Memories run both warm and sad for the posthumous comeback by Texas' most operatic rock & roller. The melancholy comes naturally: Mystery Girl came out nearly two months to the day after Roy Kelton Orbison of Vernon died from heart failure on Dec. 6, 1988, at the age of 52. David Lynch utilizing Big O classic "In Dreams" for Blue Velvet and the Traveling Wilburys showcasing him with Bob Dylan, George Harrison, and Tom Petty kicked cobwebs off the Texan tenor's career in no time flat. Then he was gone – with a Top 5 LP and Top 10 single in "You Got It." The Mystery Girl Deluxe edition, augmented by the usual brace of bonus cuts (including one new song, "The Way Is Love," featuring the singer's sons backing him on an unfinished cut) and a making-of DVD, reiterates the album's greatness in the face of otherwise mitigating circumstances. Fifth Wilbury and producer Jeff Lynne became notorious for making anyone he touches sound like his band ELO – tons of strings, massed acoustic guitars, and a Danelectro baritone axe twanging away over the top like Duane Eddy taking a wrong turn at Albuquerque. Then factor in this being recorded in the Eighties, the worst decade ever for record production. Kids: Stay away from cocaine, compressors, and gated reverb when mixing. A Bono-produced demo of his contribution "She's a Mystery to Me" hints at the greatness these songs demonstrate minus the gloss, while also underlining the strength of the material via Orbison's command in delivering them. You can't lose with writers like Elvis Costello ("The Comedians") and Tom Petty (co-writer, with Orbison and Lynne, of "You Got It") trying to measure up to a back catalog filled with "Running Scared" and "Only the Lonely." Even rockabilly Billy Burnette, co-writing "(All I Can Do Is) Dream You," manages a rocker ready for insertion between "Oh, Pretty Woman" and "Dream Baby." As immortalized by that otherworldly, multi-octave voice, Mystery Girl remains simply brilliant, a triumph framed in tragedy – like all of Roy Orbison's hits.
(CNN) -- George Jones, the country music legend whose graceful, evocative voice gave depth to some of the greatest songs in country music -- including "She Thinks I Still Care," "The Grand Tour" and "He Stopped Loving Her Today" -- has died, according to his public relations firm. Jones, 81, died Friday at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, the public relations firm said. He had been hospitalized since April 18 with fever and irregular blood pressure. Jones' career was marked by a tumultuous marriage to Tammy Wynette and bouts with alcoholism that led to occasional concert cancellations. (One of his nicknames was "No-Show Jones"; after he got clean, he puckishly used "No-Show" on his license plates.) Waylon Jennings once wrote a song that said, "George might show up flyin' high, if George shows up at all/But he may be, unconsciously, the greatest of them all."
In a statement, Merle Haggard said, "The world has lost the greatest country singer of all time. Amen." Jones, nicknamed "The Possum" for his resemblance to the animal, was born in 1931 in east Texas. His early life was marked by poverty and a violent, alcoholic father. Young George taught himself to play guitar, and by the time he was a teenager he was singing on the streets and in the clubs of Beaumont, Texas, not far from his birthplace of Saratoga. After a quick marriage and service in the Marines, Jones was discovered by Starday Records co-owner Pappy Daily, who guided his early career. Jones' first single, 1954's "No Money in This Deal," failed to chart, but 1955's "Why, Baby, Why" was a hit. By 1959, Jones had moved to Nashville and recorded his first No. 1, "White Lightning." Jones' early hits, such as "Lightning," "The Race Is On" and "Root Beer," were in a high-powered, rockabilly mode, but he found his biggest success as a crooner. Ensuing years were marked by such songs as "Things Have Gone to Pieces" and "A Good Year for the Roses," which highlighted broken or thwarted romance and the kind of longing that suggests late, lonely nights in bars. It was a life that Jones started knowing all too well. His second marriage, to Shirley Corley, was marked by frequent benders. Jones recalled one that became legend: He had been drunk for several days, and Corley hid the keys to all of their cars. However, he pointed out, she'd forgotten one vehicle: their lawnmower. They lived eight miles from a liquor store but that didn't stop Jones. "I imagine the top speed for that old mower was five miles per hour," he recalled in his 1996 memoir, "I Lived to Tell It All." "It might have taken an hour and a half or more for me to get to the liquor store, but get there I did." Jones and Corley divorced in 1968. A year later, he married Wynette, one of Nashville's biggest names. The two had a number of huge hits together, but the strain of their marriage was indicated in song titles such as their "We're Gonna Hold On" and the Jones solo song "We Can Make It." (One of Wynette's singles was called "Kids Say the Darnedest Things"; one of those "things" was "I want a divorce.") "By now, the couple's marriage was becoming a public soap opera, with their audience following each single as if they were news reports," wrote CMT.com in its Jones biography. Wynette filed for divorce in 1973, reconsidered and then filed again two years later. This time it stuck. However, though the couple were divorced, they continued to sing together for years afterward. Wynette died in 1998. Jones' life went into a tailspin. He started using cocaine and missing shows more frequently, 54 in 1979 alone, according to CMT.com. His weight dropped from 150 to 100 pounds. He entered rehab but left after a month. And yet at this time he recorded perhaps his greatest song, 1980's "He Stopped Loving Her Today," the tale of a man who continued pining for his lost love many years after she left him. The song, written by Bobby Braddock and Curly Putnam, has been voted the greatest country song of all time in a Country Music Magazine poll. Jones continued to struggle in the early '80s -- once leading police on a car chase in Nashville -- but with the help of his fourth wife, Nancy Sepulvado, he got clean. Though his hit-making slowed down, mainly thanks to changing tastes in country music, he became a revered elder statesman, often credited as an influence by generations that followed.He paid tribute to his own and preceding generations in a 1985 hit, "Who's Gonna Fill Their Shoes."
Other singers stood up for Jones. At the Country Music Association Awards in 1999, Jones was asked to shorten his hit song "Choices." He refused and boycotted the honors. But at the awards, Alan Jackson cut his own song short and went into "Choices," giving Jones his due. "Not everybody needs to sound like a George Jones record," Jackson once said in an interview, according to The New York Times. "But that's what I've always done." His singing remains a model. "There aren't words in our language to describe the depth of his greatness," Vince Gill said in a statement. "I'll miss my kind and generous friend." Jones, a member of the Country Music Hall of Fame, was honored by the Kennedy Center in 2008 and received a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 2012.
The guitar—a Martin N-20 classical, serial number 242830—was a gorgeous instrument, with a warm, sweet tone and a pretty “mellow yellow” coloring. The top was made of Sitka spruce, which came from the Pacific Northwest; the back and sides were Brazilian rosewood. The fretboard and bridge were ebony from Africa, and the neck was mahogany from the Amazon basin. The brass tuning pegs came from Germany. All of these components had been gathered in the Martin guitar factory in Nazareth, Pennsylvania, and cut, bent, and glued together, then lacquered, buffed, and polished. If the guitar had been shipped to New York or Chicago, it might have been purchased by a budding flamenco guitarist or a Segovia wannabe. Instead it was sent to a guitarist in Nashville named Shot Jackson, who repaired and sold guitars out of a shop near the Grand Ole Opry. In 1969 it was bought by Willie Nelson.
TIM MAIA was one of Brazil’s most popular singers for nearly 30 years, a pioneer in adapting American soul music to Brazilian tastes; the outsized cravings for drugs, alcohol and food derailed his career, killing him in 1998, just as he seemed to be getting back on track.