A Thousand Miles from Nowhere

including a lengthy diatribe on the great credibility scare and the evolution / devolution of country music as a whole. digressions ahoy!

In 1956, an army man and his wife had their first child in the relatively tiny town of Pikeville, Kentucky. David and Ruth Ann soon added to their growing family twice more before David’s discharge, whereupon they moved to the comparatively booming Columbus, Ohio. The couple had always had an interest in music, whether it was Ruth leading family singalongs or David trying to learn the guitar. Steeped in Appalachian culture as they were, their tastes generally ran to country and folk music. In addition to possessing an extensive record collection, the family were avid listeners of the local AM country station.

David proved unable to get a grip on the guitar he purchased while in the army, a simple Kay acoustic. His oldest son, though, took to it like mother’s milk. His enthusiasm for the instrument resulted in its accidental damage, but David and Ruth Ann made sure he had a replacement under his Christmas tree in 1965, when the boy was just nine years old. Soon, he was writing his own songs. Ruth Ann encouraged all of her children to pursue a formal musical education, so her oldest learned to play the drums in his high school’s band. By his senior year he had formed his own band, initially to play in the school talent show but soon expanding to play parties and small venues in the Columbus area. After attracting some attention from someone purporting to be a music executive, our subject was left stranded in Nashville. His sound (a blend of bluegrass, honky-tonk, and outlaw country) was decidedly out of step with the countrypolitan, and his success there was limited.

His old high school bandmate invited him out to Los Angeles, where a decidedly avant-garde spin on country music was taking root. Although his sound met resistance there too, there were some musicians who were more in line with his way of thinking. He met Detroit native Pete Anderson, who introduced him to some of the cowpunk bands playing local shows like X, Tex & the Horseheads, and the Blasters. It was on bills with these artists that our subject began to truly define what he wanted to produce in the musical world. Soon, he had a decent sized catalogue of songs, and Anderson suggested recording an EP to promote himself. After securing distribution from tiny Oak Records, and the assistance of Anderson as producer and lead guitarist, his first record was ready to make an impact.

Dwight Yoakam’s Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc. from 1984 is a landmark album in the development of alternative country as we know it. That first six track EP (five originals and one cover of Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire”) set the tone for something special. Yoakam acknowledged the space created by those who came to prominence shortly before him like George Strait and Ricky Skaggs, but they both operated closer to the Nashville mainstream than he did.

Yoakam’s time in the California sun had a clear impact on his music; Cash may have been one of his biggest influences, but his compass was set with Buck Owens and the Bakersfield sound as his true north. Typified by an intensely treble-laden guitar, hiccupping vocals, and speedy tempos, the Bakersfield sound had its heyday in the mid-Sixties before outlaw country occupied the opposition spot to Nashville pop dominance. If you’re interested to learn more, I’ve curated a playlist that I think exemplifies the genre here:

One of the most exciting features of Buck Owens’ music is his backing band, the Buckaroos. Led by legendary guitar wizard Don Rich, it’s not hyperbole to say that their twin-guitar attack was a significant influence on a variety of artists who came after; John Lennon and George Harrison cited them as inspiration, as did Keith Richards and Brian Jones. The triple-guitar attack with double leads from Lynyrd Skynyrd in particular owes a huge debt to Buck and Don. Pete Anderson’s guitar work on Yoakam’s albums is a loving homage to Don Rich’s slinky yet sharp lead parts, and might well be the catalyst for his success: nothing else on the radio had that kind of ability to cut through static quite like a Telecaster through a Fender Twin wielded by someone with superior talent.

The EP was quickly included on independent radio playlists throughout Southern California. Yoakam found himself included on bigger shows with bigger audiences, and served as the opening act for the Blasters when they toured much like Los Lobos had five years prior. As Los Lobos attracted record label attention, so did Yoakam. Reprise Records came calling, in the midst of their relaunch after years of dormancy.

