Bucking Trends: How I Learned to Love Buck Owens

By Melissa Bratcher

One of the earliest crushes I can remember having is smiling Buck Owens on Hee Haw with his red, white, and blue striped guitar; his charming smile; his cringeworthy humor; and his soothing voice. I wore a pair of Hee Haw overalls to show my devotion to Mr. Owens and often pretended that he was my dad (not that anything was wrong with my dad, just, well, he wasn’t Buck Owens). I loved him and his music always reminded me of home.

Until, of course, I hit puberty and realized that Duran Duran was where it was at for me. Really, who wants the grinning host of Hee Haw with a goofy guitar when there are pretty boys from England in eyeliner with dubious sexuality? I hated my parents’ love of country music, and tried to drown it out of my subconscious.

Cut to: me, homesick in just-moved-to Iowa, missing my parents, my childhood, the security of an early morning punctuated by the smell of coffee, and the sound of KTTS-FM (before they played all the corporate country of today). I was browsing online for CDs and found a Buck Owens compilation. What the hell, says I.

So I buy it. When it arrives, it just STICKS. It is so . . . amazing and brilliant. It’s so full of beautifully written, concise bits of genius music that I regret the musical choices of my younger, stupider self. I spent all those years listening to (insert crappy band name here) when I could have been listening to fantastic gems, all under three minutes long.

Buck Owens and his Buckaroos (named by Merle Haggard) made music that kicked against the Nashville Sound, which had increasingly become polluted with string arrangements and orchestral flourishes. They drew from hillbilly music and rock and roll, adding pedal steel and picking (not strumming) their guitars.

Buck Owens was a consummate professional; his manager said, “He drove thousands and thousands of miles in the camper. He never missed a date. He’d play clubs, starting at 9 at night till 1 in the morning, and never leave the stage. That is a manager’s dream, to have a person that will give that much of themselves. Never due to his own fault was he ever late. I went on almost every date with him. He did everything I ever, ever asked him to do and more. We put in the contract a 60-minute show, and hell, he’d do two hours.” That’s a far cry from putting an all-white room, room temperature Evian, and yellow roses with red trim on your rider.

His right hand man was Don Rich, who added—pardon the pun—richness to the Buckaroos music. The guitar work on “Made in Japan” is reminiscent of a dobro and is a standout. Both Rich and Owens likened their style to a runaway freight train: driving and with a serious beat. Their records were made to be played on AM radio, dropping out the bass and making the sounds brighter. As a result, a record by Buck Owens and his Buckaroos is easily identifiable.

Gram Parsons was a huge Buckaroos fan and drew on their influences as a Flying Burrito Brother (as well as a Byrd and an International Submarine Band member). He admired their work ethic and tight harmonies. Buck himself was a fan of the Beatles, contrary to the popular position of country artists of the day. They, in turn, recorded “Act Naturally” for Help! Buck was the link between rock and country music, but please, don’t hold the Eagles against him. It’s not his fault.

In 1974, Don Rich died in a motorcycle accident. Buck lost his musical best friend and collaborator. He recorded with Gram’s partner Emmylou Harris and continued with Hee Haw. Then, realizing that the show was partly responsible for his decline in appeal, he retired from Hee Haw in 1986.

Buck Owens died on March 25, 2006. He had not planned on performing that night at his Crystal Palace Venue, but had met fans that had come from Oregon to see him. He said, “If somebody’s come all that way, I’m gonna do the show and give it my best shot. I might groan and squeak, but I’ll see what I can do.” He died in his sleep that night.

Buck was an iconoclast, and I’m ashamed that I didn’t appreciate him when I really should have. I think he said it best: ” I’m not going to beg and compromise what I believe in just because somebody in Nashville don’t approve. Screw that. I am who I am, I am what I am, I do what I do, and I ain’t never gonna do it any different. I don’t care who likes it and who don’t.”