Hank Williams, Jr. "Stoned At The Jukebox"

First published by Death To False Country September 21, 2013

By 1976 the 27-year-old Hank, Jr. had already spent 15 years in the music business, and—like his father—had already accumulated a lifetime of triumph and tragedy. He'd already been through the requisite booze and drug abuse, a suicide attempt and another near-death experience from falling down a mountain. Probably the worst thing he had to endure, however, was an exploitative mother and a bunch of greedy corporate suits who were intent on parading him around parroting his father's songs.

By his mid-20's, Jr. had had enough, and figured if he was never going to escape the ghost of Hank Sr., he'd at least talk to it man-to-man—and squarely on his own terms. He sent his mom packing, grew out his hair and a beard (partly to disguise the reconstructive surgery he underwent after his fall), embraced Southern rock and planted himself firmly in the middle of the burgeoning outlaw movement. 1976's Hank Williams, Jr. & Friends, featuring contributions by several of Southern rock's elite, introduced the world to the new Hank, Jr., and the blend of hardcore honky tonk and rock that he would ride to super stardom.

The best—and most country—track on the album is "Stoned At The Jukebox," a late-night, whiskey-drunk weeper that captures Jr. listening to his dad on jukebox. He spends the song trying to figure out how not to feel alone in a crowd, and how to be alone without a crowd at the same time. Like all great honky tonk songs, it's mired in self-pity and self-realization, with the answer left lingering out there somewhere in space after the final note has died. Hank, Jr. has written a lot of great songs—and more than he's given credit for by critics—but "Stoned At The Jukebox" is one of, if not the, very best he's written.