In death, as in life. I recall visiting the Mount Olivet Cemetery, Nashville and getting a blank look from the gracious lady in charge of the office. Considering that Fred Rose was one of the pioneers who put the melody into Music City, USA this ought to have surprised me, but didn't. If Jim Reeves could be neglected, why not another towering talent like Fred Rose?
After a long stroll-search though a superbly landscaped cemetery I eventually located the last resting place of Fred Rose - in a distant, out of the way corner. It is, one suspects, as he would have wished it. By any other name, Fred Rose would sound as sweet.
In many quarters, of course, Jim Reeves is the ultimate Anti-Hank. As if a lack of roughage was the mark of authenticity. By this warped logic, Mozart was decidedly fake.
There is one particularly lame brain in the best selling paper in Ireland, the Sunday Independent, as venomous as he is phoney, who delights in taking down his metaphorical Hank Williams branding iron to stigmatize Jim Reeves as.....bland.
There is none so bland as those who will not hear.
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