Backed by Warner Bros. Records, they offered him an almost unheard of deal: they believed his EP was strong enough that they would take its songs wholesale, asking him to record just a handful of tracks more to expand it into an LP album. Their one concession was that they wanted him to shorten his original title: Guitars, Cadillacs, and Hillbilly Music. The term “hillbilly” was loaded down with classist baggage, and the record company wished to avoid the label. Despite his misgivings Yoakam acquiesced, adding the “Etc., Etc.” as a cheeky nod. The lyric in the title song “Guitars, Cadillacs” remained untouched.

Now with major label promotional money behind him, he debuted on a national scale with a cover of “Honky Tonk Man” from 1956, originally released thirty years prior. The video and his unmistakable twang introduced him to the world: a lanky, almost awkward looking man in cowboy hat and western wear who somehow had undeniable levels of charisma (or “rizz” as the children say). Reprise was able to get the video played on MTV, serving as the first country music ever played on the nascent channel. The album came three months after the single, and “Honky Tonk Man” entered the singles charts just in time for the full release. “Guitars, Cadillacs” and “It Won’t Hurt” followed by the end of the year, with each track hitting the top ten on the Country charts; the full album hit number one relatively easily. Two Grammy nominations were earned by the album, and it was obvious: Dwight Yoakam was officially a sensation.

Yoakam’s career at this point has to be examined in the context of the times. Around this point in country music history, there was a revival of more esoteric forms, defying the “Nashville sound” popularized by Chet Atkins. Those familiar with only his music may think of Atkins as the original “CGP” (certified guitar player), dazzling audiences with feats of guitar wizardry that still amaze to this day. However, his role as producer, A&R, and label head have had far more impact than his performances. Together with such luminaries as Owen Bradley, Steve Sholes, and later Billy Sherrill, Atkins guided country music to great heights in terms of popularity with middle America, at the cost of authenticity and originality.

The first artists to be propelled to stardom with the softer, strings-and-swells style were Patsy Cline and Jim Reeves in the mid-Fifties. Through the next two decades, the sound metamorphized to a more modern take, mimicking what was happening on the pop and rock charts. Artists like Charlie Rich and Tammy Wynette were more aggressive than the Mantovani and Welk influences of earlier Nashville machine products, but the goal was still to appeal to the broadest audience possible. Eventually the lines between country and pop blurred, with acts like Juice Newton, Marie Osmond, and Kenny Rogers crossing over to both sides of the fence.

That’s not to say that country music as a whole was stagnating artistically. I’ve already spoken about the Bakersfield sound, and artists throughout the country were following their own muses. The most commercially successful were the “outlaw country” musicians like Waylon Jennings, Tompall Glaser, and especially Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. With feet firmly planted in both the Nashville area and the wilds of Texas, their goal was to thumb their noses at the Music Row scene and do their own thing without label interference. Part of that independence was being able to choose which songs they recorded, whether self-penned or by songwriters that were not in favor with the labels. Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, Steve Young (not that one), and Billy Joe Shaver all had marks against them in the books of the major labels, but the outlaws embraced their work. Although their success was not as massive as their country-pop brethren, outlaw country artists were able to produce music they could look themselves in the mirror about.

By the mid-Eighties, there was a little bit of wiggle room at the top. In 1982 Chet Atkins left RCA after thirty five years to become a Columbia Records executive, and his departure meant that tastes could evolve. The movie Urban Cowboy saw a surge in country music sales, alongside the growth of Dolly Parton as a one-woman media empire. However, record sales in pure country albums flatlined by 1984 and the labels were more willing to try new tactics. One of the shining stars of that period was Ricky Skaggs, who incorporated his love of bluegrass and old-time string music into his relatively slick country-pop style. He was able to bridge the gap for more variety in country, setting the stage for the next wave of young artists.

One of those artists was a young man from Texas who had an ear for hooks and a heart for the downtrodden by the name of Steve Earle. After a few aborted attempts at becoming a songwriter on Music Row, he followed his true north of his idol Townes Van Zandt and struck out on his own with his band the Dukes. Incorporating everything from the rollicking country rock of Gram Parsons to the confessional intimate folk of Emmylou Harris to the blistering hard rock of Deep Purple, Earle carved out a spot at the top of both country and rock radio playlists with his 1986 album Guitar Town.

