David Allan Coe is without doubt one of the most controversial characters within country music. There’s no shortage of reasons for this. Some of them humorous, such as the legendary story of him riding to Nashville in a hearse; some of them somber, such as him spending his formative years in correctional facilities; some of them more than a bit objectionable, such as his “X-rated” albums replete with openly sexist and racist songs. Then there’s his alter ego of the “Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy”, which is baffling to say the least. It’s no wonder the mainstream country music establishment never really embraced Coe; and it’s painfully easy to see how Coe has caused damage to his career with his ill-advised antics.

And it’s a shame, because beneath the imagery, the controversy and all the weirdness, in his prime David Allan Coe was one of the foremost country musicians of his time – nay, of all time! As a songwriter and lyricist, he was among the finest; as a performer, there were few who could equal him. This two-in-one set by iconic Bear Family Records is testament to this.

Combining Coe’s third and fourth country albums – fifth and sixth overall, as the two first weren’t country – together on one disc, Longhaired Redneck/Rides Again (1976 and 1977 respectively) presents Coe in his outlaw country prime. Bear Family’s earlier two-in-one release The Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy/Once Upon A Time (which we will return to at a later date) showcases a young and budding artist, a jewel in the rough still trying to pinpoint his style. On these two albums, he’s reached it.

The set kicks off with Longhaired Redneck, one of Coe’s signature songs. The belligerent bravado and macho swagger of the song is equal amounts rock machismo, punk attitude and country storytelling. Not only does it paint Coe as the toughest of the tough and the outlawest of the outlaws, it also paints a vivid picture of the weird soup the outlaw scene was: hippies, bikers, traditional country fans in one unholy soup. And true to style, Coe refers to himself in third person, mythologizing himself.

The starting track of Once Upon A Time continues the mythologizing aspect: with Willie, Waylon And Me, Coe boldly puts himself at the forefront of the outlaw movement together with Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings. Now, as far as popularity and commercial success or affecting change to the country music establishment is concerned, Coe certainly was leagues behind the two icons. But as far as genuine attitude, adventurous musical approach and the ability to transcend traditional genre boundaries is concerned, Coe certainly was on par with the two icons. As he sings on Rock And Roll Holiday: “We could be the only country band on a rock and roll show” – a song, where he positions himself among rock luminaries, namechecking Janis Joplin and James Dean among others (Joplin also receives a mention in Willie Waylon And Me along with plenty of country rock acts of the day). And then, later in the same song: “Tune up the fiddle, rosin the bow” – a country line if there ever was one.

But, ultimately, Coe’s greatest strength isn’t in the macho bravado of these rocking country numbers and the defiant swagger of the outlaw schtick. Coe certainly didn’t lack the cred or chops to be a believable country rock outlaw, but it’s when he turned introspective and melancholy that Coe truly proves he was one of the greatest.

Spotlight is a much more somber and jaded, disillusioned look at the music scene and being a rock star, which sounds like it comes from genuine lived experience even if it is obviously rather exaggerated. Then there’s Revenge, a classic country tale of avenging a dead lover (this one too loaded with autobiographical details) – but from a decidedly unusual standpoint; that of a weary, disillusioned man who’s starting to forget what his love looked like and questions if it was all worth it. It takes a lyrical trope and gives it so much more depth.

The finest moment on this disc is without a doubt Free Born Rambling Man, which features some great lap steel licks. Coe turns to another classic, even cliché country theme; that of the man who’s wanderlust forces him to abandon family and love to always seek what’s beyond the horizon. It’s the second verse that once again proves how Coe could penetrate behind the cliché and find the essential core, and put it to words: “Lord, tell the children when they find me that I died but not in vain/They can find reincarnation in the whistle of a train/And each time they hear the whistle blow through the stillness of the land/They’ll know that I was happy as a free born ramblin’ man”. There’s something sublime in those lines and the conviction with which Coe delivers them.

And there’s always a sparkle in Coe’s eyes, a little gleam of wry humour. This set ends with If That Ain’t Country, a sincere but cliché laden exposition of country hardship, and a decided middle finger toward all of Coe’s would-be detractors. Dakota The Dancing Bear, Part 2 (which is, I’m assuming, Coe’s sequel to Kris Kristofferson & Rita Coolidge’s original) definitely plants tongue firmly in cheek in telling the story of a coke addicted dancing bear and his heroin addicted missus.

So, as you can see, David Allan Coe certainly wasn’t a man cut from one cloth. The sheer breadth and depth of expression he manages to squeeze into these two albums is admirable. Ranging from riffing on country traditionals (Family Reunion) to the outlaw swagger, to the insightful and poetic lyrics, to the tongue-in-cheek funny stuff, and beyond, on these two albums Coe showcases a masterful grasp of country music.

Country music’s never really been album music. Sure, there are throngs and throngs of country albums out there, but a great many of them are little more than a compilation of songs. The album as an art form as in rock music is a relative scarcity, and was even more so before the heyday of the outlaw movement. Johnny Cash was one of the few country artists who’d dabbled in somewhat conceptual albums, with varying and usually less than illustrious results.

Here again, Coe succesfully plants himself next to Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings. Nelson is of course known for his many conceptual albums, of which maybe the most famous are Red Headed Stranger and Stardust, and Jennings provided a nigh on perfect country album with Lonesome On’ry And Mean; with Longhaired Redneck and Rides Again, Coe proves he was their equal in crafting album length bodies of material that flow and work together. He would later go on to craft more conceptual albums, but these two are Coe at his album length prime.

So if you’re new to the weird and wonderful world of David Allan Coe, don’t look for compilation albums – especially considering there are tons of Coe compilations and most of them suck. No, do yourself a favour and get your hands on these two albums, separately or together. These are the perfect way to get into Coe. Never you mind the bizarre cover artwork of this Bear Family release – as with Coe, you need to look past the surface layer to truly understand the magnificence.

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In From The Vaults we take a dive into the record collection at Only Death Is Real HQ and write about about items of iconic stature or personal significance; rarities and oddities from the archives; obscure gems that deserve more attention; classics of yore deserving of a moment in the limelight; and so on.