Most Stax Records fans know at least two names from the label’s roster of songwriters. David Porter and Isaac Hayes were the dynamic songwriting team behind at least 200 songs in the label’s publishing company, East/Memphis Music, and Hayes’ elevation to global celebrity only elevated the team’s profile. Yet they were only two among the dozens of songsmiths working away at 926 East McLemore Avenue in the heyday of Stax and its many subsidiary imprints.
Now, in what may be the greatest behind-the-scenes glimpse into the process of making records since The Beatles’ Anthology series, Craft Recordings is releasing a new seven-CD collection that reveals the depth of that talent. Written in their Soul: The Stax Songwriter Demos is like a message in a bottle from a half century ago, conjuring the spirit and soul of what was going down in the studio’s back rooms while the final recordings were being cut in the main tracking room. And while some of these demos got the full band treatment, even more of them capture the intimacy of just a singer and one or two others in a room, sketching out the basics of a song, hoping a Stax artist would make it a success.
Exhibit A, below, is a glimpse into the work of Eddie Floyd and Steve Cropper as they put down their idea for a new approach to songwriting, using only numbers in the chorus. In the end, they pitched it to Wilson Pickett, who made the full band version a number one hit on the R&B charts in 1966. Yet this raw demo has its own charm. The difference between the hit and what you hear below tells you all you need to know about this extravagant and enlightening collection.
The crunch of Steve Cropper’s guitar almost makes the classic hit into a rock song. Yet such a glimpse into the making of a hit record is only one facet of what’s revealed here. Many more were recorded by Stax artists but released into semi-obscurity, some were recorded by artists on other labels, and still more never made it past the demo stage.
All of that is contained here, including three full discs from the latter category — in other words, 66 never-before-heard songs from the Stax universe. This alone would be a revelation, but even the first three discs, featuring demos for songs that ultimately were cut and released, bring what were often previously deep cuts up to the surface. If the Staple Singers’ version of “Slow Train” was overshadowed by other tracks on their Stax debut, William Bell’s stark rendering of it with just a guitarist (Cropper?) stands out as one of the most haunting tracks.
Going a step further, Carl Smith’s demo of “We the People,” also eventually released by the Staple Singers, has the wonderful loopiness of someone who’s dancing like no one’s watching, complete with squeals of “Ow! Shack-a-lack!” over a sparse — but funky — piano and drum arrangement.
From the haunted to the joyous, this is ultimately a tribute to the power of a song, no matter what form it takes, and a fitting celebration of Stax songwriters both obscure and legendary, from William Brown to Deanie Parker, from Homer Banks to Mack Rice, from Bettye Crutcher to Carla Thomas.
As it turns out, it’s also a tribute of a different kind to the key creator of the set, Cheryl Pawelski, the three-time Grammy-winning producer and co-founder of Omnivore Recordings who previously worked for Rhino, EMI-Capitol Records, and Concord Music Group. It was while producing catalog releases for the latter that she conceived of a collection of Stax demos, most of which she heard while going through the archived audio files of East/Memphis Music, owned by Rondor Music Publishing after the demise of Stax.
As Pawelski describes in the liner notes, these reference demo recordings were filed away with the accompanying sheet music as they were made, but when Stax was forced into bankruptcy in late 1975, the audio recordings were archived haphazardly, ultimately being transferred to digital formats willy-nilly as the decades wore on. It was up to Pawelski to find these gems by reviewing almost 2,000 hours of audio, much of it containing completely unrelated recordings. She identified 665 individual songs, eventually winnowing those down to the 140 tracks being released now.
It was a Herculean effort, taken up in stolen moments of time over more than a decade of Pawelski’s life (and beautifully documented in this Burkhard Bilger piece in the New Yorker). But Pawelski was not alone: her co-producers for the compilation included Deanie Parker, Michele Smith, Mason Williams, and Robert Gordon, and the liner notes by Gordon and Parker are a delight in their own right.
