Many years ago I was alerted to the music – and character – of Bart Adam Young. How he had managed to evade me all my life, having been born and raised in the some little small Georgia town, is beyond me. I remember thinking, ah, he can’t be as good as they say. I ate my own crow.
Bart Adam Young is one of those rarest of rares. A musical genius, one of the best vocalists I’ve ever heard (and that’s saying a lot), and one of the last living outlaw country musicians alive.
He and I worked together for many years. He wanted me to be his biographer, he wanted to live and die like Hank Williams. When we met, my interest and knowledge of country music was in the negative – and isn’t too much better now. But he was the exception to all my rules.
This is one of his lesser known tunes, but still demonstrates his vocal strength.
He would come to my house and sit on this black round ottoman while I reclined on my couch, and play for hours while I listened. Those were good days.
I have the original rough cuts that were mastered at Kid Rock’s Michigan studio, which are not released, were never officially produced for mainstream consumption. And I’m glad, frankly. It’s like having my own Johnny Cash all to myself.
Through the years I have copied probably scores, if not more, CDs of those tracks.
He gave up the music business because he thought it was sure to kill him; the lifestyle that went with it was a bit too tempting for his appetites.
I wrote a couple of magazine features on Bart which can be found online. I’ll probably post them on here.