I came to country music in 1977. I was 24 years old, a new resident in the state of Iowa–corn, cattle, hogs. I had been actively aware of the genre which today is broken down into different ilks: Americana, Blue Grass, New Country, Classic.
And, I’m sorry to say, dominating the airways and pounded into our ears, is New Country cross-over pop-artists that are only interspersed with 50s to 90s era country music.
Growing up, my daddy would listen to the country station while in the car. At least while my momma was not with him. I would always secretly enjoy the sounds of the 60s and 70s artists. However, I would never admit so. Being a child of the 50s the sounds that I had to be abreast of to talk with friends were Rock & Roll. The Dave Clark Five, Paul Revere and the Raiders. The Circle, Beach Boys, Beatles, Ventures, etc. Then moving to the 70s, Iron Butterfly, CCR, Humble Pie and others.
As I reached my mid-twenties, I most perceptively gravitated to country. Rock and Roll left me unfulfilled somehow. The real clean sound of country satisfied my soul’s thirst.
Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Merle Haggard, Hank Williams, Sr., Tammy Wynette and the emergence of Reba McIntire and George Strait filled a void in my intrinsic need of notes put together in such a way as to stir emotions of happy and sad. Loretta Lynn and Johnny Cash were most visceral in this communication.
I think back in 1962, my father bought an album of Frankie Lane whose voice sang the song for the hit series Raw Hide starring a young Clint Eastwood who played the role of Rowdy Yates. Frankie sang songs of cowboys. These songs touched me forever. I unknowingly stored them away in some recess of my mind to be recalled some twenty years later as my car had only country stations on the preset buttons.
As the years continued on, Clint Black, Travis Tritt, Tracy Lawrence, Patty Lovelace, Carlene Carter, Pam Tillis, just to name a few, continued to satisfy my ears with good sounds. I must say that my favorites are many and each with melodic sounds that I craved.
The male singers that I favored were Chris Le Deoux, a rodeo cowboy turned singer who Garth Brooks cleverly, and for so long kept hidden, stole his style in both stage and format. Pam Tillis of the women dominated my preference. While I enjoyed them all, without going down the inexhaustible list of greats, country music died for me about 1999, or there -about.
Oh, for sure there are hold out old timers who continure to create fantastic sounds of the old guard, but they will for sure cease one day!
Sad? Yes! It seems I’m always hitting the preset button searching for old songs and artists. Patsy Cline, Hank Snow, Linda Fargo, Little Jimmie Dickens. Where are you? Most times it requires late night radio to find you.
The young artists are getting younger and their path to stardom a easy path of roses. You can’t believe in the words that they sing; they don’t convince me!
The pre-canned sound rings hollow. They dress like the pop culture of urban life, but that’s what so many hope for I guess. To water down the grass roots country sound, to be palatable so as to ‘cross-over’ on the charts. To achieve that double and triple platinum record. For country fans of so many prior decades it’s most sad to hear and see.
I have, because of this, gravitated to Blue Grass sounds more and more. Their artists strive to maintain int
egrity to it’s roots and remain strong as ever. I will forever listen for old guard country artists and continue to hit my presets, but I no longer look to new artists to satisfy country sounds, to satisfy my primal need of music.
To you new artists, look to the past to those who made it possible for all you have. You have forgotten, or you never knew, of that which I’m sure you are not. You new artists, the sounds that you create, grate obnoxiously through my radio.
Am I the only one?
I will continue to look to Blue Grass and old music. Real sounds of Country Music.
Clark Ron Coleman 