Jerry Reed is a name synonymous with a certain brand of Southern charm, often characterized by humor, storytelling, and exceptional guitar skills. For many, the introduction to Reed might come through Elvis Presley’s energetic covers of tunes like “Guitar Man” or the catchy, swamp-funk rhythms of “Amos Moses” and “When You’re Hot, You’re Hot.” These hits paint a picture of Reed as the quintessential Southern entertainer – larger than life, a bit rough around the edges, and unapologetically himself. However, to pigeonhole Jerry Reed as simply a novelty act or a caricature would be a disservice to a truly multifaceted and profoundly gifted artist.
From the late 1960s onwards, Reed wasn’t just a star in Nashville; he was a force. He possessed a rare trifecta of talents: a guitar virtuoso capable of breathtaking feats of fingerpicking, a songwriter who could craft songs that resonated with both the heart and the funny bone, and a distinctive singer with a rich and engaging vocal delivery. While the full scope of his career is vast, this exploration will primarily focus on his formative musical period from roughly 1967 to 1971. The aim is to demonstrate that Jerry Reed was far more than a persona; he was a deeply significant and remarkably talented musician who left an indelible mark on American music.
My own journey with Jerry Reed began in childhood, hearing Elvis’s versions of talking blues numbers like “Guitar Man” and “U.S. Male,” alongside the tender ballad “A Thing Called Love.” It was through these recordings that I first encountered the name Jerry Reed, initially as a songwriter, and then as an artist in his own right, particularly through his wildly popular hits. This early exposure sparked a lasting fascination that led me to delve deeper into his discography and appreciate the breadth of his artistry.
Reflecting on the power of music to shape moments, I recall my wedding reception. For me, the music wasn’t just background noise; it was a carefully curated narrative for the celebration. This wasn’t about a generic playlist; it was about crafting a three-hour sonic journey, meticulously sequenced and refined over months. Each song was chosen with intention, documented with detailed notes for curious guests, and painstakingly transferred to CDs – a process that involved converting vinyl records and ensuring seamless transitions.
Among the diverse musical tapestry I wove for that day, one song was non-negotiable: “A Thing Called Love.” Its simple yet profound message about an intangible force that shapes our lives had resonated with me for years. While many artists have covered this beautiful song, including Elvis Presley on his gospel album He Touched Me, I opted for Jerry Reed’s original version for the wedding playlist. Upon hearing it, my father, familiar with Reed’s more comedic persona, remarked that it didn’t sound like the Jerry Reed he knew.
“A Thing Called Love,” featured on Reed’s 1968 RCA album Nashville Underground, reveals a side of him often overshadowed by his more boisterous tracks. The recording is a masterclass in understated elegance. Reed’s acoustic guitar work is intricate yet graceful, complemented by a tasteful string arrangement and subtle backing from Nashville’s studio elite. His vocal performance is equally impressive, showcasing a warm tone, rich timbre, and impeccable phrasing. It’s a genuinely heartfelt and beautiful piece, a far cry from the “outrageous” and “over-the-top” image often associated with him.
Juxtapose “A Thing Called Love” with “Amos Moses,” and you encounter the full spectrum of Jerry Reed’s artistry. Where “A Thing Called Love” is introspective and tender, “Amos Moses” is exuberant and larger-than-life. This song presents a character far removed from the lovelorn protagonist of “A Thing Called Love.” Amos Moses is a larger-than-life figure, “named after a man of the cloth” and with an appetite to “eat up his weight in groceries.”
“Amos Moses” is the antithesis of “A Thing Called Love” in almost every way. It’s a wild, exaggerated tale steeped in Southern folklore, populated with colorful characters like a bumbling sheriff and an alligator who takes a bite out of Amos. It’s a celebration of individualistic spirit and a rejection of societal norms, all wrapped in an infectious, swampy, and undeniably funky package. Think Creedence Clearwater Revival or Tony Joe White, but even swampier, or Buck Owens and Roger Miller, but even sillier and funnier respectively. Reed pushed the boundaries, and in doing so, he landed a major hit in early 1971. While those in the know already recognized Jerry Reed’s exceptional talent, “Amos Moses” catapulted him into mainstream recognition.
