John Anderson On His Hall Of Fame Career: The Pollstar Q&A
Ray Waddell
Of all the multitudes of country singers who have cycled through Nashville over the last 100 years, a handful are in their own special class, and those who
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Pollstar News
Of all the multitudes of country singers who have cycled through Nashville over the last 100 years, a handful are in their own special class, and those who know, know who they are. One name is consistently in that conversation: John Anderson, who will be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame come October. “He’s got the magic in him,” said Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach, who co-produced and performed on Anderson’s 2020 album Years and his Easy Eye Sound release Something Borrowed, Something New: A Tribute to John Anderson. Auerbach called Anderson “truly a one-of-a-kind vocalist” and said, “It’s always so exhilarating hearing him sing in person.”

The pride of Apopka, Florida, Anderson arrived in Nashville as a teenager in 1971 and began working at menial jobs in the day (including as a roofer on the then-new Grand Ole Opry) and playing the honky-tonks at night, writing songs in between. Hardly an overnight success, Anderson’s first major label release didn’t come until 1980 when Warner Bros. introduced Anderson to the world with the appropriately titled John Anderson.

Scattered hit singles followed, including songs still part of his set list like “Lyin’ Blue Eyes,” “Low Dog Blues,” and “1959,” but the career found a new gear in 1983 with the massive, life-changing hit “Swingin’,” co-written with frequent collaborator Lionel Delmore. Anderson’s career charged ahead for the next decade, again catching fire with another career-defining gem in the self-penned “Seminole Wind,” a heartfelt ode to South Florida and the Everglades (and its ecological exploitation) covered by artists as disparate as James Taylor and JJ Grey & Mofro.

In the years and millions of touring miles that followed, Anderson became peers with the titans that influenced him, including fellow Hall of Famers Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings and George Jones, as well as an influencer himself for contemporary country stars like Blake Shelton (with whom Anderson toured in 2019) and rockers like Auerbach.

Anderson’s independent streak and non-interest in Music Row politics, as well as a strongly-held belief that to write country music, it’s better to be “up in the country,” the artist has made his home 100 miles from Nashville in Smithville, Tennessee since the ’70s. Even so, those who are interested know where to find him, as did Auerbach.

“I feel lucky to count John as a friend and collaborator,” Auerbach tells Pollstar. “I’ve learned so much working alongside him; sharing so many laughs. John also cooks up a mean fried catfish with hush puppies and he’s the best river fishing guide in middle Tennessee, hands down.”

Booked by Travis James at AEC, Anderson these days tends to play about as many shows as he wants, but admits he probably should beef up his schedule a little more in the wake of the Hall of Fame attention. That’s fine — he seems in the mood to play, and, with set list packed with country standards, Anderson long ago mastered the art of connecting with an audience.

For this interview, Pollstar spoke with Anderson from its Nashville office, the singer having driven in from Smithville. He reflected on his long, productive career, his many hits (and a few near-misses) and being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.

Pollstar: Let’s start at the beginning, what was it like growing up in Apopka, Fla. in the ’60s?

John Anderson:I came from a wonderful home, great family, good hard-working parents. I had a large family, and a lot of us liked different kinds of music, but for the most part, it was all good to me. My mama listened to country. My dad loved the big band era, which was a jazz influence. I had three older sisters and one younger sister and a younger brother. My sisters were into the modern-day rock and roll, Beatles, The Rolling Stones and such. Of course, I got into all of it. I guess I picked up the guitar at probably about 7 years old. And from that point, I just wanted to play and do any of it that I could learn, which was a lot of the popular tunes.

What’s on the radio.

Yeah, all the stuff on the radio. But looking back, some of that was great rock and roll. Some of the best.

When you look at what was coming out of Florida then, you had Skynyrd in Jacksonville, Tom Petty and his band [Mudcrutch] in Gainesville, Outlaws in Tampa, and the Allman Brothers were in Florida at first, you’re pretty much their peers demographically. So why did you gravitate to country instead of rock?

