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Notes From Clearview Ranch

Archives for the ‘Music’ Category

Low in the Snow

Tuesday, December 13th, 2011

 

Corgi

Well winter’s sure set in here at Clearview Ranch. While the boys and I were gone to Texas on our last road trip, my wife offered to babysit our good friend Shelly’s two Corgi dogs.  Neither of the pooches are house-broke so Lisa made them a home in our backyard. 

And then it snowed. Over six inches. 

Now that I’m home and my gigs for the year have wrapped up, it’s time to take my pencil and paper in hand and get back to writing songs. But, to be quite honest, here lately I’ve lacked inspiration. Between a flu bug I picked up at the Western Music Awards which lasted a month and a root canal on Thursday, I haven’t really had much to write about that would make good song material. That was until today when I spent the afternoon in the back yard chopping wood and after watching our two visitors try to make a home in snow that is 3 inches deeper than their legs are, I think I finally have some inspiration. 

So how about a new Christmas song that goes something like:

It’s Christmas time and my credit card won’t go/ I’m feeling low/ Like a Corgi in the snow

What do ya think? Is it a Nashville hit in the making? 

I think I’m feeling better already! 

Merry Christmas!  – RDub

Do you have a line that I can add to this? or have any better ideas I should be working on here? Send me your Christmas inspirations!

 

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Why ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’?

Friday, November 19th, 2010

That’s what Lee Williams, the British country music radio host, wanted to know in his thick accent during our interview. “I mean, really ‘AhhDubbleyu’, it’s a lovely recording, but you’re an American cowboy music singer and you are singing an English rock song. We’re talking none other than Freddie Mercury and Queen!”

“Well, I know,” I drawled, and proceeded to give him the story which I’ve told many times since in radio and magazine interviews both in the United Kingdom and here at home.

Ya see, I’ve always liked that old rockabilly style, and especially that song, so it’s been rattling around in the back of my mind for about 40 years now. But it wasn’t until I awoke to the fact that I was a 50 year old Dad with an infant son that the song held real meaning for me. That’s right, and one who refused to let his mother and I sleep for MONTHS on end! Lisa and I were not new to parenting by any stretch of the imagination, but our five previous kids didn’t hold a candle to the challenges our precious Ethan Wayne was presenting.

Ethan Wayne Hampton

We were both at our wits end and living the sleep-deprived blur when I found myself in an LA studio recording the tracks for my latest album, Austin To Boston. I was resting between takes of some other song and started strumming my guitar and singing, “This thing called love, it cries in the cradle all night, it swings and jives; it shakes all over like a jelly fish. I kind of like it. This crazy little thing called love.” Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened until I was finished. It was then Joe and Gary, my producers, jumped on me like a duck on a June bug, “That’s cool, man. Let’s record it!”

For a minute I thought they had gone “Crazy,” but it didn’t take me long to warm up to the idea. After all, I’m a man who likes to sing and record material he can relate to, and man, I could – and still can – relate to that song! And the rest is, as they say, “recorded, mixed and in the can.”

Well, crazy as it may seem, that’s the story. And you know, some of the craziest little things turn out to be the biggest blessings. I love you, Ethan, and although Freddie Mercury wrote it, it will always be our song, because you are your momma’s and my Crazy Little Thing Called Love!

Click here to listen to my version of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” from my new CD, Austin To Boston.

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Shortgrass

Wednesday, August 11th, 2010

The land of the shortgrass is my home. 

It is often brutal in the winter, with winds whipping off the mountains carrying storms across these high altitude plains. It can be dry as a bone into the summer, with ranchers crying for rain. And in years like this one, it is a beautiful, lush, green pasture that rolls over the land, interrupted only by the hills and ravines that have been created through time and sprinkled with the occasional grove of cottonwood or elm trees near a dirt tank oasis and scattered cactus and yuccas, which bloom in the spring.

Although what is considered the shortgrass country stretches from the Southern Rocky Mountains to Alberta, Canada, our little Clearview Ranch is located at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, a chain within the Rockies here in Northeastern New Mexico. It is popular country for raising horses since it gets its name from the short, but potent, native grasses that are suited to this windy high desert region. 

There is a rugged beauty here that is evident not only in the land, but also in its inhabitants. Many an old timer has been heard to say that if you ever wear out a pair of boots here, the country will steal your heart forever. 

My oldest son, Cooper Hampton, and his best buddy, Dawson Enloe, joined the Marines together during high school.  Over the years they have set foot in many countries and worn out their boots, both overseas and around our own great nation, but they have always expressed their desire to someday come back home to the Shortgrass country, their home. 

