Discovering America through the Grand Ole Opry

“You can almost hear music in the silence of this empty stage.”

Those are words of disc jockey Grant Turner during one of the spoken interludes on the album, Stars of the Grand Ole Opry: 1926–1974. I picked up this double-album for $5, sealed. Listening to it now is like taking a journey through American history.

Nineteen seventy-four was the year when the Grand Ole Opry relocated from the Ryman Auditorium in downtown Nashville to an amusement park. The album was released that year to pay tribute to the fabled Ryman. For many years, Grant Turner was host of the Grand Ole Opry. On this album, recorded in the empty Ryman Auditorium, he plays maestro to a re-imagined Grand Ole Opry show that jumps from the grooves. The first sound you hear are his gentle, friendly words, “Hello, I’m Grant Turner, and I’m sitting here on the empty stage of the Ryman Auditorium.” He introduces each artist before they take the imaginary stage, the actual recordings assembled in chronological sequence from when each artist first played the Grand Ole Opry.

And oh, that music! There’s Uncle Dave Macon on banjo in 1926, taking the listener on a spirited, rollicking railroad ride on “Railroadin’ and Gamblin.’” He spits out lyrics so quickly you can barely keep up. (A more modern-day comparison might be Mick Jagger slurring the words to “Rocks Off.”) His is the life of the lost American wanderer who Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, and Bruce Springsteen would sing about. “Cars on the roadside, cars on the trick, spent all my money no way to get back,” he half-shouts, half-scats near the end of the song.

Bill Munroe plays a furious fiddle, as he watches the Orange Blossom Special bring his baby back, with shouts and cries worthy of gospel, adding to the emotional pull of the song.

Porter Wagoner, in his sparking Western-cut sequin suit (sequins, so that he’ll stand out onstage), sings the scandal-tinged “Carrol County Accident,” which reveals a scandalous story about a marital affair and an illegitimate child — a tale worthy of the blues tradition.

Dolly Parton yodels with sass on the powerful “Mule Skinner Blues,” the song punctuated by a whistle and whip crack. “I’m comin’ to getcha” she shouts at one point, her voice confident and sure, as if to announce her intent to conquer country music in the years that followed the recording of the song in 1969.

During the interludes, Grant Turner sprinkles in little memories that only insiders would have known. Before he introduces the Carter Family to sing “I’m Thinking Tonight of My Blue Eyes,” he remembers how the Ryman’s dressing rooms were not used for dressing as much as for musicians to entertain each other with song while the main acts were onstage. He remembers how the dressing rooms were overflowing one night as the Carter Family held court before taking the stage. There they are, singing and cutting up backstage, including young June Carter, years before she met Johnny Cash. He lets us get to know these stars as real people, sharing their gifts of music, fortunately recorded for generations to come.

This album paints rich pictures of America and Americans, romantic and sometimes sad. There are old trains and mule skinners. Violent car crashes and scandals. Towns so small the only thing that matters is the county fair. A pervading sense of loneliness and longing. This is but one perspective on America. And it’s a deeply affecting one.