FEATURES
Adios Buckaroo!
/ Casey McKinney
03.27.06
In fact, Owens, though he vowed never to play anything but country, had a broad definition of what country meant. Beyond his beer hall ballad roots, he was also a fan of everything from The Beatles to Little Richard and incorporated their styles into his own tunes. After a string of number #1 hits throughout the 60’s (15 in all), his rock appreciation was soon returned as bands like The Byrds, The Grateful Dead, Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, The Flying Burrito Brothers, and The Beatles themselves all began cutting their own songs in the vein of the Bakersfied sound. The Beatles covered “Act Naturally” on Help! (1965), giving Owens enormous worldwide exposure, and Gram Parsons would pull often from the Owens oeuvre––the best I still think is his version of “Close Up The Honky Tonks,” Owens' sad and funny plea to have all the bars in the world shut down in order to keep his nightlife loving baby in line.
At the one Owens show I saw a couple of years ago at Bimbo’s 365 Club in the North Beach, San Francisco, my only disappointment of the evening was that he didn’t play that particular song. Like I said, I had a circuitous introduction to the man, via neo-country outsiders (and Owens fans) like Parsons and Emmylou Harris. Nonetheless, the show was a surprising event––to see how many people turned up. I think it even sold out. But then San Francisco is always baffling in that way––the numerous microgenres of people’s interests. Still Owens, based in Bakersfield, was no stranger to the Bay Area. With his rock affinities, he and his Buckaroos were one of (if not the first) country groups to play The Fillmore back in the 60’s. And Owens himself always considered San Francisco to be his favorite city (outside of Tokyo) to play in. The diversity, he said, was inspiring.
When he and the newest iteration of the Buckaroos (sans Don Rich who died in a motorcycle accident in 1974––an event that sent Owens into a lengthy depression and almost ended his recording career) took the stage, they were all dressed in black. I had wondered before if they would still sport the wild vibrant nude suits that Gram Parsons appropriated from the Buckaroos during his brief career. Owens joked early on that Dwight Yokham had told him that if he would “only loosen up a bit”––like let his shirt tail fly––he “might make it in this business.”
At the one Owens show I saw a couple of years ago at Bimbo’s 365 Club in the North Beach, San Francisco, my only disappointment of the evening was that he didn’t play that particular song. Like I said, I had a circuitous introduction to the man, via neo-country outsiders (and Owens fans) like Parsons and Emmylou Harris. Nonetheless, the show was a surprising event––to see how many people turned up. I think it even sold out. But then San Francisco is always baffling in that way––the numerous microgenres of people’s interests. Still Owens, based in Bakersfield, was no stranger to the Bay Area. With his rock affinities, he and his Buckaroos were one of (if not the first) country groups to play The Fillmore back in the 60’s. And Owens himself always considered San Francisco to be his favorite city (outside of Tokyo) to play in. The diversity, he said, was inspiring.
When he and the newest iteration of the Buckaroos (sans Don Rich who died in a motorcycle accident in 1974––an event that sent Owens into a lengthy depression and almost ended his recording career) took the stage, they were all dressed in black. I had wondered before if they would still sport the wild vibrant nude suits that Gram Parsons appropriated from the Buckaroos during his brief career. Owens joked early on that Dwight Yokham had told him that if he would “only loosen up a bit”––like let his shirt tail fly––he “might make it in this business.”
