Sometimes Take Her Flowers – now that’s a title that sticks to your brain like peanut butter on the roof of your mouth. Jerry McClendon dropped this little gem back in '72, and it's one of those albums you find by accident while digging through dusty crates at a garage sale. Released under Love Records (how sweet is that name?), this Folk, World, & Country masterpiece leans heavy into its country roots. It feels like an old pair of boots—broken-in, familiar, but still full of stories.
Let’s talk tracks, shall we? First up: “Sometimes.” Man, oh man, this tune hits different. It’s slow, deliberate, and kinda feels like sitting on a porch swing as the sun dips below the horizon. The lyrics are simple yet oddly profound—it’s about life’s fleeting moments, how things don’t last forever, but maybe they’re better that way. There’s something raw about McClendon’s voice here; it wavers just enough to make you feel like he’s lived every word he sings. You can almost picture him scribbling these lines late at night with a cup of coffee gone cold beside him.
Then there’s “Take Her Flowers,” which might be my favorite cut from the album. This one has more pep in its step, a twangy guitar riff bouncing along like a puppy chasing butterflies. But don’t let the upbeat vibe fool you—the message digs deep. It’s basically a nudge saying, "Hey, go show some love before it’s too late." I mean, who doesn’t need that reminder once in a while? Every time I hear it, I think about people I should’ve called or small gestures I could’ve made. And honestly, isn’t that what good music does? Makes you reflect without feeling preached at?
The whole thing screams 1972 Americana—the kind of record that smells like hayfields and Sunday dinners. McClendon wasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel here, but dang if he didn’t polish it real nice. His style sits somewhere between honky-tonk swagger and folk sincerity, making Sometimes Take Her Flowers the perfect soundtrack for lazy afternoons or long drives down forgotten highways.
Here’s the kicker though—if you handed me this album blindfolded, I’d swear it came out last year instead of five decades ago. That’s the magic of McClendon’s work. It doesn’t age because human emotions don’t either. We’re all just stumbling through life, looking for meaning in the mundane.
So yeah, do yourself a favor and give this one a spin. Just don’t blame me when you start craving biscuits and gravy halfway through.