A big part of me going to country music was first off hearing it and loving it. I’ll never forget the first country music I was exposed to. My mama listened to a lot of the country music, and she bought a Ray Charles’ country album [Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music]. Those songs were different, they were all great classics. That got my attention and, of course, him singing. He remains one of my very favorite singers. I started learning some of the [pop songs], “Hang On Sloopy,” “Gloria,” “The Little Black Egg,” “House Of The Rising Sun.”

There were other guys in my grade starting to play. So, like a lot of kids, we had a little band and started getting good. We got some jobs at local high school dances. We were only in junior high, so we were playing to older kids and getting by, we must’ve been okay. I don’t know if that early you could call it “egos” or just people doing different things, but some of the guys got interested in their girlfriends or whatever and just kind of quit. I thought, “It seems to mean more to me than that.” I was getting a little disheartened with trying to think about groups.

Then I heard ol’ Merle Haggard and got turned on to his Greatest Hits album. Remember the green cover? It was probably what, ’67 or ’68? I got ahold of that, and boy that’s when I fell in love. Probably over a six-month period of listening to that, I learned some of those songs. The first two were “Mama Tried” and “Green, Green Grass of Home.”

What really got me about those Haggard records was the guitar playing.

Me too! And, come to find out some of that was James Burton. Then I guess “Mama Tried” was probably Roy Nichols. I fell in love with that guitar, too. One of the things that really got my attention was learning those licks. I’ll never forget the first little while I said, “Well, this shit’s harder than they think it is.” It’s different than just hitting feedback and sustain, all that would help a young guitar player if you couldn’t play all that well. All of a sudden I started trying to tackle this Roy Nichols licks and James [Burton], bless his heart, who’s going in the Hall of Fame together with me, it’s just hard to believe that. “Lonesome Fugitive,” I believe James was playing and that was one I wanted to learn. And I did.

That guitar is what reaches out and grabs you and I guess then you have a new appreciation for their talent.

Exactly. And, there again, that’s between just me loving it and that music standing the test of time. It was truly great then and it’s truly great now. I thought there may be more future in this for me than going hard rock.

Plus, you don’t have a whole band around, you can control your own destiny.

That’s what happened. So I learned a few of these songs, some were old Hank Williams songs, some Jimmy Rogers, The Delmore Brothers. I knew an old man that was heavy into the Delmores and Rogers and, bless his heart, his influence was part of me getting further and further into the real country. And the Delmore Brothers, I loved those songs. “Beautiful Brown Eyes” and “More Pretty Girls Than One,” that was my favorite. And then later becoming like brothers with Lionel (son of Alton Delmore), and he and I writing probably a hundred songs together—it’s strange how fate works out.

It seems like a long way from appreciating that music and learning how to play it to up and moving to Nashville. You were still a teenager when you moved up here. That was a hell of a leap of faith.

What made it a little easier is I had an older sister Donna who did country and folk music, back then that was big too. She and her husband were living up here. So I knew that a person could come up here and try because that’s what they were doing. Her husband was a staff writer for Jim Reeves Enterprises. I came up here to just check it out. I remember first playing for some people and they ended up not being of any notoriety, but they said they were in the music business. Some of the answers, “Well, you’re a pretty good singer, son, but do you have a hit song?” “I thought y’all gave them to us.” I didn’t know, but I was learning. It seemed so far away being 17 to writing your own hit song. But lo and behold, I decided, if you’re going to do this, you better learn to write songs. Songwriting is something the more you do, the better you are at it. And some people have a gift, a special gift to be great.

Even on your earliest stuff, you found unique ways to come at subjects, even on your first record. I’ve been revisiting that and man, the songs were good right off the bat. “Low Dog Blues,” that has some really cool lyrics.

