Feb. 1, 2001

Why doesn't Glen Campbell get the acclaim he deserves? Partly because he is perceived as inauthentic. An artist most closely identified with country, he has nevertheless often used strings and elaborate orchestrations in his music. It is largely on account of an unexamined prejudice against his plush sound that Campbell is not taken seriously in the same way that, for instance, Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash are.

The sound heard on Campbell's records is known as "countrypolitan." This sound was pioneered by Chet Atkins, who, while best known as a guitar virtuoso, had a greater impact on the music industry as a producer. Countrypolitan was also known as "the Nashville Sound," and "the Chet Atkins Compromise." The compromise in question was between traditional "hillbilly" music and more commercially viable production values. This meant a generous use of strings and lots of reverb on the vocal track. One promoter likened the new country to an Oldsmobile, parked between the Model T of hillbilly and the Cadillac of pop.

The soothing arrangements of the Nashville Sound were an attempt to capture that middle-of the-road share of the market alienated by the turn pop music had taken in the '50s and '60s toward the harsh and aggressive sounds of rock and roll. This was the audience that missed the fading stars of the World War II era, vocalists such as Frank Sinatra and Jo Stafford, and who found their easy listening needs met by the smooth sounds of this new country style. This style has admittedly engendered a good deal of crap (e.g., Crystal Gayle and Kenny Rogers), but it also fostered the career of Patsy Cline, which most people would agree was a good idea, and provided the perfect setting for Roy Orbison's operatic vocal style. At its best, countrypolitan embodied the beauty and craftsmanship often missing in rock music.

Glen Campbell first rose to prominence as one of the artistic and commercial successes of the country-pop style. He began his career as a highly successful studio musician in Los Angeles, much sought after for his sweet tenor and deft guitar. He contributed to Frank Sinatra records and toured with the Beach Boys (substituting for a freaked-out Brian Wilson) before scoring a hit of his own in 1967 with the single "Gentle on My Mind." His record sales propelled him to a guest spot for the vacationing Smothers Brothers, and from there to his own television show, Glen Campbell's Goodtime Hour. He scored his biggest hit with 1975's "Rhinestone Cowboy." These days, Campbell, having put behind him a cocaine habit, enjoys golfing with fellow Christian Alice Cooper, and performs the occasional concert.

Campbell's easy-going southern charm and effortless vocal delivery belie the sophistication of his repertoire. Campbell has (usually) shown great taste in his choice of songs. He has sung material by Randy Newman, Harry Nilsson, and, most importantly, Jimmy Webb. Webb wrote "Up, Up, and Away" (you know, the one about "my beautiful, my beautiful balloon"), and most of Campbell's early hits, including "The Wichita Lineman" and "By the Time I Get to Phoenix." Countrypolitan as delivered by Campbell was not a compromise at all, but an organic upwelling of a rural sensibility into urban sophistication. Campbell's comfortable sense of self enables him to shrug off any contradictions in his music. As he once said, "I'm not a country singer per se, I'm a country boy who sings."

1974's Reunion: The Songs of Jimmy Webb is Campbell's greatest album, and the closest thing to an art record this consistently commercial artist has ever made. On the front cover he goofily shows off his perfect teeth, but in the grooves of the vinyl he gets down to business. He effortlessly puts across Webb's tricky melodies, making them sound as easy and comfortable as old hillbilly tunes. The lyrics, poured like liquid glass into the contours of the music, show the songwriter at the peak of his craft. But the words are distinctly odd, at times seemingly assembled from meaningless snippets of conversation: "Nothing going on I already know 'cause I already phoned around." And these lines don't exactly roll of the tongue: "I was looking in the mirror at the time, I got confused I thought your eyes were mine," and "You always accuse me of something you're afraid you might do." In Campbell's rendering, though, these dark lyrical twists are smooth as silk. The record maintains a tension between its shamelessly pretty string and piano arrangements and its flashes of burnt-out malice. With concise cruelty Campbell sings, "And he cries, and he cries/There's an ocean in his eyes." While the Eagles at this time were having a peaceful, easy feeling, Campbell and Webb charted a mood of casual despair: "Just another day/I think I'll die before it ends."

Then there is Glen Campbell the style icon. On the cover of Gentle on my Mind he sports a brown corduroy jacket whose wales are as wide as ripples of corrugated tin, and wears his hair longish but neatly parted on the side. He's no square, but neither is he a hippie. Clutching his 12-string, staring placidly at the camera, he's beyond all that. He's got his own thing going on. I spent weeks looking in thrift stores for a jacket like that, but the wales of my corduroy are weak and puny next to his.