Country Music

Classic Country Music Hits

Country Music

George Jones – Somebody Wants Me Out Of The Way

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.”

Introduction

Every once in a while, a song comes along that feels like it was made to echo through the corridors of heartbreak and resilience. “Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” by George Jones is one of those songs. Imagine finding yourself at a crossroads, feeling an invisible push, like a force determined to make you leave a place where your heart firmly belongs. That sentiment, paired with Jones’ emotionally charged delivery, makes this song a gem that resonates deeply with anyone who’s ever felt sidelined or unwelcome.

About The Composition

  • Title: Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way
  • Composer: Dennis Knutson and A.L. “Doodle” Owens
  • Premiere Date: 1986
  • Album: Wine Colored Roses
  • Genre: Country

Background

“Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” is a track from George Jones’ 1986 album Wine Colored Roses. Co-written by Dennis Knutson and A.L. “Doodle” Owens, the song speaks to a palpable sense of displacement and longing. In the mid-1980s, Jones was navigating a turbulent period in his career, dealing with personal struggles and changes in the music industry. The song captures this tension, serving as both a reflection of his own battles and a universal narrative for those feeling pushed aside.

When the song was released, it wasn’t just a musical entry—it was an artistic declaration from Jones, signaling that despite the challenges, his voice and presence in country music were far from being diminished.

Musical Style

Musically, “Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” is steeped in traditional country elements. It features a melancholic blend of steel guitar, fiddle, and steady rhythm sections, which perfectly underscore the song’s theme of rejection and perseverance. The minor chords and deliberate pacing add a layer of gravity, making listeners feel the weight of the lyrics. Jones’ nuanced vocal delivery, with his signature emotional inflection, breathes life into each line, pulling the listener into the story with every verse.

Lyrics/Libretto

The lyrics depict a man who senses that someone is subtly trying to push him out of a relationship—whether it’s a rival or an unseen hand of fate. The storytelling is vivid and direct, capturing a complex emotional landscape of suspicion, heartbreak, and defiance. There’s a raw honesty in lines like “Somebody wants me out of the way, and that somebody’s with you every day,” which draws a stark picture of feeling unwelcome but standing firm.

Performance History

The song was performed by George Jones during a pivotal era of his career. While it may not have garnered the commercial success of some of his earlier hits, its emotional depth has made it a cherished piece among fans. Over the years, “Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” has become a beloved track in Jones’ discography, often praised for its lyrical intensity and Jones’ powerful delivery.

Cultural Impact

“Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” may not be as widely known outside the realm of country music aficionados, but its impact within the genre is profound. It’s a song that exemplifies Jones’ ability to convey complex emotions and to remain relevant in a rapidly changing industry. The themes of the song have made it a frequent choice for covers by artists who appreciate its depth and authenticity.

Legacy

This song is a testament to George Jones’ resilience and talent. Even when facing personal and professional challenges, Jones delivered performances that resonated deeply. “Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” serves as a reminder of his unwavering dedication to his craft and his ability to articulate the often-painful realities of life and love. Today, the song stands as a classic example of 1980s country music, showcasing the storytelling and emotional richness that define the genre.

Conclusion

“Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” is more than just a song—it’s a story of defiance and standing your ground. If you’re looking to experience it in its finest form, I recommend listening to the original album version from Wine Colored Roses. Jones’ voice, coupled with the melancholic instrumentation, makes it a hauntingly beautiful piece that lingers long after the last note fades. Explore this track and let its message resonate with your own experiences of holding on, even when the world seems determined to push you out of the way

Introduction

Every once in a while, a song comes along that feels like it was made to echo through the corridors of heartbreak and resilience. “Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” by George Jones is one of those songs. Imagine finding yourself at a crossroads, feeling an invisible push, like a force determined to make you leave a place where your heart firmly belongs. That sentiment, paired with Jones’ emotionally charged delivery, makes this song a gem that resonates deeply with anyone who’s ever felt sidelined or unwelcome.

