Scott Coner has recorded songs with a who's who of country legends including Tanya Tucker, T. Graham Brown, and Charlie Daniels. Visit the Scott Coner Music Blog for news and insights from this one-of-a-kind country artist.
“One Out In The Crowd” is an
important song to me. Even though it has been a long time ago since I actually
wrote the lyrics, they still paint a picture that never leaves me. My intention
was to tell the story from an eyewitness’ point of view. In my mind, the one
telling the story may have been a shepherd simply bringing his stock into town.
As he enters the city, he notices commotion and asks what is going on. He is
told that there is going to be a crucifixion. There is a man named Jesus
claiming to be the Son of God, about to be put to death alongside a couple of
common thieves.
The shepherd can’t believe it. He had
actually listened to Jesus teach in his own village. He had seen this man raise
a young girl from the darkness of death. The song hopefully takes the listener
to a place that they can actually imagine Jesus crying out. I tried to allow
for the specific events that happened on that day to be mentioned. When it all
comes down to it, each of us is faced with the decision to humble ourselves
before God. My intention was to step back and allow the story to tell itself.
Years later, I included this song in a
musical I wrote called “The Broken Seal”. My hope is to record the entire
project as soon as possible and hopefully make it available for churches to use
as an outreach program.
The world seems like it is on fire
these days. There is more evil out there than I can remember. But the one truth
we all have at our fingertips is God’s promise. I hope we can all find some
quiet time this Easter and think about the condition of our own hearts.
So,
the other day Ray Stevens was on the
radio singing one of his crazy classics called “The Streak”. Do you remember that song? It was funny probably
because for some reason back in the '70s, people used to get naked and run
around ball fields and such. I have no reason why they did this, they just did.
I remember as a little boy wondering why “streakers” were always male. It
seemed to me they could have made it a little more interesting for young,
inquisitive minds like myself.
So,
my wife, Cyndi, is deep into this soulful classic singing along like she may
have been one of the co-writers. But when Mr. Stephens sings “Here he comes...
look at that... Look at that...", I noticed she had completely different
lyrical parts. They “sounded” like “Look at that... Look at that”, but she sang
“Boog A Dah... Boog A Dah”. I thought that it was the funniest thing I had ever
heard. I laughed for days. She tried to tell me that she was 5 years old when
the song came out, and she didn’t understand everything. That only made it
funnier to me.
Some of the lyrics from
"The Streak" written and performed by Ray Stevens...
Oh, yes, they call him the Streak...
Look at that, look at that (My wife sings "Boog A Dah... Boog A Dah")...
He likes to show off his physique...
Look at that, look at that ("Boog A Dah... Boog A Dah")...
If there's an audience to be found...
He'll be streakin' around...
Invitin' public critique...
Cyndi Coner
It’s
kind of like those songs from the BeeGees on "Saturday Night Fever".
Did anybody ever know what those guys were saying? I didn’t that’s for sure.
Sometimes we can go for years and not know the real, solid truth about
something. It reminds me of some old Chinese musical. I think it was called
“Madame Butterfly”, but I’m not sure. I swear to God I never saw it. But the
scope of the entire musical was this guy was married to this “woman” for a long
time and never even knew he was married to a dude. I’m not sure how this
happened, but I’m sure duct tape was involved.
Scott Coner (Photo by Cynnamae Media Producations)
I know, I know this is
a stupid commentary. But the truth is, I had a slight misunderstanding about
some of the lyrics in "The Streak" myself. Do you remember the part
in the song where the man and his wife, Ethyl, are at the grocery store? Well,
Ethyl takes her clothes off and decides to streak through the vegetable
section. The man tells his wife to "Get your clothes back on you shameless
hussey!" Well, I grew up with some older cousins, and they were all boys.
I can tell you I thought he called her something else. But, it was one of my
older cousin's that told me what that word was, and I was young and dumb enough
to believe him... "Boog A Dah... Boog A Dah" for sure.
Ethel! Where you goin'?
Ethel, you shameless hussy!
I’ve
been thinking about the journey so far a little bit lately. I sometimes find
myself wanting to talk to someone about it, but there really isn’t anyone to
talk to. The fact is, I can’t hardly believe what a cool trip it has been so
far. I have written and recorded lots of songs, and the songs thankfully, keep
coming.I never dreamed how things would
eventually turn out. I had walked away from the business a long time ago in
order to raise my daughters, and somehow, the doors in Nashville allowed me
back in.
