Graphic: Jonesborough Art Glass Gallery, watercolor by Nancy Earnest

karol cooper is a writer and hardware tech living in middle Tennessee.

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Interview: "Highland Renaissance"

by karol cooper

Interviewing Alan Ross was a pleasure: he is so engaging, so open and natural, it’s hard not to like the man. People warm to him and his music immediately. His resume is impressive, as large as a city phone directory, and the hardest part of writing about him is deciding what to omit for the sake of space. With four albums under his belt, and another in the works, a flourishing writing career, and a popularity that has begun to take flight, I set out to discover: Who is the man behind the music? In the mid-’60s, Alan got his musical baptism in the coffeehouses of New York City’s Greenwich Village ~ Gerde’s Folk City, the Gaslight Café, The Bitter End ~ where he was immersed in the music of the folk pioneers.

KC: How did the early experience of playing in those clubs influence your music?
AR: That was a major experience. New York, at that time, was the Mecca of folk music and folk music was hot – it was the alternative pop music of the time. People like Peter, Paul and Mary, Bob Dylan, the Kingston Trio, Eric Andersen were at the top of the pop charts. It was intimidating to play those venues. As a 20-year-old, I remember being awed by the stature of clubs like the Gaslight and the people who played there, and even more awed to be playing there myself.

At the behest of music mogul Buddy Killen, Alan and first wife Pam rolled up the rug in New York City and came to Music City in 1969. Killen produced the group and signed Alan as a staff writer for Tree. Legendary songwriter Harlan Howard once stated, “I’ve never heard a bad song from Alan yet, while I’ve personally written hundreds of them.”

KC: What was it like to work with the “big guys” on music row?
AR: Again it’s one of those things: I found myself in circumstances where it was easy to be awed by the people around me. But Buddy had such belief in us, he had us under his wing, and people knew that. That was a real confidence booster. When I went to my first CMA ceremony in 1969, the place was abuzz about us, saying, “Oh that’s Pam and Alan Ross! I hear they’re gonna be big!”

KC: Did you feel like a celebrity?
AR: Oh yes! Especially being so young then, I was carried away with the idea of being a star. To be really honest, it’s taken years to get over that. I don’t prescribe that as the way to approach this business. That’s part of the seductiveness of this field ~ to be a star, have the money, the Rolls, the groupies ~ when in the last analysis the only reason worth going into it for is the passion of making the music.

Ross broke into jingle work in 1967. He estimates having sung on over 1200 jingles, has appeared on over 400 live television shows, and for six years was a weekly-featured artist on Nashville’s popular Noon Show.

KC: How did all that happen?
AR: Through friends who worked for the ad agency in New York that handled Binaca breath spray. They wrote the Camp Binaca jingle. It used to air on the Joey Bishop Show and the Tonight Show. Got my regular jingle work in 1970 and that got me started.

KC: You were an ad agency head also. You must’ve been involved in some fun projects over the years. Tell me about the Tennessee Pride commercial.
AR: Well that’s a two-edged sword the way I look at it. My 15 minutes of fame, but I’ve always dreaded that my epitaph would read, “He did the farm-boy jingle.” It got tremendous exposure all over the states but I’d rather be remembered for more serious music.

Another fun project was a promotional video for Southwest Airlines where people lip-synched to Alan’s voice. He did all the voices ~ the young men, the old men, the barbershop quartet, even the women! Says Dave Earnhardt, who worked with Alan on the project, “He’s a one-man Mormon Tabernacle Choir!” But despite his success as a session vocalist, Ross’ true love is his personal music.

KC: Where does this creativeness come from?
AR: That is still one of the great mysteries to me. Someone once told me to “just tap into the great creative well of the universe,” but that sounded a little too simplistic to me. Nice and New-Agey, and it sounds good, but it’s not something you can just bring up at your beck-and-call.

KC: You have a strong creative influence in your history.
AR: Yes, my father was a famous artist named Alexander Ross who did the covers of Good Housekeeping, Cosmopolitan, many more, in the heyday of illustrations, and even managed to fire off six Saturday Evening Post covers in the prime of Norman Rockwell’s career.

His dad was born in Dernfermline, Scotland, and came to the States to marry Irish-American Helen Connelly. Together they raised their four children on their estate, Balnagown, in Fairfield County, Connecticut.

KC: Were you aware that you were of Scottish descent? How much of an influence did your father’s heritage have on your music?
AR: It was something that was only a fact in my life until well after he had passed away. Later I began to take a look at the rich Scottish history that is my heritage. All this time I had ignorantly turned my back on it. It didn’t lure me. For far too long I got waylaid by rock and roll; it kept me from my destiny.

KC: Back to your family life: I’m curious about the factors that shaped you. You’ve been described as having courtly manners, a gentle voice, being an affiming listener. You were a Deb’s Delight, took ballroom dancing lessons, met celebrities like O.J. Simpson, James Cagney, Ed McCabe, Harvey Firestein. I’ve seen your family home in Fairfield County, it’s quite an estate ~ swimming pool, tennis courts, a beautiful separate studio for your dad, who drove a gold Porsche. Your dad was a celebrity, you were wealthy, how did you turn out to be so natural and unaffected?
AR: That’s easy. It was because of the naturalness of my parents. They came from working backgrounds, blue-collar people, but my father became a star through his art and suddenly had their world drastically changed. I was never even aware of the celebrity status of the people who came through our home, because my parents were so natural about it. My dad was a painter, that’s just what he did for a living. It’s true, they channeled me into lots of social situations early, among them the ballroom dancing classes where we wore suits and white gloves. All the while I was playing sports and was an active boy.