Thank you. I was real proud of that song, especially at the time. I heard once from ol’ Vern Pilder, old guitar player, we were all learning all this together. Vern was a great, great guitar player. I remember him telling me, “For it to be a good song,” he said, “the words and music really need to match. They have to fit.” Even when I write now, that’s what I go for. The music and the words being one and the same. Sometimes you’ll write lyrics and then a melody will form around them if you work it. That helped my writing.

You worked a lot of regular jobs early on. Did you get to play live shows right away when you got here?

Not really, no. Back then I would take just about any job, and tell them all, “I’m only going to be here part-time because I’ve got music.” Lord, no telling how many of them already heard all that, especially around Nashville. The guys that bring a guitar up here and say, “I’m going to try to make it big.” A lot of those people were very understanding though and really good people. I tried to be honorable, too. I worked hard and did a good job.

I did everything from helping put the roof on the Grand Ole Opry to stacking groceries and stores. Learned to drive a traxcavator and a front-end loader. Ol’ boy gave me a job where you fill up the truck with gravel and take the truck to wherever the order was and drop it off. A lot of odd jobs, but never lost sight of the fact that I really wanted to play.

I’ll never forget, Lionel and I were together and we’d been writing songs for a little bit, but we had only written a couple. And actually “Low Dog Blues” was the first one we wrote together. Lionel was a key machine salesman. He went around Tennessee and North Alabama selling key machines to hardware stores. I was helping run a little market on Thompson Lane for a buddy. We’d played in living rooms and such. Like I say, we had friends and thank God for that.

Lionel was out selling keys, and he called me and said, “You know what? If we’re going to be songwriters, we’re going to have to quit these jobs.” I said, “You’re probably right.” He said, “Well, let’s quit then.” I said, “When?” He said, “I think I’m going to quit today.” I said, “I will too.” Talk about a leap of faith! We’re going to make a living writing songs now. So we started, and lo and behold we kept going and had some songs. A couple of different people heard me sing and one said, “You might record well.” I said, “We’ll have to try.” I ended up getting signed to a little record deal with Ace of Hearts Records, [which] was never really a legitimate label.

But you got into a studio.

I did get to record. That record is the one Al Gallico heard. He was big at the time. Billy Sherrill [producer] was one of his upstarts. Al published Tammy Wynette and had a lot of hits. He published a lot of rock music from back in the ’60s, The Animals’ version of “House Of The Rising Sun.” I saw “published by Al Gallico Music” on that record and thought, “Damn, that’s who I write for.” I asked Al, “Man, how’d you ever get publishing on the ‘House Of The Rising Sun’?” He said, “You ever hear of a group called The Animals?” I said, “Well, yeah.” He said, “Well, I published their version of it because I knew it was an old PD (public domain).” He was a great businessman and a great song man. He knew a hit song.

When he heard me sing, “What Did I Promise Her Last Night,” he had his people find me, and tell me, “Man, [Al] wants to make a deal with you.” He said, “But you’re signed with these other people.” So I had to get out of one record contract and Al signed me. That’s pretty much where my legitimate career started.

All of a sudden I was getting a writer’s draw, like $400 a month. I thought, “Oh, this is enough money. I don’t even have to live in town anymore. I can move somewhere in the country and write songs for a living.” Back then $400 a month wasn’t such a bad deal compared to what my other buddies had. It wasn’t long after I signed with Al, I moved up to Smithville, this would’ve been about ’76. I thought, “Well, I’ll get up here where I don’t have to deal with the traffic and this and that and can just concentrate on writing songs.” I’d come in or Lionel would come up and he and I wrote a lot together in those days. The reason Al looked me up anyway is for my singing. He got me signed to Warner Brothers. And [producer] Norro [Wilson] was one of his guys too. The same as Billy, only Norro was up-and-coming.

That’s a good one to go in the studio with the first time.

Yeah, it was great. Norro had a real legitimate shot and I knew if I do good here, we could have a hit.

