Approaching supposedly old-fashioned genres can be daunting so perhaps it's natural that we tend to use references that we're comfortable with. Jazz artists like Miles Davis (moody, constantly shifting), John Coltrane (obsessive about his instrument, star-crossed), Thelonious Monk (singular, unique) and Charles Mingus (confrontational, uncompromising) are the individuals we tend to gravitate towards because they were not unlike indulgent, self-destructive rock stars. (Giants like Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington and the Modern Jazz Quartet are less in line with rock cliches and are, thus, largely ignored by youngsters).
The same goes for country acts. "Outlaws" like Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson and Gram Parsons are often revered while the cheerful Buck Owens, who at his peak in the sixties was as big or bigger than any of them, is barely acknowledged anymore. The same goes for crooners like George Jones. Simply because they didn't pretend to be rugged highwaymen, there isn't the romance attached to more conventional types. It matters little that Owens was an accomplished songwriter and had in the Buckaroos perhaps the finest band of the era aside from The Beatles and Miles Davis' Second Great Quintet. Not does the fact Jones was a formidable composer in his own right and that he had maybe the best singing voice of his generation.
Bobby Edwards is at a similar disadvantage but his status as a bit of a one-hit wonder makes him even less likely to catch on with audiences today. (I had never heard of him until very recently and I'm rather ashamed to admit that I had him confused with Tommy Edwards of "It's All in the Game" fame; to be fair, I think they could've both done terrific cover versions of each other's CHUM chart toppers) As a matter of fact, bringing him up in the company of Owens and Jones does him no favours as well. Yet, there's plenty to like about his one smash "You're the Reason" if you're able to look past him clearly not being "like a rock star".
Yet, it's Hank Williams, the prototype rock 'n' roller, who is all over Edwards' sole Canadian number one hit. "You're the Reason" is paced similarly to "You're Gonna Change (or I'm Gonna Leave)", though naturally minus the original's dry wit. Listening to some of Edwards' stuff, he sounds very much like a disciple of Williams in the same way that Badfinger took after The Beatles: while gifted, he couldn't possibly have found his way out of the bigger man's shadow. That said, with Nashville have gone so horribly mainstream in the years following Williams' death in 1953, it's refreshing to hear something so unabashedly old school. The hallmarks of hillbilly folk music — Edwards hitting those whiny high notes, twinkling piano, group of good ol' southern gentlemen on backing vocals — are so prevalent that you might as well be listening to it through the old coffin-shape cabinet stereo that belonged to your grandparents.
Being rather milquetoast, derivative and filled with country music cliches, "You're the Reason" ought to be just the sort of thing that deserves to be overlooked by twenty-first century listeners. But there's something there. It's lovely and there are certainly worse ways to spend two-and-a-half minutes of your day. Not a ringing endorsement, no, but there should always be a place for the perfectly good to have a moment. Not a rock star — not even much of a country music star — but a serviceable figure for those points when the music scene isn't exactly loaded with superstar talent. Plus, a welcome reminder that there's good music to be found far beyond where the critics and the cool kids dwell.
Score: 6
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