And I like the sound of your sweet gentle kiss
The way that your fingers run through my hair
And how your scent lingers even when you’re not there
And I like the way your eyes dance when you laugh
And how you enjoy your two-hour bath
And how you convinced me to dance in the rain
With everyone watching like we were insane
CHORUS:
But I love the way you love me
Strong and wild
Slow and easy
Heart and soul
So completely
I love the way you love me
I like to imitate old Jerry Lee
And watch you roll your eyes when I’m slightly off key
And I like the innocent way that you cry
At sappy old movies you’ve seen hundreds of times
CHORUS
BRIDGE:
And I could list a million things
I love to like about you
But they all come down to one reason
I could never live without you
CHORUS
I Run to You
Story by Tom Douglas
Song written by Tom Douglas, Charles Kelley, David Wesley Haywood, Hillary Scott
Recorded by Lady Antebellum
When we wrote “I Run to You” I had just run a road race in Nashville and I saw a guy wearing a shirt that said, “I Run This Town.” I really love words and playing with words and I thought that was a pretty creative play on words, so it stayed with me. Then later I started hearing about this talented new trio called Lady Antebellum. I eventually got a chance to sit down and write with the members of the band — Hillary Scott, Dave Haywood, and Charles Kelley — and we started kicking around ideas and this topic came up, so we finished it together.
There are a lot of words in that song that some singers might be afraid to use in a pop song, such as “pessimists” and “prejudice,” but it didn’t bother them. Paul Worley and Victoria Shaw ended up producing their first album and I wasn’t sure if this was going to be on their album or not. Then I found out that they were cutting it and I heard what the producers had done with the song and I was just blown away. We had done a pretty darn good demo on the song, but it couldn’t compare with what Paul and Victoria did when they produced it. The production and the harmonies and the vocal mix are just fantastic in that song. But Hillary and Dave and Charles are so darn talented anyway, they could sing the phone book and it would be a hit. They also did a remix of the song as more of a pop version and released it to adult contemporary and easy listening radio stations as well.
As far as the theme, we do seem to be living in a day and time when there is a “new disaster” every day in the news and we all need something to run to in times of trouble. We need something to run to for security in the midst of all the chaos that is going on in the world around us.
We wrote the song a couple of years before the economic meltdown and the Haiti earthquake and the Gulf Oil spill and things like that, so the lyric seems even more relevant now than it did then. Of course, people can read this as a song about a relationship and turning to someone in your life to help you deal with all the insecurity around us, but it can also be interpreted as something bigger.
For me, I am at a point right now in my life where it seems like God is running towards me in a good way. God seems to be passionately pursuing me, and that’s kind of a new concept for me, and I’m trying to embrace that. As a result, the song has taken on a new meaning for me as well.
I Run to You
I run from hate
I run from prejudice
I run from pessimists
But I run too late
I run my life
Or is it running me?
Run from my past
I run too fast
Or too slow it seems
When lies become the truth
That’s when I run to you
CHORUS:
This world keeps spinning faster
Into a new disaster so I run to you
I run to you baby
And when it all starts coming undone
Baby you’re the only one I run to
I run to you
We run on fumes
Your life and mine
Like the sands of time
Slippin’ right on through
And our love’s the only truth
That’s why I run to you
CHORUS
I Was Country When Country Wasn’t Cool
Story by Dennis Morgan
Song written by Dennis Morgan and Kye Fleming
Recorded by Barbara Mandrell
We were writing in a building that was owned by Charley Pride. I lived and breathed music and my writing partner, Kye Fleming, and I worked all the time, morning and night. We were always looking for ideas, and Kye had the idea for this song written down in a book of hers.
Even though we wrote the song with Barbara Mandrell in mind and thought it would be a perfect song for her, every line in the song is locked into our backgrounds. When it says, “I was listening to the Opry when all my friends were diggin’ rock ‘n roll and rhythm and blues,” that was certainly my life. There is a line in the song about “putting peanuts in my Coke,” and it’s funny because I remember talking to Kye about putting peanuts in my Coke when I used to hang out at Craig’s Pool Hall in Tracy, Minnesota. She grew up in Fort Smith, Arkansas, but she said she used to do it, too. I’m not sure why. Maybe it made the Coke fizz or made it taste saltier or whatever, but we both did it.
This was around 1980, about the time of the Urban Cowboy craze. Country was getting more exposure. We went to play the song for Barbara while she was in L.A. taping her weekly television show. She fell in love with it, and she cut it there, too. A lot of people don’t know this, since the record sounds like it was recorded in front of a live audience, but it wasn’t. That was all overdubbed later.
There is the line in the song about “circling the drive-in and turning down George Jones,” so George came in and sang the last verse on the record. I think he did one take and he nailed his part perfectly.
Another funny thing happened. When we were recording it, the bass player didn’t show up. I think he was working with Ray Charles or another artist and was held over at that session. So the song was recorded without a bass player, and we overdubbed that part back in Nashville, too, at Woodland Studios.
