My Way To You (radio edit)
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reviews (7)
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- Gary Allan
- Bon Jovi
- Easton Corbin
- Billy Currington
- Vince Gill
- Mallary Hope
- Julianne Hough
- Jamey Johnson
- Josh Kelley
- David Nail
- Now That's What I Call Country
- Randy Rogers Band
- Julie Roberts
- Ashton Shepherd
- George Strait
- Sugarland
- Josh Turner
- Shania Twain
- Holly Williams
- Lee Ann Womack
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releases
fans
tour
- 11/21/2009
- Alabama Theater, Birmingham, AL
- 11/25/2009
- Von Braun Center, Huntsville, AL
- 11/27/2009
- Bancorp South Center, Tupelo, MS
photos
News
Bob Lefsetz blogs about a Jamey Johnson performance
"In Color"
"If it looks like we were scared to death
Like a couple of kids just trying to save each other
You should have seen it in color"
You can watch a movie where they've got an overpaid teenager trying to play scared, you can dial up a book on your Kindle and read a memory of someone who probably wasn't even there, or you can listen to a record and know exactly what was felt, in an instant you can be right there yourself.
Sitting on the hard benches of the Ryman Auditorium the curtain went up on Jamey Johnson, standing there in his jeans and boots, like he just came in from doing chores, like when he was done he was gonna be in a bar fight, or sit on the couch, pop a beer and watch the Titans, and when he started picking that guitar I felt like I'd grown up in Alabama or Tennessee. This was a story not from the keyboard of Diane Warren, not a concoction made for the hit parade, but straight from the heart.
It was a revelation.
Jamey Johnson is no longer a secret. But the power of seeing the man live gave me goosebumps. Even after visiting the history of country music in the display cases behind the Ryman's seats.
You can see Patsy Cline's outfit, even the murdered Stringbean's, but what truly blows one's mind is Johnny Cash's boots. Seemingly tall enough to go right up to his underpants. There are pictures talking about his TV show, his challenges to the network, standing up for what he thought was right. No one stands up for what's right on television anymore, you don't want to fuck up the marketing opportunity.
In other words, music meant something once, can it mean something again?
Chubby Checker got a lifetime achievement award. Seeing him do his act, he deserved it. Those were genuine hits, and he got the audience twisting like they did last summer.
And performances by Randy Houser and Jessie James were very good, and the dancing YouTube sensation was a hoot.
But Jamey Johnson... As agents are prone to saying, he was the real deal.
"I said, Grandpa what's this picture here
It's all black and white and ain't real clear
Is that you there, he said, yeah I was eleven
Times were tough back in thirty-five
That's me and Uncle Joe just tryin' to survive
A cotton farm in the Great Depression"
Times are tough here in '09, that mansion you bought has been repossessed by the bank and you're out of work. You've put on a happy face, but how long is that gonna last? You've been lying to yourself, your children, you've got more questions than answers, what are you supposed to do?
Watch rich people debate how you shouldn't have health care?
Watch nimrods and nitwits act inanely, like no one you know, on television?
Or dance like a fool to the ungodly beats of people telling you their lives are better than yours?
You're looking for some truth, and a salve. You'll ultimately have to lift yourself up, but isn't there someone on your side?
The music used to be on your side, that was its power. But that was long before MTV allowed not only the acts, but their handlers to make so much money that they were no longer middle class, they were supporting their private jet lifestyles, they didn't give a shit about you. Making their evanescent crap. Which we must buy.
Hogwash.
And then you see someone completely real and you get it, this is the way it used to be!
In a legendary hall, with just his guitar and his voice, his intelligence radiating through, Jamey Johnson was more powerful than a team of dancing idiots, had more sound than turntablists synching to canned beats. He wasn't telling a story from streets that don't exist, he was singing a story about life. Which folds out behind you, which you hang on to with regrets as it slips from your hands. You desire to make sense of it, but it's nonsensical. How some get cut down by disease and others live to one hundred. You feel emotions, which are displayed nowhere but in music.
When done right.
Last night Jamey Johnson hit the ball so hard, so long, that it still can't be found.
I hope and pray you can see him one day.