I would be lying if I told you it has been
nothing but newly paved highway since I came back to the music business. There
have been more than a few characters that truly needed a physical adjustment in
order to overcome their evil ways. But those types of people are in about every
circle I guess. They allow us to stay sharp and challenge us to find greener
pasture without that type of static in our lives.
I have stayed true to my own writing style,
although I have written with a few other writers in Nashville who have opened
my eyes in certain ways. But the truth is, most of my songs come from my own
life one way or another. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing, but that
is the way it is. I walk around our farm, I drive the old country roads where I
live, and I think about my life as I write. Sometimes, those songs come out in
a discombobulated fashion that’s for sure. But they are from me, and that’s
about the best I can do.
(Scott Coner's "Nashville Song" offers insights into
the rough and tumble of Nashville's music industry.)
Sometimes,
not often, but sometimes I have wished I had been born different. It truly can
be a little bit embarrassing when I admit what I do in music to certain people.
I can see in their eyes the amusement as they ask themselves why I would
possibly think anyone would want to hear me play or sing. They all respond the
same way with a hateful-type smile, and they’ll begin to tell me about some
drunken uncle they have that fancied himself a songwriter. I try to be
respectful and allow them their little barb. Another fact is, most people from
where I’m from don’t even know about my music. I don’t play the bars or clubs
around where I live, because those people only want to hear cover songs all
night. That would kill me pretty quickly to be honest.
Those closest in my family, including my wife, daughters,
and parents, are very supportive. But once you get out of that tight-knit
circle, it may be fifty-fifty if some of my own flesh and blood doesn’t sit
around hoping that I fail in one way or another. I think many of those people
that I grew up around would be quite a bit happier if I would just shut up and drink
the Kool–Aid like they did. Give up on my goals and grab a 12-pack on the way
home from work like they do. They will be waiting a long while though, because
I won’t quit until I have to be buried on a hill down the road from where I
grew up. The fact is simple but missed by most. They only have a limited
capacity when it comes to music. You are either a star like Tim McGraw, or you
are a complete failure. That’s where they get it all wrong. The journey is part
of the joy. The people, the ones who truly care about the songs. What about
that part? Does this not matter to anyone but me?
It
is true that I have been blessed beyond my own imagination when it came to
working alongside Tanya, or T. Graham, or even Charlie Daniels. But those
weren’t the best parts for me. The evenings that I have spent walking the
streets of Nashville getting ready for another recording or show have been the
best part. Each of those moments had purpose and meaning to me. It is what I do,
and there is nothing else. Those times that I spent getting prepared to do a
project, or remembering the moment that a song was written, that is what gives
me direction. I consider myself one of the most fortunate people on earth
because of my family, and what few true friends I have, and of course this
music.
Scott Coner performs in Nashville (Photo by Cynnamae Media Productions)
I
remember everything about the journey. The times I have spent planning the
following day with my wife on west end, or the long walks we took just talking
with the Nashville skyline in the horizon. You see, music doesn’t just offer me
the chance to play music itself. It offers me the freedom to step away from the
world I was raised in and visit a different part of me with those that I care
the most about. It gives me a break from normalcy. I have always joked with my
wife that she validates me with others because of her striking beauty. I swear,
I think when people see her with a simpleton, like me, they take a second to
listen. They can’t help but be curious as to what she sees in me. What they
don’t know about is what she and I have shared, what we have accomplished
together. A very necessary truth is I wouldn’t be where I’m at without her. She
has believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I just didn’t want to let
her down or disappoint her in some way, so I have kept on pushing and going
down the road even when there wasn’t a map.
I
love my life these days. Good things are happening for me in Nashville. But, in
truth, they have always gone pretty well for me in that town. I have sat across
some pretty fine dinner tables with candlelight staring at this woman that I
love so much right there in the very heart of Music Row. We have had ice cream
at Maggie Moo’s and visited our favorite bookstores. She has captured my music
on film. We have taken drives looking at all of the natural beauty that the town
has to offer. But mostly, we have had fun. We have made this road trip together,
and I’m thankful for that.