Also hailing from Texas was a young lady from Austin with an ethereal voice and a knack for creating characters with her songs that felt lived-in from the beginning. Nanci Griffith started playing coffeehouse folk at the tender age of 12, followed shortly thereafter by small gigs in cabarets and clubs. Her style melded country, folk, pop, and rock into something she called “folkabilly”. Griffith’s first two albums were firmly in folk territory, but as she matured she began working in country spheres as much as anything else. Its title song “Once in a Very Blue Moon” was covered the next year by Dolly Parton, beginning a trend where her songs became big hits when performed by other artists.

Yet another Texan, this time a Houstonian folk singer named Lyle Lovett, pivoted towards a more countrified sound with his 1986 self-titled debut. Previously, Lovett had performed solo with just his acoustic guitar; a chance encounter with a Phoenix-based band called the Rogues led him to the possibilities that a fuller arrangement could provide. He leveraged a songwriting connection with Nanci Griffith (his duet partner on her 1986 album The Last of the True Believers) to get his name out to various music industry insiders, and he was signed to MCA/Curb Records. Soon, Lovett would take his band to the next level, incorporating his love of Bob Wills-style western swing to create his Large Band. Influenced just as much by folk and jazz as country, Lovett represented another startlingly different take on what country music could do.

As for rock influence, the pivot of the new guitarist for Pure Prairie League to straight country couldn’t have come at a better time creatively. Country maverick Rodney Crowell needed a new sideman for his band the Cherry Bombs, and who better than a young Oklahoman who was a master of guitar, banjo, mandolin, and more, all with the voice of an angel? Vince Gill then spent time in bluegrass too, recording with mandolin wizard David Grisman for a well regarded but light selling album. He put out two country albums for RCA before leaving to go to MCA in 1989, where he became a monster-selling artist with “When I Call Your Name”. His adoration and appreciation for the roots of country music shone through even at his commercial peak, demonstrating his faithfulness to the genre.

Shifting back to Pikeville, Kentucky, a young lady born there and raised nearby in Louisville (a move made because her miner father contracted black lung and needed medical treatment) struck out on her own in Nashville. Having played in a band with her brother Roger since she was a child, Patricia Ramey was spotted by the Wilburn Brothers and conscripted into recording demos for all of their industry friends. She married their drummer Terry Lovelace, and decided to tweak her married name’s spelling for marketing purposes. Patty Loveless began her career solidly in the realm of neotraditional country, taking inspiration from her hometown compatriot Dwight Yoakam. Later in the decade she leaned into the honky-tonk angel idea with her 1988 album of the same name. Loveless was able to keep herself firmly grounded in country while polishing her music with pop accessibility throughout the Eighties and Nineties, showing that commercial aspirations didn’t mean you had to sacrifice authenticity.

For a brief shining moment, it seemed as though country music was going to renew itself by reinvigorating itself from the roots. With an arsenal of stupefying talent at their disposal, the country music industry was ready to steer itself into lasting success without sacrificing its credibility in the process. Of course, life never goes as one plans. The entire genre had a seismic shift with the arrival of one man. Garth Brooks changed the game with his broadly appealing brand of “stadium country”. Thanks to his arrival the landscape for major label country music was turned on its head, and the brief flirtation with true genre diversity essentially ended. Taking his lead, subsequent acts (especially masculine ones) became more and more indistinguishable. Can you tell the difference between Tracy Lawrence and Joe Diffie without a quick Google? Of course not. (RIP Joe Diffie, “John Deere Green” is a banger.)

