Be still my heart, when Sunny Sweeney takes to the airwaves of Willie’s Roadhouse on SiriusXM. Willie, of course, being Willie Nelson, the most musically successful former encyclopedia salesman in the history of country-and-western.
Good luck finding better commercial radio. It’s wall-to-wall midcentury Americana, which means a whole lotta heartache and pining, hard times and harder drinking. Or, as Hank Thompson put it in “On Tap, in the Can, or in the Bottle,” from 1968, “To me it will all taste the same / Down the hatch ’cause my throat’s open throttle / My heart is pumping sorrow through my veins.”
Often has it been asked what happened to popular music, whatever the genre, when today it’s so rare that hits are sung by someone who can actually sing. Lately I’ve been wondering what happened to its wit.
“I’d rather live a life of lies and fantasy” than face up to his lover’s departure, Bill Anderson sings in 1962’s “Walk Out Backwards.”
“You’ve walked all over me / And now you’re walking out to love somebody new / But you’re not by yourself / ’Cause my heart’s leaving too.”
He goes on, “But please don’t wave goodbye / Just wave one last hello,” before wrapping up, “So walk out backwards / And I’ll think you’re walking in.”
It’s not only Sunny Sweeney’s good taste that’s appealing. For one, she doubles as a singer-songwriter, which is something of a tradition for a D.J. (see: the channel’s namesake), and at this point something of a precious turn of phrase — how about working, hard-touring musician, headed even to the Big Apple for a couple of shows in the coming warmer months.
She doubles further as the host of “The Sunny Side of Life” on a sister channel, Outlaw Country, which is nearly as good as Roadhouse, its song lists simply newer, infused with a touch of rock-and-roll. You might hear Springsteen from his barebones “Nebraska” days, or a cover of same.
And then there’s the lilt of that East Texas accent, and its use in, for example, extolling the pleasures of Tucumcari — the city in New Mexico, sure, but more so just hearing the name used in a song. (Thanks, Little Feat.) Or to pause and hilariously recommend rewatching “Any Which Way but Loose,” the Clint Eastwood fistfighting vehicle, after playing Eddie Rabbitt’s title song from the soundtrack. “It holds up,” she said.
A crush? Maybe. But there’s a similar draw to the voice of Dallas Wayne, heard on those same two channels, a rich baritone not unlike that of the late Wade Goodwyn from NPR. Similar, just not Texan.