Music
and all of her magic has given me something impossible to explain. It has been
a true gift that I don’t take lightly. I just wanted those of you who follow my
music and all of these other ramblings to know that, when you listen to my
songs, I am somewhere smiling deep inside. I’m just thankful all over for the
way things have gone. I wouldn’t change anything even if I could.
A
long time ago in a little town that has been gone for years, I was a stupid
teenage boy in my very first rock band. At that moment in history, Bob Seeger, REO Speedwagon, and Skynyrd
ruled the day. This was a pretty good thing because most of those songs were
reasonable to play for those of us, like myself that were less gifted. We
usually met at my house and would practice for hours out in the barn. Back
then, we had to stand around one of our cars to hear one of the songs we were
attempting to play. And let me tell you, an eight-track player really sucked if
you needed to hear a little something more than once.
We
didn’t have much back in those days. I remember wondering what it was like to
actually have a real PA system and not be forced to sing into a radio shack
microphone and a ratty old bass speaker. In truth though, I think this is when
I may have learned how to project my voice. It was kind of out of necessity
because none of us had the sense to turn anything down, just up. We all wanted
to be heard, but I think the only thing listening was the endless cornfields
and maybe a few June bugs.
I
remember thinking about the potential throngs of girls that were going to
identify with our awful sound. It was going to be epic. I would probably act
like James Dean given the chance. I
figured I would always be gloomy and distraught about society for some reason. As
it turned out, I think I had more Don Knotts and Jerry Lewis in me
than anybody cool like Mr. Dean. Whatever girls actually gave me the time of
day probably just felt sorry for me because I had no game.
Photo by Cynnamae Media Productions
Those
days and nights were full of music though, and all I really wanted to do was
drive the country roads and dream about the future. I didn’t have much money
then, so I got crazy good siphoning gas out of the cattle truck and case
tractor. I remember watching my poor dad looking under the truck for dead grass
trying to determine just where the gas leak was on the truck. I still feel
guilty to this day about that, but at this point, maybe we should just keep
that story to ourselves. He still has a little bit of fire in him.
I don’t know what year it was, but I remember
some kids over in Ohio got trampled to death because of festival seating at a “Who” concert. I also remember my mom
daring me to ever go to another concert. I really don’t know how she didn’t
make some connection with all of my concert t-shirts. Maybe she thought I got
them at Val’s Department Store. I just don’t know.
So,
about this same time, I’m driving on syphoned gas to a Rossington Collins Band concert on a weeknight that I have sworn I
would never attend. I’m a small, skinny little kid back then, so I easily
worked my way all the way to the front of the stage. I couldn’t believe my eyes
as Allen Collins, Garry Rossington, and Dale Krantz walked within feet of me.
Gary stood there with his Les Paul on his shoulder and a cigarette hanging
loosely out of his mouth, and he made James Dean look like Pee Wee Herman. “I have got to start smoking,” I told myself. But,
then again, “Maybe I should wait until I can at least afford to buy my own gas,
or I’ll blow myself up and then my dad will be mad.” Yes, I was a boy genius.
(The song "Full Throttle" will be featured on Scott's next album)
Later
that same winter, I saw Charlie Daniels
at Market Square Arena. As he sang, “Million Mile Reflections,” I had tears in
my eyes. When he and his band tore through “Legend of Wooley Swamp”, I lost my
mind. It was then, that very winter, my young mind made itself up about my
future.
I
have always thought I would have enjoyed a life in the marines, but I wasn’t
sure I would get to see many women, and that was a deal-breaker for me. Now, I
am aware I was wrong about this tidbit as well. Marines always have cool
looking women. I also thought maybe I could do well in a few other fields, but
it was music that owned me. It still does. I love everything about music. It
takes me away from problems. It takes me back to a moment in time that I still
miss. And it guides me in ways that are pretty hard to explain. Yes, I am fully
aware that most of you felt this same way at sixteen, but you moved on with
your lives. I can’t explain it, but I love it just as much today as I did way
back then.
I
still need to work on that whole James Dean thing though. Problem is, I’m
pretty happy most of the time, I don’t have cool hair, and I’d probably just
crack myself up trying to be all serious.