The two writers have the benefit of Parker’s first-hand knowledge, directing publicity for Stax in its heyday, plus the years of research Gordon put into his book, Respect Yourself: Stax Records and the Soul Explosion. One recurrent theme is the deeply ingrained sexism of the male Stax songwriters, producers, and artists, leading some of the women, like Parker or Crutcher, to cook up pots of spaghetti as subtle inducements to be taken more seriously. Even then, it was an uphill battle, which makes this collection all the more important. Would-be classics like Bettye Crutcher’s “Everybody is Talking Love” can finally be heard. And even songs composed by men for women artists, often sung here by men adopting the woman’s persona in a kind of recording studio gender-bending, can finally see the light of day. On this set, you can compare Homer Banks singing his “Too Much Sugar for a Dime,” a woman’s demand for relief from her gender-defined duties, directly with Crutcher’s impassioned delivery of the same song on the next track.
If the word “revelation” is overused, this at least is one release that merits it. As Gordon and Parker write, “The history of Stax Records and Southern rhythm and blues is about to change.”
The Stax Museum of American Soul Music will celebrate the release of Written in their Soul on Friday, June 23, from 6 – 8:30 p.m. Free, RSVP required.
Greg Cartwright appears Thursday at Halloran Centre (Photo courtesy Orpheum Theatre Group)
Fair warning: there’s an undeniable bias in my reportage here, being a frequent band mate and collaborator with the subject of the interview below, native Memphian Greg Cartwright. And yet a certain historical imperative compels me to document the details of this songwriter’s process when his work is deemed so notable by critics and fans alike. That became eminently clear this spring, when a song Cartwright co-wrote with the Black Keys, “Wild Child,” topped Billboard’s adult alternative airplay chart. It was a level of success that’s long eluded an artist who’s typically had more critical acclaim than financial windfall. Yet tomorrow, when the Black Keys appear at the Radians Amphitheater at Memphis Botanic Gardens for Mempho Fest, Cartwright will be able to hear the song echoing through the air from his back yard. Will he raise a toast to the Memphis night?
Moreover, this evening, Thursday, September 29th, Cartwright will join Don Bryant and Alicja Trout in the season opener of Mark Edgar Stuart’s Memphis Songwriters Series at the Halloran Centre, with all three artists performing examples of their craft without a band, in the round. At such a moment, how could I resist calling up my old pal Greg to ask him his thoughts on the songwriter’s craft, in all its intricacies and rewards?
Greg Cartwright (Credit: Graham Winchester)
Memphis Flyer:You’ll be appearing with a national treasure, soul singer Don Bryant, on Thursday. How do you relate to his work?
Greg Cartwright: Don’s got an amazing voice and range, and boy that guy can sell a song. It’s amazing! And I love that he and Scott Bomar have this cool relationship, where Scott is Don’s producer and bandleader, and I think that’s such a cool older guy/younger guy relationship. And it’s win/win both ways. Scott’s got great skills, too. And he’s going to be at the event, I think, playing guitar while Don sings his stuff.
Also, I’m a huge Lowman Pauling and “5” Royales fan, so for me, it’s cool to work with somebody who wrote a song for them. It’s as close as I’m ever gonna get to doing anything with somebody who was there when all that magical era of gospel and R&B was happening. And Don’s an amazing songwriter. I love all his songs, from the 50’s on, including the more recent stuff that Scott’s produced. And the Willie Mitchell stuff — all great. I know he’s going to really bring it. I’m a little bit intimidated, to be honest. I don’t know if I can sell a song quite as well as he can.
Don Bryant (Credit: Jacob Blickinstaff)
There’s a certain spirit in that older school of songwriting that you have really zeroed in on and emulated.
Yeah, I really have. A lot of Don’s generation is what inspired me, in a lot of ways, to write in the way that I write. So I take a lot more inspiration from that era of country and rhythm and blues as a songwriter. I’ve always tried, when I have an opportunity to perform with or alongside artists from that generation, because I know there’s something I can learn in person that I can’t glean from a record.
You can kind of see how they embody what they do.
Yeah. Listening to records is great. You can get a lot from that, like you can get a lot from reading a book. But to be able to have a conversation with Hemingway would be a lot different. I can talk to him and understand more where the person is coming from. I always find it interesting to meet performers from that era, because it’s a little more insight into what makes the magic happen.
That era of songwriting has influenced you going back at least as far as the Compulsive Gamblers, and even through your Oblivians work.
