Hylo Brown, "The Shuffle of My Feet" c/w "Your Crazy Heart," Capitol F4132 (rel. 1/1959)
Hylo Brown got his nick- and stage-name due to a colleague's quip about his impressive vocal range. It could just as well stand for "high and lonesome"--the description of what made bluegrass a world apart from country music. Brown merged the two distinct sounds on a series of fine records for Capitol, under the supervision of Ken Nelson, who helmed many of that label's classic country and rock efforts (he produced Gene Vincent and The Blue Caps as well).
Born in 1922, Frank Brown Jr. was a native of River, Kentucky. In his teens, he saw two clear paths for his future: stay at home and work in a factory or take his guitar and voice and try to make it as a musician. Until the start of World War II, he began to make a name as an itinerant radio performer. He spent wartime in a defense plant. Post-war he worked (irony noted) in a factory,
In his free time, he worked on song material and soon got back on the air in the Midwest. There, a colleague gave him his stage-name. It was a matter of time before he was approached by a record label. Post-war was a boom time for country music, and after a false start with a regional label, he got proactive. He mailed Ken Nelson a demo disc of a song he hoped to get recorded by a name performer. Instead, Nelson was so taken with his voice and the material that he invited Brown to come to Nashville and record it for Capitol.
"Lost to a Stranger," released in May 1955, was the first of a dozen Capitol singles over five years' time. They featured a sparse, atmospheric sound much like that of The Louvin Brothers. Today we'll hear his first single from 1959--two originals that combine honky-tonk country themes with a bluegrass-adjacent sound.
"The Shuffle of My Feet" is a stone-cold country classic; narrated in first-person, it's a loner's nocturnal trek through the empty streets where his heart was betrayed and broken. He can't help but pass places where he was once with his beloved; there's no escape from the past or the sound of his lonesome footsteps.
There's no happy ending here; the narrator continues his miserable trek in an attempt to quell the hurt inside and exhaust himself so he can sleep. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day; there's no guarantee.
Produced at the height of the Nashville Sound's pop-tinged excess in August 1958, none of that style is evident here. Ken Nelson understood the market: there were enough listeners who didn't care for the hybrid sounds that were Nashville's response to rock 'n' roll. These working-class folks, factory men and women who heard the music during the war and kept with it, wanted it with no frills, and Brown was one of country's least excessive voices and performers. This is an unrecognized masterpiece of late 1950s country and a song that might haunt you, as its sad story has no resolution.
Born in 1922, Frank Brown Jr. was a native of River, Kentucky. In his teens, he saw two clear paths for his future: stay at home and work in a factory or take his guitar and voice and try to make it as a musician. Until the start of World War II, he began to make a name as an itinerant radio performer. He spent wartime in a defense plant. Post-war he worked (irony noted) in a factory,
In his free time, he worked on song material and soon got back on the air in the Midwest. There, a colleague gave him his stage-name. It was a matter of time before he was approached by a record label. Post-war was a boom time for country music, and after a false start with a regional label, he got proactive. He mailed Ken Nelson a demo disc of a song he hoped to get recorded by a name performer. Instead, Nelson was so taken with his voice and the material that he invited Brown to come to Nashville and record it for Capitol.
"Lost to a Stranger," released in May 1955, was the first of a dozen Capitol singles over five years' time. They featured a sparse, atmospheric sound much like that of The Louvin Brothers. Today we'll hear his first single from 1959--two originals that combine honky-tonk country themes with a bluegrass-adjacent sound.
"The Shuffle of My Feet" is a stone-cold country classic; narrated in first-person, it's a loner's nocturnal trek through the empty streets where his heart was betrayed and broken. He can't help but pass places where he was once with his beloved; there's no escape from the past or the sound of his lonesome footsteps.
There's no happy ending here; the narrator continues his miserable trek in an attempt to quell the hurt inside and exhaust himself so he can sleep. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day; there's no guarantee.
Produced at the height of the Nashville Sound's pop-tinged excess in August 1958, none of that style is evident here. Ken Nelson understood the market: there were enough listeners who didn't care for the hybrid sounds that were Nashville's response to rock 'n' roll. These working-class folks, factory men and women who heard the music during the war and kept with it, wanted it with no frills, and Brown was one of country's least excessive voices and performers. This is an unrecognized masterpiece of late 1950s country and a song that might haunt you, as its sad story has no resolution.
Cash Box's country reviewers eschewed the hip argot of the pop and r&b desk, Like the music they discussed, their write-ups are stark, emotion-focused and to the point.
"Your Crazy Heart" leans more into bluegrass, but with a faster rhythm. Were this performed with standard country style, collectors might dub this a "country bopper." The melodic, crystal-clear song is performed with sincerity by its composer. His band, with banjo, mandolin and acoustic guitar, exemplifies the bluegrass angle. It's a great blend of styles anchored by Brown's homely but mesmerizing voice.
This might have been a hit for a female performer--Rose Maddox, Kitty Wells, Jean Sheppard--but was destined to be a forgotten B-side of a little-known record. The music of Hylo Brown, so free of modern influences, has a purity that's moving and convincing.
This might have been a hit for a female performer--Rose Maddox, Kitty Wells, Jean Sheppard--but was destined to be a forgotten B-side of a little-known record. The music of Hylo Brown, so free of modern influences, has a purity that's moving and convincing.
After he left Capitol in 1960, Brown's star began to fade. He moved to Starday, where his music took on a stronger bluegrass feel. He continued to perform almost to the end of the 20th century. Late in life, his voice much diminished and ill with cancer, he might have nursed bad feelings. He'd spent his life keeping the flame of pure, sincere rural music alive but never been a major star. Audiences enjoyed his performances, but without a major record label behind him, Brown remained in the dark. And to sign with a big label meant a sacrifice of his sound and his principles. He died in 2003 in Ohio, which he'd made his home for much of his career.
For those interested, Bear Family Records has an excellent 2-CD set that collects Brown's Capitol material of 1954-60. You can score copies for bargain rates at present, while CDs are still looked down upon.
For those interested, Bear Family Records has an excellent 2-CD set that collects Brown's Capitol material of 1954-60. You can score copies for bargain rates at present, while CDs are still looked down upon.
Tomorrow: a recent surprise from a surprise find: a super 1962 single by r&b great Thurston Harris, from his tenure at Dot Records. Two superb sides; don't miss this one!
What a pleasant and Ernest voice Brown had. Definitely a bluegrass/country fusion with those fiddles, banjos and mandolins in the mix.
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