This story was published by The Tennessean newspaper in Nashville on Nov. 25, 2004. At the time I was senior entertainment writer for the newspaper. Since George was buried today, I thought you might like to read this. It was not the only time I interviewed George, but it was (as I wrote earlier for CMT.com ... check out my first-person story for CMT at http://www.cmt.com/news/country-music/1706449/an-afternoon-at-george-jones-house.jhtml), one of the most glorious afternoons of my life.
Here is the story as it appeared in the newspaper all those years ago.
The original headline was: He still don't need no rockin' chair, with subhead: George
Jones just can't talk himself into
retiring; new compilation, TV special show why......
George
Jones once turned down a chance to record
with Frank Sinatra.
"It hurt me. It is one of my
biggest regrets. But I told them I can't sing that way."
If there had been such a pairing -
"I think it was gonna be London Town or one of those" - it would have
been monumental. Jones has been referred to as ''the Frank Sinatra of country
music,'' for a simple reason. He explains: "The Good Lord gives us all
some type of talent. You do your best with it.
"If you use that talent doing
what you really love to do, that's what makes you successful."
Jones has been called things great
and small during his 50 years in country music.
But the moniker of which he is most
proud: "The Greatest Singer in Country Music." It is his pride. His
joy. His God-given legacy. It also causes him most concern. Jones knows he's
abused his gift.
"All them ol' barrooms and
smokin' and drinkin'," he laments. "If you could only learn your
lesson earlier in life . . . ."
Hard-living into middle-age robbed
him of some range and power.
"People say that they wish they
could live their lives over, they'd do it different. . . . I'd probably do the
same old crap, but only do it worse."
Jones has lived to put his demons at
bay while continuing to record and perform. He also has captured the admiration
of generations. While taken for granted in Nashville - "They see me out
everywhere" - Jones is "Johnny Cash cool" in New York and L.A.
He and Merle Haggard are about the
last ones left. That's why it didn't take long to fill the talent roster with
many of today's top stars when the word went out there was going to be a
special Soundstage TV tribute to the Possum.
The show, to be aired tonight on
PBS, is a two-hour special that celebrates Jones' 50 years as a professional
musician.
Guests include the likely - Alan
Jackson, Kris Kristofferson, Vince Gill and more country greats - and the unexpected
- Harry Connick Jr., Aaron Neville and Uncle Kracker.
During the two-hour broadcast, they
sing from the Jones songbook. Many of those songs also are featured on the
breathtaking triple-disc George
Jones - 50 Years of Hits just released by
his Bandit Records.
The album came out Nov. 9, the day
of the Country Music Awards. Jones did not spend his evening with the
celebrated flock at the Opry House; he was signing "400-450 copies"
of the album at the Cool Springs Wal-Mart.
"That's where I belonged,"
he says. "With my fans."
Even Jones was surprised by the
turnout. "I expected maybe a dozen people. Here we signed for an hour and
a half straight. It went a lot better than I thought."
He pauses to pop a small piece of
gum in his mouth. "I'm chewing too much of this stuff. All the time. The
other day, I bit my tongue. . . . Almost killed me." He pokes out his
tongue to display the sore, red tip. Then he laughs.
"Ol' Haggard says country radio
is doing him and me a favor. By not playing our stuff, it makes people have to
come out to hear us."
It almost stunned this warhorse that
the hastily planned 50 years of hits TV special took almost no time to populate
with talent.
"I can't wait to see it,"
he says. "We had some wonderful artists out there who were kind enough to
do it."
Occasionally, they are joined by
Jones onstage. The singing wasn't Jones' favorite part. "I enjoyed just
sitting there, in the front row, listening. It was refreshing."
He teases that the women,
particularly Amy Grant and Martina McBride, chose drinking songs.
There were suggestions that the show
only go an hour. And it will play that way in some markets.
But Jones bristled at the idea of
cutting it to an hour. "It's something we were gonna do. I wanted to do it
at least halfway right.
"I said I don't want anyone
left out. We went full-blast. I said this is probably gonna be my goin'-out
kind of thing."
This is but one reference to the
fact Jones, 73, is aware of his mortality: "I'm lucky to be alive
now."
He vows: "I'm gonna work
another year or so on tour." Then he quickly recants: "I'm not going
to retire from the road completely as long as I can get dates."
He sometimes ponders what he would
do if he did retire fully: "I would fish and hunt and do things I want to
do. Music takes up all of your time. All of your thinking. That's why a lot of
us went way over the line, drowning in a sea of booze.
"Nowadays, it's more convenient
for singers, with television and everything. They can work 20 days and then
take three months off.
"I missed out on the real big
money. If I'd have been born 20 years later, I'd have really cashed in."
Talk about retirement seems just
that. After all, he has dates booked. He has a TV special. And there is this
masterpiece of a career-chronicling album, one which delights even the
legendary singer himself.
So many of these songs are gems the
singer himself is rediscovering.
He has to search diligently through
a half-century's memories to recall anything significant about particular
recording sessions.
"I remember Why Baby Why? (his
first hit and the opening track on the album). But as you go along farther, all
of the years, it's hard to remember."
That first breakthrough session was
held in a "living room in an old house (in Texas) that had egg crates on
the walls and the ceiling for the sound. Every once in awhile, you'd hear an
18-wheeler go by."
Many of the later songs were
recorded in Nashville, in Owen Bradley's Quonset hut. "Started out in this
little-bitty room. Couldn't have been much bigger than this room."
He looks across the spacious TV
room. "So many of my hits were cut in there it's unbelievable. White
Lightning. Who Shot Sam. A bunch of the older stuff.
"Then we moved across the
hallway to a bigger studio. But it's amazing what came out of that little-bitty
room."
Jones chugs his White Lightning
bottled water. "You know, you hear radio say, 'He's had his day. He needs
to make room for the younger artists. ' Well, that'd (tee) anybody off to hear
that.
"Country music is like a
religion to me."
It's like a business to many of the
newcomers. Jones recounts the visit by a TV reporter to the Wal-Mart while he
was signing albums on CMA night.
"The reporter asked what do I
think about the awards show?
"I said 'Hell, I'm not into
that kind of music. I'm into country music.' ''
The reporter backed away before
Jones could finish his thought. "I was hoping I'd be asked what I thought
about the show moving to New York next year.
"I'd have said, 'You know
something, that's the best thing I've heard. This new country, well, they ought
to take it to New York and keep it up there.
"It's not country music. These
new artists are too big for their britches. And that's what hurts me more,
because I love it so much.
"And to see the breath being
taken out of it. Well, you wonder if the kids of tomorrow, are they ever gonna
get a chance to hear real, traditional country music again? I don't think
so."
If tradition is the taste, there now
are two important new documents. No. 1: tonight's PBS show.
More important is the 50-song
compilation, where every stage of Jones' voice is sampled, from Why Baby Why?
in 1956 to Amazing Grace from a year ago.
There will be more from the guy who
sometimes regrets not singing with Sinatra. Any talk of retirement will be put
off.
"Now, I'm not ready to go, but
if the Good Lord takes me, well, I've been here a lot longer than I ought to
be."
No comments:
Post a Comment