Country Music Blog: Country Music Hall of Fame

We started out in one of my favorite places this weekend -- Denton, N.C. -- at Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver's bluegrass festival. This was like going home for me, seeing and visiting with old friends, along with Doyle and the boys. The promoter said it was the biggest Thursday they have ever had since the festival started many years ago. We did two 45-minute sets. It was packed when we got on stage; the crowd was incredibly receptive and we had fun together. In the middle of our second set, the clouds opened up and it started hailing hard! I MEAN REALLY HARD! Luckily the show was held under a pavilion, so we stopped the show, and Darrin and I went over and sat on the edge of the stage. We took pictures with folks until the storm passed and then finished our show. The crowd was wonderful and brought us back for two encores, plus we sold out all of our merchandise. WOW! What a night!

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In the hours after Eddy Arnold's death early Thursday morning, country music stars and everyday working class people from Nashville have been sharing their stories of the Country Music Hall of Fame member. And if there's one underlying theme, it's the kindness and decency he showed to everyone he had contact with long after he had anything to prove or anyone to impress.

He was a superstar long before anyone ever coined the expression, but he didn't act like a superstar and you certainly wouldn't pick him out of a crowd as being a multi-millionaire. Up until a few months ago, he could be seen most weekdays having lunch at a modest meat-and-three restaurant south of downtown Nashville. Read more...

Batter up!

Major league baseball started its season in the U.S. on Sunday by unveiling a new ballpark in Washington, D.C. And if you want proof that baseball and country music belong together, think back to last year's World Series. It was over in four games, but in two of them, it was country stars -- Carrie Underwood and Trisha Yearwood -- who sang about "the home of the brave."

Country music doesn't confine itself to the major leagues, either. Taylor Swift's version of the anthem inaugurated the 2007 season for the Reading Phillies. Little Big Town, who practically toured ballparks doing the "Banner" for several years, led off the Nashville Sounds' season five years ago. And 15 years past, Vince Gill did the same thing, though he skipped a line of the song in the process, probably blinded by the rockets' red glare.

Earlier this week in Texas, Jack Ingram delivered the national anthem for the Houston Astros' home opener, and on Monday, Neal McCoy will do the same when the Texas Rangers open their home schedule. Charley Pride -- who trained, as is his tradition, with the Rangers this year -- sang the opening-day anthem for the team two years ago. During this week a year ago, Clay Walker was voicing "The Star-Spangled Banner" at Houston's Minute Maid Park.

Singing is not the only connection country stars have to baseball games, though. When the Arizona Diamondbacks won their first game 10 years ago this month, it was a moment of pride for Glen Campbell, a minority owner in the franchise. And 60 years ago, a pitcher with the Henderson Oilers in Texas got injured in his final game: That guy went on to be a member of the Country Music Hall of Fame, Jim Reeves.

I think anyone with any liking at all for the music of one or all of the three Hanks (the original Hank, Hank Jr. and Hank III Williamses, that is) will like the new Family Tradition exhibit that opens at the Country Music Hall of Fame on Friday, Mar. 28. It includes numerous artifacts from all of the Williams families. The Hall has more and more in recent years been emphasizing the human elements of its subjects, moving away from including only official artifacts and awards and trophies. In this case, any Williams fan would enjoy seeing big Hank's silk pajamas, III's skateboard, and Jr.'s guns. And there's other neat stuff, including lots of music memorabilia. The personal details always cinch it for me, though.

I am delighted to learn this morning that Emmylou Harris will be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame this year. She is one of the shining lights in my music collection, and I admire her so much for her contributions to the city of Nashville. Back then they were thinking about tearing down the Ryman Auditorium -- which astounds me that anybody would ever consider that -- she staged a concert in there, and people realized just what they'd be missing. That was the first Emmylou album I ever bought, when I was a teenager. She's also an advocate for dogs, so much so that she built a shelter in her backyard.

Just last week, I was on the Cayamo songwriters cruise with Emmylou, and her performance closed out the series of late-night concerts. She didn't breathe a word of this induction, but I know the place would have gone nuts if she had. People who love music can't get enough of her. I think she deserves a lot of credit for being a good ambassador for country music abroad. On several occasions, I met Europeans on the cruise who came specifically to hear her. I can't tell you exactly how many times I've seen her perform - probably nine or ten - but each and every time, I have felt grateful for the experience. She connects with songs, and the world falls away for me when she's the one singing them.

I'm a fan of her more recent work too, but I never tire of her early catalog, like "Boulder to Birmingham," "Together Again," "One of These Days," "Easy From Now On," "Beneath Still Waters" and, of course, "Pancho & Lefty." Someday I hope Gram Parsons will join her in the Hall of Fame, too. But who can argue with an induction class that includes Tom T. Hall, the Statler Brothers and Ernest "Pop" Stoneman?