That first record with Norro [John Anderson, 1980], that’s stone country as it gets. Relistening to it, those songs sound great. It’s produced but not over-produced.

Norro was mindful of all that. And Lou Bradley, the engineer ended up co-producing [All The People Are Talkin’, 1983]. Looking back, Norro was a great talent, had a really good heart and cared.

There’s songs off those first Warner Records that you still perform live, right?

Oh yeah, I still do “Your Lying Blue Eyes,” that was one of the first hits, it went to No. 12, but it was bigger than a lot of the Top 10s. Nearly 45 years later, I can hit the first few lines and people still love it. What a joy working with the players, that was all A-Team guys, Pig [Hargus], Pete Drake and Larry London did a lot of the drums. It was wonderful. They made great records. I was really lucky to be so young and go into the studio with them.

They knew how to cut a vocal, too. There wasn’t no autotune back then.

Oh, no. But, thank God, we could sing. They tried to put the autotuner on me — and they may do it behind my back. On the other hand, it’s pretty much in tune when I leave it. I used to say, if I left a word a little flat or a little sharp, it might be because I wanted to.

There is that.

You back off. You leave this to me. And that’s disappeared a lot. Everybody’s so used to being produced and directed. Norro and I did two albums, but then he left Warner Brothers for RCA. I said, “Well, man, take me with you.” “Well, I can’t do that.” Now I understand.

Some great records followed on Warner Bros.

The third one, I Just Came Home To Count The Memories, Frank Jones had taken over Warner Brothers. Frank was a great one. By this time, I’d already had enough success. My hat was getting tighter, head was getting bigger, and he said, “Well, what do you want to do?” I said, “I want to produce myself.” He sat back in his chair and said, “I don’t think the West Coast will ever go for that,” talking about Warner Brothers in LA. He said, “But I could convince them if you let me be executive producer.” I said, “Whatever it takes.” And we did that and I pretty much picked out every song.

The fourth record was Wild & Blue in 1982, which was another game-changer.

Frank and I used the same formula. Pretty much I picked out all the songs, but I was really careful not to overload these albums with my songs. For some reason, it was discouraged to do too many of your own songs when only a few years later it became hip to do songs for other artists. Nevertheless, we got by all right. I wrote “Swingin’” and it went on the album.

Was it a tough sale to get “Swingin’” on that record?

I didn’t think it was until it was finished and went back to the office and they said, “We don’t like that song.” Here we go.

Do you remember writing that song?

It’s strange you asked. Up at the corner where I got off [the interstate] at Old Hickory Boulevard and came through here, there’s a little apartment complex still there called the Hermitage Oaks. Me and Lionel wrote “Swingin’” right there. As I went by this morning, I looked and thought, “It’s still there.” I tried to pick out the window upstairs, it was like the second or third apartment from the end, and I thought, “We were looking out those windows writing.”

The way that song came about, like I said, we’d quit our jobs and he said, “We need to write a song today.” I said, “We sure do.” He said, “We need to call it Swingin’.” I said, “I’ll be right over.” I went over there and within two hours we had most of “Swingin’” knocked out.

It’s one of the biggest hits ever in country music and you’re telling me it almost didn’t make the record?

There was so much other stuff they were into, the Rex Allens, Margot Smiths, Con Hunleys and Pal Rakes. I don’t think it much mattered, but it mattered to me. I called Al Gallico and told him, “They don’t want ‘Swingin’’ on the record.” He said, “What? Jesus Christ. It’s the only hit on there.” I said, “Well, it’s easier for you to say. You published it.” He knew [WB CEO] Mo Ostin, they were buddies. He said, “I’m going to call Mo, and tell him we got to have that song on the record.” And lo and behold, “Swingin’” got on the record.

Massive hit. How does that change your life?

We were already busy from the other records. From the two years before, all the way from the first album, we started doing one-nighters and weren’t charging much. So we got booked a lot, nearly every night for years. But at that time, the thing to do was stay out on the road and try to make money. Looking back, I would do some of those things different because our prices should have went way up but didn’t.

