Some of our blog readers also subscribe to our quarterly publication, Pure Country Magazine — written by classic country fanatics, for classic country fanatics. Those of you who don’t get the mag should keep a close eye on our main website, because we’re in the process of adding an archive of PC articles. One thing is for certain: this, ladies and gentlemen, is an excruciating process, and like most things worth doing, it’s going to take a while. In the mean time, cut your teeth on this piece by our own Michael Kosser. In addition to contributing a “Countryside” editorial like this one to each issue of PC, Kosser is a professional songwriter with cuts on Blake Shelton, Tommy Overstreet, and the Kendalls, among others. He also writes for American Songwriter Magazine, and has authored several books, including How Nashville Became Music City USA: 50 Years of Music Row (2006). Here’s hoping this tides y’all over until we get all those back-issues of PC linked up and posted!
~Ben
Who is Country? What is Country? by Michael Kosser
On a highway headed south somewhere in Dixie…
You might remember that song, Porter Wagoner’s theme song on his long-running syndicated TV show. For me that magical highway headed south is the Natchez Trace Parkway, a 450-mile long two-lane, low speed, limited access road that snakes its way southwest from Nashville, across the northwest corner of Alabama, diagonally across the entire state of Mississippi, ending up in Natchez.
It’s a beautiful road, bordered by woods and farms, with nature trails and historic sites all along the way, plenty of deer, wild turkeys and buzzards, and on weekdays there is so little traffic you’d swear you were on a remote country road back in the thirties.
I was on that highway headed south, not listening to a country song on the radio, rather, just singing to myself when my mind started wandering, and thinking about how country music had changed, and how it was always changing. Then, I thought, what makes country music country anyway? Most of you would answer, simply, “I know it when I hear it,” and that’s as good a short answer as there is. But I wanted more, as I drove across the bridge over the Tennessee River, not too far from Muscle Shoals, Tuscumbia, and Sheffield, Alabama.
There are three parts of a country record that may be judged for their countryness: the singer, the song, and the production.
The point is country music didn’t spring full blown into the world. It developed. Let’s talk about country singers. We like our country singers to sing in what we think of as a southern or rural dialect. We like them to have a little yip in their voice – almost a yodel—or that indefinable honest quality that goes straight to our heart. Second, the song. Country songs don’t hint at emotions and they don’t abound in obscure stream-of-consciousness phrases like a lot of pop songs. Some country songs are story songs and others are romantic ditties but we real country fans like ‘em best when they make a beeline toward our hearts. As far as production goes, we tend to think of a record as sounding country if it includes one or more of the following: steel guitar, fiddle, banjo, mandolin, and/or Dobro guitar. Interesting. Steel guitar I suspect developed from a Hawaiian instrument. Fiddle is a way of playing a violin with drone strings that hearkens back to the Scottish bagpipe. The banjo is an African instrument that developed into the five-string Scruggs-picked powerhouse it is today – also with a drone string. Mandolin? It’s Italian, isn’t it? I don’t know. The Dobro I think came from Czechoslovakia.
Now that we’ve defined some of the important elements, let’s get into history and truth. One of the first big country recording stars was Vernon Dalhart who sang opera and a whole lot of other things before he had country’s first million-selling record in the twenties, ”The Prisoner’s Song.” He sounded about as country as Pavarotti. “Hillbilly music,” as the record labels liked to call it, often featured tragic story songs and bright banjo and fiddle hoedown tunes. During World War II honky tonk music took over country and I wonder what the Possum Hunters and Gully Jumpers thought of Ernest Tubb singing about cheatin’ and drinkin’ with some newfangled electric guitar playing solo licks.
I’m sure some country historian can explain how cowboy songs out of Hollywood movies came to be lumped in with our hillbilly music. But country fans accepted the merger and back in the seventies folks even started riding mechanical bulls in honky tonks. To this day major stars like George Strait and Garth Brooks record songs about rodeos.
In the sixties Ray Price and Eddy Arnold, two of country’s greatest stars, left their roots behind and turned themselves into crooners, singing with acres of strings behind them. Country fans were infuriated but they simmered down, which was fine because violin sections were becoming part of the country music mainstream. Today we think of all those great Patsy Cline records as classic country but they were loaded down with orchestrations (that still sound great).
And blues and rock and roll have had been kissin’ cousins to country forever. You don’t think so? Listen to that old Hank Williams chestnut, ”Move It On Over.” Now Bill Haley’s recording of ”Rock Around The Clock.” The verses are virtually the same melody. We don’t have to talk about Elvis here. Read Clem Carter’s piece in this issue. And of course we have the outlaws, Waylon and Willie, sometimes breaking the rules and sometimes just pretending to break the rules because that’s what outlaws were supposed to do. Over the years there have been a number of great singers nearly all country fans would agree are definitely country. Patsy, Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette, Kitty Wells, Dolly Parton, Merle Haggard, George Jones, Vern Gosdin, Gene Watson, Mel Street, Keith Whitley, John Conlee and John Anderson are among the artists who come to mind. Then there were the artists who had such great styles voices that it didn’t matter whether or not they fit any stereotypes.
Later Ray Price and Eddy Arnold were great singers, as were Marty Robbins, Faron Young and Jim Reeves and today, for my money, Martina McBride. It might be well to remember that we don’t judge an artist’s country credentials by where they started. Conway Twitty, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis and Brenda Lee were major rock and roll and pop stars before they carved their niche in country.
Country groups and bands make a fascinating subject. The Statler Brothers and Oak Ridge Boys were really gospel groups weren’t they? On the other hand, bands like Poco or the Eagles often sounded very country and yet country radio did not warm up to them so country fans never really got a chance to hear them. In fact, until Alabama came along there were no real self-contained hit country bands that I can think of. It was a cultural thing. We associated self-contained bands with those rock and roll hippies, I guess.
Now, let’s talk about country the last ten years. Do you have the right to suggest that Shania Twain isn’t really country? Of course you do. It’s a free country. Just keep in mind that folks said that Lee Greenwood wasn’t country, or Billy Ray Cyrus wasn’t country, and yes, Elvis Presley wasn’t country. And think positive thoughts. George Strait and Alan Jackson are still selling a lot of records and there are more great country artists coming along. We still use fiddles and steels and a lot of the songs are country, even if we’re a bit short on waltzes and shuffles.
Along the Natchez Trace Parkway just south of Fly, Tennessee, there’s a hill overlooking a place called Water Valley. On a lazy summer’s day drive up that hill, get out of your car, stand on the hill and look and listen. Down below are soybean and corn fields, a couple of roads, a few houses and barns, and even a little ghost town of boarded up old stores. Now close your eyes. You will hear a dog bark. You will hear a cow moo or two; a tractor working hard pulling a bush hog; a mother calling her child. Maybe you’ll hear the wind in the power lines. Down in Water Valley the countryside is still with us. And, as I said in an earlier column, the music is still with us, if you look real hard for it.