Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Whiskey River The True Story of Texas Honky-Tonk by Johnny Bush Country legend and 'Whiskey River' writer Johnny Bush dies. Imagine for a moment if Johnny Bush hadn’t enjoyed his own moment of country music stardom in the late 1960s and early 1970s. And imagine if he hadn’t endured an unthinkable crisis in which his voice disappeared, and through an experimental medical procedure enjoyed an unlikely comeback as an elder statesman of Texas-based roots music decades later. Had none of that happened . . . had he only been known as the writer of the song “Whiskey River,” Bush would be a country-music legend. As sung by Bush’s friend Willie Nelson, the song has provided the first notes, the rousing chorus and a strange celebratory ache for thousands of concerts, as Nelson made it a calling card for years of live performances. Bush, “the Country Caruso,” who was born and raised in Houston’s Kashmere Gardens neighborhood and spent much of his adult life living and working out of San Antonio, died Friday of pneumonia at age 85. He leaves behind a remarkable body of work and a song that will not just outlive him and his friend Nelson, but the rest of us, too. Nelson once called “Whiskey River” “ageless. You can’t sing a song every night if it’s not.” The song is both simple and complex, the mark of a country-music classic. On the surface, it’s a plea for relief as a spurned and heartbroken lover turns to the bottle. But Bush infused it with a gorgeous poetry: “I’m drowning in a whiskey river/bathin’ my memory’s mind in the wetness of its soul/feeing the amber current flowing from my mind/to a warm and empty heart you left so cold.” Most have been there, and most have worked through it. Which explains in part why the song became such a staple for Nelson, a king of heartache songs. That and a chorus that sounds like a last-call singalong: “Whiskey river take my mind…” Despair as shared, cathartic experience: The song is quintessentially country. “You don’t set out to write a hit,” Bush told me of the song. “You set out to tell a story.” Kashmere Gardens beginnings. John Bush Shinn III’s story began in northeast Houston in Kashmere Gardens in a house with no electricity or running water on a street paved with oyster shells. He remembers wandering the streets at night as a kid hearing the R&B sounds coming from the Bronze Peacock nightclub, sounds that would course through his young mind along with the Western swing favored by his family. Both would play a formidable part in the music he’d make years later. Bush recalled leaving Kashmere Gardens to see movies at the Queen Theater, which he called “my escape.” “It was were I found out there were places other than Kashmere Gardens,” he said. “Between the theater and the radio, I knew there was a better life.” Bush found his way out playing music. He started writing songs as a teen, but found more work around the Houston area as a drummer in some honky-tonk bands. He cut a single, “In My World All Alone,” in 1958, that didn’t go anywhere. “I just assumed everybody in the country heard it,” he said. “I had no idea.” Early gigs were rough gigs. He recalled a show at a club called the Harbor Lights near the Ship Channel, where a fight over a woman resulted in a kitchen staffer taking off a man’s head with a cleaver. “Rough gigs,” Bush said. “Rougher times.” He played in Ray Price’s Cherokee Cowboys, a rite of passage for numerous country music stars such as Nelson, Roger Miller and Johnny Paycheck. Bush started recording again and hit the country charts twice in 1968 with “The Sound of a Heartache” and “Undo the Right.” “You Gave Me a Mountain” hit the next year. Bush’s voice earned him the “Country Caruso” moniker, and he appeared to have a bright future ahead of him. RCA invested in Bush, and encouraged him to do some writing, which resulted in “Whiskey River,” which he released in the early 1970s. “I thought they were crazy,” Bush said. He looked at some of the writers available to the label: Nelson, Harland Howard, Bill Anderson. “And they want me to write?” But his song was a subtle masterpiece, both innovative in its language but also compliant with the country tradition of songs about bad love. Nelson first recorded the song in 1973, and it has been a staple for him for nearly 50 years. A voice silenced. Bush was a difficult taskmaster at the time. Steve Earle called him, “the Van Morrison of Texas. He fired pretty much every musician in the state at some point. To the point where he’d forget he’d fired you and then he’d rehire you.” Bush was living