Hit The Ground Runnin’ by John Conlee: A Country Gem That Still Kicks Dust
Alright, buckle up y’all because we’re diving into Hit The Ground Runnin’, John Conlee’s 1988 country banger. Released under 16th Avenue Records and produced by Bud Logan, this album doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel—it just spins it real smooth. If you’re a fan of heartfelt lyrics, twangy guitars, and that good ol’ Southern charm, then this one might just hit the spot.
Let’s talk tracks for a sec. First off, there’s the title track “Hit The Ground Runnin’.” Man, this tune is like your morning coffee—wake-up call with a kick. It’s got that classic country pep in its step, written by B. Fischer and R. Giles (whoever they are, hats off). What sticks with me about this song? Well, it’s not exactly rocket science; it’s simple, catchy as all get-out, and feels like those days when life hands you lemons but somehow you make sweet tea out of ‘em. You know what I mean?
Then there’s “Hopelessly Yours,” which hits different. This one slows things down and tugs at the heartstrings without being overly sappy. It reminds me of sitting on a porch swing after a long day, watching fireflies blink against the dusk while thinking about someone who got away—or maybe didn’t even notice you existed. Yeah, it’s kinda melancholy, but isn’t that why we love country music? It lets us wallow a little before telling us to cowboy up.
The whole album has that laid-back vibe of Folk, World, & Country genres blended together, but let’s be honest—it’s pure Country through and through. And hey, props to Bud Logan for keeping everything tight yet unpretentious. No fancy tricks here, just solid storytelling backed by some killer instrumentation.
Now, here’s the kicker: listening to Hit The Ground Runnin’ feels like stepping back into an era where people still cared more about lyrics than TikTok trends. But honestly, if John Conlee dropped this today, I bet it’d still resonate. Because no matter how much time passes, everyone can relate to chasing dreams or nursing heartbreaks over a cold beer.
So yeah, give this album a spin if you want something genuine—a reminder that sometimes less really is more. Just don’t blame me if you find yourself singing along to “Hopelessly Yours” in the shower tomorrow morning. Oh, and PS—if anyone knows whatever happened to B. Fischer and R. Giles, drop me a line. These guys deserve flowers while they’re still kickin’.
Final thought: If vinyl could talk, my copy would probably say, “Thanks for dusting me off, pal.”
