George Jones; The One and Only

Sunday News
Published: June 18, 2006
by JOHN DUFFY, Correspondent

Somewhere there is a Mount Rushmore of country music, probably in some mythical forgotten place between Nashville and the Great Smoky Mountains of eastern Tennessee. On its craggy surface, carved by wind and rain, are the faces of Hank Williams, Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard and George Jones. It is simply impossible to overestimate the impact Jones has had on country music. Though he began as a slightly out-of-place rockabilly singer in the mid-1950s, by the end of the 1960s he had become the master of the country ballad, a title no one has been able to steal from him.

And though he has had few hits since the mid-1980s, save the odd novelty, the last 20 years have seen a slew of country singers take at least part of their singing style from Jones, who is scheduled to perform Thursday at American Music Theatre. Any country singer who takes on a ballad, be it Alan Jackson, Toby Keith, Randy Travis, Dwight Yoakam or even Gretchen Wilson, owes a debt to Jones. His phrasing and carefully chosen tone forced Frank Sinatra to recognize Jones' genius, once calling him "the second- best white male singer."

On his recordings, Jones' voice displays incredible range, from a low growl to a high wail, and the versatile combination of countrypolitan polish and hard-core honky-tonk snarl. It was in 1980 that his career, long a reliable institution of hit singles and albums, had its grandest moment with the song "He Stopped Loving Her Today."

The album went platinum (no small achievement at the time for a country artist) and pushed his next few albums into the sales stratosphere. Millions of country music fans at one time voted "He Stopped Loving Her Today" the all-time best country song, and few artists have attempted to sing it again. Jones had done a lot of living by 1980. He had been twice divorced, the second time by country star and collaborator Tammy Wynette, who accused Jones of being abusive. He battled alcoholism and cocaine addiction and weathered the changes of decades of public taste.

But by 2005, life had assaulted him on other fronts: a nearly life- ending car accident, another long stint in rehab, missed tour dates due to illness, and a relegation to the sidelines of country radio in favor of younger artists. His old friends Willie and Merle struggled with the same industry disfavor, and thankfully, like Jones, they've all come out ahead. Jones responded by forming his own label, Bandit Records, which has released his first-ever gospel music collection and last year's "Hits I Missed ... And One I Didn't." Jones agreed for the album (made up largely of songs he passed up that became hits for others over the years) to record a new version of his most famous song. Someone once said good artists copy and great artists steal. Who do the very best have left to steal from but themselves?

Surprisingly, the new recording comes close to topping the original. And only Jones could do it, bringing to the sad song and even greater depth of feeling, a lived-in sense of regret and a delivery that doesn't try to disguise the fact that 25 years have passed. Fifty-one years after his first hit, Jones can still look the best moments of his career straight in the eye.