Brooks & Dunn - Believe (Official Video)

Introduction:

“Believe,” a poignant ballad by country music duo Brooks & Dunn, is a testament to the enduring power of faith and the human spirit. Released in 2005 as the second single from their album Hillbilly Deluxe, the song quickly resonated with audiences and became a critical and commercial success.

Penned by Ronnie Dunn and Craig Wiseman, “Believe” tells the story of a young boy’s friendship with an elderly neighbor, “Old Man Wrigley.” Through their interactions, the boy learns about the profound impact of faith in the face of loss and hardship. Old Man Wrigley, having lost his wife and son, shares his unwavering belief in a better future and the promise of an afterlife.

The song’s heartfelt lyrics, coupled with Ronnie Dunn’s soulful vocals, create an emotionally resonant experience for listeners. “Believe” garnered widespread acclaim, winning the Country Music Association’s prestigious awards for Single of the Year, Song of the Year, and Music Video of the Year in 2006. Its enduring popularity and impact on country music solidify its place as a timeless classic.

Video:

You Missed

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.”