Like many artists who eventually achieve stardom, Jerry Reed paid his dues in the music industry trenches. His journey began in his birthplace of Atlanta, where he cut his first record at the young age of 18 in 1955. Several singles followed, some even bubbling under the Billboard charts. He gained recognition as a songwriter, penning tunes for Johnny Cash and Gene Vincent. After serving in the US Army for two years, Reed moved to Nashville, further establishing himself as a songwriter and, crucially, as a phenomenal guitar player in a city brimming with exceptional pickers. His talent caught the attention of Chet Atkins, a legend in his own right, which led to Reed signing with RCA.
His breakthrough single on RCA, “Guitar Man,” marked his arrival on the Billboard Country chart. Interestingly, Reed had already topped the charts as a songwriter with Porter Wagoner’s recording of “Misery Loves Company.” “Guitar Man” was a talking-blues reimagining of the classic American dream narrative, echoing Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode,” but with Reed firmly in the spotlight as a triple-threat entertainer: a gifted singer, a witty lyricist, and a truly exceptional guitar player. One person who was particularly captivated by “Guitar Man” was Elvis Presley.
When Presley decided to record “Guitar Man” in Nashville in September 1967, it was his immediate priority. However, a problem arose: none of the session guitarists, including seasoned players like Chip Young, Harold Bradley, and Scotty Moore, could replicate Reed’s distinctive opening guitar lick. The solution was clear: bring Jerry Reed himself into the studio.
The story goes that when Reed arrived at Studio B, fresh from a fishing trip, unshaven and in his work boots, Presley exclaimed, “Lord, have mercy, what is that?” Before the first take, Reed quipped, “I haven’t played all weekend, Elvis,” to which producer Felton Jarvis added, “I know Reed, your house is a mess.” Despite the lighthearted banter, Reed quickly demonstrated his mastery. It took a few takes to nail his part, and the session took off. By the twelfth take, the energy was so infectious that a coda riffing on “What’d I Say” was spontaneously added to the arrangement. Reed also contributed to Presley’s cover of “Big Boss Man” during the same session. However, when Elvis’s publishing agent attempted to pressure Reed into a standard publishing deal, Reed famously declined, standing his ground.
While Presley’s version of “Guitar Man” wasn’t a major hit at the time, it served as a significant marker of a burgeoning artistic resurgence in Nashville. The song’s narrative, about a guitar player leaving his mundane job to pursue the American dream, resonated deeply. This tale of an odyssey from Kingston, New York, to Memphis, Macon, Panama City, and finally Mobile, Alabama, culminating in a gig at a club called Big Jack’s, mirrored Presley’s own trajectory from electrician to rock and roll icon. “Guitar Man” became a key element in Presley’s iconic 1968 NBC “Comeback Special,” appearing both in the opening medley and a later extended performance, serving as a symbolic representation of his own rise to fame.
Reed’s original version of “Guitar Man” became the cornerstone of his debut RCA album, The Unbelievable Guitar & Voice of Jerry Reed. While categorized as a country album, like much of the music emerging from Nashville during that period, the label “country” felt inadequate to capture its true essence. Reed operated within the framework of the Nashville Sound, but the result transcended genre boundaries. It wasn’t simply a refined version of country music; it was something altogether different.
As Reed himself explained to Peter Guralnick in Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley, “I never thought of myself as a Nashville recording musician. ’Cause I was a stylist. I [could] only play my stuff. And I wasn’t worth a damn playing that other stuff.” His “stuff” on The Unbelievable Guitar & Voice of Jerry Reed was a diverse blend. Some tracks leaned towards urbane country, like “Long Gone,” which Waylon Jennings would later cover. However, much of the album defied easy categorization. There were shades of Ray Charles in “Woman Shy,” sly humor in “Take a Walk” and “Love Man,” and a dazzling display of guitar virtuosity in “The Claw.” “U.S. Male” was another talking blues number that caught Presley’s attention. Adding to the eclectic mix were the baroque pop sensibilities of “It Don’t Work That Way” and “You’re Young.” This debut album laid the groundwork for Nashville Underground, his subsequent LP, where he would further solidify his unique artistic identity.
Nashville Underground was where Jerry Reed truly asserted himself as a multifaceted and uncategorizable musical force. Throughout the album, his guitar playing is a constant presence – rhythmically driving yet remarkably articulate. It propels the melancholic ballad “You’ve Been Crying Again” and the understated blues of “Almost Crazy.” It also fuels the album’s pure pop moments, which dominate the first side of Nashville Underground.
