The Buckaroosters—Seattle's premier Buck Owens tribute band—have weathered many changes over the last eight years: nearly a dozen different drummers; the closing, and subsequent reincarnation, of their original home, Jules Maes Saloon. But their show at the Tractor Tavern this Saturday, May 6, marks an even more significant transition for the group: Owens died in his sleep on March 25, at age 76.
To make this memorial gig extra special, the Buckaroosters will be joined by guests from two other Seattle outfits that carry on the traditions of Owens and the Bakersfield sound, West Valley Highway and Jo Miller & Her Burly Roughnecks. And bassist Nova Devonie will be passing around platters of Buckeyes, peanut butter nuggets dipped in chocolate, with pretzel stick stems, for fans to munch on.
In the 1960s, Owens staked out his musical identity with an electrified take on honky-tonk that contrasted sharply with increasingly syrupy Nashville productions, racking up a string of #1 country hits: "Act Naturally," "I've Got a Tiger by the Tail," "Only You (Can Break My Heart)." He impacted the pop charts, too: Ray Charles took Owens's original "Cryin' Time" into the Top 10 in 1966. While his sales tapered off in the 1970s, disciple Dwight Yoakam put him back at #1 in 1988, when the two cut the duet "Streets of Bakersfield."
The Buckaroosters never made the pilgrimage to Owens's Bakersfield, California, concert hall and restaurant, Buck Owens's Crystal Palace, where the country legend performed just hours before his passing. But guitarist David Keenan and singer Dave Ellis did get to spend face time with their hero when he played Bumbershoot—warming up for Screaming Trees—in 1998.
"A friend on the sound crew got us backstage to meet him," Keenan recalls. "He was very gracious. We had our picture taken with him, and told him about the Buckaroosters, to which he raised his knee, slapped his leg repeatedly and laughed..."
"Har har har! That's a good one!" declared Owens. "You boys got a tape or somethin'?"
"Why would you want to listen to a tape of us singing your songs?" asked Keenan, understandably befuddled.
"I just wanna hear if you're any good!" Owens replied.
That good-natured sense of humor would later contribute to Owens's undoing. In 1969, when he was still a seemingly unstoppable hit-maker, he joined the cast of Hee Haw. Slowly, over the course of his tenure on the program, he found himself doing more shtick and playing less top-notch music. "'Weekly TV—that's death for recording artists," he told the Washington Post in 1989.
Keenan concurs that Hee Haw ultimately did Owens more harm than good. "They backed a truckload of money up to his door. What was he supposed to do? It pretty much ruined his credibility and did nothing for widening his audience, but did make the general TV nation more aware of him... as a clown." Fortunately, so long as the Buckaroosters keep the flame burning, Owens's legacy is in safe—and talented—hands once more.