To this day, you can’t do a show without playing “Swingin’,” can you?

Oh, no. We got to do “Swingin’.” At this point, I would never think about not doing it.

It’s still paying off, I imagine.

Oh, yeah, “Swingin’” is a valuable copyright.

You had a long run on Warner, a couple of releases on MCA and you were consistently recording. When you hit big again, I remember people talking about a comeback, but you never really went anywhere, right?

No, we had good records all along. In fact, some of those later Warner Brothers albums they couldn’t get anything out of had some good records on them. When they were saying, “John, don’t sing like he used to.” I thought, “Well, who in the hell says that?”

But something clicked at BNA with [producer] James Stroud in the studio, you found another gear with Seminole Wind and a string of hits. What was different about working with Stroud and cutting that album?

Well, the Seminole Wind album again was me and James together picking out the songs and the players. That’s why it is what it is. The second album, [Solid Ground], I was on the road and James called the sessions. I’m thinking, “We go back in, it’ll be pretty much same setup as Seminole Wind.” Well, I got there, not one of the players is the same. I’m thinking, “What the hell?” By this time, we had who James wanted as opposed to who me and him wanted. Things changed then.

In terms of the musicians?

Yeah.

And the songs too?

Actually, I had a pretty good handle on the songs. By this time, nobody could tell me what I needed to do as opposed to what I thought I needed to do. I was pretty open-minded about it. Again, I wasn’t trying to stack the albums up with all my songs, and I could have.

You were pretty open-minded. If somebody brought you a song, whether it was some Bruce Springsteen song or Mark Knopfler or whatever, if you could get into it, you could connect with it, it didn’t seem like you cared who it was by.

No, I was wanting a good song. I was doing what I thought could be hit records. One of the greatest things during that time, as far as doing other people’s songs was Bobby Braddock, he heard we were cutting and he’d always send a new tape of four or five songs. Boy, you’re talking about a treat getting those fresh Bobby Braddock songs. Some of them, weren’t for me, but some were. Nevertheless, every one of them was great. Bobby is one of the greatest of all.

When somebody brings you a song, what pushes you over to wanting to cut it?

It’s just the love of that song. There’s been a few songs, for instance, “I Just Came Home to Count the Memories.” We were at our old double-wide trailer down on Drakes Creek when a fellow named Glenn McGuire, they called him Glenn Ray, came over and picked up a guitar and said, “I just had Cal Smith cut this song.” He sang “I Just Came Home to Count the Memories.” I said, “Man, if I ever get a deal, I’m going to cut that song.”

I don’t know how long it was between Cal Smith’s record and me doing it—it wasn’t long and not as long as they would usually wait to do covers. I was real surprised that after Cal’s record it would end up coming out as a single and doing as well.

That one stands the test of time.

That’s a good record. In fact, I got a live version of that with the old band that I thought about releasing.

“Seminole Wind” is so specific to that part of Florida and what’s happened down there “in the name of flood control.” It’s such a well-written song, you don’t ever veer into being preachy or anything like that. It’s just real from the heart.

Thank you. I didn’t want to get political or anything else. It’s just what it is.

There’s no place like it in the world.

That was part of the reason too, for caring about it like I always have and still do.

From what I remember, the label didn’t want it to be a single.

No. It was “too regional.”

That one went to No. 1, right?

It did in R&R. It didn’t in Billboard. They’ll say “John Anderson, who’s had five number ones.” But I’m thinking that don’t include “Seminole Wind,” “Old Chunk of Coal,” “When It Comes to You” or “I Wish I Could’ve Been There.” Songs that were bigger than most number ones at the time.”

They feel like number ones. That speaks more to the charts, than to the song.

