Jamey Johnson, "That Lonesome Song"
Mitch tries on yet another hat
Mitch’s Pitch:
Rock fans are the worst. Myself included.
Always looking down on other genres. Always acting like guitar-based rock music is the only authentic and worthwhile style. Always condemning pop music they actually like as a “guilty pleasure,” so as not to challenge their allegiance to a “cooler” genre. It’s pathetic.
And no genre is as disrespected, as despised, and as diminished among rock fans as country music, which is insane, because without country music, there would be no rock and roll.
Now some rock fans play this little game where they claim to like “hip” country artists like Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. You see, they like outlaw country, just not that corporate, Music Row country. This is another load of horseshit - a variation on the “guilty pleasure” where you’re still more concerned about what people think about your musical tastes than being honest about what music really moves you.
I love country music because it moves me. I love country music because of the playing, and I especially love country music because of the storytelling.
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Stories of joy. Alabama came first. My Dad’s friend told him to get Mountain Music and he used to play it in the car. My brother Steve and I used to think it was funny to booby trap the car so that it would blast Alabama whenever he turned the key. One time we did so after a rest stop on a long road trip and my Dad got so mad at us he threw the tape out the window at high speeds. Street Thrown Alabama. It was hilarious.
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Stories of tragedy. Dwight Yoakam came next. I always leaned towards that Bakersfield sound. In High School I had a friend who was one grade older and once we spent a glorious day partying at BU and then seeing Dwight at Berklee. He left for college and we drifted apart until one day I got a call that he died in a car crash. That was it. He was just gone. And all these years later whenever I hear Dwight sing I think of Dustin and a life never lived.
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Stories of adventure. Walking through Downtown Disney I see a sign for an all-ages Jamey Johnson show that very evening at the House of Blues. I impulsively buy tickets for me and my 14 year old son and soon learn that “all ages” means a room full of very drunk rednecks and one very sober 14 year old boy from New England. We had an awesome time, especially when some pickled lady yelled at us in the men’s room.
But I couldn’t miss a chance to see Jamey Johnson. I had loved Jamey since first discovering his album That Lonesome Song back in 2008. And with rock music in the doldrums, it quickly became one of my favorite albums of the decade.
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That Lonesome Song isn’t a concept album, but it feels like it should be. It might be about Jamey Johnson bottoming out in real life, but it might be fictional, too. It reminds me of the writing of Paul Theroux, where the lines between truth and fiction, between good and evil, disappear.
The range of emotional territories he explores is astounding. There’s remorse (“High Cost of Living”) and there’s rage (“Mowing Down the Roses”). Sometimes he’s honest with himself (“That Lonesome Song”) and other times he tries to lie to himself (“Place Out On The Ocean”). Sometimes he’s full of doubt (“Angel”, “The Door is Always Open”) and other times he’s full of confidence (“The Last Cowboy”). In the end we’re left with a multi-faceted person that is bursting with humanity and relatability, even when he lets us down.
And is there a more perfectly written and performed single than “In Color”? The imagery, the wordplay, the performance - it’s a stunning achievement.
Musically, the band is tight and energetic and deftly swings from tender, weepy ballads driven by the pedal steel to harder-edged material. I love how the songs flow together and they sound like a live band jamming in the studio, providing the perfect foundation for Jamey’s voice. And what a voice it is! A booming baritone that vibrates through your whole body, making the stories even more powerful.
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So I submit for your consideration the inclusion of Jamey Johnson’s That Lonesome Song into the Newbury St. Collection. This album has it all - incredible songwriting and storytelling, a hot band that can easily pivot from weepers to brawlers, a beguiling vocalist, and not a single filler track among the 13 songs. I love them all.
It’s an incredible album, genre be damned. Are you rockers finally ready for the country?
Ken’s Response:
It was hard for me to embrace country music during my formative years. My parents didn’t own a grill, they didn’t drink, my dad drove a Toyota Corolla, and we had 3 cats. So trying to relate to music about barbeques, getting drunk, driving a truck and dogs was a bit foreign. But I do love a good story, especially if it involves heartache and overcoming the many obstacles life throws at us. Still, I didn’t really embrace country music until I moved to Arizona in the late 1980s.
I wouldn’t say I became a fan, but I learned to like some country, and tolerate much more. I bought a couple of Garth Brooks albums and even went to some random festival in the middle of the desert that was both a bit frightening and one of the best nights I’ve ever had.
