Golden Country: Johnny Bush hasn’t run dry after almost 50 years of heartaches and honky-tonks
San Antonio Express-News
April 29, 1998
Some of what glitters is gold, at least on the walls of the den in Johnny and Lynda Bush’s house.
Those aren’t swatches of tacky wallpaper reflecting the afternoon sun, those are gold records, singles and albums, just part of the music memorabilia Johnny Bush has collected in a country music career that has spanned almost five decades.
At a time when its veterans are being shunted aside or actively ignored by the commercial country music establishment, Johnny Bush is not sitting around looking at his walls. Bush, a big man with the salt-and-pepper beard and ponytail, is celebrating the release of a new album, “Talk to My Heart,” on the Watermelon/Sire label.
It’s too soon to tell whether he’ll rack up trophies for the new release, but Bush’s gold singles include “You Ought to Hear Me Cry,” written by Willie Nelson and produced by longtime Nelson drummer and sidekick Paul English. Bush returned the songwriter favor to Nelson many times over when he penned “Whiskey River,” a tune Nelson has used as an anthem for years and has recorded nine times. Bush has several gold albums for collections that feature “Whiskey River.”
“Somebody asked me if I thought Willie would ever get that song right,” Bush said with a laugh. “I told ‘em I hope not. Other songwriters talk about how many artists have cut their songs. I talk about how many times Willie has cut ‘Whiskey River.’”
Bush was born John Bush Shinn III on Feb. 17, 1935, in Houston. He turned professional in San Antonio in 1952.
“I started my career at the Texas Star Inn,” he said. “Frank Kline had a habit of hiring newcomers.
“I had an uncle who was pretty big-time back when it was called hillbilly music. He had a song called ‘Why Don’t You Haul Off and Love Me One More Time’ that kicked Hank Williams’ ‘Lovesick Blues’ out of the No. 1 spot. He had a show on KMAC and played the Roundup Club on Austin Highway. He asked me to sing on his show. The next week, I had mail. I guess one card kept pouring in.”
It was during the Texas Star Inn days that John Shinn III became Johnny Bush.
“Nobody ever called me Johnny,” he explained. “A guy left a belt with the name ‘Johnny’ on it at my uncle’s house. I needed a belt and I started wearing it. My close friends called me Bush. I guess it was confusing to Frank Kline, and when I got my union card, my name was Johnny Bush.
“Over a period of time, it got confusing for me, so I had my last name legally dropped.”
But it wasn’t the name change that made Bush a country music success. Since he turned pro, a number of factors have been at work in his career.
First, there’s the fabled Bush voice, a set of pipes that once easily covered about three octaves.
Second, Bush has always penned tunes that capture the classic honky-tonk elements of heartache and heartbreak.
Third, he’s a multi-threat instrumentalist, adept at playing guitar, fiddle and as steady a shuffle beat on the drums as a rhythm section could hope to find.
Fourth, and certainly not least, Bush has been in the right place at the right time when it comes to finding friends and musical partners.
“I was playing with Dave Isbell and the Mission City Playboys,” he said. “We worked all the old South Side and East Side joints. One night out on Loop 13, a guitar player and a fiddler wanted to sit in. The guitar player was Willie Nelson, the fiddler was Cozett Holland.”
That was the beginning of a friendship – both on- and offstage – that was to endure. Bush went on to play drums with Nelson and, for a while, front Nelson’s band. Bush and Nelson both turned in stints in Ray Price’s Cherokee Cowboys.
“I was always writing poems and putting them to music. But I never got serious about it until Willie had his first hit, ‘Hello Walls.’ I said if he can do it, so can I,” Bush said with another of the many chuckles that punctuate his stories. “Willie has always been my motivation.”
Bush chased Nelson’s tune with “The Devil’s Disciple,” which was recorded by Sonny Burns. The Cornell Hurd Band more recently recorded “Disciple” for its “Cool and Unusual Punishment” album.
In 1967, “Sound of a Heartache” started a string of hits for Bush on the Stop and RCA labels.
“I had just signed with RCA. Jerry Bradley was the producer. He said he was all ready to go with a session and that all we needed was for me to write us a hit. I felt I could write if there was a need. Believe me, there was a need,” he said.
Bush wrote “Whiskey River” driving between Nashville and Texas.
“I called Willie and sang it to him over the phone,” he said. “He said it was a smash. But all I had was one verse and a bridge. Willie told me that I’d already said everything, so I should just turn it around and sing it again.”
