Country Country

In my young and tender 20's, I was a country DJ on WISZ AM-FM ("Baltimore Country!"). I guess it was the natural contrariness in me that led me down this path. It certainly wasn't that I didn't love rock 'n' roll, and then there's my legendary fondness for the Vegas style of cornball entertainment as exemplified by Sammy Davis, Jr., Wayne Newton, and Bing Crosby. But I went to Towson High in the late 1960's, and I guarantee you that out of my entire baby-boomed senior class of 700+, I was the only one who had not only met Ernest Tubb but had gotten a close-up look at his diamond ring, which spelled out "E T" in glittering jewels.
(True fact: when I heard that there was a Spielberg movie coming out entitled "ET" I got all worked up, wondering who would play the Texas Troubadour, and do justice to the man who gave us "Walking The Floor Over You,""You Don't Have To Be a Baby to Cry," the original version of "Blue Christmas," and "Waltz Across Texas," among thousands of other records in a career that ranged from 1939 - 1984. When the movie came out, and it turned out to be about a little space invader, I felt somehow cheated.) I met ET at the Baltimore Civic Center and interviewed him for my high school newspaper, a story that never ran. Apparently the front page was torn out at the last minute to run an expose on irregularities in the salt-peter-intensive cafeteria menu or something. But, Tubb is also remembered for a couple of things he said, besides those things he sang. His advice to young entertainers was "Always dress a little better than your audience; they came to see something special. Just don't ever let yourself think you're better than they are." Could someone please offer that wisdom to today's entertainers?

And Ernest was fond of saying that people were always coming up to him in bars while his songs were spinning on the jukebox and saying "I can sing that song better than you!" He would shrug, "95 % of the time, they're right!"

You will note that I tend to digress when the talk turns to Tubb.

My point for today is that back in the 70's there was a country station out west whose slogan was "This is KLAC Country, and that's Country Country!" Country music in those days was the choice of very few music lovers, and we kind of enjoyed our parochial interest. "Parochial," as in 'limited in range or scope'. We did not need to wear special uniforms or anything. However, over the years, music tastes have changed, and if you'll turn your radio on and slide past the AM banter and the FM smooooooooooooooooth jazz you will find the country station in your town at or near the top of the ratings. You might say this is because country music makers successfully changed their range or scope, and now they are making the pop music of the day.

I was always planning to take a trip to Nashville to see the great stars of the Grand Ole Opry, and every time I turn around, another of my favorites is taking that Big Old Tour Bus in the Sky. Just within the past several weeks, we lost Porter Wagoner, the thin man from Missouri who gave us "I've Enjoyed as Much of This As I Can Stand," "The Green, Green Grass of Home," and "The Carroll County Accident," among many, many others.

And then Hank Thompson died. I saw his show with his great band The Brazos Valley Boys at the great old Painters Mill Music Fair, and what a tremendous run he had, with hits like "Rub-A-Dub Dub," "Whoa Sailor," "(My Tears Have Washed 'I Love You' From) the Blackboard of My Heart," "Too In Love," and the anthem of beer guzzlers everywhere, "A Six-Pack To Go." Hank had twin fiddles to go with his pedal steel, Hank was the first country star to record a live album, and Hank was almost certainly the only country star to have attended Princeton University.


Often lampooned and regarded as strictly lowbrow, classic country is so out of style now that there's not even a radio station that will play Ernest, Porter or Hank. I suppose you could get one of those new-fangled satellite radio things and listen to them on channel 257, right between Latvian folk ballads and Chilean sea shanties.

Or, you could ride with me in my pick-'em-up truck. I have enough home-burned CD's to last us all the way to Nashville and back. Gas money, please!