OldiesButGoodies

July 2025

Country

When Ben and Noel Haggard stood on stage, singing “The Runnin’ Kind” and “I’m a Lonesome Fugitive,” it wasn’t just music—it was memories that came alive. Merle Haggard’s two sons weren’t just performing their father’s timeless songs, they were also recounting their own journeys of loneliness, rebellion, and nostalgia that had been ingrained in their blood since childhood. Ben, the youngest, once shared that he grew up on tour buses, listening to his father sing about loneliness and days of running away with no way out. Noel, the eldest, carried the great shadow of the legendary Merle on his shoulders, and had collapsed many times in sadness and the pressure of fame. But it was music that held them together, with memories, with unhealed wounds. When they sang “I’m a Lonesome Fugitive,” it was as if they were confessing their unspoken losses. And when they sang “The Runnin’ Kind,” it wasn’t just a song – it was a confession: they too had run away, had searched for themselves in the shadow of their father. But in the end, they didn’t run anymore. They stood, sang, and continued that legacy – with their own voices that breathed blood, love, and nostalgia.

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Introduction: There are performances that entertain, and then there are moments on stage that transcend music—where the lines between past and present blur, and the listener is invited into something…

Country

During a cold winter in the 1970s, Merle Haggard didn’t just sing about sadness—he lived it. When “If We Make It Through December” was released, many thought it was a fictional song about a laid-off father trying to keep his family together during the Christmas season. But few knew that Merle had lived it himself. Growing up in poverty after his father died when he was nine, Merle watched his mother work around the clock just to make ends meet. One winter, as a wayward teenager, Merle wandered California, sleeping in his truck and doing menial jobs to survive. It was the haunting memory of a broken family, a loveless winter, that inspired the song. “If We Make It Through December” isn’t just a song—it’s a silent prayer for desperate parents. And for Merle Haggard, it was his way of embracing the past, turning pain into art, and making millions of hearts flutter every winter.

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Introduction: When we think of Merle Haggard, the mind drifts instinctively to grit, honesty, and songs laced with the raw truths of working-class life. Among his many hits, there’s one…

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Country

Born on October 1, 1929, she was far more than Buck Owens’s former wife — she was the steady presence who anchored Merle Haggard when his world threatened to unravel. Long before the spotlight fully claimed him, Merle was still fighting his way out of a troubled past that clung to him like dust from the road. The fame, the accolades, the roaring crowds — none of it erased the shadows he carried. Bonnie Owens saw every part of him: the flashes of anger, the quiet fear, the raw, untamed talent that burned bright but fragile. Where others might have stepped back, she leaned in. As Merle battled wounds he seldom put into words, Bonnie worked with patient resolve beside him. She helped refine the music that would ultimately define an era — songs like “Today I Started Loving You Again” and “Just Between the Two of Us.” Her influence was not loud or theatrical; it was deliberate and deeply woven into the craft. She understood how to translate his unspoken emotions into lyrics that resonated far beyond the studio walls. History remembers the unmistakable voice and the outlaw legend. Audiences recall the grit, the conviction, the poetry of a man who seemed to sing straight from his scars. But behind that weathered baritone stood a woman shaping chaos into composition. Bonnie smoothed the rough edges, helping transform private pain into melodies that millions could feel. The world applauded the icon. Yet behind the gravel and the glory was a collaborator who quietly turned hidden fractures into harmony — ensuring that what might have remained broken instead became timeless music.

Country

”Last night, Indiana Feek stepped into the light and sang Waltz of the Angels — the song her mother, Joey Feek, loved most. Her voice was so gentle, so clear, it felt as if Joey herself were breathing through every note.”

Oldies Music

HE COULDN’T FINISH HIS SONG — SO 30,000 VOICES ROSE AS ONE INSIDE ROYAL ALBERT HALL

Country

THE LAST TIME THE CROWD ROSE FOR MERLE HAGGARD — HE WOULD NEVER WALK ONSTAGE AGAIN. They carried him through the doors wrapped in the very flag he once sang about — and in the stillness that followed, there was something almost audible… a fragile echo only lifelong listeners could feel in their bones. Merle Haggard’s story closed the same way it opened: unpolished, honest, and deeply human. From being born in a converted boxcar during the Great Depression to commanding the grandest stages across America, his life unfolded like a country ballad etched in grit, regret, resilience, and redemption. Every lyric he sang carried the weight of lived experience — prison walls, hard roads, blue-collar truths, and hard-earned second chances. Those who stood beside his casket said the atmosphere felt thick, as if the room itself refused to forget the sound of his voice. It wasn’t just grief in the air — it was reverence. A stillness reserved for someone whose music had become stitched into the fabric of ordinary lives. One of his sons leaned close and murmured, “He didn’t really leave us. He’s just playing somewhere higher.” And perhaps that’s the only explanation that makes sense. Because artists like Merle don’t simply vanish. They transform. They become the crackle of an AM radio drifting through a late-night highway. They become the soundtrack of worn leather seats and long stretches of open road. They live in jukebox corners, in dance halls, in quiet kitchens where memories linger longer than the coffee. Somewhere tonight, a trucker tunes in to an old melody. Somewhere, an aging cowboy lowers his hat and blinks back tears. And somewhere in that gentle hum of steel guitar and sorrow, a whisper carries through: “Merle’s home.”