Fifty years ago, WILLIE NELSON<\/b> up-ended the tyranny of the Nashville Sound with a record like nothing before or, perhaps, since. The road to Red Headed Stranger was long and uphill: strewn with broken marriages, record label wrangles and acts of God, but it transformed his fortunes, and his image. “It got to be a cool thing to like Willie,” discovers STLVIE SIMMONS<\/b>.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”credit-main” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”||||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_orientation=”center” global_colors_info=”{}”]
Portrait by DAVID GAHR<\/span><\/span><\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/1-1.jpg” title_text=”Willie Nelson Atlantic Session” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Thank God I\u2019m a contrary boy: Willie Nelson prepares to break the mould, Atlantic Records studios, New York City, 1973.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] NASHVILLE, 1975. BACKSTAGE AT THE GRAND OLE OPRY, THE MOTHER Church of country music, Willie Nelson lit up a joint. As the scent wafted out of the door, Roy Acuff, the King of Country and de facto<\/i> Opry ambassador, grumbled aloud about \u201cthe hippies down the hall\u201d. Here were two celebrated artists in Nashville\u2019s most cherished country institution. Acuff, 30 years Nelson\u2019s senior, was the old guard, and Nelson, by his own description, was somebody who didn\u2019t fit into any of the slots. <\/p>\n Nelson had great respect for country\u2019s old guard; it was largely the music he grew up on, along with Frank Sinatra, Django Reinhardt, Louis Armstrong and the Mexican musicians who lived across the road from the Nelsons in Abbott, Texas. And Nelson and Acuff had something in common. Both had recorded covers of the Fred Rose ballad Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain. Acuff\u2019s was released in 1947, when Nelson was 14, an aspiring recording artist and already a songwriter. Nelson\u2019s version was on an album that came out earlier in 1975. It was his first record for his new label Columbia Records: Red Headed Stranger<\/i>. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/2-2.jpg” title_text=”Willie Nelson Portrait” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Straight and narrow: Willie Nelson in 1967.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] When Columbia released Nelson\u2019s Blue Eyes Crying as a single, they weren\u2019t expecting much. Then again, they felt the same about the album. Raw and unpolished, there was nothing on it that sounded anything like a country hit to them. <\/p>\n But the sparse, intimate ballad flew to the top of the country charts, Nelson\u2019s first Number 1. It also crossed over to the Billboard Top 100, one rung short of the Top 20. It won Nelson his first Grammy: Best Country Vocal. That might well have been a surprise to Nelson too. As he told the US radio show Fresh Air in 1996, he was no Eddy Arnold \u2013 the iconic, smooth-voiced country-pop crooner of the \u201940s. \u201cMy phrasing was sort of funny,\u201d shrugged Nelson. \u201cI didn\u2019t sing on the beat.\u201d <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/a-1.jpg” title_text=”a” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] Red Headed Stranger<\/i> didn\u2019t have \u2018hit\u2019 tattooed over it either. It was a strange gothic-noir western concept album, made up largely of cover songs, its production skeletal. When Nelson played it to his record label and manager, they thought it was a demo, unreleasable as was. Willie\u2019s friend, the country star Waylon Jennings, spoke to the record company president, calling him a \u201ctone-deaf, tin-eared son of a bitch\u201d. As it turned out, under the terms of Nelson\u2019s contract, they had no choice but to release it as Nelson wanted it. And now there it was at Number 1. It went on to sell more than 2 million copies and propelled Nelson to superstardom. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/3-1.jpg” title_text=”1950 , Hibbing , Minnesota , USA: The celebrated american Country Pop singer and composer WILLIE NELSON ( born 29 april 1933 ) when was a young boy aged 17 . Unknown photographer. – HISTORY – FOTO STORICHE – PORTRAIT – RITRATTO – TEENAGER – ADOLESCENTE -” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] 17-year-old Willie in 1950.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] DURING THE HALF-CENTURY SINCE ITS RELEASE, music historians have argued over the impact of Red Headed Stranger<\/i>. It\u2019s been hailed as the pioneer of everything from Outlaw Country to Americana and plenty in between. For Nelson, it was finally finding a place in country music where he fit. <\/p>\n \u201cMy songs had too many chords,\u201d he said in a radio interview. \u201cCountry songs weren\u2019t supposed to have over three chords, according to executive decisions. And I wouldn\u2019t take orders. I didn\u2019t know how to take direction that well. So I wouldn\u2019t fit in any of these slots, and so I became one of those guys that, you know\u2026 they had to call me something else.\u201d <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/4-1.jpg” title_text=”Photo of Roy Acuff” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Roy Acuff, guardian of the old ways.