About The Composition

  • Title: Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way
  • Composer: Dennis Knutson and A.L. “Doodle” Owens
  • Premiere Date: 1986
  • Album: Wine Colored Roses
  • Genre: Country

Background

“Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” is a track from George Jones’ 1986 album Wine Colored Roses. Co-written by Dennis Knutson and A.L. “Doodle” Owens, the song speaks to a palpable sense of displacement and longing. In the mid-1980s, Jones was navigating a turbulent period in his career, dealing with personal struggles and changes in the music industry. The song captures this tension, serving as both a reflection of his own battles and a universal narrative for those feeling pushed aside.

When the song was released, it wasn’t just a musical entry—it was an artistic declaration from Jones, signaling that despite the challenges, his voice and presence in country music were far from being diminished.

Musical Style

Musically, “Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” is steeped in traditional country elements. It features a melancholic blend of steel guitar, fiddle, and steady rhythm sections, which perfectly underscore the song’s theme of rejection and perseverance. The minor chords and deliberate pacing add a layer of gravity, making listeners feel the weight of the lyrics. Jones’ nuanced vocal delivery, with his signature emotional inflection, breathes life into each line, pulling the listener into the story with every verse.

Lyrics/Libretto

The lyrics depict a man who senses that someone is subtly trying to push him out of a relationship—whether it’s a rival or an unseen hand of fate. The storytelling is vivid and direct, capturing a complex emotional landscape of suspicion, heartbreak, and defiance. There’s a raw honesty in lines like “Somebody wants me out of the way, and that somebody’s with you every day,” which draws a stark picture of feeling unwelcome but standing firm.

Performance History

The song was performed by George Jones during a pivotal era of his career. While it may not have garnered the commercial success of some of his earlier hits, its emotional depth has made it a cherished piece among fans. Over the years, “Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” has become a beloved track in Jones’ discography, often praised for its lyrical intensity and Jones’ powerful delivery.

Cultural Impact

“Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” may not be as widely known outside the realm of country music aficionados, but its impact within the genre is profound. It’s a song that exemplifies Jones’ ability to convey complex emotions and to remain relevant in a rapidly changing industry. The themes of the song have made it a frequent choice for covers by artists who appreciate its depth and authenticity.

Legacy

This song is a testament to George Jones’ resilience and talent. Even when facing personal and professional challenges, Jones delivered performances that resonated deeply. “Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” serves as a reminder of his unwavering dedication to his craft and his ability to articulate the often-painful realities of life and love. Today, the song stands as a classic example of 1980s country music, showcasing the storytelling and emotional richness that define the genre.

Conclusion

“Somebody Wants Me Out of the Way” is more than just a song—it’s a story of defiance and standing your ground. If you’re looking to experience it in its finest form, I recommend listening to the original album version from Wine Colored Roses. Jones’ voice, coupled with the melancholic instrumentation, makes it a hauntingly beautiful piece that lingers long after the last note fades. Explore this track and let its message resonate with your own experiences of holding on, even when the world seems determined to push you out of the way

Video

Lyrics

Somebody keeps paying my bar tab
But the bartender won’t tell me who
He gives me six cold ones to go when he closes
And slips me a dollar or two
My woman is keeping me busy
And I’m afraid to go ask her why but the more
I keep drinking, the more I keep thinking
There’s somebody new in her life
Somebody wants me out of the way
And I bet I’ll find out when I go home today
Here comes the waitress with a loaded down tray
Somebody wants me out of the way
Now, my woman is under suspicion
And all I can see in my mind
It’s two cheating lovers who love under cover
And the covers they’re under is mine
Somebody wants me out of the way
And I bet I’ll find out when I go home today
Here come the waitress with a loaded down tray
Somebody wants me out of the way
Somebody wants me out of the way