You know, Jack [Yarber/Oblivian] and I had already done rock and roll, folk, country, all kinds of R&B and all kinds of other stuff with the Gamblers. So when Eric [Friedl] joined us and we did the Oblivians, it was a pretty late-blooming punk band. We were already adults. It was kind of a fake punk band, is what it was. The idea was, “What is punk music? It’s discontent.” So there were a lot of songs about what you don’t want to do [laughs]. And we took a lot of inspiration from the Ramones. That was Joey’s thing: I don’t wanna do this, I don’t wanna go there, “I’m Against It.” Him telling you what he’s not going to do. And that was an inspiration for the Oblivians. A template, if you will.
You’ve mentioned before that you Oblivians thought of your band as both fun and funny. There was a sense of humor to it.
Yeah, there totally was. It was an opportunity to laugh at life. There are some things in life where you can either laugh or cry. And there’s some very dark material in the Oblivians’ catalog. We took a lot of inspiration from the Fugs, which is a very tongue in cheek critique of society, as well as the Last Poets, also with a heavy critique of society, particularly the racist society in the United States. And you might laugh, and then find yourself going, “God, I shouldn’t laugh at that. That’s horrible!” But it is part of looking at what’s going on around you and trying to find some way to think about it that’s not just sad. But yeah, there’s a lot of dark stuff in the Oblivians. And I’m glad I had a platform to do that stuff when I was younger, because I don’t think I have it in me to laugh at a lot of that stuff at this point in my life.
You’ve talked about how with the last Reigning Sound studio album, you were trying to write in a more positive way.
Yeah, that was a big goal for me; because the pandemic, for a lot of people and a lot of songwriters, was a reset button, where it’s one thing to gripe in songs, or complain, but when you’re faced with some kind of new reality where you don’t even get to be around people, well, you stop complaining and you want to find something to be appreciative about. And that’s a better way of putting it. I was looking to appreciate. There are many things out there that are obstacles, always, but if you’re curious about what is happening around you, and you’re appreciative of the good things that come your way…
For a lot of my life, I thought that the gift I had was that I was very good at emoting whatever pain I was experiencing, in a way that other people seemed to relate to. There are a lot of songwriters like that. They really know how to put that into words, and emote it in a way that elicits a response from other people, where they totally empathize. So a lot of times, I would just be in this kind of trance onstage, sort of crying in public, in a way, and people responded to that. And I can’t say I grew out of it. It wasn’t a natural thing. I would have stayed that way if I hadn’t done a lot of work. But on the back side of that work, I wondered if I could also be just as good at emoting appreciation.
A sense of curiosity is important to that kind of openness, isn’t it?
It really is.
I’ve talked to Don Bryant about this, and also William Bell. Certain writers have this curiosity and this empathy, listening to and absorbing others’ stories. William Bell described sitting in cafes, just people-watching and getting song ideas.
That’s very true a lot of times; it’s so important to be curious, listening to people’s stories, because that’s how you find new subject matter. If you were confined to your personal autobiography, that’s pretty limited. I remember that someone once asked Jack [Oblivian], “Where do you get ideas for your songs?” He was like, “Small talk in bars.” Local gossip! If you keep your ears open, there’s plenty out there to write about. There’s plenty of new ways to frame an age old story, if you’re curious enough to see all the options, all the twists and turns.
You’ve known and worked with Alicja Trout for decades now, haven’t you?
A long time! Yeah, so when Lorette Velvette left the Alluring Strange, Randy Reinke took her place. And then I took Randy’s place, and played with them for a couple years. Then I started the Oblivians and started to get busy with that, and Alicja Trout was learning guitar, and it was my job to teach her the Alluring Strange songs, so she could take my place. And that’s how we got to know each other: teaching her songs for Misty White’s band. So there you go, Misty White is the Kevin Bacon of Memphis! [laughs]
Alicja was just learning guitar, and it’s amazing that she’s come so far. It wasn’t that much later, maybe five years or so, that she was doing her own stuff and playing with Jay [Reatard]. But even before she played with Jay, she had a band called Girls on Fire, and that was her and Claudine, who played guitar with Tav [Falco]. They had a band together. And boy, when I saw them for the first time, I called Larry Hardy at In The Red the next day and said, “I found a band I want to record, send me some money!” But before I could make it happen, they broke up. [laughs].
