| |||||||||||
|
| |||||||||||
|
| |||||||||||
|
By sticking to country-music fundamentals--and ignoring trends--Alan Jackson has taken a place alongside his heroes in the pantheon By Rich Kienzle
Nashville circa 2004 is a different place than it was when Alan Jackson emerged. Today, reality TV spawns singing stars. The years when Nashville acts remained stars for decades are past. Many today seem almost disposable, their legacies a hit album or two and a few Top 10 singles. Amid all that, the Alan Jackson of today is pretty much a more seasoned and mature version of the original model and, defying today's odds, remains at the top of his game. With seven Country Music Association nominations in 2004 alone, his vision of music built to last has endured. He emerged in 1989 three years after country's New Traditionalist movement, spearheaded by Dwight Yoakam, Randy Travis, and others, forced Nashville from the frothy, pop-flavored Urban Cowboy era back to its fiddle and steel-guitar roots. From the start, Jackson ignored trends. Even when the new traditional movement faded, swept aside in the '90s by hot country and its often controversial arena-rock influences, Jackson, like his heroes George Jones, Merle Haggard, and Ernest Tubb, stuck to fundamentals. Time and again, his flinty integrity triumphed. Simplicity remains Jackson's greatest asset. Unlike most Nashville acts, composer credits on his songs don't resemble a law firm's letterhead. He writes most of his material himself and collaborates with one or two cowriters at most. The consistent sound of his album is likewise borne of stability. Keith Stegall and Scott Hendricks coproduced him in '89. Stegall still runs the show today, and his production values behind Jackson remain steady--the music austere, fiddles and pedal steel prominent, rhythm solid, and guitars unabashedly twangy.
Simplicity remains Jackson's greatest asset. Unlike most Nashville acts, composer credits on his songs don't resemble a law firm's letterhead. Here in the Real World (1989) introduced Jackson as a vocalist reflecting heart, emotion, and unswerving blue-collar pride. It was obvious on the title song, and on numbers like "Blue Blooded Woman" that proudly pointed to living life "in Wal-Mart fashion" long before Wal-Marts swept the nation. Don't Rock the Jukebox (1991) further marked his territory. By proclaiming "I wanna hear some (George) Jones/ My heart ain't ready/For the Rolling Stones," he didn't dis the Stones as much as reaffirm Jones's--and traditional country's--therapeutic powers over heartbreak. "Midnight in Montgomery," a mystical rumination over Hank Williams Sr., avoided the usual shallow recreations of Hank's sound that often accompany such numbers. Jackson's successes would have been impossible, however, without ironclad achievement, since artistic freedom in Nashville is proportionate to the magnitude of one's success. With singles that remained No. 1 weeks at a time (a rarity) and albums that routinely went multiplatinum, Music Row gave Jackson and Stegall the widest of berths. Even so, he and Stegall mastered the realities of the market. If radio demanded catchy, upbeat numbers, they delivered. 1993's A Lot About Livin' (and a Little 'Bout Love) featured the infectious, buoyant hit "Chattahoochee," and "Mercury Blues," which fit the bill on Jackson's terms. Who I Am (1994) integrated Eddie Cochran's 1950s rock classic "Summertime Blues" into his sound. It also featured Bob McDill's "Gone Country," spoofing the failed rockers and folkies seeking fame in Nashville that eluded them elsewhere and launching an occasional Jackson editorial about the state of the music. Everything I Love (1996) reflects a strength common to all Jackson albums: an absence of filler. "Little Bitty" and "Who's Cheatin' Who" were the hits, but "Hole in the Wall" and "Between the Devil and Me" were unsung treasures. High Mileage (1998) had its hits with "Right on the Money" and "Gone Crazy." "Little Man" and "Amarillo" were album cuts superior to many other artists' singles. His stock high, he continued facing down industry types who'd rather forget country music existed before 1992. "Murder on Music Row," his 2000 duet with George Strait, assailed radio's dictatorial stranglehold and, not surprisingly, radio took it very personally (the song reached only the Top 40). Even that couldn't slow Jackson's momentum. When Somebody Loves You (2000) yielded huge hits with the magnificent heartland anthem "Where I Come From" and the title track.
His stock high, he continued facing down industry types who'd rather forget country music existed before 1992. True to the tradition of America's country artists responding to national calamity, singers reflected rage and revenge in the wake of 9/11 (as they did after Pearl Harbor), but Jackson took a different approach. His thoughtful "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)" (included on 2002's Drive) captured a multitude of emotions and settings reflecting the lost innocence, pain, and courage of a nation traumatized and desperate to heal. In "Where Were You," he called himself "a singer of simple songs." And that description--trends, fads, and personalities notwithstanding--has long been the essence of country. Perhaps by defining himself in that uncomplicated form, Alan Jackson explained for all time why, amid the day's fleeting stars, his enduring vision remains undiminished by time, stronger and more relevant than ever.
Veteran country music critic and historian Rich Kienzle, a contributing editor for No Depression, is author of the book Southwest Shuffle: Pioneers of Honky Tonk, Western Swing, and Country Jazz. |
|
Amazon.com Home | Directory of All Stores
Our International Sites: Canada | United Kingdom | Germany | Japan | France
Contact
Us | Help |
Shopping
Cart | Your
Account | Sell
Items | 1-Click
Settings