Sing Me Back Home / Legend of Bonnie and Clyde

In early 2006, roughly in time for the 40th anniversary of Merle Haggard's debut album, Capitol Nashville launched an ambitious Haggard catalog project, reissuing ten albums as a series of five two-fers, each adorned with bonus tracks. All these albums had been reissued before, either stateside by Capitol or Koch or in the U.K. by EMI or BGO, but they've never have been given such an excellent treatment as they are here. The albums are paired together in logical, chronological order, the 24-bit digital remastering gives these recordings the best sound they've ever had, the front cover artwork is reproduced for each album on a two-fer, and the liner notes are candid and detailed. Dedicated Hag fans certainly have nearly all this material in their collection — not only have the albums been on CD, but the bonus tracks have by and large appeared on Bear Family's box Untamed Hawk, which chronicled his early work for Capitol, or showed up on Capitol's own box, Down Every Road — but they still may be tempted by this series, since these discs not only sound and look terrific, but they're also more listenable than any previous CD incarnation of these classic albums.

And make no mistake, all ten albums featured in Capitol Nashville's first wave of Haggard reissues in February 2006 are classic albums; some may be a little stronger than others, but there's not a weak one in the bunch, and they all stand as some of the finest music of their time. The third of these two-fers pairs the first two of Merle's three 1968 albums, Sing Me Back Home and The Legend of Bonnie & Clyde. With these two records, Haggard's music began to deepen, as his writing grew more evocative and his musical range expanded. Of the two, Sing Me Back Home shared the most in common with its two predecessors, yet the arrangements were richer and subtly more ambitious — witness the 12-string guitars that color his version of Dallas Frazier's "The Son of Hickory Holler's Tramp." Haggard draws inspiration from one of his core influences, Lefty Frizzell, on a graceful cover of "Mom and Dad's Waltz," while he collaborates with Tommy Collins on the barroom anthem "Wine Takes Me Away" and Wynn Stewart on "My Past Is Present." Haggard's originals on Sing Me Back Home are assured and fully realized, whether it's on the rocking, funny "Seeing Eye Dog," the lazily bluesy "Good Times," or the deliberate answer to "The Bottle Let Me Down," "I'll Leave the Bottle on the Bar." It adds up to a record that isn't just a typically excellent Haggard album, but one that points the way to the progress of The Legend of Bonnie & Clyde.

Although the title of The Legend may imply that this record is a concept album, Haggard's celebration of the legendary outlaws — inspired by Arthur Penn's 1967 film starring Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway in the title roles — doesn't extend past the opening title track, nor does the ramped-up, neo-bluegrass of that song (featuring banjo by no less than Glen Campbell) echo throughout the record. Instead, it settles into a nice, mellow groove, building on the Bakersfield ballad style by adding slightly stronger folk influences and maintaining a reflective mood. Haggard relies on material from several different writers here, recording three songs by Dallas Frazier — "Love Has a Mind of Its Own," "The Train Never Stops (At Our Town)," "Will You Visit Me on Sundays?" — the Leon Payne tune "You Still Have a Place in My Heart," plus "Money Tree," another Lefty Frizzell cover. None of these are conventional choices, and they're given fine interpretations by Haggard, who also contributes two solid songs in "My Ramona" and "Because You Can't Be Mine." However, they're all overshadowed by "Today I Started Loving You Again," the timeless ballad Haggard co-wrote with Bonnie Owens that stands as one of his greatest moments. Its presence along with the terrific title track and Haggard & the Strangers' restless but quiet musical exploration make The Legend of Bonnie & Clyde yet another first-rate album from Hag, who was on a hell of a hot streak late in the '60s, as this two-fer amply illustrates.