with, but when he discovers his “new Debbie” in a rural VFW hall, he realizes that she’s his ticket back to the big time. It’s a script, so you get the same show every night (and I’ve seen it 11 times now), but it’s just so clever that I can’t keep from cracking up time and time again.

My favorite line in the whole thing may come from “Stock Car Love,” as Debbie confides, “I miss the pole position. I used to get it all the time. But now I barely qualify at all.” The whole song is completely ridiculous, yet it’s more inventive than just about any novelty song I’ve ever heard. You can hear most of the music (but unfortunately none of the dialogue) on their Web site. Still, the real reason to see it in person is for Doyle’s anything-for-entertainment gestures, and Debbie’s hilariously subtle expressions that prove she’s giving it all she’s got with this wacko.

To me, Doyle is pretty much a cross between Bill Anderson and Glen Campbell, and he seems ready to come unhinged at any moment. Meanwhile, Debbie is a pretty little gal who actually has a brain and a strong set of pipes. She just wants to be a star so bad that she makes some bad decisions. (Really… really bad.) She can sing like Loretta Lynn or Patsy Cline, but “For the Children” is like a melodramatic Martina McBride ballad gone very, very wrong. But that’s OK. As Doyle & Debbie are proud to admit, they’re just doing all they could with what the good Lord gave ‘em.

It’s the day after the CMA Awards show, and I’m thinking about Country Music Hall of Fame members and Jamey Johnson and Sugarland. Thank goodness, the Country Music Association and the awards show producers had a change of heart and devoted a short segment to this year’s Country Music Hall of Fame inductees — Ralph Emery, Vince Gill and Mel Tillis. This was the first year the formal inductions didn’t take place on the awards show telecast and some people were downright pissed off when they heard that the CMA wasn’t even planning to acknowledge the newest Hall of Fame members during the show. The quick video retrospective was efficient and much better than nothing at all.

It was good to see and hear the references to Hall of Fame member Porter Wagoner, who died recently. But as Chet Flippo points out in his latest Nashville Skyline column, why was there no mention of Hank Thompson, a Hall of Fame member who died this week? Granted, his name isn’t as familiar as Wagoner’s, but you’d think somebody at the CMA would have ensured that Thompson’s passing was mentioned.

It was also good to see Jamey Johnson win the song of the year award with co-writers Buddy Cannon and Bill Anderson. After his acceptance speech for co-writing the George Strait hit, “Give It Away,” Johnson will be known as the guy who thanked his ex-wife for being such a good mother to his kids. Johnson released a fine album on BNA Records in 2005, scored a hit single with “The Dollar” and then got dropped from the label shortly thereafter, so it must be gratifying to win his first CMA trophy. He’s selling his new album, That Lonesome Song, via iTunes and his MySpace page.

And when Sugarland’s Jennifer Nettles and Kristian Bush accepted their vocal duo award, you’d think they’d have thanked Kristen Hall, the singer-songwriter who was part of the act when their first album was released. I contend that Hall was largely responsible for their win in this particular category. Hell, if she hadn’t left the band, Sugarland wouldn’t even be a vocal duo in the first place.

Is bluegrass music the new Branson, the last resort for aging country artists who can’t get major record deals? It may look that way, but I think it’s just as likely that these acts, finally freed of the usual commercial expectations, rejoice in singing the kind of songs they grew up with, ones that embody the string band sound and the rural images that were once common in mainstream country. Looking over such recent arrivals as Merle Haggard’s The Bluegrass Sessions and Bill Anderson’s Whisperin’ Bluegrass, it occurs to me that country performers have long shown a fondness for this old-time style.In 1970, Dolly Parton and Lynn Anderson, both of whom would record bluegrass albums in the twilight of their careers, scored country hits with “Muleskinner Blues” and “Rocky Top,” respectively. “Muleskinner” was a Bill Monroe evergreen by way of Jimmie Rodgers. Anderson’s “Rocky Top,” of course, covered the Osborne Brothers‘ 1968 dynamo.

Bluegrass took to the country (and pop) charts again in 1973 via Eric Weissberg and Steve Mandell’s galloping instrumental, “Dueling Banjos,” the theme from Deliverance. At the height of his country prominence, Tom T. Hall recorded The Magnificent Music Machine, an entire album of bluegrass songs, most of them standards. The 1976 collection featured such guest pickers as Monroe, Jimmy Martin and J. D. Crowe. Six years later, Hall teamed with Earl Scruggs for The Storyteller & the Banjo Man. (Since his retirement from touring, Hall has devoted himself to bluegrass.) In 1978, Conway Twitty saluted bluegrass with “Boogie Grass Band,” a tune written by Ronnie Reno, son of Bluegrass Hall of Famer Don Reno.

