Johnny Bush means one thing to his fans: DANCING!
Johnny Bush had grandparents who lived here in Grimes County and he lived for a while with his Uncle, country music iconoclast Jerry Jericho of Millican. He is a man that has watched a lot of water pass under the bridge... and perhaps his Navasota roots with it, but when he talks, or writes a book, those roots find their way to the surface. He performed at this year's Grimes County Fair, and started his show with a surprising greeting... "It's great to be back home here in Millican, Texas!"
I was able to speak with him for a moment and capture some photographs of this Texas legend. And then I read his book...
Johnny Bush
shot the rapids of Whiskey
River and thanks be to God, lived to tell the tale. In his book by that
name he forever identifies himself with the iconic song he wrote and the ironic
life he lived. Whiskey River is a surprisingly candid and introspective journey
over the deadly falls of a hard living country singer with little or no moral
compass. And amazingly, after plunging into the depths, Bush and his readers
come out of the spill better for it.
Whenever I ever
named my top five favorite traditional country singers… including Charlie Pride, Marty
Robbins, Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard, Johnny Bush was always right up
there. His singing was perhaps the best in country music, but I never related
to his lyrics, or at least did not want to, like the others.
He sang so many country standards focused on the culture of alcohol; Whiskey
River, There Stands the Glass, Green Snakes on the Ceiling… and this was not my
reality. Still, he had a classic, almost operatic voice that had peerless range
and engaging passion. But he will tell you he was and is an artist... a performer. Johnny Bush has a voice that fit his lifestyle and his songs... a voice that was crisp as ice and as smooth as whiskey; but one that eventually cracked like a drunk driver into a pine tree.
Texans have always gobbled up his songs like cold beer. Johnny was simpatico. When he cried out in his sterling tenor voice, it was OK for the toughest dance hall redneck to feel sorry for himself. You might say he provided a catharsis for all country fans caught in the same whirlpool he was singing from. I grew up with his songs, in fact in High School we had a jukebox in the cafeteria and the rednecks played his songs relentlessly. I eventually learned the words to his infectious drinkin’ songs whether I wanted to or not.
Texans have always gobbled up his songs like cold beer. Johnny was simpatico. When he cried out in his sterling tenor voice, it was OK for the toughest dance hall redneck to feel sorry for himself. You might say he provided a catharsis for all country fans caught in the same whirlpool he was singing from. I grew up with his songs, in fact in High School we had a jukebox in the cafeteria and the rednecks played his songs relentlessly. I eventually learned the words to his infectious drinkin’ songs whether I wanted to or not.
One might
have surmised that with all of that partying in his music, the man was having a
good time. And he thought he was. His life was even wilder than his songs,
going through women like race car drivers go through automobiles, fueled by hard
liquor and uppers and adrenaline. Johnny Bush was the narcissistic, unfaithful,
womanizing scoundrel that typified the music industry in the 1970’s. He was the "one fool on a stool." About halfway through the book, I was sure that Bush was the
kind of man my redneck buddies would love to corner in a back alley and teach
him some manners. In other words, I am sure I would not have liked him. If I had
seen the man behind the sequins and sunglasses when I was first introduced to
his songs, I would have intentionally ignored his music out of spite.
But the
reason that I am writing this is Johnny’s showboat was capsized while racing
down that Whiskey River, and over the years, he came out of that miserable
wreck as a valuable member to humanity. Whiskey River is a painful, turn by
turn confession of an entertainer who wanted it all, got a lot, and then almost
lost everything as he reached the golden shores of fame as an RCA recording
artist. And only then did he become a human being… and I am glad to say, after
overcoming some scary physical handicaps, his singing was better than ever.
Amazingly,
through his perilous, self-destructive quest, Bush pairs up with Willie, who
becomes a lifelong friend and adviser, courageously helps Charlie Pride get
recognition, and befriends Robbins and Haggard. His story is the story of all
the music I ever loved. It is so gratifying reading about his journey and the
men who helped guide him and at times saved him, and know I have been listening
to their music all of these years. It is sort of a unique, eternal Texas family
that has been sewn together with sound waves.
His biography is not
a good read for the squeamish or easily offended. Bush tells some pretty earthy
stories that I would never tell… about life on the road, but he also does not
glorify his mistakes and speaks a great deal about how Faith has shaped his
strong finish. Bush is no Sunday School teacher, and his book is written in
Texas backstage musician vernacular… with occasional F-words and adult
situations. But in his own way he admits, even regrets his attitudes and the
hurt he caused… the big and the little things, sins by commission and omission,
even once saying he did not care for Bob Dylan! (It’s Ok Johnny, Dylan probably never
thought he had a great voice either)
I’m glad I never
met Johnny Bush back then, and very glad I met him when I did. For one thing,
he did not have the book then, and it may be one of the most important books I have
read in a long time. And I read a lot. His revelations of his battle with Nashville,
the Internal Revenue Service and Spasmodic Dysphonia, and memories about his Uncle Jerry Jericho of nearby
Millican, Texas made the read a special experience for me. Bush has created not
only an important body of music, but he has left a real, down to earth
testament in his autobiography which every proud Texan will want to read.. and
cherish, and share with future generations as they face the white rapids ahead.
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