Nashville, Tennessee.
It has been over ten years since Tony Joe White's "Polk Salad Annie" was number one on the country charts, and ten years is a long time, particularly in the music business. But, White, who stands a willowy 6'2" and is unmistakably part Cherokee Indian, has never looked or sounded any better. The crowds his recent performances have been drawing and the airplay his latest record has been receiving attest to that.
Despite the succes of "Polk Salad Annie" White has never really been considered country music; yet his songs have been recorded by some of country music's greatest singers.
"I son't try to write one way or the other," says White. "The songs just come Usually if I write a song that I think is a good country tune. I'll try to get to somebody like Charlie or Waylon to cut."
One such song was "That's the Way A Cowbot Rock and Rolls," which was cut by Charlie Rich and Razzy Bailley and was the title cut of Jessi Colter's last album. Waylon Jennings has released "Billy" and "I've Come Here To Party."
White's songs have also been recorded by an assortiment of other country artists including Elvis Presley, Hank Williams Jr, Kris Kristoffersen, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Tanya Tucker, B.J. Thomas, Nat Stuckey, Ed Bruce and the Earl Scruggs Revue.
What country music and White have in common is honesty. His greatest songs are character sketches of genuine people telling simple truths about what is basic in life. What makes White's songs unique is the astute perspective from which he views life and the humorous way in which he shares his insight.
"I Get Off On It," White's first release since his recent signing with Casablanca, is an example of the humer which characterizes his story-telling songs. It is a Spoof on a variety of "turn-ons" apperent in American culture today.
Steve Spears, who plays bass in White's three-peice band, says: "His writing just blows me away. He's got some really heavy tunes he's sitting on right now. When he lays a new tune on me, I reacht for my handkerchief. He's not living on past things. He sparks off of events that happen nowadays."
Proof that Spears is right can be found at Combine Music where White has been putting down a couple of his new tunes.
"Red Neck Woman" and "Mamma's Don't Let Your Cowboys Grow Up To Be Babies."
Last spring Jeff Hale, White's drummer, was contacted about playing for Charlie Rich during his European tour. "I was really flattered," says Hale. "I sat down and talked to Tony about going, but I decided not to go. We've worked so hard to get our sound. I want to stay with it."
The sound Hale refers to is as much a trademark of White's music as his lyrics. "They call my music 'swamp music'" says White, "and in Europe they call me the 'swamp fox.' I guess that's as good a label as nay. I really don't like to analyze my music. It's something you have to feel."
The feel of White's music, which has caused it to be given a label all its own, is achieved by a primitive, pulsating sound, as deep and powerful as a heartbeat. It was called "funky" as far back as 1968. It has been called "soul" because it is stimulating and sensouous and "rock" because it is penetrating and moving. Now even some of his earliest songs are being called "disco."
"There's really no difference in the dico beat and swamp music," says White. "It's music to stop to. You can't listen to swamp music withou moving." 'The "swamp" tag obviously originated from the alligator scenes in "Polk Salad Annie," which made White's picturesque Louisiana as real to people in France and germany as a scene from a movie.
"I remember one night I was in Japan," he recalls. "All these people were sitting out there so reserved and so quiet. They didn't understand a word I was saying. Before long they were stomping and whomping it up. They just kept on stomping until we went back out for more. It's that simple beat they like."
Simplicity seems to be responsible for the resurgence of interest in White's music, not only from his older fans, but from new ones as well. "People are getting tired of music being formulated and perfect," says a record executive. "Thet feel they have been cheated when an act can't deliver the same sound on stage that he creates in the studio."
"I like it to be on stage the way it is on the record," says White. "That's why I'm producing myself. I know what I want to do, and how I want it to sound. The only time I overdub is when I have something els to say. I go back and say it with a harmonica or another guitar part."
White's performances add another dimension to his music. Allthough the gutsiness and warmth of his deep, southern drawl are easily detected on his recordings, their true conviction is made more emphatic by his earnest facial expressions.
When White plays guitar, whether lead or rhythm, he does so with aggressive determination, yet he has a tantalizing delay in his distinctive style that can literally evoke an audience.
As one writer describes his performance: "His act is full of animal magnatism which comes through without the aid of hard, obvious sexual delivery."
"He is really a crowd pleaser," says a Memphis deejay describing a local concert, "especially with the ladies. It's not anything he does; It's just natural." With 136 songs to his credit, White has enough material af his own to please any crowd around. At every performance he receives requests for his classic "Rainy Night In Georgia," which has been recorden over 80 differend times. However, he has his own preferences. "I'd rather keep it rockin'," he says. "Once teh sweat gets goin', I can rock and stomp all night."
So it was ten years ago, and so it is today.
Nov 1980
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