OldiesButGoodies

Country

Merle Haggard – That’s The Way Love Goes

That's the Way Love Goes - song and lyrics by Merle Haggard | Spotify

Introduction:

In the vast landscape of American country music, few voices resonate with the raw honesty and storytelling prowess of Merle Haggard. Throughout his illustrious career, Haggard carved a niche for himself as an outlaw country pioneer, unafraid to tackle social issues and relatable struggles of the working class. However, 1983 saw a shift in gears with the release of the album That’s The Way Love Goes, showcasing Haggard’s mastery of the genre’s core themes: love, loss, and heartache.

The title track, “That’s The Way Love Goes”, became a defining moment in Haggard’s musical journey. Released in November 1983, the song wasn’t originally penned by Haggard himself. Instead, it was a reinterpretation of a 1973 hit by Johnny Rodriguez, written by the songwriting duo of Lefty Frizzell and Sanger D. Shafer. Ray Baker, a longtime collaborator of Haggard’s, took the producer’s seat for the album, shaping the signature sound that resonated with audiences.

“That’s The Way Love Goes” wasn’t just another song on the album; it became a chart-topping phenomenon. The track spent a remarkable 21 weeks on the country music charts, eventually reaching the coveted number one spot. This wasn’t just a testament to Haggard’s enduring popularity but also a reflection of the song’s ability to connect with listeners on a deeply personal level.

The song’s success transcended commercial achievements. Haggard’s soulful vocals, backed by the impeccable musicianship of his band The Strangers, breathed new life into the composition. His delivery captured the bittersweet reality of love’s complexities – the highs of passion, the lows of heartbreak, and the acceptance of impermanence. This resonated with a generation grappling with similar experiences, solidifying Haggard’s position as a country music icon.

“That’s The Way Love Goes” wasn’t just a hit; it was a critical darling as well. In 1984, Haggard received the prestigious Grammy Award for Best Country Vocal Performance — Male for his rendition of the song. This solidified the song’s place in country music history, etching its mark as a classic of the genre.

The impact of “That’s The Way Love Goes” extended beyond the charts and awards. The song became a staple in Haggard’s live performances, a moment of shared vulnerability and emotional resonance between him and his audience. Haggard even revisited the song later in his career, recording a well-received duet version with country singer Jewel in 1999.

“That’s The Way Love Goes” stands as a testament to Merle Haggard’s artistry. It’s a song that transcends time, capturing the universal language of love and loss with poignant simplicity. This 1983 hit not only marked a turning point in Haggard’s career but also secured its place as a timeless classic in the vast library of country music.

Video:

https://youtu.be/mhaju2pwrJg?si=halgki61FkrHIeLG

Lyrics:

I’ve been throwing horseshoesOver my left shoulderI’ve spent most all my lifeSearching for that four-leaf clover
Yet you ran with meChasing my rainbowsHoney, I love you tooThat’s the way love goes
That’s the way love goes, babeThat’s the music God madeFor all the world to singIt’s never old, it growsLosing makes me sorryYou say, “Honey, now don’t worryDon’t you know I love you too?”And that’s the way love goes
That’s the way love goes, babeThat’s the music God madeFor all the world to singIt’s never old, it growsLosing makes me sorryAnd you say, “Honey, don’t worryDon’t you know I love you too?”And that’s the way love goes

