Conway Twitty - Linda On My Mind – SolSta Records

Introduction:

“Linda on My Mind” is a classic country song written and recorded by American country music artist Conway Twitty. Released in January 1975 as the title track of his album of the same name, it became Twitty’s 12th number-one single on the U.S. country singles chart, spending a total of eight weeks on the chart.

The song tells the story of a man who is lying in bed with a new woman but can’t stop thinking about his ex-girlfriend, Linda. He reminisces about their relationship and the things they used to do together, and he realizes that he still loves her. The song is a poignant reflection on love, loss, and the difficulty of moving on.

Twitty’s performance on “Linda on My Mind” is both heartfelt and soulful. His voice is full of emotion as he sings about his regrets and his longing for Linda. The song’s simple melody and lyrics are also very effective, and they help to create a sense of intimacy and vulnerability.

“Linda on My Mind” has been covered by many other artists over the years, including George Jones, Alan Jackson, and Reba McEntire. It remains one of Twitty’s most popular and enduring songs, and it is considered to be one of the greatest country songs of all time.

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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.”