George Jones

 118

George Jones

George Jones

George Jones is the greatest pure singer in country music- while his East Texas drawl identifies him both regionally and culturally, it doesn’t cloud his remarkably clear and pliant voice, nor does it limit his astonishing vocal technique. But just as important is how profoundly Jones has bound himself to county music tradition, which for him is the religion that saved his life.

Jones’ life is by now an open book, but virtually none of it appears in his music. As a child, Jones sang to pacify his alcoholic father. As a teenager, Jones sang on street corners and in honky-tonks to escape his home. Jones sang country music because country was what he grew up with and all that he knew. He tried odd jobs, did a hitch in the Marines, had a couple of messed up marriages, but the only thing he was ever any good at was singing, and singing was the only thing that kept him going. He channeled Roy Acuff and Hank Williams and countless others, but judging from the numerous covers in his early Mercury recordings, the only singer he had any trouble subsuming was Lefty Frizzel. And within a few years his own voice became such an integral part of that tradition that nothing could diminish Jones.

For the first 35 years of his career, Jones’ records were produced by two men: Pappy Daily (1955-1971) and Sherrill (1972-1989). Daily was co-owner of Starday Records, but took over managing as well as producing Jones, and stayed with him through a series of record companies: Mercury, United Artists, Musicor. Jones’s first hit, “Why Baby Why” was pure honky-tonk. His first #1 hit was J. P. Richardson’s moon-shiner novelty “White Lightning,” with a panoply of vocal effects. But he also cut songs that became classics, like “The Window Up Above,” “Tender Years,” and “She Thinks I Still Care.” The Essential George Jones would be a good spot for any newcomer to start as it gives a good picture of this time-period of Jones as the hardcore honky-tonker.

Aside from his biggest hits, very little of the massive amount of material that Jones and Daily recorded for United Artists (1962-66) and Musicor (1965-1971) is in print. Hank, Bob and Me restores parts of albums of Hank Williams and Bob Wills songs from 1962. The Vintage Collections duets with Melba Montgomery are long on bluegrass and notable for the freak hit “Let’s Invite Them Over,” about spouse-swapping, and the magnificent “We Must Have Been Out of Our Minds.” Jones and Daily recorded something in excess of 200 cuts for Musicor, including 23 charting singles.

Jones married Tammy Wynette in 1968. She had just released “Stand By Your Man,” making her one of the biggest new stars in Nashville, and he was already a legend, so their marriage kicked off the King and the Queen of Nashville hype. More concretely, marriage stirred Jones to Wynette’s label (Epic) and producer (Billy Sherrill) but it was late 1971 before the first George and Tammy duet came out. They cut another dozen singles after hitting #1 three times- twice after the inevitable d-i-v-o-r-c-e. The songs, which have been collected in short, overlapping compilations, are a strange mix of pop artifacts- hopeful, cynical, devout, dejected, and/or funny (“God’s Gonna Get’cha”). But one thing that can’t be doubted is their utter professionalism, and both can switch on a dime to vent the most irrelevant of material. (This continues without a hitch in their 1995 reunion, One.)

But the duets were just a sideshow: Jones recorded at least an album a year from 1972 to ’89, a vast amount of material, luckily thanks to the streaming age, some of the ones that were out of print are now available, notable 1976’s Alone Again. Billy Sherrill had a reputation as a guy who never heard a song without thinking that it could use some strings, and anyone with a taste for Jones’ honky-tonk roots is likely to view most of the music that Sherrill produced as glop. But for Jones the music was just the launch pad for his singing. While most voices thin-out with age, Jones’ voice was becoming, if anything, lighter and more pliable, and the ballads that Sherrill preferred often worked best to flatter Jones’ singing. Sometimes the pair joined spectacularly, as on “He Stopped Loving Her Today,” where the swelling of the stings lifts Jones into the stratosphere. The ballads dominate the compilations from the period, especially on 16 Biggest Hits and Love Songs, both full of treasures. The Essential George Jones: The Spirit of Country is the broadest selection currently, with the 15 early cuts followed by 29 Epic cuts, including inviting Ray Charles to join in on “We Didn’t See A Thing”. As for his proper albums, 1980’s I Am What I Am is perhaps his peak, with exceptionally strong material throughout and 1989’s One Woman Man closed out the series on a high note.

During the late ‘80s Jones finally started to put his oft-wrecked life together. He married again and this time it stuck. In 1991 he moved to MCA, and his new producers pointed him back toward his old country roots. They also helped him pick better songs- Jones had long since stopped writing his own, but Nashville was full of songwriters who dreamt of servicing him. Walls Can Fall was perhaps the best of his ‘90s albums, with ballads like the title cut and “She Drives Me To Drink,” the fast-paced “I Don’t Need Your Rockin’ Chair,” and the definitive “Wrong’s What I Do Best.”

Others such as It Don’t Get Any Better Than This and Cold Hard Truth are nearly as good, and The Rock isn’t far behind. Perhaps the most surprising thing of all is how consistent Jones had been over a recording career that lasted 60 years. 

I'd like to leave you all with one of the most legendary stories in all of country music, written by the legend himself, here's an excerpt from his autobiography.

"Once, when I had been drunk for several days, Shirley decided she would make it physically impossible for me to buy liquor. I lived about eight miles from Beaumont and the nearest liquor store. She knew I wouldn't walk that far to get booze, so she hid the keys to every car we owned and left.

But she forgot about the lawn mower. I can vaguely remember my anger at not being able to find keys to anything that moved and looking longingly out a window at a light that shone over our property. There, gleaming in the glow, was that ten-horsepower rotary engine under a seat; a key glistening in the ignition.

I imagine the top speed for that old mower was five miles per hour. It might have taken an hour and a half or more for me to get to the liquor store, but get there I did."

 

It’s…

George Jones