fast in the ‘70s, and the bill would come due. He says his voice didn’t fade away. Rather it disappeared on April 15, 1972, right when his music and RCA’s money should have two-stepped toward huge success. He recalled a show in Weslaco where “I couldn’t get the high notes. It was choking me off.” His speaking voice was next to go, the result of a neurological condition that completely shut down his career. Bush tried to work through it, but his voice wasn’t there, and in 1975 his label dropped him. He struggled for years, trying prescriptions and hypnosis. Instead, he was suffering from spasmodic dysphonia, a rare condition that affected the muscles in his throat and his vocal cords. Vocal exercises helped some, accompanied by Botox injections into the muscles of his throat. He thought his voice sounded better than even the “Country Caruso” days. He thought it had “a richer quality.” At this point it was the late ‘90s: Bush’s window for stardom had closed. But he was welcomed back by audiences in Texas that have long memories for yesterday’s greats. Bush looked the part, too. He struck an iconic figure with his black beard split by forks of gray. He recorded regularly and toured relentlessly, playing old-school dancehall honky tonk with a touch of the old jazz, blues and R&B he’d hear in Kashmere Gardens. He brought his life and music full circle in 2007 with “Kashmere Gardens Mud,” an album with Houston music history coursing through it, including his take on “Jole Blon,” the 1946 hit Harry Choates recorded in Houston. For those new to his work, Bush’s discography is a little odd, with a long lag between his years as rising upstart and venerable legend. But all of it bears rewards for those who may know him best each time Willie Nelson takes the stage and hits those wobbly first chords with jittery reverberating sense of regret. Thwang . . . thwang . . . thwang . . . pause . . . “Whiskey river take my mind…” Bush’s legacy runs far deeper. But he also left behind something, a song and a story, shared by millions of people, even if only a few know his name. Johnny Bush, ‘Whiskey River’ Songwriter and Texas Country Singer, Dead at 85. Johnny Bush, the Texas country-music veteran who co-wrote Willie Nelson’s signature opening number “Whiskey River,” has died at 85. Bush’s manager confirmed the singer’s death to Rolling Stone . Born in Houston in 1935 as John Bush Shinn III, Bush received his big break from Nelson, who helped him land a job as a drummer in Ray Price’s band, the Cherokee Cowboys. Nelson would go on to bankroll Bush’s debut single, 1967’s “Sound of a Heartache,” and vouched for Bush’s talent in a message on the back cover of the album of the same name. “Johnny Bush is a great singing talent,” Nelson wrote, “as you will discover after hearing his first album Sound of a Heartache .” With his career off the ground, Bush began writing and recording in earnest — including 1972’s “Whiskey River.” But it was Nelson who made the song about drowning in brown liquor his own, releasing it on 1973’s Shotgun Willie and using it to open his concerts. The song remains Nelson’s show-opener to this day. But Bush was far from a one-hit wonder. He scored a Top 30 hit with the Nelson composition “What a Way to Live,” a Top 10 single with Marty Robbins’ “You Gave Me a Mountain” (later a staple of Elvis Presley’s concerts), and a Top 40 single with “There Stands the Glass,” first a 1953 hit for Webb Pierce whose version was recently sampled by Sam Hunt for his song “Hard to Forget.” Bush’s rendition of “You Gave Me a Mountain” was an especially powerful performance, reinforcing the singer’s nickname of the “Country Caruso.” In the late Seventies, however, he began suffering a series of vocal problems that threatened to derail his career. Diagnosed with a neurological disorder, he started vocal and speech therapy, and in 2002 received Botox injections to successfully restore his range. The following year Bush was inducted — by Nelson — into the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame. Bush continued to perform up until his death and was a regular guest at Willie Nelson’s annual 4th of July Picnic, playing the 2019 edition live onstage and making an online appearance at the 2020 Picnic, held virtually because of the pandemic. In May, Bush paired with Texas band Mike and the Moonpies to release a version of the Moonpies’ “Say It Simply.” The group remembered Bush on Friday in an online post, recalling him as “a huge influence on us and the music we make.” “He is a legend,” they wrote, sharing an image of Moonpies singer Mike Harmeier onstage