Related Post

Country Music

WYNN STEWART HELPED BUILD THE BAKERSFIELD SOUND. THEN BUCK OWENS AND MERLE HAGGARD WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR HE HAD OPENED. Before Bakersfield became a name people used like a promise, Wynn Stewart was already making the records. He had come west from Missouri, found his way into California clubs, and started cutting against the soft, polished country Nashville was selling in the late 1950s. Wynn’s music had sharp electric guitar, steel guitar that did not hide in the background, and a beat that felt closer to a bar than a ballroom. He was not trying to make country prettier. He was trying to make it sound like the people who were actually listening to it after work. “Wishful Thinking” broke through in 1960. Then came Las Vegas. Wynn opened the Nashville Nevada Club, played six nights a week, and built a band around musicians who understood the new West Coast sound before anybody had given it a name. Roy Nichols played guitar. Ralph Mooney played steel. The room became a kind of school for young country musicians who did not fit the Nashville mold. One of them was Merle Haggard. In 1962, Merle was still trying to find a way in. He came to Wynn’s club, filled in on bass, and impressed Stewart enough to get hired. Later, Wynn gave him a song called “Sing a Sad Song.” Merle made it his first national hit. Buck Owens was moving in the same direction. So was the whole Bakersfield scene: loud Telecasters, hard-edged rhythm, songs that did not apologize for being country. Then the men who followed Wynn became bigger names than Wynn ever did. Buck Owens built a run of No. 1 records. Merle Haggard became one of the central voices in country music. Their records carried the sound farther than Wynn’s ever had. The history books learned to say Buck and Merle when they talked about Bakersfield. But the people who had been there remembered the order of things. Wynn Stewart had already built the room. The others just made it famous.

Country Music

WILLIE NELSON SOLD “NIGHT LIFE” FOR $150 BECAUSE HE NEEDED MONEY. RAY PRICE TOOK IT LATER AND TURNED THAT BROKE SONG INTO THE SOUND OF EVERY HONKY-TONK AFTER MIDNIGHT. Ray Price was already a country power by the time “Night Life” reached him. He had come out of Texas, sung close to Hank Williams, built the Cherokee Cowboys into one of the sharpest bands in country music, and helped push the shuffle beat into the heart of honky-tonk. By the early 1960s, Price was not just recording hits. He was running a world younger musicians wanted to enter. Willie Nelson was one of those younger men. Back then, Willie was still fighting for money, driving between Pasadena and Houston, playing the Esquire Ballroom, and watching the kind of people who came alive after dark. Out of those late drives came “Night Life.” But the song did not save him right away. Pappy Daily did not think it sounded country enough. Willie needed cash, so he sold the song to Paul Buskirk for $150. Then Ray Price cut it. In 1963, “Night Life” became the title track of Price’s album. It did not explode up the chart like a normal smash. The single only reached No. 28. But that missed the real story. Ray Price made the song part of his stage identity. For years, he used it to open shows, walking the crowd straight into a room full of smoke, loneliness, neon, and people who belonged more to night than morning. Willie had written the song while he was still trying to survive. Ray Price gave it a home. And every time that band kicked in after midnight, “Night Life” no longer sounded like a song Willie had sold cheap. It sounded like the door opening to the world Ray Price owned.