If you’re interested in hearing some of these artists, I’d like to direct you to my playlist here:

(Forgive me my digression, but I needed to expound upon some of Yoakam’s contemporaneous country artists that were operating in the neotraditional space. It won’t take much arm-twisting to coerce me into writing a full article on any of those options. Let me know in the comments if there’s one in particular you’d like me to write a longer piece. Assuming you aren’t sick of my writing just yet, of course.)

Less than a year after the release of Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Yoakam returned to the studio to record his follow-up. Prior to signing his major label deal, Anderson and Yoakam had selected twenty one original songs that cut the mustard, and decided to split them up into three separate albums. Each album could be structured similarly, with seven originals, three covers of classic country songs, and a balanced number of fast and slow tempos. The duo were able to work from that template quickly to produce Hillbilly Deluxe by July 1987. Between Yoakam and Earle’s success, the word “hillbilly” had lost some sting, so its marketability was secure. It was a million seller, a number one album on the country charts, the source of four top ten singles, and even garnered another Grammy nomination.

The third album in the sequence was produced just as quickly the next year, as 1988’s Buenas Noches from a Lonely Room finishes off the trilogy with panache. It deviates slightly from the format, with eleven songs instead of the usual ten. The “extra” song was the lead single, a duet with and a cover of Buck Owens. Getting to work with one of his musical idols (and convincing him to record again) was the capstone of Yoakam’s career to this point, and he made the most of it. “Streets of Bakersfield” was the first Yoakam single to hit number one on the country charts, followed quickly by “I Sang Dixie” reaching the same point.

On this album, Yoakam was able to create a more cohesive storyline; the first side of the album tells a single story over five songs, one of romantic affection, rejection, and traumatic termination. There’s a desperate sense of bleakness permeating the narrative, and less of a “party” atmosphere. His arsenal of songs dating back to his original demos from 1981 had almost been exhausted, but Anderson and Yoakam made sure to save some of the best for last. The duo thought long-term when programming the track lists of these first albums, with the results demonstrating the dividends.

1989 saw Yoakam record two new songs for a greatest hits album covering his selections of his best material with Reprise, eventually reaching number three on the charts and selling more than a million copies. After a short respite, Yoakam and Anderson began working on their fourth album together, titled If There Was a Way. These songs were largely new compositions, and for the first time they brought in outside writers to create these new songs. At this point, Yoakam was a marketable enough star to command the attention of the best songwriters in country music, and Reprise was willing to foot the bill. He also made good use of his contacts in the music business for collaborators, duetting with his fellow Pikevillian Patty Loveless on “Send a Message to My Heart”. Yoakam didn’t confine himself to the limits of country with If There Was a Way, choosing to expand out with inflections of folk, rock, and even soul music.

The 1990 album didn’t do quite as well as previous releases, making it only to number seven, and only two of the singles entering the top ten. There were a total of six singles off of the album, a change necessitated by a long delay for Yoakam’s next album. He had started pursuing acting roles, a trend that would continue for the rest of his musical career. It wasn’t until 1993 that he released This Time, a continuation of his previous album’s musical direction. Though still firmly rooted in country, Yoakam pushed the limits of the genre with bits of rockabilly, R&B, and bluegrass. His stated goal was to make music that sounded like him most of all, and he succeeded. Although the album didn’t hit the top of the charts, three separate singles went to number two and the album sold over three million copies, proving to be his most successful album to date. Part of that achievement came from crossing over to the mainstream pop charts, as “Fast as You” was his first song to make a mark on the Billboard Hot 100.

A live album, simply titled Dwight Live, followed in 1995, as did his next studio album Gone. Yoakam had begun to focus more on acting, and the relative lack of attention to his music may have caused the lackluster reception to his latest. Just as likely is that Yoakam’s music had finally pushed the limits of country (or at least country radio) too far. Without an infrastructure for alternative country, Americana, or what Gram Parsons referred to as “cosmic American music”, works that pushed past commercial playlist directors were unable to get airplay or promotion. Gone didn’t produce a top ten single, nor did it get past number five on the country album charts.

