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Satan Is Real: The Ballad of the Louvin Brothers
Get ready for one of America’s great untold stories: the true saga of the Louvin Brothers, a mid-century Southern gothic Cain and Abel and one of the greatest country duos of all time. The Los Angeles Times called them “the most influential harmony team in the history of country music,” but Emmylou Harris may have hit closer to the heart of the matter, saying “there was something scary and washed in the blood about the sound of the Louvin Brothers.” For readers of Johnny Cash’s irresistible autobiography and Merle Haggard’s My House of Memories, no country music library will be complete without this raw and powerful story of the duo that everyone from Dolly Parton to Gram Parsons described as their favorites: the Louvin Brothers.
320 pages, Hardcover
First published January 3, 2012
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October 25, 2020
This book is another rags to riches story of the type that I love to read. Ira and Charlie Louvin grew up dirt poor on an Alabama farm. The brothers learned to sing in harmony while toiling away at the family farm performing many tedious chores. Their father was a stern taskmaster and wouldn't hesitate to beat the boys when they slacked off or misbehaved. Older brother Ira Louvin seemed to get the worst treatment from his father though and good-natured, happy go lucky Charlie was his obvious favorite. Learning about Ira's cruel upbringing does help explain his alcohol problems later in life.
From p. 27 in the book Charlie writes Most of the songs Ira and I knew, we learned from Mama. Her name was Georgiane Wootten, though Papa always called her Georgie, and her father was a Baptist preacher. Her people were from a part of the world where a lot of folk songs come from, England, and we learned songs from her that most children wouldn't ever have known. She raised us on those songs, singing them while she worked. And she was always working.
The brothers were very close to each other growing up and dreamed of one day being on the Grand Ole Opry show that was broadcast from Nashville TN. The Opry signal was so strong that it would reach nearly all the southern states and listening to the Opry on Saturday night was a ritual with most southern families and probably the highlight of the week for most poor southern farmers. The brothers further enhanced their musical knowledge by singing in church.
The brothers left the farm as fast as they could and set out to make a career in music. Even as talented as they were success was elusive for many years. Ira Louvin began to have success as a songwriter after many years and they were finally able to sell his songs and get a foot in the door in Nashville. The brothers either lived with each other or close by each even after they both married. After much hard work they finally were able to get a recording contract and join the Opry. Ira's high tenor was considered as one of the best in country music.
Unfortunately for Ira, he developed a drinking problem over the years and was slowly drinking himself to death. Charlie Louvin's description of his brother's alcoholism and slow decline was heart breaking as Charlie was so deeply attached to Ira. Ira got to the point where his drinking was affecting their live concerts and ruining their career. Ira also became very abusive toward Charlie while drinking - always angry that Charlie was their father's favorite and escaped most of the brutal beatings that misbehaving Ira always received. Charlie had no choice but to break up the act and go solo. What a shame that treatment facilities weren't available then as they are now.
The cover of this book was the album cover for their LP "Satan Is Real" and is worth $500 dollars today if anyone happens to have a copy of this hidden away somewhere.
For anyone who is interested in Country music this book should be very enjoyable to read and I rated it 5 stars.
From p. 27 in the book Charlie writes Most of the songs Ira and I knew, we learned from Mama. Her name was Georgiane Wootten, though Papa always called her Georgie, and her father was a Baptist preacher. Her people were from a part of the world where a lot of folk songs come from, England, and we learned songs from her that most children wouldn't ever have known. She raised us on those songs, singing them while she worked. And she was always working.
The brothers were very close to each other growing up and dreamed of one day being on the Grand Ole Opry show that was broadcast from Nashville TN. The Opry signal was so strong that it would reach nearly all the southern states and listening to the Opry on Saturday night was a ritual with most southern families and probably the highlight of the week for most poor southern farmers. The brothers further enhanced their musical knowledge by singing in church.
The brothers left the farm as fast as they could and set out to make a career in music. Even as talented as they were success was elusive for many years. Ira Louvin began to have success as a songwriter after many years and they were finally able to sell his songs and get a foot in the door in Nashville. The brothers either lived with each other or close by each even after they both married. After much hard work they finally were able to get a recording contract and join the Opry. Ira's high tenor was considered as one of the best in country music.