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“FOUR DECADES UNDER THE LIGHTS — AND STILL, ONE MERLE HAGGARD SONG COULD SILENCE A ROOM.” Merle Haggard never defined his legacy by hardware on a shelf. Awards came — of course they did — but compared to the magnitude of his cultural imprint, they felt almost incidental. His real measure wasn’t engraved in metal. It was etched into people. Country music has never belonged solely to pristine arenas or carefully choreographed award shows. It thrives where life is unpolished. In dimly lit taverns where working hands cradle longneck bottles after a brutal week. In smoky dance halls glowing under flickering neon, where strangers sway together as if they’ve shared a lifetime. At scratched-up bar tops where someone always scrolls the jukebox and chooses the one song that hurts just enough to feel true. That’s where Merle still lives. Step into a weathered roadside joint off Route 66 and wait. Before long, the opening lines of “Mama Tried” or the lonesome cry of “Silver Wings” will float from a tired speaker in the corner. Conversations soften. A few faces brighten with recognition. Others fall into that heavy, reflective stillness — the kind that comes when a lyric touches something private and long carried. Because Merle Haggard was never about monuments or headlines. He was about truth. His voice carried grit, regret, pride, defiance — the full, complicated spectrum of the American working-class soul. He didn’t polish the edges. He didn’t disguise the scars. He sang them exactly as they were. And in doing so, he gave millions permission to confront their own. Trophies tarnish. Plaques gather dust. But honesty — the raw, unvarnished kind Merle delivered — refuses to fade. It lingers in melody. It echoes in memory. It survives wherever someone presses play and lets a song say what they couldn’t. Forty years on stage built the legend. One voice made it eternal.

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1978 CLOSED THE CHAPTER — BUT NEVER ERASED THE STORY. Years after the divorce papers were signed, Merle Haggard stepped quietly into a modest room to see Bonnie Owens one final time. There were no stage lights, no steel guitars humming in the background, no applause waiting on the other side of a curtain. Just silence — the kind that carries more truth than any lyric ever could. He didn’t come as a legend. He didn’t come as a former husband. He came as a man remembering where it all began. Merle spoke little. Maybe he didn’t trust his voice. Maybe there was nothing left to explain. Mostly, he listened — to the softness in Bonnie’s breathing, to the quiet strength that had always defined her. Time had reshaped her face, but not the place she held in his story. Not the woman who believed in him before the crowds did. Not the partner who stood beside him when the road was uncertain and the dream still fragile. For a brief, suspended moment, the years seemed to loosen their grip. They were no longer bound by marriage, nor divided by its ending. They were simply two souls who had once built something brave together — two artists who shared faith in each other long before fame complicated everything. When Merle finally walked out, the air felt heavier. He sat alone in his car, engine untouched, hands resting motionless against the wheel. The silence followed him there too. Not bitter. Not regretful. Just full. Some love stories don’t survive the years in the way we expect them to. They don’t always stay intact. But some bonds are etched deeper than vows. They change form. They outgrow titles. And even when the chapter ends, the history refuses to fade.

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“FOUR DECADES UNDER THE LIGHTS — AND STILL, ONE MERLE HAGGARD SONG COULD SILENCE A ROOM.” Merle Haggard never defined his legacy by hardware on a shelf. Awards came — of course they did — but compared to the magnitude of his cultural imprint, they felt almost incidental. His real measure wasn’t engraved in metal. It was etched into people. Country music has never belonged solely to pristine arenas or carefully choreographed award shows. It thrives where life is unpolished. In dimly lit taverns where working hands cradle longneck bottles after a brutal week. In smoky dance halls glowing under flickering neon, where strangers sway together as if they’ve shared a lifetime. At scratched-up bar tops where someone always scrolls the jukebox and chooses the one song that hurts just enough to feel true. That’s where Merle still lives. Step into a weathered roadside joint off Route 66 and wait. Before long, the opening lines of “Mama Tried” or the lonesome cry of “Silver Wings” will float from a tired speaker in the corner. Conversations soften. A few faces brighten with recognition. Others fall into that heavy, reflective stillness — the kind that comes when a lyric touches something private and long carried. Because Merle Haggard was never about monuments or headlines. He was about truth. His voice carried grit, regret, pride, defiance — the full, complicated spectrum of the American working-class soul. He didn’t polish the edges. He didn’t disguise the scars. He sang them exactly as they were. And in doing so, he gave millions permission to confront their own. Trophies tarnish. Plaques gather dust. But honesty — the raw, unvarnished kind Merle delivered — refuses to fade. It lingers in melody. It echoes in memory. It survives wherever someone presses play and lets a song say what they couldn’t. Forty years on stage built the legend. One voice made it eternal.

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