It won the ACM Song of the Year for Barbara in 1982. Since then, Reba McEntire cut it with Kenny Chesney, and Martina McBride has covered it, too. It’s a song that has had some pretty good legs over the years, which is nice.
I Was Country When Country Wasn’t Cool
I remember wearin’ straight leg Levis
and flannel shirts, even when they weren’t in style
I remember singin’ with Roy Rogers
at the movies, when the West was really wild
And I was listenin’ to the Opry when all of my friends
were diggin’ rock ‘n roll and rhythm & blues
I was country when country wasn’t cool
I remember circlin’ the drive-in
Pullin’ up and turnin’ down George Jones
I remember when no one was lookin’
I was puttin’ peanuts in my Coke
I took a lot of kiddin’, ’cause I never did fit in
now look at everybody tryin’ to be what I was then
I was country when country wasn’t cool
CHORUS:
I was country, when country wasn’t cool
I was country, from my hat down to my boots
I still act, and look the same
what you see ain’t nothin’ new
I was country when country wasn’t cool
They call us country bumpkins, for stickin’ to our roots
I’m just glad we’re in a country, where we’re all free to choose
I was country when country wasn’t cool
CHORUS (George Jones part)
Yeah, I was country when country wasn’t cool
It Matters to Me
Story by Mark D. Sanders
Song written by Mark D. Sanders and Ed Hill
Recorded by Faith Hill
One of the first times I heard one of my songs on the radio, I was driving a van for Stardust Tours in Nashville. It was a Sunday morning and the radio was tuned to the Top 40 Country Countdown. The song was “Oh Carolina” by Vince Gill. It had apparently broken into the Top 40 that week and I turned the radio up and started yelling to everyone on the bus, “Hey listen, that’s my song on the radio. I wrote that!” And they all just stared at me. Then I realized that they didn’t believe me! It was like they were thinking, “If you really wrote that, you wouldn’t be driving this bus.” They didn’t realize that just because you have a Top 40 hit as a writer doesn’t mean you can retire.
I grew up in California and played basketball in high school. Then I went to college, where I majored in literature and then taught high school for a few years. I knew I loved poetry, but I also knew poets didn’t make any money, so I started thinking about writing songs. I moved to Nashville in 1980 when I was 29 and started working odd jobs. Then I started getting a few hits and was finally able to leave the tour bus company.
“It Matters to Me” is one of the more personal songs I’ve ever written. We wrote the song on a Friday, and it had been a bad week for me at home. My wife and I had been fighting about something. My approach to anger back then was just to shut up, which is probably the most maddening thing you can do.
When Ed Hill, my co-writer, and I went in to write on that Friday, I didn’t really want to write. The funny thing about the brain is if I’m upset about something else, I have trouble getting to that songwriting part of the brain. So I told that to Ed and he started whining and complaining. He would do that sometimes. He said, “Come on, let’s just try to write.”
He said, “I’ve got this title — ‘It Matters to Me,’” and I thought, Oh, no. I know where this is going.
We ended up writing the song from my wife’s point of view. I didn’t tell Ed that at the time. I do that a lot. I don’t always tell my co-writers who or what I’m writing about. But that one was definitely from her point of view, looking at me. I came up with the lines, “When we don’t talk, when we don’t touch, when it doesn’t feel like we’re even in love.” She didn’t really say that, but I know that’s what she was thinking, so I said it for her. Because we weren’t talking to each other!
Even the first lines, “Baby tell me where did you ever learn / to fight without saying a word” — I usually try to use pure rhymes instead of slant rhymes, but in a song like that, when it says exactly what I need it to say, I just go along with it. I didn’t mind rhyming “word” and “learn.”
If I remember correctly, Faith didn’t want to record it at first. I’m not sure why. Scott Hendricks was her producer then and he had to talk her into it. The first time I talked to Faith about it, I told her I knew her voice was just perfect for it. The first time I heard her sing it on the radio, I was turning off Franklin Road onto Tyne Boulevard (in south Nashville), and I got tears in my eyes because I knew what it was really about. That was back before I discovered anti-depressants.
It Matters to Me
Baby, tell me where’d you ever learn
To fight without sayin’ a word?
Waltz back into my life
Like it’s all gonna be alright
Don’t you know how much it hurts
CHORUS:
When we don’t talk
When we don’t touch
When it doesn’t feel like we’re even in love
It matters to me
When I don’t know what to say
Don’t know what to do
Don’t know if it really even matters to you
How can I make you see?