And even at that time, I thought, “Wow, she has really come a long way.” And it really amazed me. She had surpassed me as a guitar player, as far as what she could do as a lead guitarist. Because I’m very limited. For me, I’m always accompanying myself so I can perform a song. I’m not a great lead player. I enjoy the challenge, but I would never say I’m very good at it. But there are just some people that really take to something. They’re really passionate about it, and just want to do it, so I guess she must have wanted it. It didn’t take her very long to become a very good guitar player.
You and Alicja both have one foot in the punk world, the heavier rock world…
Aggression.
Yeah! But you both also step back and write these very delicate songs. Like Alicja’s beautiful “Howlin'” on the album of the same name; it’s mostly just her vocals and quiet electric guitar.
I like a bigger palette, and I think she does, too. As for me, I’m so in love with songwriting. It’s been such a helpful tool for me in my life, in so many ways, to process things, that the bigger palette I have, the better I can express myself. And I’m not very concerned with commercial success. So that gives me even less limitations. I think a lot of artists become very limited stylistically because they’re trying to define themselves as a certain kind of performer, or a certain kind of artist. And there’s no shame in that, but you have to have one eye on the marketplace to do that.
The Black Keys appear at Mempho Fest on Friday, September 30. (Credit: Jim Herrington)
How did your collaboration with the Black Keys come about?
I met them a long time ago, probably about 15 years ago. They were traveling with The Hentchmen from Detroit. So when the Hentchmen played Asheville, they told me Dan Auerbach was a huge fan and wanted to meet me. So Esther and I went to the show and afterwards we had an impromptu jam session, with myself, the Black Keys, and the Hentchmen, and we had a great time and got to be pretty friendly. And I hesitate to say this, but he basically said to me how inspiring he found my work. And that’s a massive compliment. Whether it’s the Hives or the Black Keys or whoever — people who’ve actually had success — for them to say to me, “Wow, you’re a huge inspiration to me, a lot of my art comes from emulating some of the things I hear in your music.”
But it’s an even bigger compliment when someone gets to a successful point in their career, and they say “Hey, would you like to come help me work on these productions and songs?” Dan thought enough of my songwriting that he not only wanted it in the Black Keys, but wanted me to help him with other artists he was working with. I really appreciated that. It helped me in so many ways. It gave me a new income stream, just to have a song credit on a Black Keys record is no small thing, especially if it’s a hit. And “Wild Child” was a hit. The synch license requests are still coming in daily.
But also, I think it opened me up to the idea of collaboration in a way that I had not allowed myself before. So around the beginning of the pandemic, I said I tried to focus more on appreciation, and that was a huge moment of growth. But then doing all these co-writing sessions with Dan also represented a lot of growth for me.
Prior to that, being in so many rock bands … When you’re in a band together, you spend too much time together, and eventually some things end acrimoniously. It was definitely that way for me. Prior to the Reigning Sound, the Oblivians spent too much time together and started to get on each other’s nerves. Then Jack and I went back to the Gamblers for a while, and we thought we could do that, but we quickly found out that we still, underneath it all, needed to get away from each other.
The now-defunct Reigning Sound in 2003 (cover photo by Dan Ball)
So when I started the Reigning Sound, my idea was that I would start a band where I would be the benevolent dictator, and everybody would have to do what I said. And I would be good to everybody, I would pay everybody fairly and be equal, but it would just be my songs and the covers I picked. I had never been the boss before, but at that point in my life, I needed that level of total control. Because I didn’t trust people. I had been burnt, I had had relationships that crumbled. And this kind of happens in romantic relationships, too, where you get to the point where you think, “I just need to be in control. I can’t relinquish any control because I might get hurt”. If you can’t be vulnerable, being in control is kind of the obvious option. And luckily I met you and Greg [Roberson] and Jeremy [Scott], and you guys were cool with that. You’re all great songwriters, so to find a bunch of talented people who understand music and get where you’re coming from, who aren’t going to be angry that you don’t want to consider their songs, that’s tricky. And for that same reason, it can’t last forever.