Unfortunately for Ira, he developed a drinking problem over the years and was slowly drinking himself to death. Charlie Louvin's description of his brother's alcoholism and slow decline was heart breaking as Charlie was so deeply attached to Ira. Ira got to the point where his drinking was affecting their live concerts and ruining their career. Ira also became very abusive toward Charlie while drinking - always angry that Charlie was their father's favorite and escaped most of the brutal beatings that misbehaving Ira always received. Charlie had no choice but to break up the act and go solo. What a shame that treatment facilities weren't available then as they are now.
The cover of this book was the album cover for their LP "Satan Is Real" and is worth $500 dollars today if anyone happens to have a copy of this hidden away somewhere.
For anyone who is interested in Country music this book should be very enjoyable to read and I rated it 5 stars.
August 14, 2012
I saw this hardcover book by CHARLIE LOUVIN (née Loudemilk) that recently came out, and the impulse to dig deeper into his and his brother’s dirty hillbilly laundry was too much to resist. The two brothers, who amassed a fantastic catalog of beautiful gospel and traditional country music right up until the form commercialized and left its roots, are ripe for all sorts of metaphors should you choose to apply them: Darkness and Light, Heaven and Hell, Sobriety and Drunkenness and so on – at least if you believe Charlie’s telling of their pained and somewhat tragic story. He wrote this book just months before he died in 2011, so it will likely stand as the final word on how these brothers climbed their way from poverty to show business royalty, and the many troubles they encountered on the way.
The book’s core is very much about the relationship of Charlie Louvin to his mandolin-playing brother Ira, and about how Ira’s demons (alcohol, womanizing, a complete and utter lack of outward humility and a paralyzing ego) did the duo in. It’s also, I think, Charlie’s big catharsis. He obviously spent most of his life feeling a bit like a doormat to his brother, who wrote most of their songs and who could easily command Charlie to do his bidding, whether it was to chop down a persimmon tree and risk a beating from their sadistic father, or to have Ira’s wife committed to a mental institution. Charlie plays himself off as the strong, responsible and somewhat silent half of the duo, who suffered much inner turmoil trying to keep his wild and unpredictable drunken hypocrite of a brother in line and their career going.
Funny enough, and yet totally appropriately, the book is written in Southern dialect in many parts. After a while you get used to this autobiography and its “We was traveling to Memphis and I was fixing to eat a hamburger”-style colloquialisms, and accept the deeper truths that are latent in the telling. Ira Louvin left a long, dark scar on this poor man’s life, and loomed exceptionally large in it until Ira’s death in 1965 (ironically, in a car accident in which the other driver was drunk). Yet you get the sense that Charlie, once freed of the burden of his joined-at-the-hip brother, really got to experience growing up and the liberating freedom that comes from embracing personal responsibility. I think Charlie had to overcome a bit of an ego problem of his own, in that he’d always been told by his brother that it was Ira that made the duo what it was, that it was really Ira’s group – and thus toward the end Charlie makes it abundantly clear how proud he is that he “had more Top 30 country hits” personally, in the years after 1965, than the Louvin Brothers ever had when they were together.
Along the way there are many great anecdotes told in short, 4-5 page chapters. There’s the famous one in which Ira calls Elvis Presley a “white nigger” to his face in a weird fit of drunken pique, and therefore cheats the band out millions of potential royalties had Elvis (a huge Louvins fan) ever covered a song of theirs – which he didn’t, after Ira’s unfortunate rant. There’s a bit about how they got on the Grand Old Opry after years of trying through a clever bluff, and how Charlie hates the Opry people still running the show in 2011. Their decision to “go secular” from their gospel roots is interesting, as is the great story of how they created the record cover (and now book cover) to the amazing “Satan Is Real” – one of two totally essential records of theirs in my opinion (the other is “Tragic Songs of Life”; you might want to pick up the “When I Stop Dreaming” collection as well).
One of the constants from so many memoirs I’ve read is, unfortunately, parental or domestic abuse – see the recent memoirs I reviewed by Alice Bag and Dan Fante. Well, the Louvins’ father beat the crap out of them as well, especially Ira, and Charlie believes it cast a huge shadow on them subsequently: why they left home to be musicians so early; why Ira was so insecure; why Ira was such a hideous drunk, and so on. It reminds me of a terrific Dan Carlin podcast from a couple years ago in which he theorized about the cumulative effect on history, and on historical figures, from centuries of child abuse and child neglect. In our slightly more enlightened age – which has really only taken hold in the past 1-2 generations, in which, in the west at least, child beatings are looked askance on – what will be the (presumably positive) effect on the children of today as they grow into adults? It’s a worthy aside, and one that I can’t help thinking about when I read about the torture past generations of children such as the Louvins had to endure.