Throughout the ‘80s and 90s, Ricky Skaggs pumped a torrent of bluegrass into his country music. Travis Tritt enriched his 1991 album, It’s All About to Change, with the Jimmy Skinner bluegrass classic, “Don’t Give Your Heart to a Rambler.” Steve Earle brought legions of new fans to bluegrass in 1999 when he recorded The Mountain with the Del McCoury Band. That same year, Parton crossed the musical border with The Grass Is Blue. Anderson and Janie Fricke both re-styled their country hits in 2004 on albums called, not surprisingly, The Bluegrass Sessions.

So the next time a country icon reaches for a banjo, try not to be too cynical. It could be that he really does like bluegrass. Couldn’t it?

In recent weeks, some columnists have taken issue with this year’s CMA Entertainer of the Year nominees. There are no females, a trend that’s become pretty much annual, and the writers are unhappy. This is an interesting moment to consider how far women have come.

During this week in 1967, country was clearly in the dark ages. On Sept. 22, Jan Howard’s briefcase was stolen after she taped an appearance on the syndicated Bill Anderson Show. And on Sept. 23, Norma Jean married a furniture salesman, an event tied in to her decision to leave The Porter Wagoner Show, making room for Dolly Parton. The events themselves aren’t quite that enlightening, but it’s the way in which Howard and Norma Jean were labeled that demonstrates the change: They were considered by the industry to be “girl singers” — mere appendages, if you will, to the men that hosted those shows.

That same week in 1967, a young lady named Faith Hill was born. Her 40th birthday on Sept. 21 is a milestone in itself, but it’s worth noting that in her current tour with husband Tim McGraw, the idea of calling her a “girl singer” is absolutely ludicrous. Thanks to Reba McEntire, Loretta Lynn, Shania Twain and others, it’s clear that the beliefs of the ‘60s — that women can’t sell records or that female fans are turned off by a successful woman on stage — are simply false.

With that in mind, however, the arguments about women being nominated for entertainer don’t entirely wash. The Dixie Chicks, who used to be a lock, were bounced from the business for being vocal Democrats. Twain hasn’t toured for several years and McEntire is likely a victim of familiarity. Some critics think Hill and McGraw should be finalists simply because they sold more tickets than anyone, though most voters probably cast their ballots, as they should, with an eye toward creative accomplishments more than sheer numbers. There’s a case for Martina McBride, but voters likely see her more as a singer than as an entertainer.

At any rate, people are having the discussion. It’s also good to consider the subservient position that women were formerly placed in, and to recognize that what barriers might exist at the moment are nothing compared to the stupidity of the past.

Country Music Hall of Famer Bill Anderson has had an amazing career as a songwriter. He’s still picking up hits in the new century, having success in the last year with Joe Nichols’ “I’ll Wait for You” and George Strait’s “Give It Away,” which won song of the year from the Academy of Country Music in May.Most songwriters would be happy with any one of those cuts, but what’s truly remarkable is how long Bill’s been doing this: He wrote his first hit, “City Lights” from the roof of the Andrew Jackson Hotel in Commerce, Ga., 50 years ago — on Aug. 27, 1957. It became a hit the following year for Ray Price and again in 1975 for Mickey Gilley.

Over the five decades since Bill penned that song, he’s had nearly 80 country hits. Here’s a personal celebration of some of the best:

“A Lot of Things Different,” Kenny Chesney — Frank Sinatra tossed aside his regrets, saying he had “too few to mention.” Bill came up with a long list, and presented them as a really poignant ode to missed opportunities.

“Saginaw, Michigan,” Lefty Frizzell — A classic story song about a beleaguered groom who uses his father-in-law’s Achilles heel, greed, to turn the tables. Some 40 years later, rhyming Michigan and fisherman still feels inventive.

“Whiskey Lullaby,” Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss — “He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger.” The imagery is fierce, and the plaintive musical setting frames it all perfectly.