Last year Alan was recognized as a 1999 New Folk finalist at the prestigious Kerrville Music Festival, in Kerrville, Texas. Chosen from over 600 applicants nationwide as one of the festival’s 32 finalists, he played two Celtic-flavored original compositions for his solo acoustic performance.

KC: Kerrville is something you’d always wanted to do. How do you feel now, looking back at it?
AR: I have mixed feelings about Kerrville. I went down there with the wrong attitude ~ I placed way too much emphasis on winning, and when I didn’t win I was devastated. Yet in looking back at it today, it was the jumping-off point for my new direction. The two songs I played down there were two of my early Celtic pieces. It was wonderful to debut them down there. My coming out as a Scottish-American singer/songwriter in an environment like Kerrville was great. I look back on that as a good opportunity and a stepping stone that helped me get where I am right now.

KC: As you’ve become more interested in your roots and you’ve felt the influence of Scotland on your life, where have the ideas for your songs come from?
AR: My past as a researcher makes that a natural for me, once I got curious. That fire was lit when I wrote My Father’s Eye in 1990. It has a strong Scottish feel to it, almost like the funeral dirge. But it awakened in me something that was a body longing, a soul longing. Several years later I was able to start delving into some fascinating books on Scottish history and suddenly I was writing page after page of song ideas. I had enough for two CDs! I used to find when I was writing for the music labels that I had a natural high from writing a song that lasted for days. I’m feeling that way again for the first time in 20 years.

KC: Your lyrics are so beautiful. You’ve been lovingly referred to by friends and fans as “the poet warrior.” How do you connect poetry and sports?
AR: On the surface they look like an unlikely match. Sports were my first passion in life, way before I picked up a guitar. I was a quarterback in high school, a two-year starter. I would never have considered playing football, but I was away at boarding school and at my very first meal there the boy across from me made the comment that they were all going out for football that day, was I? It was my first experience with peer pressure. I didn’t want to be ostracized in this closed community so I went out for football. And the legend was born. He has carried that love of sports with him all through life. He’s still physically active and has a parallel career writing for sports publications.

KC: How did you get started writing for sports publications?
AR: In ’92, through a friend, I became the editor for Professional Team Publications. I’ve written for Lindys, The Sporting News, Pro Football, Athlon Sports Pro Football, Athletic Administration, Game Day, NFL Insider, Arizona Cardinals Media Guide, The Coffin Corner and Track Record. I’m also the history columnist for Titans Exclusive, the official fan publication of the NFL’s Tennessee Titans.

KC: In doing some background work for this article I made a list of all the different hats you wear. It’s pretty impressive. You’re a singer, a songwriter, a session vocalist, a book writer, an editor, an article writer, a sports historian, an astronomer, a punter, golfer, runner, a former ad agency head, wood splitter, satellite dish installer, lighthouse keeper, star ceiling painter and collector. You’ve been referred to as a True Renaissance Man. Our current conception of a renaissance man is one who’s versed in all areas ~ from literature to social manners, to artistic ability, dancing, sensitivity, athletics, technical ability, and so on. How do you feel about being classed with the renaissance people? I’m comparing you with Sting, who is the quintessential Renaissance Man.
AR: I could out punt Sting any day! I don’t think you ever set out to be a Renaissance Person but I’ve had a tremendous variety of interests that I’ve been able to convert into careers.

KC: Maybe that’s what makes you a renaissance person. We all have dreams and interests but we don’t all convert them into paying jobs!
AR: There’s something in my nature that makes it impossible for me to be content doing one thing. I’ve always been restless. I’ve always wanted to move from thing to thing, but the underlying interest that weaves its way through my life is music.

KC: What about your career would you have done differently?
AR: Buddy [Killen] once said to me that every artist he had ever produced had made it. If they stuck with him they made it. But we were so impetuous, we were restless to get on to stardom, we knew we were destined for fame and when it didn’t happen fast enough we found another producer. Just being produced by Buddy Killen gave us a level of respect in Nashville, so we had other producers interested in us. I wish I had had more patience. But if you think that all things happen for a purpose, then maybe we were just supposed to move on. Maybe I would never have gotten in touch with all the many sides of me. I know I would’ve hated to be stuck in the pop-music rut, but I would’ve loved to have made the money!

KC: What’s still on your wish list to do?
AR: Well certainly at the TOP of the list is that I have got to get to Scotland. It’s imperative. I used to think I had all the time in the world but at 55 you realize if you don’t make it happen, it just may not happen. It’s critical to my music. I can’t continue to write Scottish songs that are just off the pages of history. I need experiential knowledge to continue this thing that’s really rolling right now.

KC: How do you see yourself when you’re 80 years old?
AR: I’ve always thought this: I want to be known as the oldest rocker on the planet. If my health and my gifts and my ability to vocalize and play are still with me when I’m 80, I’d like to still be singing.