“Satan Is Real: The Ballad of the Louvin Brothers” is a quick and very straightforward read, and captures a snapshot of Southern Americana as it existed in the 1930s, 40s, 50s and 60s. It’s certainly fortunate, and not a little bit lucky, that Charlie Louvin completed this memoir only just prior to his death, and we’re all the better for it because he done did.
The book’s core is very much about the relationship of Charlie Louvin to his mandolin-playing brother Ira, and about how Ira’s demons (alcohol, womanizing, a complete and utter lack of outward humility and a paralyzing ego) did the duo in. It’s also, I think, Charlie’s big catharsis. He obviously spent most of his life feeling a bit like a doormat to his brother, who wrote most of their songs and who could easily command Charlie to do his bidding, whether it was to chop down a persimmon tree and risk a beating from their sadistic father, or to have Ira’s wife committed to a mental institution. Charlie plays himself off as the strong, responsible and somewhat silent half of the duo, who suffered much inner turmoil trying to keep his wild and unpredictable drunken hypocrite of a brother in line and their career going.
Funny enough, and yet totally appropriately, the book is written in Southern dialect in many parts. After a while you get used to this autobiography and its “We was traveling to Memphis and I was fixing to eat a hamburger”-style colloquialisms, and accept the deeper truths that are latent in the telling. Ira Louvin left a long, dark scar on this poor man’s life, and loomed exceptionally large in it until Ira’s death in 1965 (ironically, in a car accident in which the other driver was drunk). Yet you get the sense that Charlie, once freed of the burden of his joined-at-the-hip brother, really got to experience growing up and the liberating freedom that comes from embracing personal responsibility. I think Charlie had to overcome a bit of an ego problem of his own, in that he’d always been told by his brother that it was Ira that made the duo what it was, that it was really Ira’s group – and thus toward the end Charlie makes it abundantly clear how proud he is that he “had more Top 30 country hits” personally, in the years after 1965, than the Louvin Brothers ever had when they were together.
Along the way there are many great anecdotes told in short, 4-5 page chapters. There’s the famous one in which Ira calls Elvis Presley a “white nigger” to his face in a weird fit of drunken pique, and therefore cheats the band out millions of potential royalties had Elvis (a huge Louvins fan) ever covered a song of theirs – which he didn’t, after Ira’s unfortunate rant. There’s a bit about how they got on the Grand Old Opry after years of trying through a clever bluff, and how Charlie hates the Opry people still running the show in 2011. Their decision to “go secular” from their gospel roots is interesting, as is the great story of how they created the record cover (and now book cover) to the amazing “Satan Is Real” – one of two totally essential records of theirs in my opinion (the other is “Tragic Songs of Life”; you might want to pick up the “When I Stop Dreaming” collection as well).
One of the constants from so many memoirs I’ve read is, unfortunately, parental or domestic abuse – see the recent memoirs I reviewed by Alice Bag and Dan Fante. Well, the Louvins’ father beat the crap out of them as well, especially Ira, and Charlie believes it cast a huge shadow on them subsequently: why they left home to be musicians so early; why Ira was so insecure; why Ira was such a hideous drunk, and so on. It reminds me of a terrific Dan Carlin podcast from a couple years ago in which he theorized about the cumulative effect on history, and on historical figures, from centuries of child abuse and child neglect. In our slightly more enlightened age – which has really only taken hold in the past 1-2 generations, in which, in the west at least, child beatings are looked askance on – what will be the (presumably positive) effect on the children of today as they grow into adults? It’s a worthy aside, and one that I can’t help thinking about when I read about the torture past generations of children such as the Louvins had to endure.
“Satan Is Real: The Ballad of the Louvin Brothers” is a quick and very straightforward read, and captures a snapshot of Southern Americana as it existed in the 1930s, 40s, 50s and 60s. It’s certainly fortunate, and not a little bit lucky, that Charlie Louvin completed this memoir only just prior to his death, and we’re all the better for it because he done did.
February 20, 2012
The best cover I've possibly ever seen, and the best story about how that cover came to be I could ever imagine...alongside a hell of a lot of other amazing stories. The ones about growing as an Alabama sharecropper's sons will bring tears to your eyes, and you'll be sick with longing to go to one of the Haynes family reunions to hear them sing gospel. There's the pain of watching a brother destroy himself, and the fascination of those tidbits about Elvis and the Monroe Brothers, Johnny Cash and Hank Williams, the behind the scenes at the Grand Ole Opry. It's just Charlie Louvin telling those stories too, like he just might have told you little by little in a social sort of way if you were lucky enough to be friends before he passed. I know Ben put a whole lot of work into pulling it all together, but man, you just can't see the signs. Except in that effortless storytelling. Means he did a hell of a job.