Johnny Cash liked an audience. That’s a conclusion easily derived from the first two Johnny Cash Christmas Specials, released on DVD this month by Shout! Factory and the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. The second CBS special, drawn primarily from a concert at the Grand Ole Opry House, aired 30 years ago (Nov. 30, 1977). It was markedly better than the 1976 effort, shot privately at Cash’s homes in Bon Aqua and Hendersonville, Tenn.

The earlier special is marred by problems both technical and conceptual. Billy Graham is too preachy; Tony Orlando dashes off some stereotypical (and not funny) city boy-visits-the-country jokes; Roy Clark sings “The Christmas Song” with a banjo on his knee, although no banjo notes are heard; and at the close of Barbara Mandrell’s “Steel Guitar Rag,” the clapping in the room is inaudible for a couple seconds, a sign that the performance was taped. Cash frequently seems wooden and uneasy.

The 1977 show demonstrates great progress. With people to play to, Cash is engaged, smiles often and makes a natural connection with his guests and the Opry House audience. At the time, Cash hadn’t yet been remade as a mythic figure. Standing on three-inch heels, he has a command that makes him a bit taller physically, and figuratively, than his fellow performers: Clark, Carl Perkins, Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis, the Statler Brothers, the Carter Sisters and Jan Howard. There’s also a moment of irony. Just 12 years prior, a chemically-altered Cash dragged the mic stand across the footlights at the Ryman Auditorium during an Opry performance, destroying each of the bulbs. In the 1977 special, a shot from the base of the stage presents Cash with the Opry House footlights commanding the foreground.

Cash shot at least 10 Christmas specials, so it’s possible that more DVDs may appear in coming years. Quality-wise, they’re likely much closer to the 1977 show, which is far superior to the inaugural installment. But that ’76 edition has one small charm: Cash’s former home burned to the ground this year, but this show captures a view of its quiet majesty from Old Hickory Lake and a peek at the living room, with its stone walls and wagon wheel beams. The structure underscored the solid and earthy nature of the Man in Black, who came alive most when he had people, and not just a camera, to entertain.

One facet of Porter Wagoner’s death on Sunday worth cheering is the fact that he enjoyed his place as a Country Music Hall of Fame member during his lifetime. In fact, next Tuesday (Nov. 6) marks the anniversary of his official 2002 induction. He spent the last five years of his life knowing his achievements were recognized and deemed substantial enough to provide a permanent place in the Hall.

Critics of the voting procedures -- and there are plenty -- charge that the CMA should take greater care to make certain that those who deserve membership get inducted quickly enough to gain satisfaction from the honor. Indeed, it’s tragic that Tammy Wynette, Roger Miller, Lester Flatt, Conway Twitty, piano player Floyd Cramer and songwriter Boudleaux Bryant weren’t around long enough to witness their big moment. Based on speculation about Faron Young’s suicide in 1996, perhaps he would not have killed himself had he known that his contributions were, in fact, remembered.

On the other hand, invoking sentiment isn’t really a fair means to gauge when people should make their way into the Hall of Fame. If an artist’s ego is so fragile that he needs several hundred anonymous voters to keep it propped up, he or she has problems that a simple ceremony likely won’t cure. Since the CMA currently limits the number of inductees each year, it’s also unfair -- not to mention morbid -- to sweep one person in over another who is more deserving simply because he’s more likely to die soon.

There are lots of ways the Hall of Fame voting procedures could be changed but the most important thing is to make sure the honor is never cheapened. Bestowing such an award should be decided solely on merit -- never on age, and never as a simple kindness because people in the business really like an individual on a personal level. Either you earn it or you don’t. That said, it’s still nice that Porter -- a spokesman for the Grand Ole Opry, a TV ambassador for country music and a man who was flamboyant both in stage attire and song choice -- did get to enjoy his status. It was certainly merited.

The Eagles and Jamie Foxx are appearing on the CMA Awards show -- and this year’s Country Music Hall of Fame inductees are not. That decision has angered a lot of country music fans, and I agree that the new inductees should be given priority over the Eagles and Foxx. On the other hand, I also feel that the new inductees should be given priority over all of the acts appearing on the awards show. It’s important to honor Vince Gill, Mel Tillis and Ralph Emery on their phenomenal achievements.

The CMA Awards show is essentially a TV broadcast, and having Foxx perform with Rascal Flatts should widen the viewing audience and boost ratings. It’s hard to imagine younger viewers anxiously awaiting the Eagles but the band will attract some older rock fans who might not otherwise watch the show. If you think about it, the Eagles are likely to be remembered as one of the most influential acts in the history of country music. No, they didn’t cater to a country audience, and only four singles made it to the country chart. (The most successful, “Lyin’ Eyes,” reached No. 8 in 1975.) But their vocal harmonies and unique blend of country and rock created a distinctive sound that country singers, songwriters and musicians have emulated ever since “Take It Easy” hit the airwaves. In 1993, the band’s contributions were honored in Common Thread: The Songs of the Eagles, an album featuring Gill, Travis Tritt, Alan Jackson, Trisha Yearwood, Brooks & Dunn and several others. And if you’ve seen a Little Big Town concerts during the past couple of years, you’ve probably heard their great cover of “Heartache Tonight.”

