Playing Phil for a moment:
MERLE HAGGARD FINDS `NEW COUNTRY' TOO SLICK
(For use by N.Y. Times News Service clients)
By LARRY RODGERS
c.1999 The Arizona Republic
PHOENIX - It comes as a surprise to hear Merle Haggard, one of
America's most gifted songwriters, proclaim, "There's nothing I hate
worse than perfect music."
After all, what could be more perfect than the heartfelt lyrics of
the country-music standards penned by Haggard over four decades _
tunes such as Big City, Silver Wings, Today I Started Loving You Again
and Workin' Man Blues?
But there he is, on the phone from his home in northern
California, expressing concern that country music in the '90s has had
its roots polished right out of it.
While talking about Y2K computer fears, of all things, Haggard
segues into his hopes for American music in the new millennium:
"I think that we're at a moment of change. Not only are we going
to be changing computers and everything, I think we're gonna be
changing music. If we lose a lot of this electronic necessity, maybe
we'll go back in search of something not quite so perfect, with a
little more humanity involved.
"If there was an Elvis Presley, a Hank Williams or a Jimmie
Rodgers out there, maybe we ought to let him on the air and see what
he sounds like. There's got to be somebody out there, but I don't
think we'd hear him nowadays because he's been refined and he's been
made to play with that same band _ that *same band.* Oh, my god, I'm
so tired of that one drummer I could shoot him!"
Haggard is referring to the stable of hired studio guns in
Nashville who pop up on a startling number of recordings by various
artists, fostering the homogenized sound known nationwide as new
country.
Upbeat tempos and good-time sounds are the mainstay of new
country. Good times don't often take center stage in the music of
Haggard, a writer and performer who prefers more realistic material
that's "unprepared and unrefined."
Honest emotions and well-crafted stories that paint a picture in
the listener's mind are his trademarks: "It's like a film. I always
like to look at a song, actually visualize it and see if you could
take a picture that would describe what you're trying to sing about."
Known as the Poet of the Common Man, Haggard has recorded 70-plus
albums of tales about hard work, hard times, various states of romance
and folks who drink a little beer in the tavern on payday.
Asked about the talent that moves musicians such as Alabama's
Randy Owen to call him without a doubt the greatest singer,
songwriter, artist that has ever been, Haggard quietly replies:
"First of all, I think it's probably a gift. Then you cultivate it
and hone it in as a craft. Then you become hooked on it and then maybe
you have a little success, and then you're absolutely spoiled."
After more than a little success _ including 40 No. 1 hits and
induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame _ and years of grueling
tours (for which he seemingly wrote his own soundtrack with such
classics as Ramblin' Fever), Haggard, 61, has shifted into a lower
gear, spending as much time as he can with his sixth wife, Theresa,
and their two young children.
"Theresa and Bennie and Janessa and the life that I have now is
the greatest period I've ever experienced in my life," he says. "I've
got a nice houseboat there (at Lake Shasta), and I've got a studio
here close by. . . . It rains a lot up here. That's low pressure, and
low pressure is good for recording. . . . On a postcard day, the music
sounds a little brittle."
His music has mellowed, embracing hints of Dixieland, jazz and
blues and losing the grit of early hits like Branded Man and Think
I'll Just Stay Here and Drink, as have his politics. Befriended by
Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan in years gone by, Haggard is more apt
to be hanging out with tree-huggers these days.
"I try to stay clear of politics and remind myself that that's not
my chair. I'm an entertainer. I entertain both Republicans and
Democrats.
"But I have to sit myself out there somewhere as a citizen. And I
did go down to the steps of the state Capitol in protest of cutting
down these giant redwoods up here.
"There's a man in Texas that owns these things named (Charles)
Hurwitz. I think he's a terrible man; I think he represents the evil
side very well. . . . Somebody said, `Why don't you go out there and
look at those trees before you cut them down?' And he said, `I don't
have to take a look at them; I own them.'"
"Let's don't sell Niagara Falls," Haggard added. "Let's don't sell
Yosemite Falls or Mount Rushmore or Old Faithful _ and let's don't
sell these damn trees up here!"
(It now appears the redwoods will be saved under a deal approved
this month between the California and federal governments and
Hurwitz's Pacific Lumber Co.)
Asked about the state of the nation he has shown such love for in
songs like Fightin' Side of Me, Haggard chuckles, "I'll let you know
right after Y2K. . . ."
"The prognosis for the next few months is so unsteady. It's like
everybody's on quicksand. . . . Having built such a society on
electronics, and here all of a sudden, we may have to go back to wood
stoves.
"I think everybody's got half their mind on what they're doing and
half their mind on what they think they should be getting ready for."
Haggard is getting ready for the release of a second
autobiographical book, with Paramount Pictures negotiating for the
film rights, as well as a third gospel album and a new mainstream
record.
But most of all, Haggard remains _ to put it in his humble words _
a man in search of "a melody that hopefully will be recognizable
should somebody want to whistle it."
Larry Rodgers can be reached at larry.rodgers(at)pni.com via e-mail.