A book for any fan of music, but if you were lucky enough to be raised on country, this will blow you sky high. You can't go wrong buying the album either, listening to those beautiful old-fashioned harmonies you can hear how the music ran in that Louvin blood and demanded its toll, and it's never a waste of time meditating on sin and insecurity, alcohol and guns, love and redemption. This book has it all, and adds a whole new dimension to some incredible music. That Johnny Cash hung around outside one of their gigs just to hear them through the window because he couldn't afford to get in (though Charlie let him in, not knowing who he was at all), or that they were Elvis's mother's favourite gospel group...well, in my opinion the Louvin's never needed that kind of validation. But they surely have it.
A book for any fan of music, but if you were lucky enough to be raised on country, this will blow you sky high. You can't go wrong buying the album either, listening to those beautiful old-fashioned harmonies you can hear how the music ran in that Louvin blood and demanded its toll, and it's never a waste of time meditating on sin and insecurity, alcohol and guns, love and redemption. This book has it all, and adds a whole new dimension to some incredible music. That Johnny Cash hung around outside one of their gigs just to hear them through the window because he couldn't afford to get in (though Charlie let him in, not knowing who he was at all), or that they were Elvis's mother's favourite gospel group...well, in my opinion the Louvin's never needed that kind of validation. But they surely have it.
February 18, 2012
You wouldn't think an atheist would love country gospel music, but I do. I love the Louvin Brothers, especially the really hokey songs like "Great Atomic Power." "Cash on the Barrelhead" continues to be one of my favorite songs, both originally and as it's been covered by others. If you're new to the Louvin Brothers, check out the tribute album "Livin', Lovin', Losin'" -- it is a hell of an all-star country music ensemble, including (I believe) Johnny Cash's last recording.
This is Charlie Louvin's memoir, from a hardscrabble North Alabama upbringing with a physically abusive father through discovering music with his brother -- and their very hard path to eventual fame. Charlie's older brother, Ira, was an abusive drunk who sabotaged their careers, and he ultimately died in a car crash after the brothers split up.
Charlie has some amazing stories, from doing Johnny Cash a favor when Cash was a teenager, to "discovering" Kris Kristofferson, to touring with Elvis, to hearing Ray Charles play one of his songs as part of his Vegas act.
The language is salty and colloquial and very much like sitting in someone's living room hearing the stories firsthand. Louvin, naturally, has a few scores to settle and stories to set straight, but that's the nature of autobiography.
I bought the book this afternoon and finished it in my free time today. I really enjoyed it; I gained a lot more insight into the music and came away with tons of respect for Charlie and even Ira, for all his demons. He really was a brilliant songwriter, and it's a shame it ended the way it did for him. I think the honesty Charlie dealt with their shared history is a credit to them both.
This is Charlie Louvin's memoir, from a hardscrabble North Alabama upbringing with a physically abusive father through discovering music with his brother -- and their very hard path to eventual fame. Charlie's older brother, Ira, was an abusive drunk who sabotaged their careers, and he ultimately died in a car crash after the brothers split up.
Charlie has some amazing stories, from doing Johnny Cash a favor when Cash was a teenager, to "discovering" Kris Kristofferson, to touring with Elvis, to hearing Ray Charles play one of his songs as part of his Vegas act.
The language is salty and colloquial and very much like sitting in someone's living room hearing the stories firsthand. Louvin, naturally, has a few scores to settle and stories to set straight, but that's the nature of autobiography.
I bought the book this afternoon and finished it in my free time today. I really enjoyed it; I gained a lot more insight into the music and came away with tons of respect for Charlie and even Ira, for all his demons. He really was a brilliant songwriter, and it's a shame it ended the way it did for him. I think the honesty Charlie dealt with their shared history is a credit to them both.