This song was written for them.

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Job For A Cowboy

Friday, July 30th, 2010

Take one cowboy (any age) mounted on a good,  solid, reliable horse (white, of course). Now take a woman (young and beautiful, of course) who is drowning in a sea of despair due to a badly broken heart. A wound made all the worse due to the fact that it was inflicted by that type of sorry, low-down, black-hearted vermin who preys on trusting women.

Now did I mention that our cowboy is so sure of himself that he knows his combination of savvy, sweet-talk, crooning and caress would, on any given day, heal the crack in the Liberty Bell? Oh yes, and a broken heart is his specialty. So let’s get out of our hero’s way and let him do his job!

That’s right, take all this and you’ve got a Job For A Cowboy, which just happens to be the title of one of my new songs (of course!) on my new Austin To Boston CD.

Come on now, what woman hasn’t dreamed of being rescued by a handsome, daring cowboy in a white hat (of course!) And show me the man or boy who hasn’t dreamed of galloping into town, guns a-blazing (of course), to rescue a damsel in distress. 

Ahhh, you’re in luck, and I’m going to show you how to apply these heroic principles on a modern day level. You see, right now my wife is pulling up to the ol’ ranch house with a huge load of groceries and supplies from town. I’ll just don my whitest hat (of course) and go out and say, “I’ll get these, Ma’am.” Even though we’ve been married for forever, I can still impress her by grunting and groaning and flexing my muscles as I carry this stuff into the house. 

But wait! This is not what I had in mind. She bats her pretty eyes and says, “I can handle them, but if you really want to help,” (and I think I do, of course), “our youngest has needed a diaper change since I left the store.” And folks, we live a long way from town!

Well, it looks like I’ve got a job to do. It’s not very glamorous, but a cowboy’s work is never done. So take a tip from me, forget everything I told you and just enjoy my new song, Job For A Cowboy. And… let me know how you like it. (Of course!)

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Happy Independence Day, America!

Friday, July 2nd, 2010

As Americans around the world get ready with family and friends to celebrate our Independence Day, I’m contemplating the few precious hours my family and I will spend with my son, US Marine Corps Sgt. Cooper Hampton, later this month before he leaves on his second combat deployment. It is a strange irony and a sobering reminder that while much has changed in our country, the cost of freedom is still the same.

So here I am with another video… a little tribute to America and all the men and women who have paid the price for our freedoms. If you like this little song, please consider forwarding it along to share with your friends. And of course, I always love to hear what you think.

Happy Independence Day, America!

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Of Men, Music, and the Land

Monday, May 17th, 2010

I went to town the other day to get a haircut before I flew to Florida for the weekend.

As usual, our little barber shop was busy, so I got in line behind about a dozen or so other men who were waiting for Ruben to work his magic.

Now in order to paint a clear picture of my world, let me say that when you are the best barber in a huge county of about ten thousand people, you are always busy.

As I hung my hat and coat, I exchanged howdys with everyone and took a seat to wait my turn in Ruben’s chair.

I shuffled through the stack of girlie and hunting magazines.

Not seeing anything interesting, I decided to settle in and listen to the talk. Some in Spanish, some in English, and some in what we refer to as Spanglish.

After listening for what seemed like forever, I came to the realization that I never before had considered how little I had in common with these men.

Different cultures, races, languages, tax brackets, and religions.  The only thing I could see we had in common was that we were all men in need of a haircut.

Now Old Ruben is a music lover from way back. As a result, he’s always had an old guitar that he keeps on top of the pop machine in the corner. Many’s the time that Ruben has asked, “Hey RdubbleU, how about a song while you wait?”

One time I went in with my boys, and by the time we all got a haircut, I discovered I was a little shy of what I owed him. Ruben doesn’t take credit or debit cards, but he will take a song.  So, at two bucks short and a song being worth a nickel, I am, and have been, indebted to my barber for quite some time.

On this particular day, I went and grabbed that old guitar upon request and started to play and sing. Ruben loves Marty Robbins songs, so I played “I Walk Alone.” One of the other fellas asked if I knew “Cowboy in the Continental Suit.” I played that and some others and then handed the guitar to an old man who played “El Rancho Grande” and “De Colores.”

An old cowman from the Canadian River Canyon up around Roy, New Mexico, got to his feet and did a little jig to that ancient old tune while the other men laughed and clapped. Someone remarked that he was in his nineties!  The old cowman replied that he was destined for Dancing with the Stars.  And so it went, for the better part of an hour, until it came my time for a haircut.