“The Tips of My Fingers,” Steve Wariner — The wordplay (”I had your love on the tips of my fingers/But I let it slip right through my hand”) is old-school country at its best. Bill and Steve, incidentally, would become good friends. They co-wrote Steve’s hit “Two Teardrops,” and Steve once got a ticket when he was driving alone and ended up in an HOV lane illegally while talking to Bill on the cell phone.

“My Life (Throw It Away If I Want To)” — You might not remember the song, but it’s an acerbic No. 1 single from 1969. He was inspired during an argument with his wife in the run-up to a divorce, and for a guy whose relationship songs have usually been about self-pity or self-inflicted pain, he lashes out quite well.

Happy anniversary, Bill Anderson.

There is a show on XM satellite radio where Bill Anderson visits with the legends. Yesterday, they had reruns of all the shows. I caught a couple on my drive to Houston. The one that hit me hard was the one where Bill is visiting with Marty Stuart. For those of you who don’t know, Marty has this incredibly huge collection of country music memorabilia on display thru Nov. 11 at the Tennessee State Museum in Nashville. When I say huge, I think in numbers, he has more than 20,000 items ranging from letters that Fred Rose wrote to Hank Williams to some of the sparkliest Nudie and Manuel suits that would make any aspiring country artist weak in the knees.

Bill asked about the sparkly suits and all the different stars’ guitars and what made Marty fall in love with that “look.” He said, “Hey Bill, I remember each of y’all’s guitars. I remember each suit. Do you remember when all y’all would come through my town and get out on that stage in those suits? Well, it changed my life.” He likened it to that part in The Wizard of Oz where everything went from black-and-white to Technicolor. Being a child of the ’80s, I have never known anything but color TV, so I can only imagine what it must have been like to see those types of git-ups for the first time!

Marty said he originally wanted to display his collection in the early ’90s (I think that’s right) because he thought country music had gotten to point where maybe it needed a gentle reminder of its roots. Well, now, in 2007, you have another chance for a friendly and gentle reminder about our music’s history. There is, and I can guarantee you this, NO BETTER place to take your mind and let it absorb the Sparkle and Twang exhibit. I would like to consider myself well-versed in country music and its history but his exhibit had more than I’d like to admit that I was unfamiliar with. That guy has been collecting since he was 4 or 5 when his momma took him to get Minnie Pearl’s autograph. He’s been playing since he was 12 and he’s been around and befriended everyone who’s anyone in country music since then. He’s a well-respected, talented-beyond-belief player and country music collector with suits that belonged to all the “daddy’s of country music.”

May I just recommend popping in there (and I use the word “popping” lightly, because you’re gonna spend about four hours if you look at everything) and soaking up what it’s all about? You will not be disappointed. In SPARKLE and TWANG we trust.

Too many “singer-songwriters” are making records these days. Their singing may be OK, but too often their songwriting sucks. I wouldn’t care if I didn’t have to suffer through their dopey, derivative, meterless, awkwardly rhymed and wafer-thin lyrics. But I do. And it’s infuriating when you consider all the great songs out there that never get cut because the singer doesn’t own a piece of them.

Country music has had a wealth of first-rate singer-composers: Jimmie Rodgers, A. P. Carter, Hank Williams, the Louvin Brothers, Marty Robbins, Don Gibson, Carter Stanley, Buck Owens, Loretta Lynn, Mel Tillis, Bill Anderson, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Tom T. Hall, Merle Haggard, Dolly Parton, Roger Miller, Dottie West, Eddie Rabbitt, Earl Thomas Conley, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Rodney Crowell, Alan Jackson and perhaps a dozen others whose omission from this list will haunt me as soon as I post this blog. Even these lyrical wizards didn’t limit themselves to their own songs. Superb songwriters though they are, Larry Gatlin and Clint Black gradually dimmed their appeal by refusing to open their records to other songwriters. The more of their own material they did, the more it sounded the same.

A lot of music critics hold singer-songwriters in particularly high regard, contending that such exalted creatures are more believable, interesting and authentic than mere mouthers of other people’s words. Bullspit! What counts is the emotion conveyed in a performance, not lyrical authorship. Could Irving Berlin, who wrote the song, capture hearts with “White Christmas” the way Bing Crosby did? Does it lessen their emotional impact because Eddy Arnold, Ray Price, Glen Campbell, Jim Reeves, George Strait, Reba McEntire, Charley Pride, Don Williams, Ronnie Milsap, Randy Travis and Tim McGraw, for example, wrote few or none of their biggest hits?