I think maybe the Nashville machine
is about to change its direction in the same way I believe Washington politics
is about to change. I hadn’t ever considered it before, but I have noticed that
during the last seven years or so, our country has trended towards a more
liberal direction in everything from advertising to music, and from rainbow
flags to television. It isn’t my job to say whether or not I think this is a
good or bad thing, so know that I am not in any way condoning or condemning
anything. I am simply pointing out something I thought seemed kind of obvious.
Our country seems to operate like a
pendulum. It swings back and forth. Sometimes, it goes a little farther to the
right than normal. Then, it’s liable to swing to the left even farther as it
moderates itself out. I think if you could look at our country like a pie, we
would probably be split pretty close down the middle at how we look at things.
Music, as far as I’m concerned, is like
a mirror of society. It moves along with what it perceives to be the approach
that society is handling itself. A few years back, the big thing around
Nashville was Florida-Georgia Line.
Those guys were working with some guy named “Nelly”, and to be honest, I didn’t
know who he was and still don’t. But I downloaded the song and thought it was
pretty cool. Taylor Swift seemed to turn the town on its ear, and the next
thing you know she was on the cover of nearly every magazine you saw. There
were and still are a handful of other artists and groups just like these, but
they all have one commonality. They are not even close to “traditional” country
music. As a matter of fact, I don’t see how you can even compare it in the same
vein as country. But once again, I am not saying this is a bad thing at all. I
think it is a great thing for music to branch out and allow the tree to
develop. After all, rock 'n' roll came from the blues, right? And rap came from
people that couldn’t sing….
Scott Coner with Tanya Tucker... "Maybe She Lied"
I remember being in high school when
the whole “Urban Cowboy” thing took
over. I used to laugh at all of the ridiculous looking hats and boots the men
wore. (They thought they looked so cool, it used to kill me.) As the market
saturated itself with this greasy moment in time, low and behold, Ricky Skaggs and Randy Travis showed up to cleanse our souls with honest-to-God
country music and bluegrass. Garth Brooks took the nineties by storm and took music to the left again, but
there were artists out there like Reba
and Alan Jackson on the other end of
the line playing tug-of-war with the market.
Do you remember how radio responded
when those girls from Texas called the “Dixie Chicks” slammed George Bush? I believe the pendulum was to the right at the
time, and so was their music. In the end, maybe Natalie should have just sung
about the wide-open spaces. Oddly enough, as I sit in this Waffle House writing
this blog, there are four older gentlemen slamming the current president like
it’s their job. Different place and a different time I suppose.
It is true that as a country we are
about to veer way to the right after seven years of liberal agendas. I believe
that as we run like rats on a sinking ship towards something less confusing
than big government, we will begin to see traditional country music show her pretty
face once again. I don’t think most of us want to give up our gun rights. I
still think a lot of us want a Christian center. And I know for a fact that we
need a little more country and a lot less rap, a lot more wholesomeness and a
lot less crap. See there? I just started a country song….
Before I go, I just wanted you to know
that I am not trying to change your way of thinking. I have no agenda to push.
This is just what I see from where I stand. I think that we all come together
every now and again on certain things that are important, but I also think it
is good and healthy for us as a country to bring all of the ideas and put them
on the table. I love to read about trends in our culture through the years, and
we are trending like a dog with a bad limp right now. I have said it before, so
let me say again that country music is like a self-cleaning oven. It gets a
little bit grimy, but when you wake up in the morning, it will be clean again.
Just like our country. Well, I need to sign off now. I’m gonna go buy a gun and
a cowboy hat.
I was the youngest in our family. I don’t know for sure what
that really means to all of you “counseling types” out there. But, I probably
wasn’t the one anyone had any money on to do much with his life. I took a
friend of mine to dinner the other night that I have known since kindergarten,
and he kind of reiterated the fact that nobody expected anything out of me. In
truth, I just didn’t have much to work with. And no, I am not being modest at all.
I had my share of problems, and I was light headed.
I
remember sitting in class throughout seventh grade begging my mind to stay
focused. The teacher would be at the chalkboard doing a fine job of explaining
algebra or whatever a pronoun is, but my mind would be somewhere else. I hadn’t
lost myself to music yet, so I must have been thinking basketball, or maybe
about Michelle P. or Julie W. or whoever else I was tripping on that week. The
simple, easy-to-explain fact of the matter is that I simply didn’t know how to
control my mind yet. I’m sure nobody had really talked to me about it much.