The fact is, as I get older, I like country music more and more; the best of which has an innate ability to be a catalyst for good times, or it can cause you to want to rip your heart right out. It’s blue-collar poetry is about the same things all poets write about: life, love, loss, determination, renewal, repeat!
I hadn’t ever heard of Jamey Johnson before Mitch picked this album, and what a great pick it is. The lyrical twist of “High Cost of Living”, the imagery of “In Color”, and the backyard BBQ feel of “Place Out On the Ocean” are just so peaceful and fun. When you add in a tight country band with all the necessary parts, and a voice reminiscent of a young Waylon Jennings, this album absolutely deserves a spot in the Newbury St. Collection. I look forward to spending much more time with That Lonesome Song.
Pitch Successful (straightenin’ the curves, flattenin’ the hills)
CJ’s Response:
The most annoying answer that anyone ever gave me was “We sure don’t.” It was in response to a question I asked at a hotel in Tuscaloosa, Alabama after a long day of shitty flights and missed connections. When I staggered up to the woman at the front desk and inquired if they had any available rooms, she smiled right in my face and said, “We sure don’t.”
Over the years, it’s a phrase I’ve come to associate with country music. It starts full of promise—We sure—and ultimately ends in disappointment—don’t.
So, yeah, I’m not a country fan. But, as Mitch predicted, I do love Johnny Cash. And here’s why: Johnny’s pain is real. When he sings about wishing he was stoned in “Sunday Morning Coming Down”, it’s because he sees happiness all around him and doesn’t believe he’ll ever have it.
Johnny Cash is special.
Jamey Johnson is not.
To understand the difference, you need only listen to this album’s opening song, “High Cost of Living.” Instead of Cash’s existential drug crisis, Johnson tells us that he likes to get baked in his pickup underneath the cross in his church parking lot. In one song, Jamey checks off nearly every cliché in the country music playbook. Trucks, contraband, failed relationships and Jesus. And then he throws in the bad word play—“The high cost of living ain’t nothing like the cost of living high”—to complete the superfecta.
I wish this were the low point on the album, but that dishonor belongs to “Women.” This is a song that begins with the line “Women. Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t live without ‘em.” The last time I heard that was when Alfalfa was bitching about Darla to Spanky.
To be fair, it’s not all bad. “In Color” is the runaway best song on the album. For once, Johnson steps out of drunken cowboy mode and writes a brilliant essay about sifting through old photographs with his grandfather. I love this song and I wish he had more like it.
Perhaps the most fitting summation of this record is in the final song, “Between Jennings and Jones”. It’s a play on Jamey’s last name being alphabetically between Waylon Jennings and George Jones, but it’s also a commentary on where he is musically. He’s neither here nor there. He’s just like every other country Tom, Dick and Harry. Or, more accurately, every other Trent, Dwight and Kenny.
So, do we need Jamey Johnson among the Newbury St. elite?
We sure don’t.
Pitch Failed (Oh, now I get it. “Mary Go Round” is like “Merry Go Round”. Clever.)
Mitch’s pitch was not successful and Jamey Johnson’s That Lonesome Song has been exiled!
Well, you can’t cash my checks, but the door is always open for you to visit the comments section and let us know what you think about Jamey Johnson and That Lonesome Song. Set ‘em up, Joe.
Please join us next week as Ken heads down the road and pitches John Fogerty’s smash hit solo album, 1985’s Centerfield.
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A lot of classic country that's acceptable to rock fans isn't even called country music anymore. Willie Nelson and all the other Highwaymen are now labelled as "Americana". There are a few younger artists that sound ok next to the old legends.
A few years ago Steve Earle told an interviewer that "country coming out of Nashville today is just hip-hop for people who are afraid of black people". There's a lot to unpack there. I think of country like that other most dreaded of genres: pop music. At any given time about 95% of country or pop music just isn't very good. But if you can find that other 5% or so, it will be good enough to become part of the soundtrack of your life. Who cares what it's called as long as it makes you feel something?
My default setting used to be "I like anything but country." It was a total cop-out in a world full of pretentious scenesters, and frankly not intellectually honest. The truth was I /did/ like some of it; it was just easier to say that and maintain a Potemkin village of cool, rather than admit I loved Dolly Parton. God forbid I ever reveal that I knew the words to a LOT of Oakridge Boys songs.
One might not like country music as a genre, but it's hard to deny that much of it is objectively good music. Not all, mind you, but a statement like that doesn't allow carve-outs for the Johnnys, Lorettas, and Waylon's of the world (or Kasey Musgraves for that matter).
P.S. "Street Thrown Alabama" is some next-level wordsmithing.