Yoakam spent a large portion of 1995 and 1996 filming then promoting Sling Blade, the Billy Bob Thornton vehicle that propelled him to cinema superstardom. Yoakam played the villain role in the film, earning a nomination alongside the rest of the cast with the Screen Actors Guild for best ensemble. (Solidarity with my union brothers, sisters, and siblings while they’re on strike.) His next musical project was released in 1997, this time a compilation of cover songs instead of originals. Under the Covers was a deliberate attempt to reverse the fortunes of Gone, and a thumbing of the nose at his record label. Yoakam felt that Reprise did a poor job of promoting Gone, and there was a sense that he was attempting to push the issue of how artists who transcend genres should be sold to the listening public. The covers album was not a hit nor a contemporary critical success, however later critics showed affection for it in the context of his previous trilogy of albums. A forgettable Christmas album came out in time for the holidays that year titled Come on Christmas.

1998 saw Dwight Yoakam release A Long Way Home, a return to form in both composition and genre. Each song was composed by Yoakam alone, and the songs were much more country-specific as opposed to the wide-ranging fare from his last three albums. Neither the album nor its singles were particularly successful, owing to both changing tastes in the genre and Reprise’s growing dissatisfaction with Yoakam as an artist. Although he was always outspoken and brash in his dealing with the label and the media, his previous sales allowed him some leeway in terms of gentility. With declining sales, the juice was perhaps not worth the squeeze. Another greatest hits compilation came out at the end of the year, highlighting his work in the Nineties.

As Yoakam’s filming schedule became more crowded, he relied heavily on cover material, both from other artists and revisiting his own songs in different forms. dwightyoakamacoustic.net was a selection of previously released songs newly rendered in acoustic fashion. Tomorrow’s Sounds Today in 2000 was his last for Reprise, having terminated his relationship with the label on fairly acrimonious terms. It also suffered from Yoakam working extensively on South of Heaven - West of Hell, his first film where he acted, wrote, directed, and produced the entire endeavor. To say the album is underwhelming is an understatement. He even spearheaded the soundtrack, his first and only album for Warner Bros. Nashville on that contract. The film was a bomb, both critically and commercially. Its failure cost Yoakam a great deal in terms of finance and critical acclaim.

Yoakam spent 2001 and 2002 on tour with Brooks and Dunn in order to build back his fanbase and to build up some capital for recording new material. He founded a label of his own called Electrodisc that partnered with independent label Audium for distribution, releasing Population Me in 2003. This would be his sole release of entirely new material under this scheme, as his other two Audium records (In Others’ Words and Dwight’s Used Records) were either compilations of his pre-existing songs or covers of older country songs by other artists.

Dwight Yoakam split with longtime producer Pete Anderson in 2004, after Anderson grew increasingly frustrated with Yoakam on three subjects. First, Yoakam was spending most of his time working on film projects rather than music. Second, Yoakam’s musical output had strayed far from Anderson’s preferred neotraditional country music, and the partnership was frayed in that regard. Third, Yoakam had gone through so much money on his films and other ventures that there was simply no room in the budget for either outside songwriters or outside producers.

Yoakam signed a new deal in 2005 with New West Records (primarily an Americana and alt-country label) to release new songs. This was the first time that Yoakam served as his own producer, in conjunction with new bandleader and lead guitarist Keith Gattis who worked with a much smaller crew of musicians owing to Yoakam’s relative financial difficulties. Blame the Vein is a return to form of sorts, with his music continuing to explore other genres while the strength of the songwriting is as good as anything outside of his most successful period in the late Eighties and early Nineties.

In 2006, Buck Owens died, devastating Yoakam. In tribute, he recorded an album of nothing but Owens covers with the simple title of Dwight Sings Buck. Notwithstanding Yoakam’s skill as a songwriter in his own right, it’s Yoakam’s best album since his commercial peak. By far, it’s his best covers albums (of which there are many in his discography). Following this release, though, Yoakam took an extended break from both performing and recording. Later, he blamed the Great Recession for the hiatus, in addition to the overall trend towards digital music and streaming. Essentially, it wasn’t worth it for him to assemble a band or book studio time for the profit it would potentially generate.