It’s because they weren’t promoted hits. They became hits. I ain’t saying I didn’t have promotion people that loved me and worked for me through the years, several of them did. Likewise, I loved them and tried to do what I could do to help them as far as radio tours and this and that. When all that works, it’s a great thing. But…

In the end, it’s still a great song that you’ve got to play every night. When they tell the tale of John Anderson, those songs will be in there.

Oh, yeah. You won’t do without them as far as me.

Talk about playing live and what you learned from getting on stage and conveying those songs to an audience. You’re really good at connecting and you sound like you’re supposed to sound up there, which not everybody does.

A lot of my fans through the years—and God bless them, I give them credit for me still doing this—those fans say, “Man, you sound better than your records.” Well, I can only hope to sound as good, but thank you. I played with Blake [Shelton’s] band in 2020 and that was the last time I’ve done anything with a band except at the Opry. Basically, we’re out on the road, myself and my buddy Glenn Rief, who plays a little guitar and Dobro. We’ve been traveling the last few years and shows are going really well. I’m very thankful.

But you connect, whether it’s the band or just y’all two. Is there a secret to that or is it something you learn how to do?

It’s the songs. Fans love the songs, certain ones, and they want to hear me sing them.

You always show them you appreciate it.

I’m honored just to get up and play and sing. There’ve been nights when I didn’t feel good or whatever and those shows can be rough. But lately, for the most part, I’ve been doing pretty good as far as singing. I’m just thankful for that. As long as I can sing and people are still cheering and standing up at the end, I’m going to keep trying to do it.

The generation ahead of you, the Haggards, Waylons, Joneses, Cash, they seemed to take you in and accept you early on.

They did.

Was it helpful in your early career to watch them do their shows?

Oh yeah, all of them. I took lessons from George. We worked over 200 shows together. He was something. Most nights I would be leaning on the stage back there watching him. Sometimes just waiting to see if he’d screw up—by the way, he hardly ever did. He was such a natural singer. All he had to do is just get up there and get it out. Merle was great. Waylon, all those guys. Johnny Cash was really good to me when I was young. In fact, he put me on national TV when I did the “Johnny Cash Christmas Special” in 1981.

What about when you first played the Opry? How were those folks to you?

Well, my first experience at the Opry wasn’t really a good one. It’s sad because I was really excited and proud to be there. Just before I walked on, old Roy [Acuff] come up and said, “John, are you playing the Opry tonight?” I said, “Yes, sir.” “Well, we’d prefer your hair be a little shorter.” I said, “Well, yes sir, I can understand that.” He said, “The Opry crowd would prefer your hair be a little shorter.” I said, “Well.” He just kept on about the hair. I finally said, “Well, I’ll tell you what, the next time I get it cut, I’ll get it cut for you.” About that time, Ernest Tubb walked in between us, put his arm around Roy, and put his arm around me and said, “Now, Roy, I know his hair might be a little long, but I want to tell you, this boy can really sing.” Roy said, “Well, I don’t care. We still prefer to have shorter hair.”

Well, I was hurt. Hurt enough where I didn’t go back for 23 years. When they called, bless their hearts, I’d tell them, “I believe my hair is too long to go play.” Finally, Porter Wagoner came up to me. We were at a convention and he walked across the room. I’d known Porter, we was alright. He said, “You know, John…” He’s tall. He looked down. “I’m running things out at the Opry now.” I said, “Yeah, I heard that.’ “I really would appreciate it if you’d come out and do my show.” I said, “You know what, Porter? I’d be proud to go do that.”

The night I went back after 23 years, boy, I’ll never forget. He introduced me and we did “Swingin’” and “Seminole Wind” and buddy, they come up out of them chairs. Ever since then, I try to go out there once or twice a year and do the Opry and I love the people that are out there now. They’re great. The band, half of them are buddies of mine. I always love the backup singers. They sound so good and do so great. In fact, they’re waiting on an answer now, which date in October I want to do. We’re going to do another one in October, good Lord willing. Things for me in the Opry have come to a nice place.