with Bush in 2015. Tanya Tucker called Bush one of “Texas’ best honky-tonk heroes.” “When I was 14, 15, I did many shows with Johnny Bush. I always loved his singing and he was always so kind to me,” she told Rolling Stone . “I surprised him in Fort Worth and celebrated his 60th year in the business not too long ago. We sang ‘Big Big Love’ together. Truly a special night.” Mitch Ballard, senior creative director at BMI Austin, said the singer was the “epitome of the Texas dance hall sound” and remembered marking two million airplays of “Whiskey River” with Bush. “He was true to his roots his entire career and entertained all of us until the end,” Ballard told Rolling Stone . “We are proud that Johnny has been a part of the BMI family since 1965 and will be dearly missed.” Throughout Bush’s career, his kinship with Nelson remained a constant. “It seemed that one day I had never heard of Johnny Bush and then on the next day I had always known him,” Nelson wrote in 1968. “We’re that good of friends.” Whiskey River : The True Story of Texas Honky-Tonk by Johnny Bush. When it comes to Texas honky-tonk, nobody knows the music or the scene better than Johnny Bush . Author of Willie Nelson 's classic concert anthem "Whiskey River," and singer of hits such as "You Gave Me a Mountain," "Undo the Right," "Jim, Jack and Rose," and "I'll Be There," Johnny Bush is a legend in country music, a singer-songwriter who has lived the cheatin', hurtin', hard-drinkin' life and recorded some of the most heart-wrenching songs about it. He has one of the purest honky-tonk voices ever to come out of Texas. And Bush's career has been just as dramatic as his songs�on the verge of achieving superstardom in the early 1970s, he was sidelined by a rare vocal disorder that he combated for thirty years. But, survivor that he is, Bush is once again filling dance halls across Texas and inspiring a new generation of musicians who crave the authenticity�the "pure D" country�that Johnny Bush has always had and that Nashville country music has lost. In Whiskey River (Take My Mind) , Johnny Bush tells the twin stories of his life and of Texas honky-tonk music. He recalls growing up poor in Houston's Kashmere Gardens neighborhood and learning his chops in honky-tonks around Houston and San Antonio�places where chicken wire protected the bandstand and deadly fights broke out regularly. Bush vividly describes life on the road in the 1960s as a band member for Ray Price and Willie Nelson , including the booze, drugs, and one-night stands that fueled his songs but destroyed his first three marriages. He remembers the time in the early 1970s when he was hotter than Willie and on the fast track to superstardom�until spasmodic dysphonia forced his career into the slow lane. Bush describes his agonizing, but ultimately successful struggle to keep performing and rebuild his fan base, as well as the hard-won happiness he has found in his personal life. Woven throughout Bush's autobiography is the never-before-told story of Texas honky-tonk music, from Bob Wills and Floyd Tillman to Junior Brown and Pat Green . Johnny Bush has known almost all the great musicians, past and present, and he has wonderful stories to tell. Likewise, he offers shrewd observations on how the music business has changed since he started performing in the 1950s�and pulls no punches in saying how Nashville music has lost its country soul. For everyone who loves genuine country music, Johnny Bush, Willie Nelson , and stories of triumph against all odds, Whiskey River (Take My Mind) is a must-read. About the Author Johnny Bush was inducted into the Texas Country Music Hall of Fame in 2003. His recent albums include Texas State of Mind, Talk To My Heart, Lost Highway Saloon, Green Snakes , and Honky Tonic . He lives in San Antonio. Rick Mitchell was the country music critic at the Houston Chronicle for ten years. He is the author of Garth Brooks: One of a Kind, Workin' On a Full House and has written about all kinds of music for the past thirty years. He lives in Houston. Yes, Hillbilly Music . You may perhaps wonder why. You may even snicker. But trust us, soon your feet will start tappin' and before you know it, you'll be comin' back for more. Hillbilly Music. Bush remembers honky-tonk days, but he's not nostalgic. Though he just celebrated his 72nd birthday, Bush is still a honky-tonk musician through-and-through. He has made some concessions to age: He no longer eats hamburgers, and he walks at least 2 miles a day. But he still works the road hard, still sleeps as late as he can and still eats breakfast around noon. Johnny