March 19, 2024
Una autobiografia per xalar de valent. Assistim a les penúries i esforços dels Louvin Brothers per arribar a la fama i al Grand Ole Opry (la meca del country a Nashville). Els Louvin Brothers van ser un dels grups més paradigmàtics de la primera fornada del country i el gospel, sorgits de la pobresa més extrema de la zona rural d'Alabama. El llibre està escrit per Charlie Louvin amb l'ajuda d'un escriptor professional i explica les tibantors amb el germà (Ira Louvin), la difícil relació amb el pare, les dificultats per donar-se a conèixer com a duet, les interminables hores de carretera i motel, l'alcohol, les drogues, les baralles... I tot farcit amb multitud d'anècdotes amb Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Emmylou Harris, Hank Williams, etc. 4'5/5
January 12, 2020
Charlie Louvin surely has something to do, too, with what Rexroth called the Old Free America: maybe its other side, the shadow of it; Charlie, one half of the Louvin Brothers, a gospel blood harmony hillbilly singing duo that emerged from rural Alabama during the war and took 14 years to make a record and get to the Grand Ole Opry; then they had a rocky 10-year career and essentially two secular albums (difficult to get on vinyl) by which they're remembered: Tragic Songs of Life and Satan is Real, after which this memoir is named -- so count on it there's still mechanicals connected to that title.
Charlie's brother Ira died in a car accident in the summer of 1965. Charlie then carried on by himself, but it's to the point in reading this memoir that you keep looking at that cover, the record/memoir title an arguable claim, and wondering: the two brothers seem to hail, however tongue-in-cheek, the devil of their hardscrabble childhood. What we've got, then, is the claim that the childhood, exemplified by the fable of the boys' tempting fate by inviting a feral bull dog up into a barn-loft to mate the father's beloved hunting coon, with the tragic result that the spoiled puppy-brood is thrown by the father into a sack for the boys to kill, one by one, that childhood promise has only the exemplification of a music-business career that Ira Louvin, for one, views as awash in sinful worldly pleasure. Upon which Ira martyrs himself, in booze, in serial marriage-defying monogamy, in violence against the women, in turn.
Charlie watched it all. He had married well, but he was far from unspoiled by the father's unsparing provincialism. Women, in particular, when not his wife, are treated by Charlie very much in the manner that those bull dog puppies had been -- that ain't fabulous. Didn't matter if you were one of Ira's wives, or Pretty Norma Jean. Women are viewed as channels of sin. That one central choice, that one either gets right or wrong, reverberates through the other choices one is faced with. This, again, is the other side of the Old Free America Rexroth was concerned with, and that resonated for Greil Marcus in the music of Appalachia. Appalachia was also a music market, one that nurtured the Alabama gospel duo for 15 years, before Ken Nelson finally got them into the Ryman. That crucible goes to show something about what had become of the Nashville Sound under Chet Atkins' production style, it had lost its hillbilly authenticity, and the Louvins had it in spades. Just so: Satan is Real.
Charlie's brother Ira died in a car accident in the summer of 1965. Charlie then carried on by himself, but it's to the point in reading this memoir that you keep looking at that cover, the record/memoir title an arguable claim, and wondering: the two brothers seem to hail, however tongue-in-cheek, the devil of their hardscrabble childhood. What we've got, then, is the claim that the childhood, exemplified by the fable of the boys' tempting fate by inviting a feral bull dog up into a barn-loft to mate the father's beloved hunting coon, with the tragic result that the spoiled puppy-brood is thrown by the father into a sack for the boys to kill, one by one, that childhood promise has only the exemplification of a music-business career that Ira Louvin, for one, views as awash in sinful worldly pleasure. Upon which Ira martyrs himself, in booze, in serial marriage-defying monogamy, in violence against the women, in turn.
Charlie watched it all. He had married well, but he was far from unspoiled by the father's unsparing provincialism. Women, in particular, when not his wife, are treated by Charlie very much in the manner that those bull dog puppies had been -- that ain't fabulous. Didn't matter if you were one of Ira's wives, or Pretty Norma Jean. Women are viewed as channels of sin. That one central choice, that one either gets right or wrong, reverberates through the other choices one is faced with. This, again, is the other side of the Old Free America Rexroth was concerned with, and that resonated for Greil Marcus in the music of Appalachia. Appalachia was also a music market, one that nurtured the Alabama gospel duo for 15 years, before Ken Nelson finally got them into the Ryman. That crucible goes to show something about what had become of the Nashville Sound under Chet Atkins' production style, it had lost its hillbilly authenticity, and the Louvins had it in spades. Just so: Satan is Real.
