By Jef With One F
By Rocks Off
By Chris Lane
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
A woman in the Seattle area sent in this brief missive: "Obviously you're not a music lover. I agree on a couple of the songs, but for the most part .. you are VERY wrong. I understand that opinions are like a$$holes and everyone has one. You can keep yours to yourself. You suck worse than your list."
A man from here in town had this to say: "You must be a Yankee and do not understand Texas. 'Luckenbach' and 'Songs About Texas' are two true-to-Texas songs. They are forever going to be played here because people love the songs. Keep chugging your Starbucks Coffee while the people who enjoy those 2 great songs are out having a good time and enjoying life rather than sitting behind a computer and being miserable."
A woman in New Braunfels sent along this vitriol: "Ok whoever wrote this is obviously NOT from Texas and if he's currently residing in the state of Texas should be swiftly kicked out of the state because he does not deserve the RIGHT to be here!! I don't know how exactly to express the anger and frustration I am feeling right now because of what I read, Pat Green is by far one of the best singer/songwriters out there. I love the Luckenbach song, one of the best songs ever written, and several others on there are some of my favorites so please do all Texans a favor and go back north or wherever the heck you came from before we have to personally drag your butt over the Texas state line!! Not to be rude or anything just I very much HATE you right now!! And everyone else does too that I know that read your so called 'article'!!"
A man chimes in with this misguided though heartfelt criticism via e-mail: "Man you have to be kidding me. Where are you from? You can't be from Texas and not like 'Luchenbach,Texas.' Some of the songs I admit are pretty bad but I can't remember hearing any of the songs you have written. Send me some of yours and I'll critique them. Oh what's that? You haven't written any songs? Well then maybe you shouldn't judge what you don't understand. You wanna talk about horrible music. Why not include Toby Keith's 'Wanna Talk About Me?' That's not even country yet I bet you would give him higher praise than any other artist mentioned in your article. I usually don't get this irate over something like an article, but come on man. Your writing the worst songs in country music and didn't even mention 'Achy Breaky Heart.' Your musical taste must be limited to 'Cookie Cutter' Nashville music. You really need to broaden your horizons and find some actual music written by the artist singing it."
Another guy had this to say: "I would like to know, after reading your list, what you would think are the best songs from Texas. Some of the songs you choose would be very high on the top of the list for many proud Texans. I suppose something done by our wonderful Texan Jessica Simpson would probably top your list."
And so on -- the letters were still coming in at press time. And actually, no, Jessica Simpson doesn't top -- or even make -- my list of the best music to come from Texas. More on that later. But let's take a look at the letters above and dispel a couple of falsehoods and misconceptions.
First, about that Yankee nonsense. I am not a Yankee. My parents are not Yankees. Neither are any of my grandparents. Out of my eight great-grandparents, one was a Yankee, so maybe I got those genes. At any rate, I was born in St. David's Hospital in Austin, Texas. (Birth certificate furnished upon request.) I was raised in Houston and in Nashville, where I attended a school that had "Dixie" as its fight song and the Rebel as its mascot, and my schoolmates included the children of George Jones and Tammy Wynette, Faron Young, Butch Trucks of the Allman Brothers Band, Ronnie Milsap and Bobby Goldsboro. I played hooky and caught snakes, snapping turtles and crawdads in the same creeks Sam Houston used to dunk his hungover head in. I trick-or-treated every year at Minnie Pearl's house.
I ate a lot of grits as a kid, and fell asleep to the strains of Roy Acuff, Boxcar Willie and Ernest Tubb on the Grand Ole Opry. Outside some time in New York City when I was a baby, and a couple of trips to Washington, D.C., the farthest north I got in America before attaining adulthood was Paducah, Kentucky. Across the Ohio River I could see Illinois, and maybe a strong breeze blew some Yankee dust on me, but there was never a time that I could remember that I crossed that river into a Yankee state. And if you're wondering what I was doing in Paducah -- like all good Yankees, I was attending a Hank Williams Jr. show.