"He'll Have to Go," "Making Believe," "I Guess I'm Crazy," "I Won't Come In While He's There": I defy all you warm-blooded human beings out there (I hope!) to hear such tunes and not feel an uncontrollable urge to run to the nearest sleazy roadhouse, grab a long-necked Bud, wrap your arms around the nearest convicted, badly-tattooed felon (man OR woman of course), and get out on the dance floor.
I mean if lyrics like these describe your whole adolescent, and a good part of your adult, psyche--as they do mine--this is the guy for you:
I'm just on the blue side of lonesome
Right next to the Heartbreak Hotel
In a tavern that's known as Three Teardrops
on a barstool not doing so well.
Reeves died in a single-engine plane crash, of the Beechwood Debonair aircraft he was piloting, on July 31, 1964. The inscription on his memorial reads, "If I, a lowly singer, dry one tear, or soothe one humble human heart in pain, then my homely verse to God is dear, and not one stanza has been sung in vain."