Waylon: An Autobiography

by Waylon Jennings

“Lonesome,” Momma used to call the noise the wind made, and it haunts me to this day. It sounded like the end of time to me. Sometimes I think I make music to shut out the wind, to find a place where the sands can’t touch, and the air smells sweet and clear on a spring morning after the rain.

When you’re born in Texas, you think that you are a little bit taller, a little bit smarter, and a little bit tougher than anybody else. It’s a country unto itself, it really is. In fact, it was the only place that was a country before it was a state, and the people who live there still feel that way.

There were two kinds of people Grandpa didn’t trust, a preacher and a cop. He’d say “They both think they’re sanctified in everything they do.”

have to go back every once in a while, just to see where I’ve been and who I am. I don’t know why that is.

If the music was right, the song will take care of itself. The whole thing is getting the rhythm to where you can feel

There’s more than one way to do things. There’s at least two ways, and one of them is your way. You damn well have a right to try it, at least once.

We were walking contradictions, and we didn’t mind. We were rebels, but we didn’t want to dismantle the system. We just wanted our own patch. In the South, especially, they try to live by the rules; it’s the legacy of the Bible Belt. Anybody that breaks the rules is a sinner. When you come into a working system, and start trying to change it, you are regarded as the Devil.

It’s hard to tell a Texan what to do.

“I don’t like anything I can’t pronounce. I hate France.” “What do you mean, Waylon? They’ve got fine wine, beautiful women, and five hundred kinds of cheese.” “So’sFort Worth.”

You are whatever the audience thinks you are, whatever they care to call you while you’re in the spotlight. You owe them a good performance.