It's impossible to own just one Willie Nelson album. There are laws on the books that say you can't.
Seriously, with somewhere near 200 albums in various stages of issue (some in print, some thankfully long gone), it might be hard to know which Willie is which. Do you want the crooner, the outlaw, the cowboy or the Nashville wannabe? The jazzbo or the folk singer?
A career with so many phases and stages can be hard to document (try researching and writing this story!) So here we offer a subjective cross–section of 20 essential Willie albums, from the entire 30–years–plus span of his recording life. Most of them can be found in your local record store.
Although everyone should start with Red Headed Stranger (pardon our opinion), the following are offered up in no particular order:
Red Headed Stranger (Columbia KC–33482, 1973): The definitive Willie Nelson album. As minimalist Westerns go, they don't get any better than this tale of pain, sin and redemption. Nelson's plaintive singing is set against stark and somber arrangements, usually just his old guitar and Bobbie's piano, like a worship service in a lonely prairie church. If "Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain," in this context, doesn't make you cry, follow the story to the final movement, the cathartic "Hands On The Wheel." Emotions are guaranteed.
Stardust (Columbia 33303, 1978): Open fire, two guitars and Willie. This should be the standard by which all albums of standards are measured. Nelson's singing is restrained and inviting (there's none of the nasality that runs through Moonlight Becomes You, for example), and the band's playing is sharp and clear, but unobtrusive. It's a voice record, after all. Micky Raphael's harmonica makes for a surprisingly romantic sound, and adds a jaunty, positive swing to "All Of Me." Nelson's "Moonlight In Vermont" may be the most romantic record ever made; certainly "September Song" is one of the most melancholy. Perfect for cold winter nights when Christmas carols just won't do it.
Somewhere Over The Rainbow (Columbia 36883, 1981): Johnny Gimble's fiddle and Freddie Powers' guitar give this set of swing tunes the necessary bounce; "Who's Sorry Now," "Won't You Ride In My Little Red Wagon," "I'm Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself A Letter." The agreeable Powers shares the vocals, too. What more do you need to know? After Stardust, this is Nelson's best standards album.
Who'll Buy My Memories (The IRS Tapes) (Sony Special Products 32981, 1991): Nelson goes unplugged, and his rugged charm and warm singing vice have never sounded better. They're confessional songs, after all. Highlights include "December Day," "Yesterday's Wine," "Jimmy's Road" and "It's Not Supposed To Be That Way." Still, it might've been nice to hear em a decade ago, before Nelson's voice took on its current overtly nasal quality (are you listening, Bob Dylan?)
Across The Borderline (Columbia 32732, 1993): Don Was coughs up a crack studio band and produces Nelson singing duets with Paul Simon ("Graceland"). Sinead O'Connor ("Don't Give Up"), Bob Dylan ("Heartland") and Bonnie Raitt ("Getting Over You"). Nelson does two new original songs ("Valentine" and "Still Is Still Moving") and covers by Simon, Dylan, Ry Cooder, John Hiatt and Lyle Lovett. With all the bases covered, Nelson—grizzled as hell at age 39—outshines each and every one of them with his most inspired singing in years. (Check out "The Most Unoriginal Sin" and his breathtaking "American Tune." The latter sounds as if it were written for him.)
The Classic, Unreleased Collection (QVC/Rhino, 1994): Willie Sings Hank Williams is alone worth the price of admission ($32 by direct mail by QVC), but you also get Sugar Moon, a jazzy 'n' swing set recorded with Merle Haggard's band. Willie's very first single ("No Place For Me" from 1937) and an incredible live performance from the Texas Opry House in 1974, with a "Whiskey River" so ferocious it's scary. Here is the power of his Texas honky tonk shows. There are outtakes from Shotgun Willie and Who'll Buy My Memories, to boot. And a pretty good booklet. Supposedly the set will be available in record stores on of these days.
The Early Years: The Complete Liberty Recordings (Liberty 7243, 1994): Forget all those United Artists reissues, or anything on Sunset, Capitol/Pair or EMI–Manhattan. This two–CD set includes everything that Willie did for Liberty, including his first two albums in their entirety, plus a third that was completed but never released. As a bonus, it's got the original "Night Life" single, by Paul Buskirk and His Little Men featuring Hugh Nelson. Elegant in their simplicity, these are the best early recordings by a long shot, full of misery and gin.
Greatest Hits & Some That Will Be (Columbia 37342, 1981): Here you get a sampling of the great stuff ("Georgia," "Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain," "If You Could Touch Her At All"), plus some that were the best things on their original albums ("I'd Have To Be Crazy," "On The Road Again," "Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground"). The god–awful Sydney Pollack–produced "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys" is here—don't know how that one got past Nelson—as is a second–rate version of "Good Hearted Woman," without Waylon and played at double–speed, the way a lot of "outlaw" country was hammered home in the honky tonks. The problem with Greatest Hits is that a whole bunch of Nelson's very best—"Poncho & Lefty," "Highwayman," "City Of New Orleans"—were still down the road a piece. The "Some That Will Be" weren't, by the way.
