Ah, Waylon Jennings. A name I’ve been hearing for, what, most of my life? Even though they look nothing alike on paper, I’ve always confused him with Merle Haggard in much the same way that I sometimes fail to differentiate between Marilyn Manson and Malcolm X. Needless to say, I’m not a reliable observer on even the best of days.
I decided to go with Waylon on this trip into the country and/or West because 1) my load of country CD’s from BMG finally arrived and 2) he seems like a big enough name to investigate. I actually knew TWO songs off of this compilation going in, which translates to exactly one-eighth of the tracks found hereon. Unlike my experience with the Hank Williams CD, this one didn’t have any of those “hey, I know this song!” moments, and generally speaking, I found a lot of these tunes a little on the boring side.
However, someone apparently loved this guy immensely, since a whole mess of these tracks reached the top of the country charts back in the day. Everything on 16 Biggest Hits (which is apparently part of some series- look for lots of "16 biggest hits" country album reviews coming soon from the hand and mind of yours truly) comes from 1973-85, when Jennings was at his commercial peak; this era also saw him constantly in debt, addicted to coke and methamphetamines, and struggling to keep his head together while embarking on the kind of rowdy tours I used to think only rockers and rappers participated in. Who knew that country stars, with their calm and pretty songs about heartache and stuff, were such a bunch of hellions?
That said, Waylon was part of the “outlaw country” trend that really took over in the 1970’s. Guys like Jennings, Willie Nelson, and David Allan Coe dropped a lot of the quaintness, rocked things up ever so slightly, and started writing about drinking, fighting, and that elusive activity known as “honky-tonking”, which I still haven’t fully figured out. After having been exposed to Guns ‘N’ Roses, Motorhead, Snoop Dogg, and Spandau Ballet for much of my life, it’s hard to hear much menace in the music of these “outlaws”, but compared to artists like Hank Williams, I guess that they were a little on the ornery side.
The two songs that I found most appealing on this collection were the same two that I already knew. Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys is a duet with Waylon’s good friend Willie (not that Willie- we’re talking about Nelson here) and Theme From The Dukes Of Hazzard (Good Ol’ Boys) holds a certain nostalgic appeal for many my age who grew up watching Bo and Luke (Waylon was the narrator of the show, a fact I never really realized before reading it on Wikipedia just now). I’m not exactly the Yoda of C&W music, but I believe that both of those could be considered classics in their way.
One thing I kinda like about Waylon is that he doesn’t fit the “crying in one’s beer” stereotype of country music. Oh sure, he gets a little weepy on The Wurlitzer Prize (I Don’t Want To Get Over You) and starts sounding like Billy Joel and/or a really old guy by the time that Come With Me rolls around, but most of these are pleasant enough, if a bit on the unspectacular side. It’s clear that the drugs, booze, and women were dulling his edge by the 1980’s, and the later tracks that crowd album’s end- Drinkin’ And Dreamin’, Lucille (You Won’t Do Your Daddy’s Will), Just To Satisfy You- are the real snoozers here. I mean, the dude was actually using album titles such as It’s Only Rock And Roll at that point, a pretty strong indicator that he didn’t know which way was up, around, or forward go.
There’s a definite Hank Williams influence on the first several tracks, which should really please fans of that legendary fella. From the obvious tip-of-the-hat called Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way to the more subtle Williams influence that can be detected in the music and lyrical themes of Rainy Day Woman, I’m A Ramblin’ Man (I have to ask this- who wasn’t a self-proclaimed “ramblin’ man” in country and Southern rock?), and This Time, a decent offering that seems to be saying “you can come back, bitch, but you bes’ behave from here on out”. Luckenbach, Texas (Back To The Basics Of Love) praises/discusses the finer things in life, such as women, guitars, and the way that success gets folks a-feudin’.
He and Willie worked frequently and well together back in the day, and one can hear on Good Hearted Woman how sweetly their voices blended together. Unfortunately, Waylon tries to hit some notes that he probably shouldn’t on I’ve Always Been Crazy (by the way, how can anyone who claims to be an “outlaw” turn around and say he never hurt anyone intentionally, as he does in that song?), and even makes some tragic move toward a country-disco synthesis on I Ain’t Living Long Like This; the fact that it was yet another number one proves that the guy could’ve shat on a dinner plate and watched it tear its way up the country charts. Amanda is not a bad song per se, but hearing a ballad that champions the pleasures of being in a hillbilly band while expressing concern over finding hair on one’s shoulders (?) makes me a little uneasy. Must be something only real C&W fans (and maybe old Greek guys) can relate to.
Of course, being so prolific that he sometimes put out two or three albums a year for several decades, the only way to really meet Waylon Jennings is to invest most of your retirement into his extensive discography. Barring that financially crippling option, I’d suggest an overview like this that assembles a whole cow pile of his number ones. He was an important artist and a sonically inoffensive one, though I’m a little more partial to older stuff like Marty Robbins or Tex Ritter (listen to me talk as if my experience with country amounts to anything). Waylon’s less of an artist for the rawhide crowd and more of one for the whiskey drinkers that’d knock each other senseless with pool cues on a Saturday night.
Vol. 1: Hank Williams http://www.epinions.com/content_352723963524
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