OldiesButGoodies

Country

The Son Rises Again: How Scott Haggard Is Carrying on Merle Haggard’s Legacy in His Own Bold Way

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Introduction:

In the latest heartfelt and vibrant episode of Unleashing the World of Music and Poetry, host Tammy Bowers—also known by her warm stage name, Goldie—welcomed a familiar and cherished guest: Scott Haggard, son of the legendary Merle Haggard. Known for carrying on his father’s legacy while carving a heartfelt path of his own, Scott gave fans and followers a front-row seat to his latest creative efforts, his personal journey, and a touching live performance that resonated deeply with listeners.

Scott had just come off a long day in the studio, pouring himself into two new songs, and he was generous enough to share one of them—Beer Me Up Scotty—with viewers. Produced by the incredibly talented David Norris, this track promises to be an instant honky-tonk classic. With its catchy title and raw country charm, Beer Me Up Scotty captures the spirit of escapism and emotional release that defines traditional country music. David Norris, described as a songwriting machine, also co-wrote Home Again with Scott, Sonya, and her son Lawson—a song that dives into the emotional terrain of returning to a childhood home now filled with memories rather than people. It’s a poignant reflection on loss and longing, beautifully narrated through Scott’s smooth vocals and sincere delivery.

Beyond the studio, Scott has been keeping busy in Nashville—writing, performing, and promoting his brand with passion and authenticity. His popular “Second Generation Outlaw” t-shirts, now available online, are a proud nod to his heritage and his hard-earned place in the world of music. Fans can expect an album release soon, one that Scott hinted will be available for purchase alongside the merchandise.

A heartwarming highlight of the evening was Scott’s recounting of a chance reunion with his half-brother at Music City Bar & Grill, where they both took the stage and sang their hearts out—proving that talent and connection run deep in the Haggard family. Their encounter offered a touching glimpse into familial ties strengthened through music, and reminded fans of the enduring spirit behind the Haggard name.

Upcoming tour stops include Kokomo, Indiana, and Muskogee, Oklahoma—the latter being the site of his big single release event on June 19th at the Civic Center. These performances are more than concerts; they are invitations to experience Scott’s journey live, as he channels both his roots and his own unique storytelling style.

The evening closed with a live acoustic performance of Twinkle Twinkle Lucky Star, a soft, melancholic ballad that left listeners moved and grateful. As always, Tammy brought heart, humor, and warmth to the conversation, making it feel more like a fireside chat than a formal interview.

Scott Haggard’s presence on the show was not just a musical appearance—it was a reminder of why we fall in love with music in the first place. Honest, grounded, and full of soul, Scott continues to honor his father’s legacy while building one of his own. Whether through new releases, touching stories, or spontaneous live performances, he keeps the flame of classic country burning bright.

Be sure to subscribe to Unleashing the World of Music and Poetry on YouTube, grab a Second Generation Outlaw shirt, and catch Scott live if he’s playing near you. Because if this show proved anything, it’s that real music still has a home—and Scott Haggard is living in it.

Video:

https://youtu.be/fP6n3aULz4Q?si=jMr8jiKSD8A7EbyG

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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.

”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.”

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.”

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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.

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”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.”

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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.”