Bush also still celebrates. Recently he has had two reasons to party. His autobiography, "Whiskey River (Take My Mind): The True Story of Texas Honky-Tonk," written with Rick Mitchell, is being published by University of Texas Press. A new CD, "Kashmere Gardens Mud: A Tribute to Houston's Country Soul," is being released by Ice House Music. Bush wanted the book published for several reasons. "I wanted people to know the real story of how it was," he said. "Honky-tonk originated before I was born, but after World War II it really got popular. I wanted to explain to people what a honky-tonk was. A honky-tonk wasn't a respectable place. It was on the outskirts of town, and you didn't want people to see you there. Men went there to forget somebody or to find somebody. "And I want people to know what it's like to deal with this debilitating voice problem [spasmodic dysphonia, which hit Bush on April 17, 1972]. It's a neurological disorder that affects the basal ganglia area of the brain. There's no cure for it, but you can control the effects." "Whiskey River" doesn't skirt many, if any, issues. It's full of stories, some funny, some not, about Bush; his peers, including Willie Nelson; his old boss, Ray Price; musicians galore; record-label honchos and others. It also includes words about things such as Bush's womanizing and his battle to regain his voice. "It's too late now to have second thoughts about the book," he said. ''But it's the truth. I tried to be honest, and I didn't sugarcoat a thing." Still, Bush is a bit nervous about how some people will react to the book. "My grandkids are going to read it, but hopefully they'll learn some lessons about what not to do. I made a lot of bad mistakes and hurt a lot of people. God has forgiven me, and I hope the people who I hurt have forgiven me," he said. "Some of the things still haunt me. I was selfish and controlling. My biggest regret was being promiscuous and being an adulterer. I could have copped out by saying that in our business that was accepted and encouraged, but when you start falling in love with the road women and leave your wife, it becomes a behavioral problem. I'm sorry I didn't take those marriage vows seriously." Since 1988, when he married his fourth wife, Lynda, Bush has paid close attention to those vows. "In my songs, I always tried to put myself in the position of the guy who was drinking and running around. I didn't know at the time I was that guy,"he said. "I feel I'm the luckiest guy in the world to have the family I have. I'm thankful to God that, so far, it's turned out good." What Bush can never leave behind is ribbing from Nelson. Bush and the redheaded country music icon go back decades. Nelson has recorded Bush's "Whiskey River" dozens of times, Bush played drums in Nelson's band, Nelson produced Bush's first record and Nelson wrote the foreword to the book. "I have no idea what I said in the foreword," Nelson said. "But I think the book will be interesting. If anybody were going to tell the true story of honky-tonks in Texas, it would be Johnny." Nelson doesn't seem to be too worried about everything in Bush's book being the truth. Whiskey River (Take My Mind​)​ The legendary singer-songwriter who wrote Willie Nelson’s signature song “Whiskey River” tells about his life in honky-tonk music. PUBLISHERS WEEKLY JAN 29, 2007. Brash country performer and Texas Country Music Hall of Fame inductee Bush, a one-time star who penned Willie Nelson's classic "Whiskey River," recounts the early days of Texas honky-tonk in this raucous autobiography. So poor he and his brother went to school without shoes, Bush's rough early years in Houston took a change for the better after his parents divorced and he moved in with his uncle, "Smilin'" Jerry Jericho. A well-liked veteran of the local music scene, Jericho took Bush under his wing and brought the boy into a world of living legends like Gene Autry and Lefty Frizzell. Fans of live music will get a kick out of Bush's fond but brutally honest memories of life on the road, playing gigs with Willie Nelson and Bush's idol Ray Price, performing behind chicken wire while fights rage on the dance floor, indulging in one-night stands and abusing plenty of drugs and alcohol. Bush also recounts his battle with a vocal disorder, which for a time robbed the singer of his voice and, ultimately, his shot at super-stardom. In addition, Bush covers a double-handful of his Texas contemporaries, his multiple marriages and his disrespect for the contemporary Nashville sound-all with unabashed love for the music and a humble, endearing self-regard.