I looked across this tiny shop and noticed that the faces that once had been courteous, but indifferent, had warmed. We all had a good laugh when one of the wives came in to tell her husband it was time to go home.  She said she had dragged him out of the saloon many times, but never the barber shop!

When Ruben was done, I left a ten on the counter, grabbed my hat and coat, and said adios.

Heading back to the ranch, I hummed “El Rancho Grande” as I drove and had to laugh at how wrong I had been.  We share so much in common, these men and I.  Our bond is a love for music.

But much more than that, it is a love for music about the land, this land, our land!

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Living While Waiting

Wednesday, May 5th, 2010

The last time we visited, I was waiting for our mare, Molly, to foal. Well, a little after midnight on a stormy night in late April, she finally did. It seems that she was on a different timetable than we were. We never consulted Molly with our precise breeding dates and gestation period tables, so in the end, despite all our preplanning and anticipation, Molly gave birth when she was good and ready – and not a second sooner. 

Mother and colt

Mother and colt? Everything went as it should. The colt is a dandy, let me tell you, well worth the wait. I have to smile, though, when I think of all the sleep lost getting up in the middle of cold dark nights to go down to the barn because we were sure it was time!

We spent what seemed like an eternity waiting for our youngest son to walk. All the books and experts said he was behind schedule. But when he was good and ready, he stood, got his balance and promptly ran off. We’ve been chasing him ever since.

It was the same with talking. According to the specialist, our lad was behind the curve. A team was assembled to study him and make recommendations. It was even thought that perhaps his facial muscles were underdeveloped, so cheek massages were ordered. Then one day he did start speaking; now at almost four years of age, we can’t shut him up. People are astounded at his vocabulary and gift of oratory! And when bedtime rolls around, this little guy can filibuster for hours.

As of this writing, we are waiting for our oldest son to receive the dates for his deployment to Afghanistan. Of course, when he does leave, then the waiting really begins. One thing for sure, though: despite my desire to know, nothing will happen until the Marine Corps is good and ready, and not a moment sooner!

It seems like a good deal of life is spent waiting. I could write a book about waiting on women. I could probably write that book during the time I spend waiting to catch planes or waiting for the traffic lights to turn green.

Musically, it seems like I am always waiting for inspiration or a block of quiet time to work on a song or idea. Right now, I am waiting on my next project, wondering when it will be released. It seems so long between when we start a project, when I do my part with the recording, and when you get to hear it; but this time, because the process after mastering has been somewhat out of my hands, it has seemed like an eternity. I have to tell myself that although I wait, there are people working on it and like that dandy little colt, it will be here when they have it done, and although this may not fit my timetable, it would be foolish to send it out into the world before it’s good and ready.

I suppose by now you’re waiting to find out where I’m going with all this. Well, here’s the deal:  we’ve got to learn how to live while we’re waiting, ’cause what we’re waiting on may or may not be quite what we hoped for.

Have I learned how to do this? No, but I’m working on it. My guess is that like Molly’s foal, understanding will come when it’s good and ready and not a moment too soon. Till then, I’ll do some living.

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The Start of Something New

Monday, April 19th, 2010

Welcome to the start of something new.

As with most things new, it’s a humble start. I say that because I’m writing this not from my ranch office, but rather while I’m sitting on an overturned five-gallon bucket in our corral.

Why? Because one of our mares is going to give birth (or “foal,” as we say) at any time! So I’m here, purely in an advisory capacity this evening, to make sure everything goes as nature planned. It seems fitting, though, that while ol’ Molly is working on something new, so am I. And while I have no idea what kind of colt she’ll raise or what it will become, I’m just as unsure what my little “blog” will grow up to be.

It’s kind of exciting every now and then to head up a new trail just to see where it goes. Well, that’s what I’m doing here and I’d consider it an honor if you’d see fit to come along.

I’m gonna call my “baby” Notes From Clearview Ranch. See, my home, Clearview, sits at an elevation of well over 6000 feet. Looking north and west and south, I stand in the shadows of the mesas and snow capped Sangre de Cristo Mountains. To the east, I look out across an endless rolling prairie that I can best describe as an ocean of grass. So this “big” view gives me a unique perspective. Certainly it’s not the only view, but it is my view.

That’s sort of what I want to do with this blog; give you my perspective or view on the everyday things we all deal with in life. It certainly won’t be the only view, and may not be your view, but it will be uniquely mine.

So there you have it. Notes from Clearview Ranch is born today. As for Molly the mare’s baby? I’m still waiting!

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© R.W. Hampton