BEN & NOEL HAGGARD Tickets, Thu, Jun 12, 2025 at 7:00 PM | Eventbrite

Introduction:

“Today I Started Loving You Again” is a timeless country ballad that has resonated with audiences for decades. The song was written by Merle Haggard and Bonnie Owens and first recorded by Connie Smith in 1968. It became a signature song for Merle Haggard, who recorded it in 1973, and has since been covered by numerous artists.

The song’s enduring popularity can be attributed to its relatable lyrics and heartfelt melody. The lyrics express the complex emotions of a love that has been lost and then rediscovered. The singer reflects on the past, acknowledging the mistakes that were made, and expresses a renewed commitment to the relationship. The song’s simple yet poignant lyrics and Haggard’s signature baritone voice create a powerful and moving listening experience.

“Today I Started Loving You Again” has been praised for its authenticity and emotional depth. It is a classic example of country music’s ability to tell stories of love, loss, and redemption. The song’s enduring legacy is a testament to its timeless appeal and its ability to connect with listeners on a deeply personal level.

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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.”