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] At first they called him \u201ctroublemaker\u201d, he said. \u201cAnd then they found the word \u2018outlaw\u2019.\u201d <\/p>\n Waylon Jennings arguably held the rights to \u2018Outlaw Country\u2019 since it was Jennings\u2019 PR Hazel Smith who came up with the phrase. What\u2019s uncontestable is that Red Headed Stranger<\/i> was groundbreaking. It showed that a country artist could ignore the rules of the Nashville Sound, tear up its manicured landscape and still be a country artist with a hit. <\/p>\n The Nashville Sound was Nelson\u2019s nemesis. Part compulsory style sheet, part music business 10 Commandments, it coalesced in the mid-\u201950s and Nelson knew the man behind it: Chet Atkins, the guitar player, producer and Vice-President of RCA. Nelson signed with RCA in 1965, after his first two albums on Liberty, and stayed with the label for 13 albums until 1972. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/5-1.jpg” title_text=”Singer Chet Atkins Playing the Guitar” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nashville Sound architect Chet Atkins.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] When asked to define the Nashville Sound, Atkins said \u201cIt\u2019s the sound of money.\u201d Country records weren\u2019t selling as well as pop, so the answer was to make country records sound less like traditional country and more like pop. All rough edges had to be smoothed and all production had to be polished. In the studio, singers would not be backed by their own bands but top-end session musicians, the Nashville A-Team. There would be strings and backing singers and a producer well-versed in the sophisticated art of lush. <\/p>\n Nelson had no love for this statutory frou-frou, often added after he\u2019d finished in the studio and was back on the road. Decades later, Mickey Raphael, the harmonica-player in Nelson\u2019s \u201970s band and a big fan of his boss\u2019s RCA-era songs, took it upon himself to get hold of the multi-tracks and strip them down. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/9-1.jpg” title_text=”9″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] \u201cI took all the strings and the sweetening off of it to just Willie and the band, all studio cats,\u201d he tells MOJO. But when he played the remixes to Nelson, the singer was bemused. <\/p>\n \u201cWillie said, \u2018I don\u2019t get it, what did you do?\u2019\u201d because the tracks sounded exactly as he remembered recording them. In 2009, RCA released Raphael\u2019s mixes of songs from 1966-1970 as Naked Willie<\/i> in the US, and in the UK as Willie Stripped<\/i>. <\/p>\n Nashville had been Nelson\u2019s home since 1960, and it had been the scene of significant songwriting success, with hits including Crazy \u2013 a Billboard Top 10 for Patsy Cline in 1961 \u2013 and Funny How Time Slips Away, a hit for several artists. But after 10 years the city had soured. At the end of December 1969, after his home in nearby Goodlettsville burned to the ground (he managed to rescue a pound of weed, and his guitar, Trigger), Nelson took a break, then in 1972 he moved back to Texas. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/6-1.jpg” title_text=”Country Singer Willie Nelson With Shirley Collie” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nelson singing with future second wife Shirley Collie, Riverside Park Ballroom, Phoenix, Arizona, December 13, 1962.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] AUSTIN, 1972. TEXAS\u2019S STATE CAPITAL WAS A COUPLE of hours drive from Abbott, but in other respects on another planet. The city had a motto, \u201cKeep Austin Weird\u201d, and the 225,000 who lived there back then did a pretty good job of adhering to it. Austin was a liberal oasis in a conservative state. Housing was cheap and so was tequila, beer and pot. In the early \u201970s, its population included plenty of hippies, students and a good number of country music-loving good old boys who flocked to its countless rock clubs, blues dives and honky tonks. This was manna from heaven to Nelson, who at this point just wanted to play live. He had spent much of what he had made from his songwriting paying for tours he wanted to play but the record company, given his less than stellar album sales, didn\u2019t want to fund. <\/p>\n One of the bigger stages in Austin was the Armadillo World Headquarters, an arts centre and concert venue that two years earlier had been an abandoned armoury for the Texas National Guard. Everyone played the Armadillo \u2013 from Ray Charles and Bill Monroe to Frank Zappa and Van Morrison. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/10-1.jpg” title_text=”10″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nelson debuted at the Armadillo in August 1972. The poster for the show was a psychedelic, Cosmic Country drawing of a thoughtful-looking Nelson in a cowboy hat, nursing a beer beside a jukebox playing his song Hello Walls. The crowd of around 1,600 was a mix of rock and country fans, until then an unheard-of crossover. According to Nelson\u2019s 2016 memoir, My Life, \u201cRednecks and hippies who had thought they were natural enemies began mixing without too much bloodshed. They discovered they both liked good music.