First Published in Country Music International – December 1998

Ten years ago a host of unknown, struggling acts were vying for the attention of Nashville's major labels. Those who finally made the Class of '89 were destined to be at the forefront of a revitalised Nashville music industry that shaped the massive sales spurt of the early 1990s. As the end of the most exciting decade ever for American country music approaches, now seems to be the ideal time for reflection.

In 1988 only a handful of country music acts consistently delivered gold albums. These included Randy Travis, the Judds, George Strait and Alabama. Average sales for country albums stood at around 150,000, a far cry from today’s multi-million sales of superstars like Brooks & Dunn, Reba McEntire, Shania Twain and Garth Brooks. It was Garthmania that spearheaded the phenomenal growth of country music, but he was never alone. 1989 was also the year fans were introduced to such future stars as Alan Jackson, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Travis Tritt, and Clint Black, five acts that released multi-million-selling debut albums and have maintained that momentum almost unabated.

One of the reasons so many artists from the Class Of ’89 have endured was because they came up through the system, getting a good grounding in clubs, singing demos and getting solid experience before they signed a contract. Like today's young hopefuls, few had any aspirations beyond getting a record deal, scoring a hit and being able to tour successfully.

In 1989 BillBoard lauded Clint Black as the ‘year's miracle child,’ as his first two singles, Better Man and Killin' Time, went to Number One. He made headlines opening for KT Oslin at Carmegie Hall, and his debut album was certified gold within five months of its release. Black has continued his success with 10 Number One singles, four platinum albums, a double platinum disc and that auspicious debut album, KILLIN' TIME, which is now triple platinum

“I went into it wide-eyed, thinking I'm just going to go in there and make hit records,” Black recalls. “But I got an education in just how hard it is to do that, even back then. It's a lot tougher now, because back then we had six or eight acts that could go and headline arenas, but now we're looking at 20 or 25. There are a lot more record companies putting out a lot more records—that makes it harder to be noticed.”

Black burst onto the country scene at the same time as Garth Brooks, and for a while there was some kind of unofficial competition between the two. While Brooks shot to international pop crossover success and record-breaking album sales, Black has remained a consistent country hitmaker whose credibility as a singer and songwriter has rarely been in doubt. His singing is controlled and firm, allowing good material to speak for itself without trying to show off or over-dramatise. He rarely uses material from the Nashville song factory, which is unable to produce songs as dark, personal or meaningful as his own creations. He is one of a handful of artists who have weathered everything, rolling with the flow and remaining true to who he is. That's not always the case with many of today's newcomers.

Garth Brooks hardly rolls with the flow. Country music's bona fide superstar has set records that are unlikely to be broken in his lifetime, yet it all started quietly enough. His first album, released in 1989, sold respectably, but didn't skyrocket until the release of The Dance, which remains his signature song and show-closer. Since then his meteoric rise has seldom slowed.

The statistics are staggering. In less than 10 years, Brooks has sold more than 80 million albums in the US, making him the top-selling solo artist in US history. At 16 million, his 1990 album, NO FENCES, is cited as the top-selling country album ever. His 1991 effort, Ropin' the Wind, comes in at Number Three. During his lengthy world tour he has sold out numerous arena shows in cities like Chicago, Boston and Pittsburgh. His free concert in New York's Central Park drew around 600,000 people, and HBO's live broadcast of the event pulled higher ratings than any other network that night.

Yet despite the millions of tickets sold, he never takes his success for granted. “The truth is every time you go on stage, you don't know of you're gonna get booed off or not. I'm sure there are some artists and athletes who go out there and know they're going to win, but I've never been like that. I've always been a guy that's had to go out and think, for the first two songs: ‘OK God, is this my last night? Is the magic gone?’”

Brooks’ wide-eyed disbelief at his own good fortune is not suprising, given that he was turned down by every label in Music City before being signed by Capitol Nashville (which had also previously passed on him) in 1988. Overnight success certainly took its toll, and there were fears in some quarters that Brooks just couldn't handle it. He shook the industry in 1992 when he talked about retiring at the pinnacle of his career. His wife Sandy's difficult pregnancy and the prospect of touring and spending extended periods of time away from his wife and new daughter darkened his mood. But he snapped out of it and came back stronger than ever.

While no-one knows how long his wild ride can last, Brooks swears he'll hang on until his fans tell him they're ready to let him go. “When the people are through with you and your stuff, then you bow out,” he says, “But until they are through, you're theirs.” Meanwhile the Brooks’ phenomenon shows no signs of abating. He has maintained a consistent schedule of sell-out shows and this year took the CMA's Entertainer Of The Year award for a record-breaking fourth time.