And I came to a point where, when I wrote this last record [A Little More Time with Reigning Sound], I thought, this is a much more positive side of my songwriting, but it’s also the last great burst, for a while, of me needing to have a band where it’s just me and my vision all the time. Now what I really want is to learn how to be vulnerable with other people, and to open up to other people’s ideas. Right now, I really want to do that. You have to tread lightly, and pick people that you trust. You have to pick people that feel safe, and then you can be vulnerable, and then you can be playful.
Did your collaboration with Dan Auerbach begin during the pandemic?
It did. His engineer Alan called and said, “Dan would really like you to come and write. Are you available these days?” So I went, and I had no idea what we would be doing, or who I’d be writing with or for. I assumed it was Dan; I thought maybe it was a solo record or something.
So I got there, and Dan said, this guy Marcus King is going to be here in a half hour and we’re going to write. And it kind of scared me! But as soon as Marcus got there, he was so friendly and open and funny that we had a great time. We got right to it and had four songs in a day. And a little while later, Dan called me back to work with another guy he’d signed, Early James. And we ended up doing two writing sessions together.
And after that, Dan said, ‘I’ve got another one.’ I asked him who it would be with, and he said, ‘It’s the Black Keys.’ [laughs]. So I went and we talked about some song ideas. He played me some jams that he and Pat [Carney] had recorded, with some hooks and stuff. So I went home, sat with them for a couple ideas, thought about lyric ideas, song ideas, chord changes that might be beneficial to the riffs that they had. And I went back and we sat around that day and wrote the rest of the songs. And I wasn’t sure what was going to happen at that point, but they just walked into the other room immediately and started recording. It was instantaneous. They recorded them just as we had worked it out together, then Dan put down a vocal, and that was it, we were done.
I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life! Usually you write a song and there’s weeks or months in between that moment of inspiration and when it gets laid down on tape. But Dan loves the idea of catching something when it’s fresh. There’s some kind of magic there that you might lose if you continue to play and record it. And I think that’s what makes the Black Keys work, especially when you listen back to their earliest stuff, that’s kind of raw and live, like the early Oblivians stuff. There’s not a lot of production going on, and not a lot of adjusting it after the fact. It is what it is.
It also speaks to how carefully you crafted it right out of the gate.
Right, you did all your thinking already. And I think Dan’s very much like the early Billy Sherrill and Rick Hall and all those people. They’re his heroes. And back in their heyday, pre-production was everything, because you couldn’t do much once it was on the tape. It was so limited, track-wise. So pre-production was everything. Where are the mics gonna go? Are you gonna play loud or soft? How are you going to sing it? Everything had to be figured out before the tape rolled. And then you got what you got. And I think Dan appreciates that way of thinking. He tracks live to one inch 8-track, the same as the last few records I’ve made. I’m enamored with it as well. I love the idea of planning everything out on the front and then just recording it.
With something like “Wild Child,” some people may not associate itwith ‘great songwriting,’ because it’s more primitive. It’s not, say, Leonard Cohen-style lyrics or whatever, but a lot of craftsmanship really goes into riff-oriented songs as well, doesn’t it?
Yeah. The song is two chords. It’s about as simple as a song can be. To me, that requires even more work. How do you build all these dynamics and cliffhangers and hooks and everything if it’s just the same two chords over and over? So it’s almost more challenging to make a really fun ride out of those two and half minutes. And I think that’s how people used to work back in the day. Now artists and musicians have the option of, “Well, you can lay down the basic track and continue to tweak it and add things and take things away, ad nauseam.” That is definitely a way to build a song. But it doesn’t really speak to me. And also, it’s exhausting. Because you’re never really sure when you’re done. If you’re doing all this stuff after you record it, editing and stuff, where do you stop? The way people used to do it, when you stopped was when it was recorded, and then you just mixed it.
It must have been very gratifying to go through that process in a day ortwo, and have one of those songs become a hit.