Angel Eyes (Featuring The Guitar Of Jackie King) (Columbia 39363, 1984): Yow! This one is a sizzler, and out of print, too. But look it up, because it's nothing less than a full–tilt jazz album with Willie in the Mel Torme role. Fusion goes fishin' on this version of "Tumbling Tumbleweeds," the oddest thing Nelson ever recorded (there are a few close seconds, but here he sounds like he's trying out as vocalist for the Pat Metheny Group). On the instrumental "Samba For Charlie" Nelson played Wes Montgomery on his beat–up Martin N–20. Verrrry interesting.
Highwayman (Columbia 40036, 1983): When legends meet, the initial effect is sometimes so overwhelming that it doesn't matter so much what they do together. Such was the case with this good–natured affair with Cash, Kristofferson and Jennings. Aside from the way–cool title song and the eerie "Jim, I Wore A Tie Today," there isn't a whole lot to shake the Earth. Or shame it. Even Guy Clark's melodramatic "Desperadoes Waiting For A Train" creaks under the weight of all that heaviosity. If it were just the title song, with a few more verses…
All–Time Greatest Hits, Vol. 1(RCA 8336, 1988): Despite the misleading picture on the front, there's not a bandanna or pigtail in sight. If you gotta check out the "Nashville Sound" Willie, this is the most complete one to get (Once More With Feeling is better, but it's long out of print). Although it doesn't include his great 1970 hippie arrangement of Roy Acuff's "Pins And Needles (In My Heart)," All–Time does give you "Both Sides Now," "Fire And Rain" and "Everybody's Talking," which almost clear the palette of the overproduced junk crammed onto the rest of the disc. Not for the faint–hearted.
Tougher Than Leather (Columbia 38248, 1983): Reincarnation is the theme, and the story line is a little too brainy at times to follow (it's an obvious attempt to duplicate Red Headed Stranger, but the simplicity is lost in a complicated tale about a dead cowboy, a rose and some other stuff). But Nelson's band is at its sweet, low–key Western hearbeat best on "Changing Skies" and "My Love For The Rose," and check out sister Bobbie tinkling the saloon ivories on "Beer Barrel Polka." Bet country radio didn't know what to do with a single called "Little Old Fashioned Karma."
Yesterday's Wine (RCA LSP–4368, 1972): After Red Headed Stranger, this is Nelson's most accomplished concept album, as a humbled man reviews the events of his life after it's over. From the first song, "Where's The Show, " to the last, "Goin' Home," its quiet, contemplative tone is captivating. Some truly classic songs: The reverent "It's Not For Me To Understand," and the jocular "Me & Paul." Rather than carry on the be–labored countrypolitan production sound of Nelson's earlier RCA stuff, this one was the blueprint for Willie yet to come, for Willie Nelson, the beloved superstar. Note: Compare the confessional–sounding originals here of "In God's Eyes" and "Family Bible" to the heart–wrenching versions sung by doomed son Billy on "Peace In The Valley." Goosebump city.
Phases And Stages (Atlantic SD–7291, 1974): At the time, critics praised this concept album to the skies. It tells the tale of a broken marriage, first from the woman's point of view, subsequently from the man's, through a series of thinly–connected songs. Although it's the biological father of Red Headed Stranger (that one was next) and is performed in the stark, emotive manner of some of Nelson's all–time best work, Phases And Stages hasn't aged as well as Yesterday's Wine. The concept, though noble, just doesn't hold together so well after 20 years, and it seems a little forced. "Bloody Mary Morning" has never been one of his best tunes, and "Sister's Coming Home" was to be a shitkicking delight on Emmylou Harris' Blue Kentucky Girl in 1979, but not here.
Half Nelson (Columbia 39990, 1983): A strange collection of odds 'n' sods from the first Columbia decade. Chief among them is "To All The Girls I've Loved Before," the chart–busting, if unlikely, pairing with Latin heartthrob Julio Iglesias. Then there's "Are There Any More Real Cowboys," the Neil Young co–hab repeated from Young's cheesy Nashville opus Old Ways, and an electronically–created Hank Williams "duet," "I Told A Lie To My Heart," which features Nelson singing a respectful harmony vocal to a primitive Williams demo tape. The great "Poncho And Lefty" is here, too, and a duet with George Jones on Nelson's weirdest song "Half A Man."
