Closed Circuit, Loop 1: Linda Ronstadt with The Stone Poneys & Alan Jackson make splashy debuts

Welcome to Closed Circuit, an ongoing series in which we explore the entire discographies of the world’s most influential artists

Stone Poneys, The Stone Poneys

Label: Capitol Records

Release date: January 30, 1967

Primarily written by bandmates Bobby Kimmel and Kenny Edwards (who was also a founding member of Bryndle), the self-titled debut record of Stone Poneys is a sorely-underrated tapestry of delectable folk-rock. From the tight knit three-part harmonies to the softly-balanced arrangements, often rollicking down the countryside like a cool mountain stream, many comparisons have been drawn to Peter, Paul & Mary, which wouldn’t be completely unfounded. Cuts like “Train and a River,” “Bicycle Song (Soon Now)” and “Sweet Summer Blue and Gold” are as warm as a fuzzy fleece blanket on a brisk winter morn, smoothed with Linda Ronstadt‘s caramel voice.

Even then, she employed such subtlety in her craft that goes severely under-appreciated and washes over the listener, medicating any sense of pain or heartache. Her vocal cords stick together in hearty chews and supple phrasing, and it is quite clear she possessed one tremendous vocal weapon, knowing how to interpret songs like few others have ever managed to attempt. Ronstadt’s leads on many of the album’s sterling standouts, including a stunning reinvention of Fred Neil’s “Just a Little Bit of Rain” and “2:10,” a groovy, psychedelic moment, originally written by Tom Campbell and Linda Albertano and performed by Carolyn Hester (1965), are now precious artifacts of Ronstadt’s early promise.

Country beats as a horse’s hooves on red-brick. “Train and the River” is a psych-rock centerpiece, rose-kissed and tinted with a somber vocal tick that sticks to the brain. Then, “Orion” (another Campbell cut) rings from the ear lobes all the way down to the toes, Ronstadt’s penetrating gaze striking a heavenly ache. There’s never any mistaking the richness of her timbre, thick and swarthy, from anyone else then or since; she commands each recording, even if she’s only dance lightly in the background. She’s the glue to hold it altogether, and Edwards’ and Kimmel’s contributions certainly combine to make a potent elixir that would prove to be exactly what she needed. Soon, however, she would outgrow those musical limitations and need to break free to truly soar.

A product of Tucson, Arizona, later attending University of Arizona for one semester, Ronstadt was immersed in stone-cold country, as well as ranchero music and the catalogs of Edith Piaf, Billie Holiday and Bob Dylan. “The pop music scene was freaked out for so long, and now, it’s like it’s coming home again. Country music is very real and groovy, and it’s exerting so much influence on pop that even the Beatles’ ‘Revolution’ has a country sound to it,” she told the Cleveland Scene in their November 1968 issue. “I learned a lot from Kitty Wells and other country singers, and you can’t get any better than Hank Williams. He’s still an important part of the country music scene, and you can hear his influence in Bob Dylan’s last album.”

Linda Ronstadt would go on to become one of the most influential torchbearers of folk-rock and country music ⏤ yet often overlooked for her imprint on much of current mainstream. If you dissect the work of Miranda Lambert, for example, what Ronstadt did is palpable. Despite her undeniable talent, she would also be a target for unnecessarily-harsh criticism on much of her solo work later on. From the start, she let it all slide off her back. “Well, that kind of criticism, which usually comes from smug little magazines, is pure, intellectual bull. Musicians don’t really worry about anything like that,” she also told the Cleveland Scene. “The important thing in musicianship is how much you communicate. It can be either Procol Harum or Hank Williams. It doesn’t matter. Once you get over the sublime line…. there are plenty of super-technicians around but they don’t really communicate. The Beatles have a line in ‘Nowhere Man’ which says, ‘Just like you and me,’ which is a real kind of honesty. And Bob Dylan’s most powerful line is, ‘Let us not speak falsely now, the hour is growing late,’ and it’s true. The only way to get straight is to tell the truth… that’s the only way.”

Ronstadt’s truth was only just beginning.