Six years later, Yoakam signed another record deal with Warner Records, returning to the fold after over a decade in the wilderness of independent labels. 3 Pears was somehow his most impactful release in popular music on the charts, achieving number eighteen on the Billboard Hot 200 Albums chart. (Lest we forget, the number of albums an artist must sell to reach such a spot has declined considerably since the early Nineties. In total, it has sold just over a hundred thousand copies.) It was well-reviewed too, as it resonated with alternative music fans as much if not more than country fans spurred in part by co-production from Beck Hansen.

2016’s Second Hand Heart continued his contract with Warner, and earned Yoakam his highest appearance on the country albums chart since Buenas Noches. Multiple Grammy winner Chris Lord-Alge was his co-producer here, and the results are Beatlesque country akin to Ringo Starr’s version of Buck Owens’ “Act Naturally”. The album reached number two on the country charts, selling over eighty thousand copies to date.

Finally, in 2016 Yoakam was asked by Sugar Hill Records (a bluegrass label famous for releases by Nickel Creek, Doc Watson, and Dolly Parton) to record a bluegrass album of his own. Swimmin’ Pools, Movie Stars is as straight a genre record as Yoakam has ever made, and it’s a perfectly serviceable example of said genre. It’s solid but unspectacular, the Arn Anderson TV title match of records. This album is Yoakam’s last album to date, as he has focused on live performances instead of recording.

In the present day, Dwight Yoakam finds himself in the opposite spot as he began his career. Once, his devotion to his country predecessors was his defining characteristic as an artist, paying tribute without mocking or poking fun. Now, Yoakam is an elder statesman of country music, a vanguard of both classic country and the possibilities of alt-country. His role in revitalizing honky-tonk and the Bakersfield sound cannot be overstated; he kept the flame alive for twang and steel when stadium country threatened to run it over.

Now we come to the meat of this article: my top ten songs. I’ve selected what I believe to be his best work, and I deserve all of the praise and all of the blame. These are my opinions and my opinions alone. Feel free to yell at me via all manner of electronic communication and I’ll probably respond. (Please don’t yell at me in person. I’m delicate.) Let’s begin the list with number ten…

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10. Long White Cadillac

The Alvin Brothers (the core of the Blasters) were instrumental (pardon the pun) in helping a young Dwight Yoakam find his musical direction. Their unique for the time blend of cowpunk, rockabilly, and good old fashioned country gold served as a guidepost for the recent transplant to Los Angeles from the relative wilds of Columbus, Ohio. Without them, Yoakam might never have found his way. When he began selecting tracks for his first greatest hits album Lookin’ For a Hit, one of two new songs he recorded was a cover of one of the Blasters’ best. Listen here:

9. Honky-Tonk Man

“Honky-Tonk Man” was the first choice for Anderson and Yoakam when Reprise asked them to expand upon their original EP to make a full album. They couldn’t have picked a better song than Johnny Horton’s 1956 track. Yoakam wasn’t the first to revitalize it, though, as Bob Luman took a crack at a version of his own in 1970. Take a listen and see what you think:

8. Ain’t That Lonely Yet

When Yoakam began promoting This Time, he released “Ain’t That Lonely Yet” as the lead single. With this album, Yoakam continued his gradual transition from “country music artist” to “musician”. His song choices and especially his arrangements matured from his country roots to incorporate touches of rock, R&B, and even jazz. “Ain’t That Lonely Yet” picks up right where If There Was a Way leaves off, and as a result he had the best selling album of his career. By broadening his approach, he reached a brand new segment of the audience that might never have considered themselves country fans.

7. Turn It On, Turn It Up, Turn Me Loose

The first single from If There Was a Way signals a departure for Yoakam. This is his first output that is neither a cover nor an original; instead it was co-written by Wayland Patton (a native Texan with a string of hits by artists like George Strait and Ricky Skaggs) and one of the most prolific and accomplished Nashville songwriters ever Kostas (born Kostas Lazarides in Thessaloniki). Anderson brought it to Yoakam with the caveat that it sounded like something he would have written for himself. It really does, with the same wink and a nod that his original material is dripping with.

