Wailing Waylon

It was in mid-seventies I suppose when I first discovered Waylon Jennings — or he discovered me. Whatever way I stumbled on his music.

Well, I may be off and way out here but to me it gave me the impression of pure and clean and always reminds me of a white Christmas. It had a sort of a righteous dignity about it, to me, that I don’t know where it comes from.

Could be my faulty perception but that stuck with me whenever I hear him grinding away.

So I ran out and bought one of his records one time. Then someone said to me why did you want to buy that? I said listen to it. End of duscussion. Wailing Waylon I called him.