I don’t really like modern country music, at least the mainstream country that gets radio airplay and genre awards. Even beyond my issues with its exclusionary practices and politics, nearly all of it feels derivative. It’s been so insular for so long it’s gone full Habsburg. So when I say Beyoncé released the best country album I’ve heard in ages, her competition is music from before I was born and alt-country artists that the industry doesn’t consider as their own.

In 2016, Beyoncé performed with The Chicks at the Country Music Association Awards, and country fans absolutely lost it. It got really nasty and predictably racist. So now she’s released a country album featuring the likes of Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson, sent the singles to country stations, and based on its quality and popularity has gotten her revenge. If she doesn’t find herself back at the Country Music Association Awards as a recipient, they might as well change their rules to “Whites Only (and Hootie).”

You’ve probably already listened to COWBOY CARTER. What I want to focus on here is Willie Nelson.

On the album, Nelson has a couple interludes as the nameless host of a radio show called the Smoke Hour. In the second interlude, he says, “Sometimes you don’t know what you like until someone you trust turns you on to some real good shit,” which is coincidentally my goal with this column. You may not trust me as much as you trust Willie, and I’m certainly not as good at… anything. I had another column in progress, but in deference to him this week, rather than turn you on to music myself, I’m just gonna have Willie’s back and give more detail about the songs he plays during Smoke Hour.

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Son House — “Grinnin’ in Your Face”

Son House was the inspiration of guys like Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson, who generations of blues musicians cite as their inspiration. Originally a preacher, when he started playing the blues, he used the power and emotion he used to deliver sermons in his vocals. He may not sound like something new now, but that’s just because generations of musicians have been copying him since the early 1900s.

He had the misfortune of releasing his first albums at the beginning of the Great Depression when people didn’t exactly have a lot of disposable income to buy music or see shows, and he mostly disappeared from the public eye in 1943. By the early ’60s, the folk revival had discovered his work, and people started trying to track him down, eventually finding him working at a train station in upstate New York in 1964. Alan Wilson from Canned Heat, then just 22, was such a fan of House’s work that he was brought in to help House rediscover his sound and his love of playing… and it worked. He played and toured for a decade until his health forced him to retire again in 1974.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe — “Down by the Riverside”

This is not the first time Sister Rosetta Tharpe has been in this column because she was the first modern guitar player. She was the first to use distortion, essentially inventing blues guitar. And once you speed up the blues you’ve got early rock and roll. And from there you have the majority of popular music in the 20th century. All from Tharpe’s innovation.

She began as a gospel artist before moving into secular music, though she never completely gave up gospel. Granted, it wasn’t typical to perform it in nightclubs surrounded by scantily clad dancers, and it didn’t endear her to the greater gospel community, but she was a pioneering musician, so she could do whatever she wanted. She inspired the likes of Chuck Berry and Johnny Cash, Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis, Aretha Franklin—pretty much anyone good who helped shape rock and roll. Also, Meat Loaf!

“Down by the Riverside” specifically is a Black spiritual much older than Tharpe’s recording of it, but it’s a fantastic rendition of the song. Later, subsequent versions of the song became anti-war and pro-socialism protest songs, for reasons obvious if you listen to the lyrics. I can’t spell everything out for you.

Chuck Berry — “Maybelline”

While Rosetta Tharpe is the mother of rock and roll, Chuck Berry is its father. Tharpe set the groundwork for the sound, and Berry set the groundwork for the style.

Not only did Chuck Berry speed up the blues to make it rock and roll, but he set the template in countless ways. He was the first rock star in style and swagger; the man put on a show. He sang about cars and girls, two of the cornerstones of 20th century rock music. Teenagers loved him and parents thought he would bring about the downfall of society, a tradition that continues to this very day.

I appreciate that Beyoncé or Willie Nelson chose what’s probably the fourth-most famous song of Berry’s behind “Johnny B. Goode,” “Rock and Roll Music” and “Roll Over Beethoven.” He had a lot of good songs, after all. Spread the love.

Roy Hamilton — “Don’t Let Go”

Hamilton started his career in the mid ’50s with his take on the Great American Songbook, a collection of jazz and Broadway standards covered by essentially everyone for the first half of the 20th century. He was good at it; he had a unique sound that brought something new to songs pretty much everyone sang, but this is not from that era.

He had to take a hiatus in 1956 to deal with a lung issue, and by the time he came back, the Songbook had taken a back seat to rock. In 1957 his label pushed him to record “Don’t Let Go,” written by the man behind Elvis’ hits “All Shook Up” and “Don’t Be Cruel.” It gave him the greatest popularity of his career and it made Elvis himself a fan. When Hamilton died of a brain hemorrhage in 1969, he had borrowed against his life insurance so his widow couldn’t pay for his funeral. Elvis paid for it himself and sent her flowers for six months.

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Nancy Sinatra — “These Boots Are Made For Walking”

Willie stopped at “Don’t Let Go,” but these columns have five songs in them, so I’m going rogue: The music behind the album’s 20th track, “YA YA,” is this song. Not sure whether it’s considered a sample or homage, but it’s a new take on this beat.

Nancy Sinatra is, of course, a nepo baby; her father is Frank Sinatra, who was actually still very popular at the height of her popularity. Their genres couldn’t be more different, but he did help her get her foot in the door, pun intended. She made her first TV appearance on her father’s show, signed to his label, and this song’s title came from a line in the movie “4 for Texas,” starring Dean Martin and, you guessed it, her dad.

I can’t be mad. She’s still around, and she’s very cool. As much as I wish my dad was famous enough to make me rich and famous by force, and as bitter as I am at people who had that luck, sometimes nepo babies are actually talented.

Follow publisher Daniel J. Willis and send column ideas to him at @bayareadata.press on BlueSky.