I came across this a few days back and I thought that after a few days the Grammy folks would do the right thing and allow Hag;s release to qualify as “bluegrass.” I guess I gave them too much credit.

Nashville, TN…McCoury Music, the artist-owned and operated label that released legendary singer/songwriter Merle Haggard’s The Bluegrass Sessions on October 2nd, expressed its shock today at a National Academy Of Recording Arts & Sciences committee’s decision to exclude the acclaimed album from consideration for nomination in its “Best Bluegrass Album” Grammy category. The label, created by legendary bluegrass artist Del McCoury in 2004, earned its first bluegrass Grammy in 2005 with the Del McCoury Band’s The Company We Keep.

“Anyone who knows the bluegrass community knows that its members like to debate definitions,” McCoury Music’s General Manager Chris Harris said. “But this is an album that Merle and Del decided to call The Bluegrass Sessions, produced by a bluegrass musician with bluegrass musicians, recorded at a bluegrass studio, released on a bluegrass label, racked under bluegrass in record stores, aired on bluegrass radio, covered by the bluegrass press, and it’s currently in it’s fourth consecutive week at # 1 on Billboard’s Bluegrass chart. If that’s not enough, even The Washington Post wondered why ‘no one had thought to pair Merle and Bluegrass together before.’ ”

McCoury, who holds nine International Bluegrass Music Association (IBMA) Entertainer of the Year awards, expressed his disappointment personally. “Merle did everything in his power to make this record authentic except remove that unique Haggard sound–and that’s something he’s brought to every genre of music he’s ever visited,” McCoury said. “Merle Haggard could make a polka record, and there’d be no mistaking it’s Merle Haggard.”

Album producer Ronnie Reno, a bluegrass veteran who earned his spurs performing with two Bluegrass Hall of Fame artists–father Don Reno’s Reno & Smiley and the legendary Osborne Brothers–before spending some eight years in Haggard’s band, reacted in a more down to earth fashion: “that’s pure bullshit.”

Recorded at Ricky Skaggs’ Hendersonville, TN studio, The Bluegrass Sessions features Haggard backed by an all-star–and all-bluegrass–cast of musicians that includes such IBMA award winners as fiddler Aubrey Haynie, dobro player Rob Ickes, guitarist and harmony singer Carl Jackson and Alison Krauss.

As veteran mandolin player Marty Stuart, who got his own youthful career start with Hall of Famer Lester Flatt (Flatt & Scruggs) in the 1970s, wrote following the recording sessions, “Merle Haggard has put the blues back into bluegrass. I was honored to be there alongside of him when he did it.”

On its release, The Bluegrass Sessions rocketed to the top of Billboard’s bluegrass album chart, racking up the legend’s highest first-week sales for a new release since 2000, and Merle’s first #1 on any of Billboard’s charts since 1984. Bluegrass Sessions is currently enjoying it’s 4th consecutive week at the top of the chart. There has been solid support from the Bluegrass media, from the monthly magazines to the increasingly popular Bluegrass Blog, the winner of this year’s IBMA Media Award, in addition to features in mainstream media such as TIME Magazine and major newspapers across the country,

“When I contacted NARAS, they would not identify the committee, their qualifications, or why they don’t classify this album as bluegrass. Their stance just doesn’t make sense. With that said, of course, we’re grateful that members can at least vote for The Bluegrass Sessions in other country categories, including Country Album of the Year,” Harris said. “But by every reasonable definition, this is a bluegrass album, and we–Merle, Ronnie, Del and everyone involved in the project–think that Academy voters ought to be able to consider it for Best Bluegrass Album.”

If you’re a Legendary Shack Shakers fan try and describe the band to a friend when they ask predictable “What do they sound like?” Just watch as their eyes glaze over and smoke pours out of their ears when you say “They’re kind of a blues, rockabilly, country, punk-rock, Gothic (not goth) with a touch of the occasional klezmer influence.”

The whole sonic-stew is seamless at the ear-splitting, breakneck-pace of a LSS show. Featuring Paducah, Kentucky’s featherweight front-man Colonel J.D. Wilkes singing, playing harmonica and mugging like a vaudeville performer on meth. Stalking the stage, contorting his stringbean form, speaking in tongues and testifying about drifters, the Devil and elusive salvation. Think a Pentecostal Iggy Pop.