Being a singer-songwriter is as much about money as it is about art. Any singer who can land a record contract can be sure of a lucrative music publishing deal as well. That’s because the publisher knows the singer can then be induced to record his own songs. When a singer does this and his songs are played on radio and sold on albums, he will be paid performance fees for the former and mechanical fees for the latter, in addition to album royalties. These economic realities are big incentives for the singer to become a songwriter, whether he can write or not. I guess it all comes down to this: Do writing-impaired artists want to make a living or a build a career? Weak songs won’t sustain them for the long haul. But they will torment me for the moment.

Do you know that strange feeling you get when you hear an unfamiliar voice singing a familiar song? The world feels out-of-sorts, strangely unbalanced. I had a big case of these ‘ears-out-of sorts-blues’ when I tuned into the Opry on WSM 650 AM on Tuesday night to hear my friend Jedd Hughes perform. He was awesome as always, and after his set I listened to the other performers, but because of the chatter in the van I couldn’t hear the name of the next act. The singer was performing hits of yesteryear and though I was no longer concentrating on the radio, a few minutes later I was really taken by surprise.

The old crooner on the microphone launched into a song that I knew I knew. In fact I knew I loved the song, but I could not figure out for the life of me which song it was, and where was that deep baritone I was expecting? By the end of the song it dawned on me that this had been a smash for George Strait – “Give it Away” – and the “old crooner” on the mic was none other than the writer: the legendary and incredible Bill Anderson. I felt very guilty for having dismissed his performance until I knew who it was, but I should stress his version sounded completely different than the Strait version we know and love. It took me three minutes instead of three seconds to identify the song.

Somewhere in the journey, the artist or producer had a vision and saw the song’s potential to be a hit. I love George’s version and it’s a testament to him that I fully believe if Bill had released his version it would NOT have been a hit. Two versions of the same song can sound utterly and completely different — same melody and lyrics, but worlds apart.

Which leads to the fun part: I want to create a list of songs with two versions that sound completely different. Keeping it broadly within the grounds of country music, some good versions, others disastrous, I will offer up a few ideas to start the ball rolling:

“I’m Down” – New Grass Revival / The Beatles
“Baby, Now That I’ve Found You” – Alison Krauss / The Foundations
“Piece Of my Heart” - Faith Hill / Janis Joplin
“Ring of Fire” – Johnny Cash / Olivia Newton-John (!)

Let’s keep the list growing…

This has to be a pretty good week in the life of Mel Tillis. He wakes up on his 75th birthday today with the knowledge that he’s finally taking his rightful place in the Country Music Hall of Fame.

Most news accounts will hail Vince Gill’s induction, because he’s the most current of the three inductees. Ralph Emery will get his share of attention, because as a TV personality, country fans are extremely familiar with his visage. Mel, unfortunately, has been often overlooked. He had a successful career as a recording artist, culminating with his selection in 1976 as the CMA Entertainer of the Year. He placed an impressive 45 singles in country’s Top 15 from 1965-1984, though none of them quite attained status as a standard.

But as a songwriter, he left an indelible mark. “Detroit City,” a Grammy winner for Bobby Bare, created a believable portrait of misguided blue-collar pride. “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town” helped define Kenny Rogers’ uniquely scratchy vocal presence. “So Wrong” provided Patsy Cline one of her most haunting performances. And while you won’t hear these songs on too many stations anymore, the Ray Price shuffles “Burning Memories” and “Heart Over Mind,” the Webb Pierce novelty “I Ain’t Never” and the reflective Jack Greene ballad “All the Time” are remarkably attractive works.

Pam Tillis paid homage to her dad five years ago with the album, It’s All Relative: Tillis Sings Tillis. It’s worth the price simply for a remake of his first charted single, “Violet and a Rose,” with extraordinarily sensitive background vocals from Dolly Parton, another Hall of Famer who — like Mel — was a regular on Porter Wagoner’s syndicated TV show. Mel also appeared regularly on The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour and made a mark as a personality, in part because he was able to convert his stutter from an embarrassing weakness to a comedic strength. But his most impressive legacy is as a writer. Along with peers Kris Kristofferson, Bill Anderson, Roger Miller, Willie Nelson, Harlan Howard and Felice & Boudleaux Bryant, he helped cement Nashville as a songwriting haven. It’s high time he joined them in the Hall of Fame.