Country Music - Page 85 of 85 - Country Music Hits

17 days before Ozzy Osbourne died, he did his final show in his hometown of Birmingham, England, raising over $190 million for charity. While there, a video message to the “Prince of Darkness” from the “Queen of Country” herself, Dolly Parton, was played. Now, her message takes on a new meaning. See what Dolly had to say about Ozzy, and hear what Ozzy’s family had to say about Dolly…

An Unlikely Angel Bids Farewell to the Prince of Darkness: Dolly Parton’s Heartfelt Tribute at Ozzy Osbourne’s Final Concert On…

A BULLET PASSED THROUGH TRACE ADKINS’ HEART BEFORE COUNTRY RADIO EVER LEARNED HIS NAME. Before the deep baritone. Before the black hat. Before “Every Light in the House” made people stop and ask who that giant from Louisiana was, Trace Adkins had already lived through enough pain for several country songs. He grew up in Sarepta, Louisiana, the son of a teacher and a plant worker. Football looked like one road out, until a knee injury ended that dream. So he went where hard men went. Offshore oil rigs. Long shifts. Heavy steel. Salt air. The kind of work that does not care if you are tired. There were accidents before Nashville. A bulldozer nearly cost him both legs. An oil tank explosion crushed his left leg. Hurricane Chantal stranded him in the Gulf of Mexico in 1989. Even his pinky was cut off on a drilling rig and later reattached. Still, he kept singing. By 1992, Trace moved to Nashville for another shot at music. But two years later, before the record deal, before the platinum album, before the Opry and the awards, his life nearly ended in a house far away from any spotlight. During a violent argument, Trace was shot while trying to take a gun away from his second wife. The bullet went through his heart and both lungs. He needed emergency open-heart surgery. He survived. Later, he would say it simply: “It wasn’t my time to go.” In 1995, Capitol Nashville signed him. The next year, Dreamin’ Out Loud introduced that voice to country radio. “Every Light in the House” became his first Top 5 hit. “This Ain’t No Thinkin’ Thing” went to No. 1. But maybe that is why Trace Adkins never sounded like a polished newcomer. When he sang about empty rooms, regret, stubborn love, or a man trying to stand tall, there was weight behind it. Not image. Memory. The voice was deep because the road had been heavy long before anyone turned the lights on.

SHE WAS STILL HEALING WHEN COUNTRY MUSIC STARTED FALLING TO PIECES WITH HER. In January 1961, Patsy Cline had just given birth to her son, Randy. By June, she was nearly gone. The crash happened while one of her most important songs was slowly climbing the charts. Not exploding overnight. Not making her untouchable yet. Just moving, week by week, toward the place where country music would finally have to admit that her voice was different. Then came the wreck. A near-fatal car accident left Patsy badly injured. Her body was hurt. Her face was scarred. The kind of pain that could have made a singer disappear for a while, especially a woman trying to hold a career, a marriage, motherhood, and the road all at once. But Patsy Cline was never built like someone waiting to be rescued. She came back with the same ache in her voice, only now it seemed to carry something heavier. When “I Fall to Pieces” reached No. 1 that August, it no longer sounded like just another heartbreak song. It sounded almost too close to real life — a woman trying to keep standing while everything around her had already broken. Then came “Crazy.” Then “She’s Got You.” For a little while, it looked like the pain had not stopped her. It had sharpened her. Carnegie Hall, the Hollywood Bowl, American Bandstand — rooms that once might have seemed far away from Winchester, Virginia, began opening for a country girl with a voice too rich to stay in one lane. And then, in March 1963, she was gone again. This time for good. Patsy Cline died at 30 in a plane crash while returning home from a benefit show in Kansas City. That is the hard part about listening to her now. The songs do not sound old. They sound interrupted. Like there was still another verse coming.

JASON ALDEAN JUST PASSED GEORGE STRAIT AND ALAN JACKSON ON ONE BILLBOARD CHART. That sentence alone is enough to make country fans stop for a second. “Don’t Tell On Me” has climbed to No. 1 on Billboard’s Country Airplay chart, giving Aldean his 27th No. 1 on that chart. It also pushes him past George Strait and Alan Jackson there — two names that still feel untouchable to a lot of country fans. And maybe that’s why this one feels bigger than just another hit. Because the song doesn’t come in soft. It leans on that rough Aldean sound, but underneath it is a man trying to hide the one thing his heart keeps giving away. The number will start the debate. But the song is what keeps people listening.

SHE USED TO BE CALLED “THE WHISKEY DRINKING BADASS.” 4 YEARS LATER, ASHLEY MCBRYDE OPENED A BAR ON NASHVILLE’S BROADWAY — THAT DOESN’T SERVE ALCOHOL. Ashley McBryde’s new album Wild tells the story of her messiest years — everything leading up to rehab. Songs like “Behind Bars” and “Bottle Tells Me So” track every failed attempt to quit, from switching liquor brands to counting each glass she poured. But what finally made her stop wasn’t willpower. In 2022, mid-tour with Dierks Bentley, her own team sat her down for an intervention. She told Kelly Clarkson she doesn’t preach about being sober. She compared it to a wet wool blanket — heavy, constant, always on her. Not a badge. Not a victory lap. Just something she carries every single day. What terrified her most wasn’t the drinking itself. It was believing that sobriety would kill her music. She thought everything creative inside her would go silent. What it actually did, she said, was take the blindfold off.