Yeah, it’s been a real experience, to say the least. I knew the date it was coming out, and I was really anticipating it, almost voyeuristically, like, “Boy, nobody knows I’m part of this, and I get to just watch it all happen.” But then it came out and all this press came out, and there was my name in every interview, talking about the process and my songwriting. So I felt a little bit vulnerable in a way I wasn’t anticipating, which was a little scary. I thought I was just gonna be a name in a credit on a record label. I didn’t think they’d actually talk about me. But I was also really appreciative of that, once I became comfortable with it. They were trying to tell the world I’m a good songwriter. What a nice thing to do.
I always enjoyed the feeling of sitting in the audience at a Big Ass Truck show, say, watching my songs be performed by others.
I know what you mean. There is that feeling of like, “This will stand!” This will stand on its own. I don’t have to be there animating it. It’s not me, it’s the song. And that is a great, great feeling. You’ve built something that will last, and that other people can inhabit. People will empathize so much with the lyric that they want to deliver it themselves.
In a landscape crowded with so many engaging watering holes featuring live music, one space devoted wholeheartedly to the art of song is sometimes neglected. Yet South Main Sounds, a self-described “haven for songwriters,” just may be a sleeper success in the ongoing Downtown revival. This spring, the little listening room nestled near the train station is turning things up a notch.
Mark Parsell, who’s been managing and booking the space since its inception in 2015, took a moment to speak about the upcoming season, past luminaries, and what makes South Main Sounds unique.
(Image courtesy South Main Sounds)
Memphis Flyer:South Main Sounds has always cultivated a real listening experience. There’s not much chatter and no televisions playing sports.
Mark Parsell: I feel for people that have to play in an environment with televisions showing ball games and things like that. It’s really tough. We do try to make a listening experience in here. It’s not so much about the party and the sports, it’s about listening to what these people have to say. They’re doing it for their soul, to make a statement, and when people don’t pay attention, it’s kind of frustrating. So I’ve got a Quiet Please sign from a golf tournament. [laughs]
You’ve hosted plenty of group songwriter nights, but now you’re scheduling ticketed shows by out of town artists more, no?
What’s different now is, in addition to our regular songwriter shows, we’re mixing it up a lot more. So tonight we’ve got Lauren Moscato with nine of her music students playing. Then we’ve got Kevin Galloway from Uncle Lucius coming on the 13th of May. And I think that’s what people want. They’re willing to pay for something they want. The live performance scene is becoming more robust than it has been for a couple years.
How new is it for South Main Sounds to host out of town artists?
Well, our kind of space has always been needed by a certain level of artist who are passing through. They’ve always contacted us. But what’s different is the level of artists. It started years ago with Ashley McBryde, but that was before she made it big. And now we get people like Shannon McNally, who played here last April before she recorded her album of Waylon Jennings covers. And we had Erin Enderlin come in last month, who’s written hits for just about everybody in Nashville. It’s interesting that these folks will come and play a 45-person capacity room. It’s excellent for everybody.
Tell me about Sunday’s show, featuring songwriters from Austin.
Yeah, the “Glass Half Full Tour” with Paige Renee Berry, Creekbed Carter Hogan, and McKain Lakey. They’re friends of Will Sexton and Amy LaVere, and they’re going to do a yard show at Will and Amy’s on Monday. Like a lot of folks, they’re looking for a place to play on an odd day. Sunday’s are not typical for us, but these folks are really good. Paige, the headliner, is in a band called Half Dream. It’s all Americana-driven music, with a little alt tinge to it.
Meanwhile, you’ll still be a haven for local songwriters?
Yeah! A lot of the folks that we’ve had play in here have gone on to be quite successful. I like to have out-of-towners play here and meet our people, because we’ve fostered a lot of co-writing and collaboration that way. It’s neat to see what comes out of that.
South Main Sounds (Photo courtesy South Main Sounds)
Upcoming Shows at South Main Sounds: Friday, April 22. Moscato Music Productions and nine students will perform two songs each. 6 p.m.
Sunday, April 24. South Main Sounds and Will Sexton present the “Glass Half Full Tour” with Austin’s Paige Renee Berry of “Half-Dream,” Creekbed Carter Hogan and McKain Lakey. 6 p.m. $15 donation at door or online.
Friday, April 29. the Trolley Night Show: Shara Layne Matlock, Chandler Smithers, Alice Hasen, Walt Busby, Denver Massey, and Chris York. 7 p.m.