When you go back in October, it’ll be as a Country Music Hall of Famer, how do you feel about that?

Oh, man, that’s really unbelievable still for me. I’m very, very honored. I didn’t really think I’d ever make it in just on account of the way I’ve been for 40 years. I didn’t play hardly any of their games. I’m talking about the music business games that go on, they’ll never stop.

No, but you’re up in Smithville.

I made that decision, like I said, back in ‘76. Thought I could get out of town and do better country music up in the country. I am more of a private person. I enjoy doing my shows and writing the songs and all. But me living that far away, it kept me from being in town all the time and doing things for this one or that one that might have helped out. Maybe it wouldn’t.

A lot of us have been saying you should have been in years ago.

Well, bless you. And my fans, almost every one of them that I hear from at the shows say “You should have been in there.” But they’re my fans. That’s what I expect. I even told them, “Well, maybe you might’ve been expecting too much out of me. I don’t know if I was going to pass that test.” But we did and I couldn’t be prouder and more honored. I’ll say this, I really didn’t expect to ever make it in there. On the other hand, I don’t feel that out of place, because so many of my dear friends like Ernest Tubb and Minnie Pearl, I can almost hear Minnie and Loretta, I can hear their voices say, “Come in here honey and sit down.”

No question.

That’s one of the first things Loretta ever told me. This is way back. I was doing a package show with her, Conway [Twitty] and Billy “Crash” Craddock and we had four shows. We did the first night, this was the second night, and it was before showtime. I was probably at catering or whatever, and somebody said, “Loretta would like to see you on her bus.” And I was thinking, “Oh shit. What have I done now?”

I couldn’t think of anything I’d really done wrong or be embarrassed for, so I walked over and knocked on the door. The driver answered and I said, “Loretta, it’s John.” “You come in here, honey and sit down.” I thought, “Wow, that’s Loretta Lynn.” So I did. I walked up there, sat down and she had a little table there like the front lounge.

Well, no sooner than I sat down, here come another knock on the door and a guy came in a silver platter, I won’t forget it. He set it on the table and opened it up and there was a big cheeseburger and she started kind of fixing it and said, “Honey, you want a cheeseburger?” I said, “Oh no, ma’am, I’m not hungry.” She said, “Last night, honey, my daddy’s brother was at the show. And at the end of that show, he came up to me and said, ‘After that young boy got through singing,’ he said, ‘The show was just about over.’” She said, “Now, honey, that’s my people telling me that.”

She went on to tell me, “You just keep it up and you’re going to be just fine.” And that’s something I’ve carried with me to this day. And her and I became buddies. In fact, I talked to her not long before she passed. I called her and said, “You know I love you.” “And I love you, honey.” I said, “And you know why.”

That’s affirming at that stage in your career to hear that from her.

Yeah. Back then, that stoked a big fire under me. I was going to keep going then.

So, are you enjoying life? Enjoying playing and everything you do?

Oh, yeah. Really enjoying just living. I got really sick, it’s been about seven years ago now, I spent a couple years just being sick and lo and behold, the good Lord I guess saw fit for me to do better and get well. Ever since then, I’ve really been enjoying every day. I live out in the woods and take a lot of lessons from my little wildlife friends. They pretty much live day to day, minute to minute. Enjoying that minute, enjoying this time. I’m very thankful to be able to go out and play any music at all.

How did it come about you working with Dan Auerbach?

I’d been sick about a year and a half previous to getting a call from Dan. Really, I was wondering, man, “What am I going to do? I don’t know if I’ll ever get to sing again.” And Dan called and we talked and the original plan was he was producing several different young artists and we talked about me coming in and just writing with him. I thought, “Well, maybe I could write at least,” and we set a date to write.