Instead of cutting the Eagles performance to allow the Hall of Fame members to be acknowledged, maybe the heads of the record labels in Nashville should toss a coin to decide which one of their newer acts they’re willing to delete from the CMA Awards show. If the deleted act is good and/or successful, they’ll be guaranteed a slot on the show the next year. And if they prove to be truly significant, maybe they’ll one day be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. If that happens, I’ve got a feeling they’d appreciate being recognized for receiving country music’s highest honor.

His apparent suicide this week probably means we’ll never know all of the exact causes behind his recent financial and legal woes, but Bob McLean sure seemed like country music’s guardian angel. In 2004 and 2005, he made two extraordinary donations to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum that can only be described as genuinely iconic musical instruments -- the 1923 Gibson F-5 mandolin that Bill Monroe used during most of his career and 1928 Gibson L-5 guitar that Maybelle Carter played throughout her life, including early recordings with the Carter Family. The mandolin and guitar had been on the market with a collective price tag of more than $1.5 million, although it’s hard to attach a dollar figure to instruments that launched bluegrass and country music as we know it today.

With private collectors acquiring and hoarding vintage American-built instruments to keep locked up in their mansions overseas, McLean made sure the Monroe mandolin and Carter guitar would be on public display in Nashville. The elite of the country music community responded accordingly by inviting him to various parties and industry gatherings. (While it may be true that money can’t necessarily buy love or friendship, there’s no denying that it gets people’s attention.)

McLean, a philanthropist and former stockbroker who lived in Murfreesboro, Tenn., had donated millions to various institutions, including Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro and the new Schermerhorn Symphony Center in Nashville, but rumors circulated earlier this year after he was hit by a series of lawsuits from investors who alleged he had fraudulently taken their money. By early September, they claimed he owed them a total of $20 million. The day before he was to attend a bankruptcy hearing, McLean’s body was found Tuesday (Sept. 25) near a church in Shelbyville, Tenn. Police say the cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

One of the lingering questions about McLean’s legal troubles is whether the Hall of Fame is in any danger of having to relinquish the Monroe mandolin and Carter guitar to the bankruptcy court or the IRS. I spoke to a museum spokesperson who emphasized that both instruments are owned by the Hall of Fame, adding that confidentiality agreements prohibited additional explanation.

I once sat at a table with McLean during BMI’s country awards banquet and he seemed like an extremely nice guy. It was easy to tell that he was wealthy but I also sensed that he donated the Monroe mandolin and Carter guitar to the Hall of Fame simply because he felt like that’s where they belong. If he was a con artist, I certainly didn’t detect it, although it could be argued that being a great actor is an essential part of a con artist’s job description. In any event, I still prefer to think he was just another person who somehow lost his way and got in over his head financially.

War in Iraq. Corporations pay millions to fired CEOs, then lay off hundreds of workers to pay for it. Children are hurt by cheaply manufactured goods from China. It’s easy to read the news and get discouraged about the fate of humanity, especially if you look back at the “good ol’ days” when times were simpler. For many, silver-screen cowboy Gene Autry represents that nobler era. He always wore a white hat; he owned a major-league team in baseball, a sport so all-American it’s been called the national pastime; and he lived by the Cowboy Code of ethics.

Autry, best-remembered musically for the Western classic, “Back In The Saddle Again,” was always a good guy on screen, and mostly one off-screen, too, though he had his flaws, including a tendency toward too much alcohol and an apparent series of affairs. A member of the Country Music Hall of Fame, his heroism was strong enough that Toby Keith name-checked him in “Should’ve Been a Cowboy.” This Saturday (Sept. 29) marks the centennial of his birth, which will be celebrated with a Riders in the Sky concert in Gene Autry, Okla., and has already been recognized with the release of Holly George-Warren’s excellent biography, Public Cowboy No. 1: The Life and Times of Gene Autry.

World War II, conducted at the height of Autry’s popularity, was worse than anything we’ve seen this decade. His public battle with Republic Pictures chief Herb Yates shows that businessmen putting profits over people is nothing new. And a public relations catastrophe in which children were burned by flammable playsuits marketed with Autry’s name demonstrates that defective products have left scars before. While you can’t help but like Autry after reading Public Cowboy No. 1, it also leads to some rhetorical questions. Did the world really used to be a better place? Or do we simply get exposed to more of it now that we have instant news 24/7? It’s hard to know the answer, but it’s comforting to see that Autry navigated it, despite his flaws, in a way that suggests nice guys don’t really have to finish last.