The album opens with “Remembering,” showcasing Reed’s strumming guitar. A saloon-style song lamenting lost love and regret, “Remembering” reveals Reed at his most earnest and poetic. Consider the poignant lyrics: “the fool I’ve been / the hurt I’ve caused / the good woman that I loved and lost / for she’s constantly in my memory.” A recurring clavinet riff adds a layer of sophistication to the arrangement.
This polished sound wasn’t a dilution of Reed’s spirit; it was another facet of his artistic personality. Around the release of Nashville Underground, he was among the sought-after session musicians recruited for Ian & Sylvia’s Nashville album, their successful foray into country-rock. Reed’s electric guitar work on “Farewell to the North” is a highlight, both assertive and nuanced, with each string ringing out with clarity. The pristine timbre and tone evoke the refined sensibilities of a jazz guitarist.
The pop side of Nashville Underground shines with tracks like “You Wouldn’t Know a Good Time” and “Save Your Dreams.” Both songs possess a driving energy, danceable yet with an underlying edge. On these tracks, Reed demonstrates his vocal versatility, communicating with both skill and sincerity.
The album’s second side explores another dimension of Reed’s musicality. It begins with the acoustic, porch-swing rhythm of “Fine on My Mind.” It also includes a loose, playful rendition of Ray Charles’ “Halleluiah, I Love Her So.” In the middle of the line, “she comes knockin’ on my door,” Reed interjects with a humorous aside, “my baby’s a long knocker.”
Versions of standards like “Wabash Cannonball” and “John Henry” are polished, perhaps even a touch too refined for some tastes. However, any such concerns are dispelled by “Tupelo Mississippi Flash.” Here, Reed unleashes another of his signature talking blues performances. The song is about Elvis Presley, set to the melody of “All American Boy,” a hit for Bobby Bare (credited to Bill Parsons) in 1958, which was also about Presley.
Over the song’s brief two minutes and forty-five seconds, the unrestrained, comedic side of Reed’s personality takes center stage. The foundation is a Delta-infused riff, exaggerated for comedic effect. Reed’s vocal delivery is completely uninhibited – note the sharp enunciation of “Beauregard Rippy” and the broad delivery of lines like “I got talent boy” and “the boy’s squirrely.”
The punchline arrives when the talent scout employee, who initially dismisses the bizarre Beauregard Rippy, watches him become a superstar and finds himself out of a job. Reed delivers this with the comedic timing of a seasoned stand-up. “I got a new job now and I’m learnin’ real fast,” he sings, before the band drops out, leaving only Reed and his guitar: “I’m a’drivin’ the bus for the Tupelo Mississippi Flash.” As the band rejoins, he continues, “And his Cadillac, I’m driving that too / and that yacht he’s got / and his airplane.” The ultimate kicker is delivered with perfect comedic timing: “well, chauffeur chaugood, that’s what I always say.”
On his next album, Alabama Wild Man, Reed amplified his wild side even further. The title track, a close cousin to “Tupelo Mississippi Flash,” turns the comedic spotlight onto himself. His vocal performance is even more unrestrained, the humor even more biting as his father, realizing his son’s potential for success, becomes his biggest supporter. While Reed continued to explore his pop songwriting sensibilities – “Thank You Girl” from When You’re Hot, You’re Hot had hit potential – his wild persona increasingly took precedence.
Reed’s musical explorations ranged from the fervently funky, as exemplified by “Gomyeyonyu” from Cookin’, to the outrageously ribald, like his cover of “Plastic Saddle,” reveling in double entendres.
Following the success of “Amos Moses,” Reed scored his second and final song to break into the Billboard Hot 100: “When You’re Hot, You’re Hot.” Driven by a swaggering electric guitar riff, the song’s narrative celebrates the less respectable aspects of life: back-alley gambling, run-ins with the law, attempts to bribe judges, and the fleeting nature of friendship when trouble arises. The song pulls no punches in its depiction of life as a constant gamble against the odds. Its immense popularity led to the title becoming a popular catchphrase. It’s a fitting testament to Jerry Reed: at his most eccentric and comedic, he struck a chord that resonated deeply with audiences. He possessed a profound understanding of life’s complexities, far beyond just knowing a “thing or two.”
Jerry Reed was much more than just the “Guitar Man” of the Elvis era or the comedic persona he sometimes presented. He was a true artist, a master guitarist, a gifted songwriter, and a captivating singer, capable of moving seamlessly between heartfelt ballads and outrageous comedic narratives. His music continues to entertain and inspire, reminding us of the depth and diversity of talent that Nashville has produced.