Essentials: “Wild About My Lovin’,” “Back Home,” “Train and the River,” “2:10 Train,” “Just a Little Bit of Rain”

Alan Jackson, Here in the Real World

Label: Arista

Release Date: February 27, 1990

Editor’s Note: portions of this story originally appeared in our Throwback Thursday column, dated June 22, 2017

Neo-traditionalist weeper “Here in the Real World” set in motion one of the most prolific careers of modern country music. A co-write with Mark Irwin (Chely Wright, Tim McGraw), who claimed he and Jackson were “hungover” when they wrote the song, the fiddle-laden bar-topper mines the most sorrowful of tormented hearts. “Cowboys don’t cry / And heroes don’t die,” sings Jackson on the opening lyric. Within such a lonesome headspace, the now-legend peels back the notions of the silver screen for what is truthful to the everyday life of middle America. “If life were like the movies, I’d never be blue,” he later confides. He pulls the listener into his world, so to speak, and lets you in on a wallop of a secret: life is full of hurt. “Darling, it’s sad but true…”

Initially, the song did not appear on the first iteration of the album. Irwin told The Tennessean back in 2016, “He got a deal on Arista and he did a showcase — for some reason I don’t remember why I wasn’t there, must have been out of town — he did a showcase, he got the deal, he cut an album and [the song] was not on the album.” In fact, “Here in the Real World” was cut by Tony Perez, another singer-songwriter then-signed to Warner Brothers, but his record was soon shelved afterward. He continues, “They turned in Alan’s album and Tim DuBois, I think, he liked it but he thought something was missing. He asked to hear everything Alan had that wasn’t on the record so fortunately we had a really good demo of [it], and [when] Tim heard that he said, ‘This song really needs to be on the record.’ From there, it became the title track of the album and his second single which really just took off.”

“Here in the Real World” would mark Jackson’s very first hit single, ultimately finishing No. 3 on the radio charts. Jackson’s evocative, plainspoken performance serves as the backbone for one of the most impressive major label releases in the last 30 years. With Keith Stegall and Scott Hendricks sharing producer duties, the 1990-released double-platinum Here in the Real World became a trademark for the neo-traditionalist revolution of the late-80s, ushering in a return to form for classic country storytelling. The movement was also anchored with the work of Randy Travis, Clint Black, Keith Whitley and Travis Tritt, among others, and led the format to significantly shed its pop ways (for a short time, anyway) and open up for a wider range of styles. Standouts like “Blue Blooded Woman” (which peaked at No. 45, if you can believe that), “Wanted,” “Chasin’ That Neon Rainbow,” “She Don’t Get the Blues” and “Home” wield tender, heartfelt simplicity but pack an emotional punch with Jackson’s straightforward vocal style.

“They made their house from a tool shed Grandaddy rolled out on two logs. And they built walls all around it. And they made that house a home,” he yearns on “Home,” a finger-plucked ditty laced with love, gloomy nostalgia and a hurt not often felt by today’s leading men. “My mama raised five children, four girls, and there was me. She found her strength in faith of God and a love of family,” he later croons, tapping the sappy idealisms of middle America, with supple naivety and optimism. Jackson has always had a way to transplant life’s simplest and most straightforward of truths into profound proverbs, universally felt regardless of background. “You know that country song, ‘Who’s Gonna Fill Their Shoes?’ I don’t know whether I can fill ’em, but I’d sure like to try ’em on,” the singer wrote in the album’s liner notes. As the flagship artist of Sony’s Arista Records, his blockbuster success not only propelled him to become one of country’s tallest legends but allowed the label to become one of the biggest players on Music Row, and paved the way for such later signees as Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood.

In the wake of such a defining career album, he has gone on to set the gold standard for modern country music, despite a random troll account declaring him the death of the format. There has never been a time he didn’t hold the roots of the storytelling medium close to his heart but always with a keen eye for what the future could be. Sure, country radio in 2019 might be mostly dumpster fire, but without Jackson, we might not have such boldly traditional acts like Jon Pardi and William Michael Morgan vowing to bring back a little authenticity to the game. I am forever grateful to Jackson for teaching me the devastating and brittle reality of the world, at only four years old. It might have been decades later before I could muster up the strength to face my demons, but “Here in the Real World” remains the song that changed my life forever.

Essentials: “Here in the Real World,” “Chasin’ That Neon Rainbow,” “Blue Blooded Woman,” “Home,” “Wanted”

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