Album Review: That Hound Dog In The Window / Orchids Mean Goodbye by Rusty Howard & Dick James Corky Carpenter
Man, this album feels like stepping into a dusty old honky-tonk where the jukebox only plays songs about heartbreak and dogs. It’s one of those records that sneaks up on you, wrapping its twangy arms around your soul before you even realize it. Released under Tops Records with backing from The Texas Playboys—yeah, the Texas Playboys—it’s got all the charm of classic country but with just enough world-weary grit to keep things interesting.
Let’s talk tracks, because two songs don’t sound like much, but these? Oh, they stick to you like gum on a boot heel.
First off, "(How Much Is) That Hound Dog In The Window" is pure storytelling gold. I mean, who doesn’t love a good dog tale? But this isn’t some cutesy puppy anthem; nope, it’s deeper than that. There’s something kinda sad about picturing that hound dog sitting there in the window, waiting for someone to care enough to take him home. Rusty Howard’s voice has this rough-edged tenderness that makes you feel every barkless woof of longing. By the time the fiddle kicks in halfway through, you’re ready to adopt every stray mutt within a ten-mile radius. Honestly, if Dolly Parton ever covered this song, she’d probably cry while singing it—and so would everyone else.
Then there’s “Orchids Mean Goodbye,” which hits different. Like, real different. If the first track tugs at your heartstrings, this one flat-out yanks ‘em. Orchids are supposed to be fancy flowers, right? Symbols of beauty or whatever. But here, they’re tied to saying farewell, and man, does it sting. The way Dick James Corky Carpenter delivers the lyrics—he sounds like he’s lived through every breakup, funeral, and missed opportunity rolled into one. You can almost picture him standing outside a rain-speckled train station, clutching a bouquet of orchids while trying not to lose his composure. It’s simple, sure, but sometimes simple cuts the deepest.
What gets me about this whole thing is how unpolished it feels. These aren’t perfect studio recordings; they’re raw, real, and full of cracks. And honestly? That’s what makes them unforgettable. It’s like listening to an old friend tell stories over cheap beer and stale peanuts—you know, the kind of night where everything seems both insignificant and monumental all at once.
So yeah, this little slice of Folk, World, & Country goodness might not change your life, but it’ll definitely remind you why music matters in the first place. Plus, let’s be honest: how many albums out there feature both a lonely hound dog and symbolic flower arrangements? Not nearly enough, if you ask me.
P.S. If anyone knows where I can find more stuff by The Texas Playboys, hit me up. I need more of this magic in my life.