\u201d That said, there were still places, including the notorious Broken Spoke, where a longhair hoping to hear country music might not get out alive. <\/p>\n Nelson, though still neatly cropped and less than a year away from his 40th birthday, was drawn to Austin\u2019s hippies and their ideals, ending up playing anti-Vietnam benefits and fund-raisers for the Democratic candidate in the 1972 Presidential election, the arch-liberal George McGovern. On a TV interview in Dallas, Nelson sang Austin\u2019s praises as a place \u201cwhere people can be themselves and not have to worry or be uptight about anything\u201d. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pull-quote” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_text_color=”#111111″ header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] The portraits on his album covers chart the changes in Nelson\u2019s look and outlook, from the clean-shaven chin, slicked-back hair and comfy sweater on My Own Peculiar Way<\/i> (1969), to the bell-bottom jeans and shades on The Words Don\u2019t Fit The Picture<\/i> (1972), the long hair, beard and cowboy hat on Red Headed Stranger<\/i> (1975) and the full-on hippy on its follow-up The Sound In Your Mind<\/i> (1976). <\/p>\n When Nelson left Nashville, he was still making albums for RCA, releasing six between 1970 and 1972 before they parted ways. The most interesting was 1971\u2019s Yesterday\u2019s Wine<\/i>, a concept album with a sparser production and a spiritual bent that told the story of a being that Nelson called the Perfect Man. When Nelson moved back to Texas, looking for the reasons for all that had been going wrong in his life \u2013 the fire; the two broken marriages; an industry that seemed more interested in him as a songwriter than a performing artist \u2013 he started reading the Bible and Kahlil Gibran\u2019s The Prophet. He put the questions into songs, he said, and turned the songs into prayers. RCA reportedly told him it was his \u201cworst fucking album yet\u201d. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/11-1.jpg” title_text=”11″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] In 1973 Nelson signed to Atlantic for two albums. The first, Shotgun Willie<\/i> \u2013 guests included Doug Sahm and Augie Meyers from The Sir Douglas Quintet and Waylon Jennings on guitar and vocals \u2013 got good reviews and crossover coverage. The second was yet another concept, Phases And Stages<\/i>, telling the story of a divorce from the point of view of both partners, the woman\u2019s perspective on side one and the man\u2019s on side two. Where Yesterday\u2019s Wine<\/i>, contemplating mortality, was remarkable, Phases And Stages<\/i> was truly radical. No-one in country had made an album like this. <\/p>\n Then in 1974 Atlantic decided to close its country division. Nelson was without a label, but it turned out to be a blessing. In 1975 he signed a contract with Columbia that gave him complete creative control. He could produce himself, record with his touring band or anyone else, and no-one could change a note. <\/p>\n The label were eager for a new album, but Nelson needed songs. His wife Connie suggested a cowboy song called The Red Headed Stranger, which was written in the 1950s by Edith Lindeman and Carl Stutz with crooner Perry Como in mind. Nelson used to sing it on the radio show he hosted in Fort Worth in the \u201950s as a lullaby to send kids to sleep. Nelson got to work on a story about a preacher on a black horse, his unfaithful wife, her lover. Songs of love and death, remorse and redemption. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/7-1.jpg” title_text=”Willie & Johnny” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Breaking the law: Willie Nelson performing with Johnny Cash, circa 1975.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] TEXAS, 1975. IN DALLAS ON TOUR, NELSON TOLD his band he had an idea for an album. With downtime between shows, he asked if anyone knew any studios. Dallas-born Mickey Raphael said a place had recently opened in the suburb of Garland and he knew its engineer, Phil York. <\/p>\n Autumn Sound, large and modern, didn\u2019t look like the kind of place where myths were made. But it had a state-of-the-art 24-track console, reportedly the first in Texas. Accompanied by Raphael, bassist Bee Spears, drummer Paul English, Jody Payne on guitars and mandolin, Nelson\u2019s old friend Bucky Meadows on guitar and Willie\u2019s sister Bobbie, Nelson accepted York\u2019s offer of a free day to try it out. Fifty years later, Mickey Raphael remembers it well. <\/p>\n \u201cWe all sat in a circle,\u201d he tells MOJO. \u201cWillie had the notes and the words on a napkin or a torn piece of paper he would put on his lap or a music stand. We didn\u2019t know the songs, so he would go through the song once, maybe again, we\u2019d turn on the tape machine and play along, everyone bleeding into each other\u2019s mikes.\u201d <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/8-1.jpg” title_text=”Willie Nelson And Waylon Jennings Together In 1978″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nelson and Waylon Jennings freshen up in New York, 1978.