Review: Mike Judge Presents Tales from the Tour Bus “Waylon Jennings Part 1”

Are you sure Hank done it this way?

OVERVIEW: (SPOILERS

Gordon “Crank” Payne and Jerry “Jigger” Bridges received their nicknames from the long since passed Waylon “Hoss” Jennings, the greatest outlaw in the genre. Jennings, the half-Native American son of Texas from Littlefield, grew up most notably with one leg shorter than the other from getting it stabbed by a tractor wheel. He dreamed of publically performing at the Grand Ol Opry theater, and worked hard to get close such as becoming a DJ at 14 and a father by 19. This got the attention of one Buddy Holly, who brought Jennings to a studio for further exposure, and gave him a clear view of how quickly things could spread. Sadly, he would also teach him how quickly things could end. Headed on a four-man tour that put most of them on a plane, Jennings decided to stick to a bus while the other three flew. Holly, Ritchie Valens, and The Big Bopper would die on that plane as it crashed, only having joked about that very thing with Jennings the night before. This infamously became known as “The Day the Music Died.”

Former drummer for Jennings, Richie Albright, brings up an especially sloppy concert, naturally involving drugs. A mix up with a new batch called “Atlanta Dog” led to what one of Jennings’ sons remembers as the worst show he had ever seen…but the audience seemed to like it, so who’s to say? Bobby Bare, similar to his involvement with Shaver last week, got Jennings major spotlight once he showed up in Nashville, and while it didn’t make as big an impact as desired (only making it to #9 on the charts), it was still a major step in the right direction, helped in no small part to his charisma on stage. But this also opened up a bigger narcotic world for him, including a budding pill-popping friendship with the legendary Johnny Cash. The two’s relationship subsisted on their musical ingenuity and chemical dependence, something Kinky Friedman compares to the rocky by the creatively fueled friendship of Van Gogh and Gauguin.

The drugs continued to flow thanks to a middleman they found named Roger Schutt AKA Captain Midnight, a rather peculiar fellow who managed to hook up Jennings and his band with the pills needed to keep the music going as well as providing miscellaneous spiritual guidance.

Though Jennings’ most dedicated fans were those of the Navajo tribe, who were always up for a show and a way to support his group when they needed cash, even adopting one of his songs “Love of the Common People” for their whole community. That’s not to say their attachment didn’t have some downsides, such as when a fight was just barely averted because a crowd didn’t realize Jennings hadn’t come with his bus.

Soon becoming suffocated by the incestuous grip Nashville had on their musical images, Jennings, Willie Nelson, and several other musicians started drumming up a new movement that would be known as Outlaw Country. With the help of new lawyer and manager named Neil Reshen, who pointed him to solidifying his new iconic look, Jennings was able to finally release music that he had always wanted to make. And like Prometheus bringing fire down to mankind from the gods, a new form of country was born for those below. And also like Prometheus, not everyone was happy about that.

OUR TAKE

I was honestly kinda wary of yet another two-parters so soon after, especially just about one person instead of a duo like last time, but chalk that up to my general ignorance about this genre. We had been given some hints about this last week when covering Billy Joe Shaver, but the Outlaw movement owes quite a bit to Jennings. And while I am once again seeing familiar patterns regarding bumpkins rising from nothing and then being enraptured by their own success (and subsequent access to drugs), this at least seems like it’s leading somewhere, and most likely something pretty monumental to the history of this movement.

Score
8/10