Country Music

MEL STREET HAD A NEW RECORD ENTER THE COUNTRY CHART ON HIS BIRTHDAY. BY NIGHTFALL, GEORGE JONES WOULD BE SINGING AT HIS FUNERAL. By 1978, Mel Street had already spent most of the decade making records for people who still wanted country music to hurt. “Borrowed Angel.” “Lovin’ on Back Streets.” “Smokey Mountain Memories.” “If I Had a Cheating Heart.” He was never built for the clean, easy side of Nashville. His voice belonged to the late-night side of the business — the jukebox still playing after the room had emptied, the man at the bar trying to act like he was fine, the woman who had already walked out before the song began. That year, Mel signed with Mercury Records. On paper, it looked like another chance to start over. A new label. A new single. Another run at the charts after years of changing companies and fighting to keep his name in front of country radio. The song was called “Just Hangin’ On.” It entered the chart on October 21, 1978. That was also Mel Street’s birthday. But the records did not tell the whole story. Behind the hits and the road dates, Street had been struggling with depression and alcoholism. The same man who could make loneliness sound almost elegant onstage was carrying a private weight no chart position could explain away. Before that day was over, Mel Street was dead at his home in Hendersonville, Tennessee. Then country music did what it often does after losing someone too soon. It kept playing the songs. Four more Mel Street singles reached the charts after he was gone. Radio still had his voice. Fans still had the records. The career, from the outside, still looked like it was moving forward. At his funeral, George Jones sang “Amazing Grace.” And somewhere in that church, the title of Mel Street’s last new single must have landed differently. “Just Hangin’ On.”

You Missed

Country Music

WYNN STEWART HELPED BUILD THE BAKERSFIELD SOUND. THEN BUCK OWENS AND MERLE HAGGARD WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR HE HAD OPENED. Before Bakersfield became a name people used like a promise, Wynn Stewart was already making the records. He had come west from Missouri, found his way into California clubs, and started cutting against the soft, polished country Nashville was selling in the late 1950s. Wynn’s music had sharp electric guitar, steel guitar that did not hide in the background, and a beat that felt closer to a bar than a ballroom. He was not trying to make country prettier. He was trying to make it sound like the people who were actually listening to it after work. “Wishful Thinking” broke through in 1960. Then came Las Vegas. Wynn opened the Nashville Nevada Club, played six nights a week, and built a band around musicians who understood the new West Coast sound before anybody had given it a name. Roy Nichols played guitar. Ralph Mooney played steel. The room became a kind of school for young country musicians who did not fit the Nashville mold. One of them was Merle Haggard. In 1962, Merle was still trying to find a way in. He came to Wynn’s club, filled in on bass, and impressed Stewart enough to get hired. Later, Wynn gave him a song called “Sing a Sad Song.” Merle made it his first national hit. Buck Owens was moving in the same direction. So was the whole Bakersfield scene: loud Telecasters, hard-edged rhythm, songs that did not apologize for being country. Then the men who followed Wynn became bigger names than Wynn ever did. Buck Owens built a run of No. 1 records. Merle Haggard became one of the central voices in country music. Their records carried the sound farther than Wynn’s ever had. The history books learned to say Buck and Merle when they talked about Bakersfield. But the people who had been there remembered the order of things. Wynn Stewart had already built the room. The others just made it famous.

Country Music

WILLIE NELSON SOLD “NIGHT LIFE” FOR $150 BECAUSE HE NEEDED MONEY. RAY PRICE TOOK IT LATER AND TURNED THAT BROKE SONG INTO THE SOUND OF EVERY HONKY-TONK AFTER MIDNIGHT. Ray Price was already a country power by the time “Night Life” reached him. He had come out of Texas, sung close to Hank Williams, built the Cherokee Cowboys into one of the sharpest bands in country music, and helped push the shuffle beat into the heart of honky-tonk. By the early 1960s, Price was not just recording hits. He was running a world younger musicians wanted to enter. Willie Nelson was one of those younger men. Back then, Willie was still fighting for money, driving between Pasadena and Houston, playing the Esquire Ballroom, and watching the kind of people who came alive after dark. Out of those late drives came “Night Life.” But the song did not save him right away. Pappy Daily did not think it sounded country enough. Willie needed cash, so he sold the song to Paul Buskirk for $150. Then Ray Price cut it. In 1963, “Night Life” became the title track of Price’s album. It did not explode up the chart like a normal smash. The single only reached No. 28. But that missed the real story. Ray Price made the song part of his stage identity. For years, he used it to open shows, walking the crowd straight into a room full of smoke, loneliness, neon, and people who belonged more to night than morning. Willie had written the song while he was still trying to survive. Ray Price gave it a home. And every time that band kicked in after midnight, “Night Life” no longer sounded like a song Willie had sold cheap. It sounded like the door opening to the world Ray Price owned.