South Carolina’s David Lee, the LSS’s heavily tattooed guitarist, mercilessly punished his Gretsch White Falcon guitar like it needed a lesson learned. Lee’s not a flash kind of guy, he approaches the guitar like a construction worker does a jackhammer. He makes the machine a part of him to change the characteristics of the landscape surrounding him.

Mark Robertson slapped his stand-up “outhouse” bass laying a solid slab for Brett Whitacre’s frenetically-controlled drum work.

The hour-and-a-half show packed in cuts from the newly released “Swampblood” (”Old Spur Line,” “Hellwater“) as well as the excellent “Believe” (”Agony Wagon,” “Where’s the Devil When You Need Him?”) and the rest of the bands history that the time seemed go by in a sweaty, frantic, split-second.

For such an aggressive show the New York crowd was impressively animated yet subdued. Lots of yelling and fist-pumping but no moshing in sight.

For most right-thinking folk the Shack Shakers’ firebrand of Dixie-core might be a bit too potent a brew. For others that can trace the cultural link between the 50’s Sun Studio and the 70’s CBGBs, and has a wondering lust for genres, then it’s tonic for the soul.

Alabama’s Pine Hill Haints opened the show with their own brand of backwoods honky-Gothic tunes.

In the ever shifting musical business landscape there often needs to be an outside arbitrator to straighten things out. And ironically a country as free-market loving as ours it’s often the Feds left to straighten things out.

I think this is correct. Figuring out if a broadcaster should start paying songwriter royalties to performing rights groups ASCAP, BMI and SESAC (who was a big presence at the Americana Music Conference) instead of the current model of exemption from performance royalties because, as the broadcasters argue, the promotional value gained by playing music on the radio more than offsets any royalty that performers and record companies would receive. There needs to be a formalized and fairly equitable business model for terrestrial, satellite and Internet radio for the future. If these no money in it for the artist, then great songwriters might never pick up the pen for the need to support themselves and their family.

Lyle Lovett is scheduled to testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee on Tuesday as the music industry continues its push for a royalty for over-the-air broadcasts. Good for Lyle!

Dwight Yoakam performs live on Art Fein’s Poker Party, Jan 14, 1986, w/ Dave Alvin,Todd Everett, Richard Meltzer, Paul Body.

Another clip from the Americana Conference.

Mike Ferris’ performance of “Green, Green Grass of Home” from the Porter Wagoner tribute at Tennessee State Museum in Nashville. Shout out to Fratrain’s Weblog for making me aware of this.

Another country great has left us. Hank Thompson died from lung cancer late Tuesday at his home in the Fort Worth suburb of Keller. Thompson died just days after canceling his tour and announcing his retirement.

The last show Thompson played was Oct. 8 in his native Waco. That day was declared “Hank Thompson Day” by Gov. Rick Perry and Waco Mayor Virginia DuPuy.

Fans loved Thompson’s distinctive voice and his musical style, which drew on the Western swing first developed in the 1930s by fellow Texan Bob Wills. Thompson was named to the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1989.

His first hit record was “Whoa, Sailor” in 1946. That year, he started a band called the Brazos Valley Boys, which won Billboard magazine’s touring band of the year award 14 consecutive times.

A “celebration of life,” open to fans and friends, will be held Nov. 14 at Billy Bob’s Texas, a Fort Worth honky-tonk.

Survivors include his wife, Ann. He had no children.

A few months before the Americana Music Conference I had received an email baring a Hatch Show Print image of a young Porter Wagoner beaming and smiling and holding his guitar. he seemed to be thinking “I am the man, and kiss my ass.” This was an invitation to a tribute to the country music legend, Hall Of Fame member and and Opry fixture.

The tribute became a eulogy after Wagoner succumbed to lung cancer at the age of 80 on Sunday, October 28th.

Wagoner was riding high on the release of his Anti records album “Wagonmaster.” The album was produced, played on and shepherded by the patron saint of country music’s legacy Marty Stuart.

I made my way downtown from the Convention Center conference check in to the Tennessee State Museum where the amidst the current exhibit of Marty Stuart’s Sparkle & Twang a tribute was to be held. There was already a line forming, 20 or 25 of the faithful, and I sauntered up to the end of the line. There I met fiddler extraordinaire Barbara Lamb and her friend from Seattle (who’s name escapes me) munching on the remnants of a Subway sandwich. Lamb proved to be charming company and took time to point out the Nashville who’s who growing crowd.