They probably just told me to pay attention and stop being such a screw-up.
This problem, this habit, followed me for the next several years. To say that I
improved in high school would probably be an exaggeration. I just traded
basketball fantasies for music. The girl thoughts never really left the
building if you know what I’m saying.
Looking
back now, I can totally see what my problems were. But things were much
different back in the '70s, and I think the typical assessment was that people
grew out of their stupidity. My parents tried to help me. My mom took me to a
math and English tutor. I even went to summer school between seventh and eighth
grade. The problem was not a learning disability though. It was something
within me. To quote the late Syd Barrett,
“I have an oddly shaped head, and you’ll never understand me.”
My
older sister was the one with all of the talent. She sang every Friday night at
The Little Nashville Opry near where we lived. She would stand there on stage
as a mere teenager and sing to several thousand people to get them engaged for
whatever country music superstar would be appearing that night. My sister was
pretty. She was popular and smart. She was head of the student council, prom
queen, and homecoming queen. She had lots of friends and dated whoever she
wanted. Me? Well, I wasn’t any of those things. That’s probably okay though,
because I don’t look all that cool in a tiara.
Country/Americana artist Scott Coner (second from right) celebrates the completion of a
Nashville recording session with fellow music industry professionals at Studio
515 in Berry Hill.Joining Coner for the
session were (from left) guitarist Mike
Waldren, guitarist Jake Widenhofer,
keyboardist Dane Bryant, drummer Sean McDonald, engineer/producer Logan Schiegel, engineer Trever Golden, and Lynyrd Skynyrd background
vocalist Carol Chase. (Photo by Cynnamae Media Productions)
I’m
telling you all of these embarrassing and belittling facts about myself to get
to a point. The point is, I hadn’t really “arrived” yet. But, I was being
prepared for my future unknowingly. Like I said, every single Friday night I
was being taken to see some of America’s greatest country talent whether I
liked it or not. These people were the real deal, too. Not some suburban kid
with a cowboy hat infusing rap with country music. I think I saw every single
star from that era excluding Willie Nelson, and I’m not sure why he never showed up. All of this music was
being poured into my head, and I wasn’t smart enough or wise enough at the time
to realize that a transformation was taking place in my soul.
Something
else happened during that season that opened my eyes to a possibility. My mom
and my sister had a garage sale, and my sister had a card table set up with a
cash box on it to hold their combined fortunes. Near that cash box was a piece
of paper with a song on it my sister was working on. I’ll never forget the
lyrics:
“Long, long ago in a town called Tyrone City,
Lived a man who stood seven feet tall.
All the people called him “Big Jack” 'cause he was so big
and tall.”
Yeah,
I know. You haven’t ever heard that one on a hit parade on American Country
Countdown. But I remember it, and that is all that matters. I looked at those
lyrics, I heard her singing the melody, and knew almost instantly that I could
write a song. I began to slowly think in a new direction. So many things
happened after that that pointed me in the direction I’m headed now. I’ve
already told you about the summer I was shut in the house with a stack of 45’s
and comic books due to bee sting allergies. And I have also told you about the
time my friend Jr. Crowder and me went to a high school talent contest, and I
heard “Free Bird” for the first
time. All of these moments and many others were unique in how they formed me.
Music taught me how to concentrate and shut out everything else. It healed me of
so much, and it gave me direction. It actually allowed me to visualize who and
what I wanted to be.
So,
long story short, my sister ended up quitting the music business. But she did
go to college, and she is a writer now. I was never popular in school, never
was prom king, or anything remotely like that. But I became a singer-songwriter.
I even write a little book from time to time.
There is a moral to this story, and here it is. I was once as
stupid as a stick. I couldn’t think clearly. I couldn’t concentrate. And I
think I may have been a little bit mental. I allowed myself to change and morph
into what I am today. And today, I am a very happy individual. I cannot
complain about much of anything. My ship came in a little later than most, but I
think that was for the best as well because I had some transforming to do.
Music and God did this for me. I gave my heart to God because of a song being
played in church called “God of the Mountain” by The McKameys. I let go of a lot of anger because of music. I even
fell in love because of music, but that’s another story. I believe we all have
this in us. Maybe music doesn’t reside in everyone’s heart, but something does.