Country Music

MEL STREET HAD A NEW RECORD ENTER THE COUNTRY CHART ON HIS BIRTHDAY. BY NIGHTFALL, GEORGE JONES WOULD BE SINGING AT HIS FUNERAL. By 1978, Mel Street had already spent most of the decade making records for people who still wanted country music to hurt. “Borrowed Angel.” “Lovin’ on Back Streets.” “Smokey Mountain Memories.” “If I Had a Cheating Heart.” He was never built for the clean, easy side of Nashville. His voice belonged to the late-night side of the business — the jukebox still playing after the room had emptied, the man at the bar trying to act like he was fine, the woman who had already walked out before the song began. That year, Mel signed with Mercury Records. On paper, it looked like another chance to start over. A new label. A new single. Another run at the charts after years of changing companies and fighting to keep his name in front of country radio. The song was called “Just Hangin’ On.” It entered the chart on October 21, 1978. That was also Mel Street’s birthday. But the records did not tell the whole story. Behind the hits and the road dates, Street had been struggling with depression and alcoholism. The same man who could make loneliness sound almost elegant onstage was carrying a private weight no chart position could explain away. Before that day was over, Mel Street was dead at his home in Hendersonville, Tennessee. Then country music did what it often does after losing someone too soon. It kept playing the songs. Four more Mel Street singles reached the charts after he was gone. Radio still had his voice. Fans still had the records. The career, from the outside, still looked like it was moving forward. At his funeral, George Jones sang “Amazing Grace.” And somewhere in that church, the title of Mel Street’s last new single must have landed differently. “Just Hangin’ On.”

Country Music

AT THIRTEEN, MARTY STUART LEFT MISSISSIPPI TO PLAY MANDOLIN FOR LESTER FLATT. BY THE TIME HE CAME HOME, HE WAS CARRYING PIECES OF COUNTRY MUSIC HISTORY IN HIS HANDS. Marty Stuart was still a kid in Philadelphia, Mississippi when bluegrass started pulling harder than school ever did. He had learned guitar and mandolin young. He played with a local gospel group called the Sullivans. The boys could hold their own, but nobody was mistaking them for Nashville yet. They were just children from Mississippi trying to play the music they loved well enough that somebody important might notice. Then Roland White noticed. White was playing mandolin for Lester Flatt’s band, the Nashville Grass. In 1972, he heard Marty and invited him to sit in at a show in Delaware. Marty was thirteen years old. Lester Flatt had already spent decades helping define bluegrass beside Earl Scruggs. To a boy who had grown up on those records, being asked to play with him was not an opening act. It was like being called into the room where the whole history of the music was still alive. Marty did not go home. He joined Flatt’s band and spent the next years on buses, backstage floors, festival grounds, and long drives between shows. He was young enough to still be in school, but his classroom had become the road. Lester Flatt taught him the discipline of a bandstand. Curly Seckler, Roland White, and the older players taught him how a song had to sit before it could breathe. Marty was not just learning licks. He was learning how country music carried itself. Then Lester Flatt died in 1979. Marty was twenty. A year later, Johnny Cash asked him to join his road band. That took him into another branch of the same family tree — another man who had lived long enough to become more than a singer, another stage where history kept showing up in boots and black clothes. Decades later, Marty Stuart became known for more than the records he made himself. He became one of country music’s keepers. Old guitars. Nudie suits. handwritten lyrics. stage clothes. photographs. the kind of objects that would have been thrown in a closet, sold off, or forgotten after somebody died. Marty kept collecting them because he had learned early what happens when the people who built the music are gone.