“What country is
ain’t what it was
there ain’t no heart
there ain’t no soul
there ain’t much love.”
So goes the first focus track, “What Country Was,” off Tim O’Connell’s new album, On The Hillbilly Highway. His fifth album, and the third in as many years, is the resolution of a trilogy based (loosely) on a songwriter finding the love of his life on the first record (2022‘s “On Broadway”), losing her on the second (2023‘s “On a Wobbly Bar Stool”), and then, on this one, getting her back; hence, this record’s cover of Buck Owens’ “Together Again.”
It is a pedal steel-driven searing indictment of Nashville as it is today, as opposed to when O’Connell got here in 1970 and years later when he got “the cut,” a polished diamond Johnny Cash heard and recorded called “A Singer of Songs.” (It closes out the album and is worth the price of admission all on its own.)
The record is far from being militantly hardcore country, though. Most of it’s not. “Morning Glory” kicks things off with lovely major 7ths and a smoky soul backdrop that recalls latter-period Rascals. The charming uptown chord changes in “Resurrect Our Love” are reminiscent of NRBQ’s “Never Take the Place of You,” with Stax-like horns that are not standard Music City fare. “I’ll Dream of You” brings Burt Bacharach to mind, and a great deal of the songs — indeed, the feel of the whole package — would not repel fans of Paul Simon, Stephen Bishop, or James Taylor. There are still several songs where you can smell the dust of a honky tonk dance floor, but they’re in the minority.
“My records have all got pretty much a variety to them,” O’Connell says, “I listen to quite a bit of jazz. I used to be a deejay on Fisk radio; I played jazz records on my show. I listen to everything. I write some country songs, but I’m not strictly a country songwriter.
“I started really getting into music in college,” he continues. “College itself didn’t do much for me, but there was a record store and a little campus store 100 yards from my dorm room, so I spent a lot of time in the record store. I started listening to a lot of Motown songs, fell in love with what Smokey Robinson did as a songwriter. When I really started paying attention was listening to him.”
A 70-ish, genial, grandfatherly type with a gentle voice and easy manner — and married with two grown lads (we’ll get to one of them in a moment) — O’Connell, a Wisconsin native, reflects on his career with a contentment not entirely prevalent in songwriters who first hit Nashville’s bricks 55 years ago. In 1979, he wrote “A Singer of Songs” and, after a considerable amount of time (like twenty years) trying one way or another to get the song to Johnny Cash, he met the Man in Black’s son, John Carter Cash, and … mission accomplished. It became one of Johnny’s latter-day signature songs.
So, here’s the thing. O’Connell’s songwriting motif is not your father’s Oldsmobile. He plays no guitar, no piano … he plays harmonica. And that’s it. Cutting records with nothing but a harmonica might have worked for Sonny Boy Williamson in 1935. Still, it’s not the typical way to ply your trade among the tall & skinnies of Nashville circa 2025 — even though he plays it quite well with a flair, not unlike Mickey Raphael.
“[Producer] Buck Brown played just about everything,” O’Connell says, “we hired a pedal steel player and a trumpet player. I played harmonica, and that’s it.”
“I’d like to get a lot of songs cut, sure,” he reflects, “but I don’t have much that is contemporary country music. It would be great if some Americana artist would cut my songs, but a lot of them write their own. But you know, I’m not unhappy doing what I’m doing.”
One last tidbit left here has been saved for the final paragraph, where it belongs. You might know of Tim’s son. Freddie. He’s the mayor. And don’t be hitting up Dad to intercede about Metro bus routes or zoning regulations. He’s more than a little bit over that.