Arista-Nashville opened in 1989 and released its first single, Alan Jackson's debut Blue Blooded Woman, that October. Label president Tim DuBois says it was Jackson's songwriting ability that was the biggest drawing card. “Alan had a wonderful, pure country voice, but most important he was a great songwriter,” DuBois explains. “Of course, his long blond hair and good looks didn't hurt, but it was really his remarkable ability to communicate through his songwriting that hooked me.”

Of the Class Of ’89, Alan Jackson is the most traditional. He harks back to Hank Williams, Lefty Frizzell and George Jones. Jackson writes or co-writes most of his material, and he approaches the labour like a journeyman, not a star. His modesty is a throwback to traditional country virtues, but it is part of his talent that he makes his humility as convincing, as he performs the varying rhythms of his brand of country music. Jackson is the lone million-seller to cling to country music's traditions and roots without wavering into crossover territory.

Brooks, Black and Jackson are three of the modern country music generation's most consistent performers. The only thing they have in common is that all three are hat acts and, even more than George Strait, they made it cool for young American country singers to wear Stetsons. Not so Travis Tritt, who has accumulated six platinum discs, but could never be termed safe or puritanical.

Influenced as much by Lynyrd Skynyrd as by Hank and Willie, Tritt has built up a reputation in America for his high-energy shows. His music is loud, his image that of a long-haired biker-hero, but beneath the surface he is a sensitive, quietly-spoken person who believes passionately in his music. When he teamed up with Marty Stuart for the notorious ‘No Hats’ tour, he was not so much knocking his classmates, as the safe and predictable stance that Nashville had adopted in its search for clean-cut, freshly-starched, cardboard cut-out cowboys. The pair's duets on The Whiskey Ain't Workin' and This One's Gonna Hurt You, were honky-tonk laments that benefitted from their vocal contrast: Stuart's sharp, clear baritone and Tritt's clenched-throat growl.

Vince Gill was as different from the three hat acts as Tritt, bringing an eloquent sense of desolation to sad country songs, imparting a sweetness to them that most performers only hint at. Fans were always puzzled as to why it took so long, and eventually a label change, for Gill to make that all-important breakthrough. After a six-year stint with RCA that only produced three Top 10 hits, Gill moved over to MCA in 1989 and hit pay-dirt almost immediately with When I Call Your Name and Pocket Full Of Gold. 

One of the most-awarded of all country music acts, Gill's roomful of platinum and gold discs, Grammys and CMA awards were all won during the 1990s. A gifted songwriter, penning many of the songs he has made famous with his expressive tenor, Gill's music reveals an ambition and range that belie his doe eyes, shy grin, and tremulous voice. He is at his best when he soars alone, whether on the plaintive I Still Believe In You or the more mature Tryin' To Get Over You. It's a measure of Gill's skill that he can take a standard country shuffle like Take Your Memory With You and give it a fresh urgency with his snappy phrasing and a curt guitar solo in the middle of the tune. In short, Gill has proved that he is one of the best entertainers ever in country music, whose musical talent allows him to sit high above the gyrating belly buttons and other vain antics so popular in the format today. 

Looking to the Millenium, building another strong class of country artists with whom the audience can identify is essential to country's future. That's why country music was so strong in the early 1990s: there was a class of artists—Vince, Alan, Garth, Travis and Clint, with a consistency of product coming after. Each was a unique singer with a unique approach.

The intermingling of musical styles and influences born of the 1989 melting pot resulted in the most forceful and dynamic changes ever wrought upon mainstream country music since the 1950s. But as the 1990s wore on to become the decade of Political Correctness, Music Row, in its efforts to play the PC game while building on the sales boom, started to play safe, cloning hat acts and Brooks’ wannabes by the dozen.

Yet over the past couple of years Nashville may just have woken up to country music's urgent need for something different and unexpected. Fresh new talent like The Dixie Chicks, Deana Carter, Lee Ann Womack, Trace Adkins, Neal Coty and Chris Knight have all served their apprenticeships working the clubs, playing on sessions and honing their writing and vocal skills. Each act has a distinctive sound and style, and there appears to be genuine commitment from their respective labels to build careers for them rather than relying on country radio as a barometer for career longevity.

The bottom line on the current state of country is that there is peace in the valley, with all sorts of styles coexisting without anyone dominating the genre. This itself is something new—from the honky-tonk era through the Nashville and countrypolitan sounds to the hat acts and the preponderance of groups, the charts have usually been dominated by a single style at any given time. Now, as the country market shakes down after the recent years of surge, it's good to realise that the genre has fractured into many pieces and that anything goes. Whether this is musical democracy or anarchy remains to be seen, but it is shaping up well for the Class of  '89 to take country music into the millennium.