And that’s what he did. Bush’s version of “Whiskey River” was a hit in 1972.
At that point, he should have been preparing himself for a rocket ride to country music superstardom. Instead, he lost his voice.
“I have spasmodic dysphonia,” he said. “It’s neurological. It affects the basil ganglia area of the brain. So many people who have this have been misdiagnosed.
It usually happens after a trauma. I remember the exact date it came on, April 17, 1972. It came on just like this,” he added, snapping his fingers. “Only one in 35,000 people get this.
“If doctors can’t give you pill for something, they don’t want to mess with it. The doctors gave me blue Valium and I got hooked on them. With exercise, breath control, a lot of prayer and a lot of people praying for me, I can control it somewhat.”
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In 1978, Bush started bringing his voice back by working with voice coach Gary Catona. He exercises by singing Italian vowels at different volume and range levels. Bush estimates his pipes are about 70 percent to 75 percent of what they were before April of ’72.
When he lost his chops, Bush didn’t mope around whining. He picked up a fiddle.
“I’ve always loved the fiddle and I’ve always had fiddles in the band,” he said. “I’d get the fiddlers to show me things. After my voice problem, I knew I had to stay visual. I couldn’t sing every song, but I could play tunes on the fiddle and stay on stage.”
Though he busted his hump – and raised some blisters on his fingers – working to be able to stay on stage, Bush might have spent some time wondering why he expended the effort. While the rock music world eagerly awaits new albums by its greybeards, the country music business acts as if its bound and determined to stamp out anyone with a hint of grey.
“I think it’s a shame,” Bush said. “I think Nashville is doing its best to kill the country roots. It’s almost like Nashville is ashamed.
“Years ago, the record business had A&R men whose job it was to find somebody different. When you play a song by Lefty Frizzell, Hank Thompson and Hank Williams, you know in three notes who’s singing. Now Nashville wants to find something that has sold and is selling. … it’s to hell with the music.”
Johnny Bush never wrote or recorded generic love songs. In the ’60s and ’70s, he sang numbers such as “Lonely Street,” “I Can Feel You In His Arms” and “Conscience Turn Your Back.” On “Talk To My Heart,” Bush is still living in heartbroken city. The new songs include “Neon Nightmare,” “The Cheatin’ Line” and “The Bottle, Your Memory & Me.” His new tempos are the same as his old ones, solid, slow shuffles, the kind of beat that has powered dancers to wear grooves in the floors at John T. Floore Store and the Broken Spoke.
“Today’s producers say, ‘Send us some uptempo, positive songs.’ That’s OK. But there’s another side, my side,” Bush said with a laugh. “My job is convey feeling to an audience. I haven’t heard a song in ages that I’ve thought was worth covering. There’s no feeling.”
There isn’t much feeling in new country music, but there’s plenty of feeling toward Bush by the musicians who strive to keep country’s roots alive and thriving.
“The melodies he writes are so heroic,” said California-bred, Austin-based singer, songwriter, guitarist and bandleader Cornell Hurd. “He knows heartache. He knows the blues. His finger is on the pulse of what honky-tonk is all about.”
After Hurd screwed up his courage to invite Bush to record with his honky-tonk/swing band a couple of years ago, he invited Bush back to guest on his crew’s latest disc, “Texas Fruit Shack.” Hardcore honky-tonker Dale Watson also has featured Bush in a guest shot.
“Johnny has never stopped writing, never stopped gigging. He’s far more interesting than the new country singers,” said Hurd, who discovered Bush’s music in ’72. “It’s (expletive) that no one has asked him to make a record. I’m glad Watermelon released this one. This music is great.
“This stuff has never really lost its appeal. There’s something timeless about it. Being around people like Johnny Bush is what I came to Texas for. I wanted to be in a place where the best is measured by Johnny Bush.”
Bush’s appeal doesn’t start and stop with musicians who follow in his honky-tonk footsteps.
Blues guitarist/vocalist Chris Holzhaus recently released a hot album called “Welcome to Bluzhill, Texas.” But he still has a honky- tonk heart.
“In my book, Johnny Bush is one of the best traditional country artists in country’s history,” Holzhaus said. “I have always loved the guy’s style; it’s real country and western with that good Texas swing ala Bob Wills.
“When Texas two-step dancing was the thing, I would see people in places like Floore’s, Texas Star Inn and the Cabaret in Bandera learning to dance with Johnny on the jukebox. People who enjoy the country they hear on the radio now need to re- think and re-educate themselves with the sound Johnny Bush helped to create.”