To Lefty From Willie (Columbia/LoneStar KC–34693, 1977): At the height of his post–Stranger popularity, Nelson issued this low–key charmer, his best honky–tonk album. He wasn't a huge superstar yet, so these songs, all associated with his hero Lefty Frizzell, are earnest and true. And the band played 'em like the well–oiled loser's lounge machine they were. Best: "Always Late With Your Kisses," "That's The Way Love Goes," "She's Gone, Gone, Gone" and "Railroad Lady." The latter number was included on Greatest Hits And Some That Will Be.
Super Hits (Columbia 39110, 1983): Booker T. returns for another trip on the standard–go–round; although the songs are a nice lot ("Autumn Leaves," "Once In A While") it's just not as good as Stardust on which it tries to capitalize. Nelson's nasal singing has got the better of him by now, and he can't whisper the sweet, romantic nothings like he did back in 1978. Still, Without A Song has "As Time Goes By," the coolest of the Willie/Julio duets. And it's better than Always On My Mind, which outsold it by about a zillion copies.
Shotgun Willie (Atlantic SD–7262, 1973): Shotgun Willie is a transitional album; he was taking side–trips into the wild country where rock, balladry and country music met in secret, but he wasn't ready to commit yet. It's a beer–drinking record. So you get the rollicking "Whiskey River," in its first incarnation. "Sad Songs And Waltzes" and "Stay All Night," set against the stodgy "Shotgun Willie" and "Bubbles In My Beer," which harkened back to the old days when Nelson was still looking for the right formula (i.e., what would sell). It was the first album, it should be noted, to employ his own band for every track. Leon Russell, Doug Sahm, David Bromberg and the Jerry Joyner Horns plugged in, too.
The Sound In Your Mind (Columbia KC–34092, 1976): First out of the chute following the mad bull Red Headed Stranger, this one is a mixed bag of standards, really old Nelson songs and popular numbers from the honky–tonks (and "Amazing Grace," too). "I'd Have To Be Crazy" is a Rick Blackburn's favorite song, and "That Lucky Old Sun" predates Stardust by two years. "If You've Got The Money" is a wonderful beer blast from honky–tonk heaven; it was a #1 single in July 1976. Nelson's voice is wonderful throughout, sincere and comfy, and full of the confidence of the talented and the successful, and on the front cover he looks like Jesus in a bandana. Obviously, he knew where he was going, but the stitched–together song list is proof that he wasn't altogether sure how he was going to get there.
Willie Nelson U.S. Discography
Like broken glass in a honky–tonk parking lot, there re some things in the Willie Nelson discography you're just going to have to step on. Many albums have been released, re–released and then released again with slightly different tracks or a new title or a snappy new cover. Some of Nelson's albums only have a handful of cuts with his voice; rather like the mock–Beatles albums that flooded America in 1964, records with little or no input from Nelson proliferated after his rise to superstardom in the mid–'70s. If it had a beard and a cowboy had, somebody would probably buy it.
It's easy to pick out the "real" Willie albums, the ones he recorded and issued as a contemporary artist. He made two albums for Liberty in the very early '60s, about 18 for RCA until 1972 (although a couple of these were actually budget–line reissues), then two for Atlantic, and beginning with 1973's Red Headed Stranger, everything he put out was on Columbia. With the exception of special projects—albums with Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings and sister Bobbie Nelson—Willie's "real" albums were all on Columbia.
Of course, he left the label in 1993, and after that there are a few on different labels. He's settled down with Liberty again, and when the third Highwaymen album appears in March, it will bear that label.
Of particular interest are the demo recordings Nelson made as a struggling young songwriter between 1961 and '63; recorded solo or with a small, spare band, 32 titles have been released in the United States on nearly 60 different albums (this is where all these weird little labels come from: Plantation, Double Barrel, Intermedia, Exact, Country Fidelity, Blossum Gap, Potomac, Allegiance, Delta…the rights to this material were passed around).
Some demos were recovered from the Ridgetop fire in 1969, only to disappear and then turn up among the possessions of Nelson's dad, Ira Nelson, after his death.
Record labels being the avaricious machines they are, even CBS, Nelson's very own label, got into the reissuing act, with an eight–LP boxed set, mail–order anthologies and other such: What A Wonderful World collects standards outtakes, On The Road Again is a budget–line cheapie with bad graphics, and Walking The Line combines solo, duet and otherwise already–released material by Nelson, George Jones and Merle Haggard.
Nelson was president of his own label, Lone Star Records, for about half of 1979 (although several of Nelson's albums bore the Lone Star label, they were all issued with Columbia index numbers; the six Lone Star albums were by artists he liked, discovered, and/or produced). The label folded after Nelson lost interest. Nelson also became a huge international star in the '70s, and each country apparently has its own 200 albums.