I went into town and I got there and there was a group, it was Fergie (David Ferguson), and Pat McLaughlin and Dan were sitting at the table. I won’t forget, I first said, “Damn boys, we have to write a “White Christmas” just to buy each other a cup of coffee.” Now, they kind of chuckled. We sat down, the first song we wrote was “Years.”

That was Pat McLaughlin’s idea. We probably whipped that one out in about an hour and a half and started right on another one. We wrote that and then the next day, same thing. They were scheduled with some different guys, went in and wrote, and Dan said, “Man, I think we need to talk.” I said, “Yeah, what about?” He said, “About making a record.” I said, “I don’t know if I’m able.” He said, “Me and Fergie think you are.” I said, “Really?” I said, “Well, you might have to be patient.” I said, “Because things aren’t normal.”

“We really think you need to make a record.” Evidently, they heard me humming along and singing enough, they figured I could still sing and again, this was at a time I basically thought I’d probably be done. It was getting hard to swallow, too. Well, we probably wrote 15 or 20 songs and picked out 10 to go in the studio. I was getting better and just the actual doing and making myself get back into it was helping.

Still, at this point, I’m thinking, I didn’t have the band. There we were in the studio and I’m thinking live shows. That’s when Blake’s people called and said, “We’re asking John to go out on Blake’s tour.” And my first response, “Oh Lord, I don’t even have a band.” And they said, “No, you won’t need a band. You’re going to use his band. You’re going to be like a special guest. You won’t have to do but three or four songs.” And I’m thinking, wow. Answer from heaven, really. The best.

By the time we did that tour, I was about ready to go again, just take the little acoustic, show me and Glenn and go. So we did after Blake’s 2019 tour. We did a few shows and I was playing those shows with a hearing aid, which, it’s not pleasant. I’m thinking, “Lord, if I could just get rid of this, if I could just keep getting better.” Well, I did keep getting better. And then one night I said, “I’m going to try this show without my hearing aid.” And that was four years ago and I haven’t used it for a show since. I can’t really hear what they’re hollering up at me a lot of times. I tell them, “Oh honey, I can’t hear you, you just got to listen to what I got to say.” But to be able to get back and be comfortable and feeling like the show was worthy, that was a big, big step. A long way to go.

So what’s coming up in the future?

The last half of this year, we’re pretty busy, which is great for me. I’m getting excited about going back out. I’ve been off now about two months. And I’m the kind that too much time off, not good.

I don’t know that I would ever want to completely retire.

Still to this day, I’m never retiring just because I love it too much. I’m like Willie, “What do you want me to retire from? Playing golf or singing?” That’s what he used to say. But I always said, “As long as I’m able to do it and feel like I can, then I’m going to want to go out and play. The live performances to me now, especially the last five years, that’s really all there’s been. And trust me, it’s plenty. I’m very thankful to still be able to do it at this level. I’ve always been good about knowing right where I was. I understand I’m not the big big star that fills up the stadiums. And you know what, at this point I don’t have to have it.

You’ve got that body of work behind you.

That’s what I say. I got about 30 years of just solid road life, period. Not ever getting vacations hardly or taking time off since we weren’t ever able to fill up the stadiums. Pretty much always had to take whatever jobs came in. Like I say, up until the last few years, and thank God did good enough back then when we were doing all that, that I don’t really have to now.

But look at that though, playing every kind of job and still manage to keep a marriage together, and the family and all that.

Yeah. Let it be said, my home life and family life were always more important to me than most anything at all, which can be a hindrance in the music business. There were a lot of times folks would call and say, “You’re going to be in Thursday, how about… Or Monday, how about coming in Tuesday? And we got a press day and this and that.” And I did my share of that, for sure. But there came a time when I said, “You know what? My little girl’s got a dance recital on Tuesday and I won’t be there.” And thank God for being able to draw those lines back when I did, because now having that family and the family life has paid off for me.

Yeah, you don’t get that back.

I don’t think I’d want to trade places with anybody I can think of, no matter how many tickets they sell or whatever.