6. Guitars, Cadillacs

Yoakam’s first major label single of his own composition, “Guitars, Cadillacs” sets the tone for the initial period of his career. The clear honky-tonk influence rings through clear as day, with a two-step rhythm perfect for line dancing or general carousing. His yodeling, hiccupping delivery demonstrates that he is something new and exciting in the world of country music, all the while harkening back to the styles of yesteryear. It’s simply a fun song.

5. Suspicious Minds

Normally I prefer to focus on original material, but with artists in the genre of country music, that’s an unfair restriction. A huge part of Yoakam’s charm is the way he takes previously performed material and injects it with new life and his own unique take. The original track was, of course, a centerpiece of Elvis Presley’s post-war comeback. Six years prior to Yoakam’s version, the Fine Young Cannibals did their own interpretation that was still in the cultural background. His take on it is laced with a plaintive sadness that brings a new level to a classic song.

4. I Sang Dixie

Dwight Yoakam’s second of two number one singles was also his only solo number one. Hailing from the Buenas Noches album, “I Sang Dixie” is not, as a surface reading would imply, a paean to the Lost Cause. Instead, it’s a meditation on what it means to long for your home despite all of its flaws. In many ways, it consciously echoes Dwight’s own story as a transplant to Los Angeles, a stranger in a strange land. This song is his commercial peak, but I believe there are two better songs, such as…

3. Fast as You

This is the most “rock” Yoakam ever sounded, with rollicking guitars clashing with honky-tonk tic-tac bass to create a stomping rhythm. The third single from This Time went to number two on the country charts. Unfortunately, his later focus on film work instead of promoting his music means that this was his last top ten to date in America. If you have to go out, it’s not a bad choice.

2. Streets of Bakersfield

Originally released by Owens alone in 1973, “Streets of Bakersfield” barely made an impact at all upon its debut. As Yoakam and Anderson were compiling their choices of covers for Buenas Noches, they settled upon this song as a way to coerce Owens back into the studio for a duet. Having spent most of the past decade focusing on his television work with Hee-Haw, Owens was essentially semi-retired. Yoakam reached out and almost begged for the opportunity to work with one of his biggest idols. Owens acquiesced, and was genuinely surprised at the reaction from audiences. In many ways, this song was what cemented Yoakam as a superstar, complete with a torch-passing. “Streets of Bakersfield” was the first number one for Yoakam, and helped convince Owens to resume recording. The key component that makes the song a standout is neither of the leads, but instead the accordion wizardry of Flaco Jimenez. Famous for working with Doug Sahm and the Texas Tornados, his Tex-Mex flavor invigorates the song with something special.

1. A Thousand Miles from Nowhere

The second single from This Time is Dwight Yoakam’s best song. Self-penned, the song explores the abject despair of a heartbreak in detail. Yoakam simply states that his former love’s cruel words ring ceaselessly through his head, propelling him into existential crisis. The distance of a thousand miles isn’t literal but instead represents the metaphorical distance that he wants to put in between him and his past; the hurt he feels ties him down to one place forever. His plaintive vocals and the spare arrangement create a nearly perfect performance. It’s remarkable how good this is.

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I hope you’ve enjoyed this tour through the career of Dwight Yoakam, with several detours along the way. As I said above, I’d be happy to expound on any of the topics I briefly introduced in this piece. I’m practically begging you to give me an excuse to write about Earle, Gill, Loveless, Lovett, or Griffith. I’m also very interested in writing about the initial cowpunk artists like X or the Blasters, or the artists who came shortly thereafter like k.d. lang. Join me next time when I attempt to surprise you with the depth and breadth of my topics. Don’t forget to share this post with your friends (or enemies), leave comments, or generally yell at me on social media of all kinds.