George's Gems
Is George Jones the Greatest Ever?

Johnny Cash has a stock answer to that oft-asked question, "Who is your favorite singer?"

"You mean," he teases, "apart from George Jones?"

Yes, there's pretty much universal agreement that Jones is the greatest country singer of all time. From the oldies — Cash, Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard — to the newbies — Garth Brooks, Alan Jackson, Randy Travis— all are of one mind.

What they love is that rarest of combinations: a seamless voice (no change of tone between low and high registers), exquisite delivery, and enough soul to rival Ray Charles and Otis Redding.

But there is also a case to be made that Jones is THE greatest American popular singer of the 20th century. The ones usually named are Charles, Billie Holliday, Frank Sinatra and Aretha Franklin. I would argue that he has them beaten on all counts. Sinatra's phrasing, without Sinatra's forcedness. Charles's soul, without Charles's hamminess. Franklin's range, but without Franklin's screeches. Holliday's ability to laugh at his troubles, but without her self-pity.

And that's the impetus behind this column — to try and convince the unconverted that Jones's name should more often be in this company.

So, why isn't he usually mentioned among this pantheon? Why, when I bring up my Jones obsession, do people say, "Isn't that the guy who was married to Tammy Wynette?"

Partly because, somehow, he didn't manage to die young.

Partly because country music has hardly ever been cool. From the beginning it has operated in its own little universe, rarely crossing over into the pop world. And the few artists who have had mainstream hits, such as the brilliant Patsy Cline, are about as far removed on the country spectrum from Jones as you can get.

And partly because he has been drunk most of the time. Jones loves the music fiercely, but the limelight frightens him, a fear that has led him to inoculate himself with the bottle and harder drugs. That has resulted, famously, in missed concerts, exasperated record companies and fuming fans. His lack of self-control has led him to sign contracts he was too bombed to understand, leaving him to be dragged into session after session to mouth lyrics that he must have known were rubbish. He has put out (literally) hundreds of albums, mostly filled with trash.

Amongst the dreck, though, are diamonds. Quite a few, in fact, including several Number One hits, especially at the start of Sixties and in the early Eighties. If Jones honed in on a song he liked, he put his heart and soul into it.

The big hits, however, are not subject of this series (until later, at least). Instead, I plan to point out the treasures that, for whatever reason, didn't make it to the top of the charts — the brilliant B-sides and covers that I think best demonstrate his genius.

Warning: Not many of these selections will be from his long association with producer Billy Sherrill, the Nashville schlockmeister he signed up with in 1972 after he met Wynette and with whom he made "He Stopped Loving Her Today," his biggest hit. It's not that I don't like that material; it's just that there's better to be had. A lot of it will come from the Sixties, when improved studio technology (including the newly created stereo) allowed Jones to serve up clean and clear recordings while he was still unpersuaded of the dubious delights of massed violins and warbling choruses.

It will also feature several up-tempo numbers. Though he's best known for his ballads, Jones is actually a greater master of faced-paced material. His rhythmic genius is particularly effective when matched with a tight session band.

If you agree with my choices, let me know. If you don't, also let me know. I can't promise to respond to everyone, but I'll do my best.