Hoss Burns tribute, WSIX-FM, Aug. 15

Anytime country music stars participate in a fundraiser to solicit money to combat a deadly disease, the potential for mawkish sentimentality is enormous. Organize the fundraiser around a beloved disc jockey best known for his own humanitarian efforts who has contracted said disease, then broadcast it live on the highest-rated radio station in the hometown of said stars, and the odds for maudlin overemoting soar astronomically. But, for the most part, that didn’t happen during the 12-hour tribute and fundraiser marking Hoss Burns’ last day as a WSIX jock. Instead, Nashville heard a touching broadcast that tore down part of the professional wall that often makes modern radio, and most on-air broadcast mediums, sound so slick and bloodless.

Part of the reason was Burns himself, who fought to maintain a sturdy, dignified front throughout the day. With few lapses, he focused attention on collecting donations for a worthy cause and on his own determination to endure and to enjoy his life. Another reason for the broadcast’s poignancy was that it entailed an entertainment figure talking to Middle America about the thorny issue of AIDS—and about his bold acknowledgment that he carries the disease. All day long, what passed through the mouths of celebrities, both those who showed in person and those who called in from tour stops across the United States, was a reflection of how many people in our country struggle to come to terms with, or even talk about, this pernicious affliction.

Early on, Burns succeeded at keeping the on-air talk constructive and functional and away from melodramatic focus on himself. In the morning hours, he was assisted wonderfully by Gerry House, who proved once again why he’s the best at what he does, and he did it during what must have been one of the most difficult programs of his career. His generous, humane humor proved perfect in reversing momentum whenever chatter grew heavy or lachrymose, and it helped Burns set the tone for the day. Also showing his grit was Garth Brooks, an early guest who hung around long beyond the call of duty. In a live situation, the star spoke with intelligence, compassion and wit, revealing that the kind of character he displays in more contrived settings is indeed real. Brooks spoke about Burns and about AIDS with knowledge and empathy, and revealed that he, like Americans from all walks of life, has a great capacity for benevolence, understanding and acceptance.

Other guests showed more common reactions to AIDS. Most stars, unsure of whether to express pity or support, uncomfortably stumbled over words like “tragedy” and “good luck” when wishing Burns well. Their hearts all seemed in the right place—especially Lorrie Morgan’s; the singer talked of the strength that individuals often discover in themselves in times of adversity. It was with Morgan that Burns momentarily let his emotions overcome the proceedings, as both he and the singer openly choked back tears while melting into a series of heartfelt but clumsy “I love you”s.

The only sentiment that didn’t flare during the radiothon was the ugly, ignorant condemnation that showed up in letters to newspapers about Burns and AIDS. Burns repeatedly stated how blessed he is to have been engulfed by love and understanding, both before and after going public. And he acknowledged that for people with AIDS, that’s often not the case.

Burns’ mother called, long distance, to thank the radio station for hosting the tribute. She was transferred to the air, live, to speak with her son. In a sweetly chipper twang, she told her son she loved him. Burns, in turn, expressed his love and his gratitude. He implied that their relationship hadn’t always been affirming, as he earnestly voiced his happiness about how they’d come closer in recent years, and that she had come to accept him for who he is. Her voice cracking, Burns’ mother referred to his compassion for all people and said she now knew that he was the biggest blessing her life would know.

As soon as she hung up, Burns related how facing up to his ailment began with informing his mother; “telling mama” that he was HIV-positive was the toughest thing he had to do, he said. When she accepted the news with loving grace, he said it made the rest of the task before him easier. All along the line, he was surprised by how his disclosure was greeted with compassion rather than condemnation. He thought telling WSIX would cost him his job; instead, the station supported him and stood by him. He worried that telling producer Ron Huntsman would cost him his role as host of a syndicated country radio program, ; instead, Huntsman hugged his neck and replied, “You’re still my Hoss-man.” (Burns continues to host the weekly program.)

By this time, Burns was barely able to speak, his words coming in gasps as he openly sobbed on the air. This wasn’t theater, and it wasn’t a self-indulgent display. It was a human being, his voice known to hundreds of thousands of people, sharing his emotions—and his message reverberated into homes, cars and businesses. Within minutes, he was composed again and carrying on, because that’s what people do, whether the illness is their own or affecting someone they love.

Dick Curless, from Travelin’ Through (Rounder)

This great gospel chestnut, written by Merle Travis, usually gets a solemn and mournful treatment. Curless turns it into a swinging utopian jubilee featuring outstanding acoustic interplay between string-slingers Duke Levine (of Mary Chapin Carpenter’s band) and Denny Breau. The singer confronts his mortality with animated enthusiasm; even when establishing his humble earthly existence with the opening lines, “I am a pilgrim and a stranger, travelin’ through this wearisome land,” he flips each word with gleeful anticipation, assured that the sun will shine brighter from the other side. Curless bounds joyfully through the notes as if he’s got a prized gospel quartet harbored in his throat.

An underrated talent since scoring his only Top 10 country hit 30 years ago with “A Tombstone Every Mile”—still one of the best all-time trucker songs—Curless died in May, shortly after finishing this album. With mythical timing, it’s also the greatest LP of his career; he unfurls all the untamed glory of his marvelously expressive voice with unbounded zeal.

Other gospel songs include Hank Williams’ “When God Comes and Gathers His Jewels” and a bizarrely perfect transformation of “Since I Met You Baby” into a celebration of Jesus Christ. But whether he’s retooling Don Gibson (“Just One Time”), Roy Acuff (“Freight Train Blues”), Lefty Frizzell (“I Never Go Around Mirrors”) or Fred Rose gems (“Crazy Heart,” “No One Will Ever Know”), or whether he’s certifying that he remained a wild hillbilly rocker till the end (“Rattlesnakin’ Daddy”), Curless goes out filled with vigor and seemingly at peace. He was almost more Lower Broad than Music Row, and thank God for it. He started with the honky-tonk blues in his heart, and he finished with salvation in his soul.