We have to reach out to whatever it is and grab hold of it like it’s the only
line to survival.
Look back on your own life and connect the dots. If you look
hard enough, I promise you will see the very hand of God as he molded you and
prepared you for your own version of greatness. Don’t waste time living in the
shadows of your past. The past is past. Today is what we have been given. Look
in the mirror and open yourself up to who and what you truly are, not just what
you have allowed yourself to become. We only get one pass at this. Make it
count.
It’s been over 20 years ago now, but I remember everything.
The first time I saw her my whole world changed. I knew that somehow, I needed
to impress this woman enough to marry me. I walked around in a cloud for weeks
not knowing what to do. I was in a bad marriage, and I was having more trouble
than you could imagine getting out of it. Cyndi was also in the final stages of
a break-up. The timing couldn’t have been worse. But, this woman, this
relationship, was worth fighting for. I needed her. I had never felt feelings
like those, and I didn’t know how to act.
We both grew up within just a few miles of each other, but
the odd thing is I actually met her in Nashville. She had been working for a
Christian record label called Brentwood Music. I had wanted to pitch some of my
music to them, but since I was in the middle of a divorce, nobody wanted to
talk to me too seriously. I wasn’t very bothered by this though, because I
could have cared less for their label. I just wanted their blonde.
Cyndi Coner
As a little boy, I used to go with my mom after school to
make bi-weekly payments at a furniture store in our town called Barnes’
Furniture. It was owned by a very kind Christian man who really impacted me
just to be around him. It turns out that this man was actually Cyndi’s uncle. I
look at our old photos of our families, and it looks like we grew up with the
same furniture. Another interesting fact about Mr. Barnes was that he had three
daughters. They were all older than me, but they were crazy beautiful. These
girls were Cyndi’s cousins. Turns out that this family has a very dominant gene
of beauty. Not unlike my family’s genetic hair displacement or big ears.
Early on, I was supposed to meet Cyndi in Nashville for
dinner. I sat at the table for nearly an hour, and she didn’t show. I finally
got up and went to the salad bar and found myself standing next to Carl
Perkins. I was too troubled to even care, so I didn’t thank him for his
contributions to music or offering me a chilled plate for my salad. I stormed
out of the restaurant only to find Cyndi sitting all alone in a chair waiting
for me to get there. I felt like such an idiot, but to tell you the truth, I
bet she hadn’t been there long. Through the years, I have noticed that I sit
around waiting on her quite a bit, but I don’t mind.
Anyway, long story short, we found a way through the mess
and ended up getting married. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t thank
God for her being in my life. She has proved to be a perfect mother. She treats
my parents like her own. And she actually loves me unconditionally, and I have
no earthly idea why. I don’t deserve a woman like her. I lie in our bed at
night and hold her. I feel her soft skin and soft hair while she’s there next
to me, and I find myself smiling in the darkness.
Through the years, I have
made mistakes and let her down. It hurts me to think about it, because I care
for her so much. But, I keep trying to show her in all kinds of ways how much
she means to me. I have mentioned before that I worry about having to die some
day because I just don’t want to be away from her, and I truly mean it. I don’t
want to have to leave. Every day, every minute, matters more than I could say.
Valentine’s Day is the mandatory, designated day to promise
our undying love to someone. I have written many songs about my wife, but
“Close to You” is one of my favorites. There simply is no way I can put into
words how much Cyndi means to me. I believe she saved me from a miserable life
and a terrible ending. All I wanted to say to her is, “Thank you for saving me
from me." Without her, things would have gone much different. I would have
been bitter, mad and lost. Instead, I’m happy, glad and found.
I hope you like the song and video. But, more than that, I
hope each of you has a special Valentine’s Day. If by chance this year finds
you alone, don’t worry. I’ve had plenty of those, too. Your best bet is to wait
until Sunday, go to the drugstore, and buy yourself some special chocolate on
sale and wait around until the right person comes along. There’s somebody out
there for all of us. I’m living proof of that.
The first song I wrote about Cyndi was this one I am
including. I haven’t recorded it, but I remember the lyrics. Maybe one day I
can take it to the studio. I’m not sure how many songs people want to hear
about my personal experiences.