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nelson\u2019s band weren\u2019t much on rehearsing; they were playing most nights. \u201cEverybody knows where to start and where to stop,\u201d says Raphael, \u201cand if nobody gets hurt during the song we\u2019re OK.\u201d <\/p>\n Besides, the production and arrangements were so basic, there was little to mess up. \u201cWe were just happy to play something new and have a chance to play on a Willie record for the first time,\u201d Raphael adds, \u201cbecause at that time road bands weren\u2019t accepted as recording musicians.\u201d <\/p>\n At the end of the day, before repairing to the Garland Holiday Inn, Nelson asked York to make a mix of the five songs they recorded and send it to him. He liked what he heard. \u201cBecause it didn\u2019t sound like a fucking Nashville production,\u201d says Joe Nick Patoski, the music historian and writer of 2008 bio Willie Nelson: An Epic Life. \u201cHe knew what he wanted.\u201d <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/13-1.jpg” title_text=”13″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] The late Phil York recalled the sessions in a radio interview. \u201cWillie said, \u2018I\u2019m going to play this song just by myself, me and my guitar. If you can add something really good to it\u2026?\u2019 The drummer got up and left, the steel player got up and left. I think a couple of other people got up and left the room.\u201d <\/p>\n Nelson\u2019s band knew when not to gild a lily. \u201cWe did one take, maybe two,\u201d recalled York. The engineer offered to smooth out a rough edge in Nelson\u2019s vocal. Willie told him to leave it as it was. <\/p>\n York remembered a phone call from Columbia, asking for the Red Headed Stranger<\/i> two-inch tape. Nelson asked why. To dress it up a bit for a TV show, was the answer. \u201cWillie just said two words,\u201d recalled York. \u201cThe first one starts with an \u2018f\u2019 and the second one starts with a \u2018y\u2019.\u201d Then Nelson slammed down the phone. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/14-1.jpg” title_text=”Willie Nelson in Concert” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Here comes trouble: Nelson plays to 40,000 at his Fourth Of July Picnic, College Station, Texas, 1974.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] In 1975, Red Headed Stranger<\/i> did not sound like a country record. In many ways, it still doesn\u2019t. A campfire recital of cowboy-story songs laced with a streak of religion, its meditative ballads \u2013 for instance, the narcotically slow version of Hank Cochran\u2019s Can I Sleep In Your Arms \u2013 drip with solitude. <\/p>\n It was, and is, Nelson at his best: transported, reflective, mesmerising. \u201cI just lean towards the ballads,\u201d he told me in a 1998 interview, when I asked about his feel for these kinds of songs. \u201cI just enjoy singing them. I listened to country all my life and my first chords that I learned were from playing a country song or a gospel song, so coming from that I like to say I\u2019m country.\u201d <\/p>\n Chet Flippo, the late journalist who wrote \u2026Stranger<\/i>\u2019s linernotes, called it \u201cso remarkable that it calls for a redefinition of the term country music. What Nelson has done is simply unclassifiable; it is the only record I have ever heard that strikes me as otherworldly.\u201d <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/12-1.jpg” title_text=”Willie Nelson Appears At Peaches Records, Atlanta” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nelson promotes Red Headed Stranger<\/i> by leaving his mark at Atlanta\u2019s Peaches Records, October 28, 1975.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] 1976 AND BEYOND. NELSON WAS already hot in Texas, but as his wife Connie pointed out, the hotness ended at the state line. After Red Headed Stranger<\/i> that changed. \u201cWe got to travel a little more,\u201d says Mickey Raphael. \u201cWe were playing nicer venues, we started playing theatres.\u201d <\/p>\n The audiences were suddenly a little bigger and a lot younger. \u201cIt really got to be a cool thing to like Willie,\u201d Raphael says. Shortly, they were playing major arena shows. The album was certified gold in the spring of 1976 then platinum, eventually double platinum. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pull-quote” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_text_color=”#111111″ header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nelson was on the cover of Rolling Stone. The New York Times called him \u201cthe acknowledged leader of country music\u2019s left wing\u201d. Newsweek called him \u201cthe King Of Country\u201d \u2013 Roy Acuff\u2019s old sobriquet. Columbia gave Nelson his own label, Lone Star, and left him to his own devices. He kept on making records the way he wanted to, among them his 1978 classic Stardust<\/i>. <\/p>\n As to the Outlaw Country movement, Nelson likely did not sire it \u2013 bands including The Flatlanders were already merging country and rock \u2013 but he brought it to the mainstream press. His old pal and fellow traveller Waylon Jennings kept that pot well-stirred too. Jennings won the rights to produce his own records from RCA in 1972, the year Nelson\u2019s contract with that label expired. Jennings\u2019 1973 album Honky Tonk Heroes<\/i> was an Outlaw-friendly blend of rock and country, while 1976\u2019s Are You Ready For The Country<\/i>, featuring several rock covers, topped the country charts and made the pop Top 40 too. That same year RCA released a Jennings compilation, Wanted! The Outlaws<\/i>, that featured Nelson on four of the tracks: another country Number 1. The two of them released an album of duets in 1978, Waylon & Willie<\/i>, that topped the country chart and stayed there for 10 weeks. