Legacies are peculiar things. Just look at former U.S. President Richard Nixon, the only chief executive to ever resign from the office. In 1974, halfway through his second presidential term, the 37th president stepped down amid calls for impeachment in the aftermath of the Watergate scandal.
While Watergate continues to shape Nixon’s legacy over 50 years later, there are several other contributions to foreign and domestic policy during his time in the Oval Office that need recognition. He forged diplomatic relations with China and the Soviet Union, withdrew U.S. troops from Vietnam and, of decidedly unequal importance, officially declared October as “Country Music Month” on Oct. 9, 1972, via Proclamation 4166.
As the month begins, it is only fitting to honor this declaration. As such, I present five country songs from the ’70s that deserve nationwide appreciation.
‘Delta Dawn’ by Tanya Tucker (1972)
With thick harmonies and evocative imagery, the opening lines of “Delta Dawn” offer the listener a tranquil soundscape before a melancholic darkness floods the scene, eroding the foundations of its passivity. “Delta Dawn, what’s that flower you have on? / Could it be a faded rose from days gone by?” Tanya Tucker croons.
Before Ethel Cain dissected the traitorous love of the American heartland with her Southern Gothic persona, country artists such as Tucker traded stories of the sour souls of the South. In the verses of “Delta Dawn,” Tucker describes a 41-year-old woman from Brownsville, Tenn., who drives herself mad waiting for her no-good lover to steal her away. “In her younger days, they called her Delta Dawn / Prettiest woman you ever laid eyes on / Then a man of low degree stood by her side / Promised her he’d take her for his bride,” Tucker sings. As a wailing harmonica calls to mind a lonely tumbleweed dancing in the wind, Tucker captures, with empathy and compassion, the spirit of a woman utterly lost to love.
‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ by John Denver (1971)
The layman may hesitate to call Interstate 16 a country road, but after a few months away from home, this barren stretch of pavement transforms into a desolate, never-ending path leading toward sweet respite. In 2022, while headed back to Savannah, Ga. for my fall break, “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver beckoned me to roll down all the windows, sing with a slick Southern twang and imagine myself arriving home on horseback — like a true cowboy returning to his bliss.
“Country roads, take me home / To the place I belong / West Virginia, mountain mama / Take me home, country roads,” Denver sings while strumming a six-string acoustic guitar. Warmth radiates from this track, like the soft glow of a campfire kissing your skin. Throughout the song, Denver paints a portrait of the Southern landscape — from clear waters to rocky mountains to towering trees. Veneration burrows between the lyrics as a banjo, steel guitar, double bass and drums flow together, much like the steady rush of the “Shenandoah River” Denver admires. Nevertheless, on “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” Denver does more than observe. He invites the listener to join him on a pilgrimage through the Southern terrain, culminating in the incomparable sentiment of returning home.
‘Jolene’ by Dolly Parton (1973)
Billboard recently named “Jolene” by Dolly Parton the best country song of all time — beating out favorites like Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” (1980), Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line” (2003) and George Stait’s “Amarillo by Morning” (1982). As a country music snob, I must agree.
On “Jolene,” Parton captures with unparalleled vivacity and candor the darkest emotions: desperation, insecurity and jealousy. She says — or sings — the quiet part out loud, stepping out from the shadows as she begs another woman not to wreck her marriage. Atop a barreling beat, Parton pleads, “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene / Please don’t take him just because you can.” Despite penning the track over 50 years ago, Parton’s lyrics reflect a progressive solidarity with the perceived other woman. Instead of tearing her down, Parton admits, “Your smile is like a breath of spring / Your voice is soft like summer rain / And I cannot compete with you, Jolene.”
If the hypnotizing beat, candid lyricism or Parton’s powerful crooning have not yet convinced the reader of the track’s supremacy, its longevity and cultural significance must. For example, Beyoncé offered a new interpretation of the 1973 song on her Grammy-winning record “Cowboy Carter” (2024). On “JOLENE” (2024), Beyoncé offers a different perspective, sharing a sharp declarative, “I’m warnin’ you, don’t come for my man.” Perhaps this change marks an evolution in the Southern dialect, where women say what they mean. Either way, bless her heart.
‘A Lesson in Leavin’’ by Dottie West (1979)
Like Beyoncé, Dottie West pulls no punches on “A Lesson in Leavin’.” Thick harmonies, emphatic percussion and smooth piano propel this track forward as West derides a hypocritical man. “Somebody’s gonna give you / A lesson in leavin’ / Somebody’s gonna give you back / What you’ve been givin’ / And I hope that I’m around / To watch ‘em knock you down,” West sings, her smile seeping into the latter lyrics.
When West arrives at the bridge, she offers a brilliant bait and switch. “Yeah, you’re the kind of man / A woman thinks she can change / But the only thing changin’ / Is my way of thinkin’,” she muses. Instead of falling prey to his silly games, West relinquishes control and waits for karma to finish the job. This anticipation builds in the outro as West repeats the chorus over sparse percussion. As karma lurks around the corner, West makes sure to get the last word: “You’re a fool-hearted man.” If only Delta Dawn was listening.
Catherine Goodman (26C) is the Managing Editor of Arts & Life and Editorial Board. She is a double major in English and Art History. She plans to pursue arts and culture journalism, with a special interest in criticism and feature writing. When she isn't listening to music or writing her column, you can find her baking specialty cakes or playing with her dog, Apollo.
