A Musical Journey - from Dean Martin to George Strait

This isn’t exactly another installment in The Big Switcheroo series – tales from last spring’s epic journey from the northeast to the Florida Keys and back - but, rather, a prelude to an upcoming post about our experiences at the Grand Ole Opry and Country Music Hall of Fame.  I thought a little background about my journey through music might first be in order.

My parents married a bit later in life than was customary for their generation and I have one sibling, my brother Michael, who is 10 years older than I am.  Considering the age spread among the four of us, it’s not surprising that our family’s musical interests spanned a lot of decades.

I don’t ever remember our Mom being a fan of any particular type of music or even music in general.  She would sometimes have the A.M. radio playing in the kitchen, but I’m pretty sure it was more to pick up the news and weather than simply to enjoy any kind of music.  My Dad, though, loved his music and had his favorites.  I grew up listening to Dean Martin and Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass; I can still picture the covers of some of Dad’s favorite albums and 8 track tapes.  Remember those?!

I might have wondered if Dad liked Whipped Cream & Other Delights because of the album’s cover art, as opposed to the actual songs, but my suspicions were quelled by the fact that he had a good number of Herb Alpert albums in his collection, not just that one which was slightly risque for the times, if you ask me.  Yup, Dad was definitely into his music, although I don’t recall music from the Big Band era or the 50’s ever being played at home as might be expected due to his age.  Maybe it was, and I was just too young to remember it.  Or, maybe, now I’m too old to remember it.

My musical memories began with Dino and Herb, but it was my brother who introduced me to the likes of The Byrds, the Young Rascals and Paul Revere & the Raiders.  (The Raiders’ stage costumes were quite impressive.)  When the Beatles came along, Michael brought home the albums and I listened to them because, well, they were the Beatles.  Although they quickly became worldwide sensations and heartthrobs, as well as icons of the music industry, I didn’t really connect with their music.  Paul was cute, and the couple of movies they starred in were entertaining, but I never did understand the mystique that was The Beatles.  (Please don’t browbeat me or inundate me with hate mail; after all, I didn’t say their music wasn’t good or that YOU shouldn’t adore them.)

By the time the 70’s rolled around, I was in my teens and deciphering my own taste in music.  Rock was becoming popular, but hard rock, heavy metal and a number of other types of music from that period of time abraded my tender sensory system.  If I wanted noise, I could take a hammer and a wrench to the pipes in the basement.  Country western music had not yet transformed itself into the “new” country of today, and the old style had a little too much twang and cryin’ in your beer to be of interest to my teenage self.  Seeking music that would actually soothe my soul, I gravitated toward soft rock and folk, a choice that solidified when I first heard John Denver singing about the Rocky Mountains at a friend’s party during high school.  I would, gradually, acquire many of his albums, finding listening pleasure in his songs about love and nature.

I was happy in my cocoon of soft rock and folk, until those genres gave way to disco and pop music that didn’t sound at all like real music to me.  (Don’t even get me started on electronic dance music.)  In my mid-20’s, I became a musical vagabond, searching for a home.  I flipped through stations like a short order cook flipping through pancakes on a Sunday morning, struggling to find something that sounded – and felt – right to me.  Salvation came in the early 80’s when country music group Alabama was signed by RCA records and started regularly releasing music.  Flipping through stations in 1983, I happened upon the group’s Dixieland Delight, both the words – “Rolling down a backwoods, Tennessee byway, one arm on the wheel . . .” - and the tune catching my attention long enough to give “country western” another try.  Well, the times they were a-changing.  No longer were all the songs oozing with twang, songwriters were writing stories that I could relate to, and I realized that some of the best musicians in the music industry were playing on albums cut in Nashville.  My love affair with country music was born, and I began following artists like George Strait, Lee Greenwood and Steve Wariner.  I was fine with the transition to “new” country, when up-and-coming artists like Alan Jackson, Reba McEntire and Vince Gill broke the “old” country music mold but, now that today’s country is often more reminiscent of pop music than anything else, I spend more time hanging out in the country music of the 90’s than anywhere else on the radio dial.

I can assure you that I’m not a narrow minded, “one hit wonder” sort of person.  While the majority of the music that I own or to which I listen falls into the genre of country music, you’ll also find in my collection Perry Como, Jimmy Buffett, Frankie Valli, Alaska’s Hobo Jim and an a cappella group called Straight No Chaser, as well as Jazz, Mariachi, Big Band and every CD released by The Uncle Brothers – a duo who produced the BEST music for kids, hands down.  In fact, earlier today I was listening to Frank Sinatra; a couple of days ago, it was smooth piano jazz.  There is an almost endless amount of wonderful music out there and, especially with today’s technology, much of it is right at our fingertips.

That being said, it is country music that tugs at my heartstrings.  In 1992, Alan won a contest sponsored by our local country music radio station – tickets for 2 to Fan Fair in Nashville, with airfare and hotel accommodations included.  Fan Fair (now known as the Country Music Association – or CMA - Music Festival), began in 1972 and offers country music fans a chance to mingle with the stars and enjoy many hours of live entertainment from both the industry’s well-established and up-and-coming artists at all kinds of venues.  (I remember one casual, informal performance held at the old Tower Records shop that was memorable not only for the music, but for the intimacy of the venue.)  Fans have the opportunity to meet many of their favorite stars at their Fan Club booths, and obtain autographs and personal photos with them.  It is just an all-around good time – for both the fans and the performers.  Alan turned into a mini-celebrity of sorts, too, since our local radio station had asked him to call in each day on the morning show to report who we had met and what concerts we had attended.  All told, Alan probably got a little better than his 15 minutes of fame, and it was tons of fun.

Maybe other music genres offer a similar event for their fans, but I would bet that not a single one could hold a candle to Fan Fair.  The extent to which country music artists make themselves available to their followers is extremely impressive, with many of them “meeting-and-greeting” for hours at a time in their Fan Club booths during the event.  A great deal of camaraderie among the fans was evident, too, as everyone struck up conversations with people in line around them as they waited to meet a performer.  Honestly, the event felt more like a county fair than a major music industry event.  Alan and I had a pleasant conversation with a nice guy hanging out at a record company booth, only to find out later that he was a Vice President from Curb Records.  One morning, dedicated fans of country music star Joe Diffie waited patiently at his Fan Club booth while he made an emergency visit to his doctor for an allergy shot.  When he arrived at Fan Fair, it was obvious that he felt miserable, but that didn’t stop him from making his promised appearance and graciously visiting with his fans.  Everyone at Fan Fair was approachable, friendly and seemed to be having a really great time.  Well, except for Joe.  Poor Joe.  The carnival-like atmosphere was palpable, and the bonds between the country music artists and their fans were quite evident.  I can relate to country music.  It feels real to me, and so do the people who sing it. 

So, why am I telling you all of this?  I don’t remember, but I’m sure there was a reason.  Wait!  I do remember.  (I guess this post was a bit longer than I had planned.  I actually got distracted.  But, I digress.)  I am hoping that, by learning about the musical road I’ve traveled on my way to the genre of country music, you’ll realize that the opportunity to attend a performance of the Grand Ole Opry was, for me, more than just buying a ticket to see a concert – it felt like coming home again.

When you purchase a ticket for a Grand Ole Opry performance, you kinda sorta “pays your money and takes your chances.”  Usually, when tickets first become available, only one or two performers are listed on the program.  As the performance date draws near, additional acts are added, but the complete program might not be finalized until close to the actual date of the show.  As luck would have it, a country music superstar headlined the Grand Ole Opry performance we attended!