With the price of admission (a $5 donation for the Museum really) came a ticket for a free beverage. As I was waining in line for my free Bub longneck I was fortunate to recognize Austin, Texas chanteuse Sunny Sweeney ahead of me. I told Sunny who I was and told her that I run this blog and she was sweet enough to state that she had seen my site. What a gal!

Then Rodney Crowell came walking around the side of the bar and I was barely able to mutter a hello and grab a handshake. But I did my best.

By the time I made my way back to my chair I noticed that the room was filled with hundreds of folks most of which where standing around the stage and seating area. Then there was a brief clamor and I saw Attorney General Janet Reno. Reno had been involved in the “Song of America” project and was in town to appear on a panel of the same name. The cool factor of the room just amped way up for me.

The show started with Jim Lauderdale doing what he does naturally, MCing the event. Singing “Slewfoot,” telling corny jokes (”I once told a the Grand Old Opry crowd, “I like classical music, like Wagner, Porter Wagoner.” - HAW!) and wearing a spangled Nudie suit Porter would be proud of, Jim mentioned that Marty Stuart was stuck out of town and not able to attend the event honoring his friend and colleague. It might have been true, but I just figured Marty was naturally too tore up to appear.

Wearing a Nudie inspired baseball cap Wagoner’s daughter, Denise, was in at a table up front with some other family members. She briefly spoke at the event and was clearly pleased with the turnout and the opportunity to pay respect to her father and receive the Americana Music Association “Americana Original Award” given to Porter posthumously.

Also in the audience was Wagoner’s pre-Dolly duet partner, a youthful appearing Norma Jean, who waived and smiled sweetly when announced.

Rodney Crowell, Jim Lauderdale, the Hacienda Brothers’ Chris Gaffney, Buddy Miller and Emmylou Harris (who felt moved to attend the event though she was not initially on the bill) all appeared to cover Porter songs and pay respect. Harris and Crowell sang “If Teardrops Were Pennies” as a duet as Porter and Dolly had done many years before. And Harris sweetly sang “Someone I Used To Know” with Miller on backing vocals. “We’ve been so inspired by him for so long,” said Emmylou, who sang two more Porter songs with Buddy before inviting Jim up for a lovely version of “Satisfied Mind.”

Mike Farris (late of the Screaming Cheetah Wheelies) hushed the crowd with a soulfully rousing version of “Green Green Grass Of Home.”

I had a chanced to see Wagoner and Stuart perform many of the songs on “Wagonmaster” in an intimate sold out show at Joe’s Pub on the East side last March and then briefly meet him backstage. I was then able to see him open for the White Stripes at Madison Square Garden a few days before my birthday last July. I attended specifilally to see Poter since I really can’t understand what the big deal is with the White Stripes, though I do respect Jack White for hand-picking Porter to open for them

I consider myself very fortunate to have had these events take place in my life and will treasure those memories.

In his brief but spectacular comeback period Porter reminded us all how elegant and eloquent country music can be.

Porter Wagoner Photo Near Stage

Rodney  Crowell

Buddy Miller, Emmylou Harris and Jim Lauderdale

Wagoner’s daughter, Denise and  Jim Lauderdale

Me and Porter

Chris Rock turns his always insightful eye on the music industry in the Current Rolling Stone -

Chris Rock: Music kind of sucks. Nobody’s into being a musician. Everybody’s getting their mogul on. You’ve been so infiltrated by this corporate mentality that all the time you’d spend getting great songs together, you’re busy doing nine other things that have nothing to do with art. You know how shitty Stevie Wonder’s songs would have been if he had to run a fuckin’ clothing company and a cologne line?

RollingStone: Plenty of rappers say, “I’m not a rapper, I’m a businessman.”

Chris Rock: That’s why rap sucks, for the most part. Not all rap, but as an art form it’s just not at its best moment. Sammy the Bull would have made a shitty album. And I don’t really have a desire to hear Warren Buffett’s album - or the new CD by Paul Allen. That’s what everybody’s aspiring to be.

We live in a weird time. No one knows who’s smart - we just know who makes money. “Hey, somebody invented Viagra! We don’t know their name, but we know Pfizer, because they make the money.” That guy made a pill that keeps your dick hard, and nobody knows who the fuck he is. The pharmaceutical companies are like fuckin’ record companies. There’s literally the Bo Diddley of medicine walking around, not getting his royalties. He signed all his fucking pill publishing away.

(”Rolling Stone”, Issue 1039, November 15, 2007, page 157)

Shout out to the LefsetzLetter for bringing this pearl to my attention.