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/15-1.jpg” title_text=”Saturday Night Live” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nelson and band, including (above far right) Mickey Raphael, Saturday Night Live, December 10, 1977.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] \u201cWillie and Waylon were kindred spirits,\u201d says Mickey Raphael. \u201cThey would write together, we would do some gigs with him. Waylon would show up sometimes and sit in on our gigs and Willie would do the same with Waylon. They were cut from the same cloth.\u201d <\/p>\n Nelson\u2019s biographer Patoski argues Austin played a big part in the story. The city\u2019s hippies and students endorsed Nelson\u2019s rebellion. The singer said he liked how the hippies dressed as they pleased, did what they wanted and supported the music he played. There was support too, from radio stations who regarded ex-DJ Willie as one of them. They jumped on Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain, laying the ground for the album\u2019s success. <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/16-1.jpg” title_text=”Willie Nelson In London” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Nelson at Hammersmith Odeon, 1977.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] \u201cI think about him writing songs as a kid, as a teenager, as a young man,\u201d says Patoski, \u201calways trying to write songs, and how it must have been flattering, when he sold songs for $50, that somebody wanted to pay him. As a kid Nelson loved westerns and cowboy stories. Red Headed Stranger<\/i> was as much a great cowboy story as a culmination of who he was. His story was wanting something bad, and finally getting it.\u201d <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2025\/08\/17-1.jpg” title_text=”Willie Nelson Presenting Award to Jimmy Carter” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”] Willie gives President Carter a bowl in the Oval Office, 1979.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”] Red Headed Stranger<\/i> was Nelson\u2019s vindication, but it also became his totem \u2013 encouragement to blaze his own trail, come what may. <\/p>\n \u201cI never really worried too much about what people thought,\u201d he told me in an interview for MOJO in 2012. \u201cThat has been a positive and a negative for me along the way. But either way, I think, Well I\u2019ll do what I do and they can either like it or not.\u201d <\/p>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_text module_class=”credit-names” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”14px” text_orientation=”center” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content” sticky_enabled=”0″] Estate of David Gahr\/Getty Images; Getty (7), Alamy; Getty (5)<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Fifty years ago, WILLIE NELSON up-ended the tyranny of the Nashville Sound with a record like nothing before or, perhaps, since<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":2833,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_lmt_disableupdate":"","_lmt_disable":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2809","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-mojo-presents"],"acf":[],"modified_by":"kschwarz","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2809","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/13"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2809"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2809\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2941,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2809\/revisions\/2941"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2833"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2809"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2809"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2809"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}“I never really worried too much about what people thought. That has been a positive and a negative for me along the way.”<\/h2>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pullquote-name” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” header_3_text_align=”center” header_3_text_color=”#111111″ header_3_font_size=”38px” global_colors_info=”{}”]
Willie Nelson<\/b><\/h3>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]
“We all sat in a circle. Willie had the notes and the words of the songs on a napkin or a torn piece of paper.”<\/h2>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pullquote-name” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” header_3_text_align=”center” header_3_text_color=”#111111″ header_3_font_size=”38px” global_colors_info=”{}”]
Mickey Raphael<\/b><\/h3>[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]