No Ushers or Slashers in Texas music
By
Rory Ryan-hcpress@cinci.rr.com
Once again, as I tried to sit back and enjoy a Super Bowl – one that matched two of the game’s greatest franchises, no less – someone I was happily ignorant of 15 minutes before kickoff messed up the words to “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
While I’ve never been in the Jerry Jones Taj Mahal in Dallas, I have watched a good number of professional baseball and football games in person. And at each and every one of them the words to the national anthem always appeared on the scoreboard – just in case any of us forgot Mr. Key’s famous words written during the War of 1812 off the coast of Fort McHenry, not far from where I entered this world so many years ago.
Not that I’ll have to worry about it, but if you are ever called upon to sing the anthem, here’s a word (or four) of advice if you forget the lyrics: LOOK AT THE SCOREBOARD.
Shitepoke...
At least it wasn’t as bad as the Roseanne debacle at a Reds game in 1990.
And one more thing: Wasn’t the Super Bowl played in Texas? For God’s sake, where was Waylon Jennings when we needed him?
What’s that? He died this week in 2002? Dang. No more Waymore.
Well, then, there’s always Willie. Or Bob Wills (dead, too?). Or Ernest Tubb (I know, deceased, right?). Or Bocephus. Or Toby Keith (who had his first single “Should’ve been a Cowboy” released on this day in 1993, and he’s from Oklahoma, not Texas, but it’s close enough). Or George Strait. Or Robert Earl Keen.
And if they’re looking for a female voice, there’s always Tanya Tucker from the Lone Star State.
If a Super Bowl is ever played in Texas again, let’s have a real Texan – or someone who sounds like one – sing the national anthem. Is that too much to ask?
And do we really need someone called Sam I Am leading the hourlong halftime entertainment?
Halftime at a football game ought to include two things: a good marching band and John Madden describing the first-half highlights, just in case I missed anything. That’s it. No black-eyed Susans. No Ushers and no Slashers. And no “equipment malfunctions.”
This week’s latest arctic blast that brought near-zero temperatures to Highland County gave me a chance to chop some more firewood and think about music. I often combine the two activities in my never-ending search for the Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
While we all know – or at least should know – that David Allan Coe’s friend, Steve Goodman, wrote the Perfect Country and Western Song, I’m looking for the Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
As I have researched this Very Important Literary Topic over the years, I’ve come to realize that the late, great Lewis Grizzard once had a similar quest for this knowledge crucial to mankind’s existence.
After all, country song titles and lyrics are written, philosophically, about real life’s trials and tribulations, ups and downs, heartaches and heartbreaks – and rednecks. Put all that together and there’s got to be a Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
I just can’t find it.
Harlan Howard once said that “country music is three chords and the truth.” He's about right.
A few of the song titles that have advanced to the semifinal round include:
• When We Get Back To the Farm Is When We Really Go To Town.
• Here’s a Quarter, Call Someone Who Cares.
• How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away?
• I’ve Been Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart.
• If I Can’t Be Number One in Your Life, Then Number Two on You.
• If the Phone Don’t Ring, You’ll Know It’s Me.
• If You Leave Me, Can I Come, Too?
• My Wife Ran off with My Best Friend, and I Miss Him.
• Did I Shave My Legs for This?
• You Can’t Have Your Kate and Edith, Too.
• We Used to Kiss on the Lips, But It’s All Over Now.
• Has Anybody Here Seen My Sweet Thang?
• He Stopped Loving Her Today.
• Bubba Shot the Jukebox.
All of these are great titles in their own right and worthy of anyone’s list. But not one qualifies for that ever-elusive Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
As you can tell, I’ve given this column considerable thought. I’ve even gone so far as to do a little more reading about country music and its early American roots, right here in the heart of Appalachia. I’ve learned, too, that there are many forms of country music, from the singing cowboys like Roy Rogers and Gene Autry, to “hillbilly boogie,” to bluegrass to outlaw country. And they’re all good.
However, as a famous NASCAR driver once said, “If you ain’t first, you’re last.” The same applies to being best. There’s only one “best” Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
As soon as my redneck, ridgerunner, country music self thaws out, I’ll think of it.