Friday, May 6. Lydia Warren, Terry Bell, Travis Roberson, and Memphis Songwriters Association Top 8 finalist Bri Marie Krueger. 7 p.m.
Friday, May 13. Kevin Galloway from Uncle Lucius (“Keep The Wolves Away”). Ticketed.
Music history was made last night at the Country Music Awards, with an assist from an up-and-coming Memphis artist and songwriter. The CMA for Musical Event of the Year, often given to one-off collaborations, was awarded to Lil Nas X and Billy Ray Cyrus for their smash hit, “Old Town Road (Remix)”. It was also an indirect tip of the hat to Memphis-born Jocelyn “Jozzy” Donald, who wrote the verses Cyrus sang in the newer, extended version of the song.
The award not only went to Cyrus and Lil Nas X, the first openly gay hip-hop artist to win in that category, but also to Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross — both have a co-writing and co-production credit on “Old Town Road (Remix)” due to its sample of “34 Ghosts IV” by Nine Inch Nails. There was no official recognition of Donald, however.
Lil Nas X
Nevertheless, this is a watershed moment for a track that occupied the top of the Billboard charts for a record-setting 17 weeks this year. Because of its blend of styles, not to mention the unspoken racial politics of contemporary American music, it was excluded from Billboard’s country charts, amid much public outcry. To some extent, this newly-awarded CMA makes amends for that slight. As Lil Nas X told USA Today, “I’m so happy this song was accepted because it is the bridging of two polar opposite genres. I’m happy it’s gotten respect from both places.”
I reached out to Jozzy to hear her thoughts on this latest success of a track in which she played no small role.
Memphis Flyer: Congratulations on the CMA! Are you in Memphis now?
Jozzy Donald: I just left Memphis yesterday. I went to the Stax Music Academy to talk to the kids. I didn’t go to the CMA, but I’m definitely going to the Grammys. It’s gonna be a great day. It’s the day after my birthday. That’s not coincidental. I believe everything happens for a reason. I know it’s gonna be a great birthday.
Old Town Road really has a shot at Record of the Year. We need more of those coming out of Memphis. I just realized, “Uptown Funk” was the first ever Grammy for Record of the Year that went to a Memphis recording.
Yeah! Boo Mitchell! Royal Studios!
So you didn’t go to the Country Music Awards?
I did not go to the Country Music Awards. They treat songwriters so bad. The Grammys are really the only awards that appreciate the songwriter. So I didn’t get to go to the CMAs. It’s a shame how they do it. But if you want that, you have to get into that mode of being the artist and being in the forefront. That’s what I’m working on right now.
Do you think it’s a sign of progress that the CMAs gave “Old Town Road” some recognition?
Yes. I’m just really happy it got the award, you know? After all that happened to the song, when it came to the country charts. I’m happy that CMA acknowledged it, and didn’t just throw it on the back burner and act like it never happened. So, mostly it was really dope.
The thing about it is, at the end of the day, it’s people like you all at the Memphis Flyer, who tell the story, so it doesn’t go unnoticed — that’s really what it’s all about. I could rant and rave about it, but then you just get tired. And I see myself going somewhere, doing something as an artist. I know I’m gonna be a big artist. So this is a part of that story.
Everyone in town is blown away that you co-wrote “Old Town Road,” and the news is spreading.
Exactly. Word of mouth is beautiful. And the Grammys are a different story, you know. That’s the biggest platform. So as long as I’m going to the Grammys, I’m fine.
Now I’m working on doing something with Red Bull in Memphis, probably in January, during Grammy week. We’re gonna do a dope event. I just did a few gigs with Summer Walker, a dope R&B singer that I opened up some California shows for. I’m dropping my next single in December, and dropping a bigger project a week before the Grammy Awards. So it’s gonna be dope.
I think Red Bull is the perfect partner to do it with. They’re really invested in Memphis and they really wanna see something happen. So I really wanted to collaborate with them. I think we’re gonna do a concert and a party. I might bring on some other artists to perform, too. We’re trying to bring some fun stuff to Memphis, some different stuff that’s never been done before.
Chris Paul Thompson 