It matters to me
Baby I still don’t understand
The distance between a woman and a man
So tell me how far it is
And how you can love like this
’Cause I’m not sure I can
CHORUS
I don’t know what to say
Don’t know what to do
Don’t know if it really even matters to you
How can I make you see
Oh it matters to me
Oh it matters to me
Jackson
Story by Billy Edd Wheeler
Song written by Billy Edd Wheeler and Jerry Leiber
Recorded by Johnny and June Cash
“Jackson” was actually inspired by Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I was in my early thirties and was studying playwriting at Yale University as a graduate student in their school of drama. I couldn’t afford to go see the Broadway play by Edward Albee, but I somehow managed to get a copy of the script. The two main characters were so nasty in their arguments with each other. They just went at each other all the time. It made me think how men and women, couples, just seem to do that naturally. Usually it’s fairly good-natured, but in Virginia Woolf it was subterranean and evil. So with that thought in mind, I sat down to write “Jackson.”
When I left Yale, I drifted down to New York, and by a great stroke of fortune, got a chance to meet Norman Gimbel, who wrote “Killing Me Softly with His Song” and tons of other hits. He also won an Oscar for his song “It Goes Like It Goes” that was in the movie Norma Rae. He introduced me to Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller on Broadway and Jerry helped me a little with “Jackson.” Most of it was editorial. I already had the melody and the lyric. But Jerry is a great lyricist, and he said, “Billy Edd, your first four verses suck. You’ve gotta throw them away. Just start the song with “We got married in a fever / hotter than a pepper sprout.”
I said, “Jerry, that’s the climax of the song. I can’t start with that,” and he said, “Sure you can. Just write some stronger verses to go with it and then you can end with that, too.” So I did.
When I was searching for a town to use for the title, I tried a lot of different cities. I tried “going to Nashville,” but it was just too soft, so I came up with Jackson. Jackson is in Mississippi, but there’s also a fairly large town in Tennessee named Jackson, too. I just liked the sound of it; it had a nice snap to it.
A little while later, I had an album out on Kapp Records, and I recorded “Jackson.” Jerry and Mike produced the album. I had a lot of songs on that album that were eventually covered by bigger artists, which was wonderful, because I would have starved if I had to live on my royalties.
Johnny’s brother-in-law took it to Johnny Cash and said, “I think this is something you and June could do,” so they started playing the song in their live shows. This was really unusual. Most of the time, an artist records a song and then starts playing it on tour, but in his case, it was just the opposite. It was like he was testing it out before he decided to record it. There are many circuitous routes to how artists get songs and how they get recorded.
I met Johnny Cash at Carnegie Hall in the 1960s. They were having a New York folk festival, and I was invited to be a part of it. I was not a headliner, of course. Johnny was. Because I was in the show, I got to hang out backstage and I met Johnny and June. This was before they were even married. They were just performing together. Johnny said, “You know, Billy Edd, whenever I’m doing a show and I think the audience is getting sleepy, or they are drifting away from me, I whistle for June. She comes out and we do ‘Jackson,’ and it brings them right back. We’re going to record that one of these days.”
They did record it and Johnny and June won a Grammy for that song. It’s been covered a lot since then, too. Later, Nancy Sinatra recorded “Jackson” with Lee Hazlewood. They were doing an album of covers of some big country songs. She did a little echo thing at the end where she says, “Jackson, Jackson...” so that’s an example of how well the name worked.
The most recent vers
ion was Gretchen Wilson and Charlie Daniels. They do some really great bantering together at the end of their version. Charlie says, “You know where Jackson is? I’m not talking about Jackson, Mississippi. I’m talking about Tennessee.” Then he says, “Will you lend me the car keys, give me a few bucks for gas?” and she says, “If you take me with you,” and Charlie says, just as the song is fading out, “Ohhh, I guess so. . . .” They did a wonderful job with it. It really cooks. But I guess Johnny’s version will always be my favorite because Johnny and June were the ones who made it a valuable copyright.
Jackson
We got married in a fever
Hotter than a pepper sprout
We’ve been talkin’ ’bout Jackson
Ever since the fire went out
I’m goin’ to Jackson, I’m gonna mess around
Yeah, I’m goin’ to Jackson, look out Jackson town
Well, go on down to Jackson
Go ahead and wreck your health
Go play your hand you big-talkin’ man
Make a big fool of yourself
Yeah, go to Jackson, go comb your hair
Honey, I’m gonna snowball Jackson, see if I care
When I breeze into that city
People gonna stoop and bow
All them women gonna make me
Teach ’em what they don’t know how
I’m goin’ to Jackson, you turn loosen my coat
’Cause I’m goin’ to Jackson
“Goodbye,” that’s a-all she wrote
But they’ll laugh at you in Jackson
And I’ll be dancin’ on a pony keg
They’ll lead you ‘round town like a scalded hound
With your tail tucked between your legs
Yeah, go to Jackson, you big-talkin’ man
And I’ll be waitin’ in Jackson, behind my Jaypan fan
Well now, we got married in a fever
Hotter than a pepper sprout
We’ve been talkin’ ’bou-out Jackson
Ever since the fire went out
I’m goin’ to Jackson, and that’s a fact
Chicken Soup for the Soul: Country Music: The Inspirational Stories behind 101 of Your Favorite Country Songs Page 13