Rory Ryan is publisher and editor of The Highland County Press.[[In-content Ad]]
While I’ve never been in the Jerry Jones Taj Mahal in Dallas, I have watched a good number of professional baseball and football games in person. And at each and every one of them the words to the national anthem always appeared on the scoreboard – just in case any of us forgot Mr. Key’s famous words written during the War of 1812 off the coast of Fort McHenry, not far from where I entered this world so many years ago.
Not that I’ll have to worry about it, but if you are ever called upon to sing the anthem, here’s a word (or four) of advice if you forget the lyrics: LOOK AT THE SCOREBOARD.
Shitepoke...
At least it wasn’t as bad as the Roseanne debacle at a Reds game in 1990.
And one more thing: Wasn’t the Super Bowl played in Texas? For God’s sake, where was Waylon Jennings when we needed him?
What’s that? He died this week in 2002? Dang. No more Waymore.
Well, then, there’s always Willie. Or Bob Wills (dead, too?). Or Ernest Tubb (I know, deceased, right?). Or Bocephus. Or Toby Keith (who had his first single “Should’ve been a Cowboy” released on this day in 1993, and he’s from Oklahoma, not Texas, but it’s close enough). Or George Strait. Or Robert Earl Keen.
And if they’re looking for a female voice, there’s always Tanya Tucker from the Lone Star State.
If a Super Bowl is ever played in Texas again, let’s have a real Texan – or someone who sounds like one – sing the national anthem. Is that too much to ask?
And do we really need someone called Sam I Am leading the hourlong halftime entertainment?
Halftime at a football game ought to include two things: a good marching band and John Madden describing the first-half highlights, just in case I missed anything. That’s it. No black-eyed Susans. No Ushers and no Slashers. And no “equipment malfunctions.”
This week’s latest arctic blast that brought near-zero temperatures to Highland County gave me a chance to chop some more firewood and think about music. I often combine the two activities in my never-ending search for the Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
While we all know – or at least should know – that David Allan Coe’s friend, Steve Goodman, wrote the Perfect Country and Western Song, I’m looking for the Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
As I have researched this Very Important Literary Topic over the years, I’ve come to realize that the late, great Lewis Grizzard once had a similar quest for this knowledge crucial to mankind’s existence.
After all, country song titles and lyrics are written, philosophically, about real life’s trials and tribulations, ups and downs, heartaches and heartbreaks – and rednecks. Put all that together and there’s got to be a Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
I just can’t find it.
Harlan Howard once said that “country music is three chords and the truth.” He's about right.
A few of the song titles that have advanced to the semifinal round include:
• When We Get Back To the Farm Is When We Really Go To Town.
• Here’s a Quarter, Call Someone Who Cares.
• How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away?
• I’ve Been Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart.
• If I Can’t Be Number One in Your Life, Then Number Two on You.
• If the Phone Don’t Ring, You’ll Know It’s Me.
• If You Leave Me, Can I Come, Too?
• My Wife Ran off with My Best Friend, and I Miss Him.
• Did I Shave My Legs for This?
• You Can’t Have Your Kate and Edith, Too.
• We Used to Kiss on the Lips, But It’s All Over Now.
• Has Anybody Here Seen My Sweet Thang?
• He Stopped Loving Her Today.
• Bubba Shot the Jukebox.
All of these are great titles in their own right and worthy of anyone’s list. But not one qualifies for that ever-elusive Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
As you can tell, I’ve given this column considerable thought. I’ve even gone so far as to do a little more reading about country music and its early American roots, right here in the heart of Appalachia. I’ve learned, too, that there are many forms of country music, from the singing cowboys like Roy Rogers and Gene Autry, to “hillbilly boogie,” to bluegrass to outlaw country. And they’re all good.
However, as a famous NASCAR driver once said, “If you ain’t first, you’re last.” The same applies to being best. There’s only one “best” Perfect Country and Western Song Title.
As soon as my redneck, ridgerunner, country music self thaws out, I’ll think of it.
Rory Ryan is publisher and editor of The Highland County Press.[[In-content Ad]]