April 6, 2012
informative auto bio of the louvin brothers, (folk, gospel, country, indie duet with band in 1940's-1963, then charlie solo 1964-2010) raised super hard-scrabble in alabama cotton patch, dreamed of playing at the grand old opry and owning a big car. they worked hard, had surreal harmonic abilities (charlie called it blood singing), incorporated hot guitar and mandolin and gritty realist lyrics to break into and succeed in the music biz. his big brother and driving force, ira, took to drink and was so surly and douchey that they broke up as a duet in 1960's, and charlie then went on to have a very successful career with lots of number one singles, but influence on music world and died of very old age in 2011. ira died young in car wreck. fun and fast read with not too much bias. the cover of book is the album cover they made. the album cover won all kinds of awards, and is a very funny vignette in book.
July 6, 2022
wrote this one while i was halfway through, and here it is, unedited:
i'm LOUVIN reading this book ahhhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
i'm LOUVIN reading this book ahhhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
February 27, 2018
So good! If you’re a fan of country music or just music in general check this one out! Could hardly put it down.
November 29, 2015
Many country music stars in their memoirs sheepishly admit to bad behavior, but it is usually sanitized for a family audience. Charlie Louvin is not one of these memoirists and discuses some very sordid behavior by he and his brother Ira (who sang as the Louvin Brothers) in blunt and colorful language. An example from the first chapter, during a visit to their mother while on the road. Ira was drunk and just called his mother a bitch: "I can guarantee you the fucking fight was on then. I beat the shit out of him right there in the front yard. He was lucky it was just words, too. If he’d have touched her, I’d still be in prison. Shit, if Papa was there, he might have killed him anyway, but I just kicked his ass all over the place. Then I stuffed him in the car, and we drove away."
Needless to say, Charlie has some scores to settle in this book, primarily with his brother.
Highly recommended if you are a fan of classic country music.
Needless to say, Charlie has some scores to settle in this book, primarily with his brother.
Highly recommended if you are a fan of classic country music.
February 6, 2012
There is nothing like a tell-all memoir by someone who knows their days are numbered, and this book is a prime example of that. Singing as a duo since childhood, Charlie and Ira Louvin had few peers. But women, depression and alcohol sent Ira into a tailspin he never left before his death in 1965. By then Charlie had given up on him and had a solo career started, but when on stage he could never forget Ira. There are anecdotes about Johnny Cash, Elvis, Kristofferson, Hank and more. The title may be a bit misleading, it was the title of one of their songs.
December 26, 2012
The Louvin Brothers are famous musicians from the time when country music begat bluegrass music and the Grand Ole Opry reigned, shortly before Elvis killed it. They had a classic family: father was a cotton farmer, beat them hard, they used music as an escape. One brother (Ira) was the drinker, Charlie (the author) was the one who had it (and held it) together. The book is the story of their childhood, their early career, the take-off, Ira's self-destruction, and (only cursorily) Charlie's later second-wind career.
It's written like a folktale, so clearly 'as told by' ... brilliant! Some highlights:
It's written like a folktale, so clearly 'as told by' ... brilliant! Some highlights:
When you were dealing with Papa, you were dealing with something inevitable. You couldn’t escape him anymore than you could escape winter weather or a hard wind. You could try to hide behind something for a little while, but sooner or later you always had to step out and face it.
Then Mama began to cook supper. Lord, she could cook. She ran the house, just as Papa ran the outside work. He didn’t tell her how to cook a meal, and she didn’t tell him how much wood to chop so that we could get through the winter. It was a good setup. I don’t actually recall but one or two loud conversations, where it was obvious even to a kid that they wasn’t agreeing on something. Through them, I came to believe even then that if you take care of your corner of life, you’ll find a partner that will take care of theirs, and then you’ll have a long and happy togetherness. Otherwise, you’ll fight all the time.
Like I said, that’s the saddest song I’ve ever sung. It’s supposed to be a true song, too. And I believe it. Back when I was boy, if a girl got pregnant, she never did return home. Not pregnant and single. She just wasn’t welcome. Sometimes we’d notice one of these girls missing, and being children, we’d ask, “Where’s Mary?” The grown-ups would always have the same answer, “She’s off to college.” Even as kids we knew better. These people were just like us, so poor they did good to get a kid through grade school, let alone college. So if they said they sent one to college, it’s a sure bet she wasn’t never coming back, not unless she had a husband. And then only after many years.
“Ain’t nobody ever died of being bashful,” Papa said. “Tell you what, boys, if you’re that nervous, crawl under the bed here where we can’t see you, and do your singing there.” So Ira and I crawled under the bed, and from there we sang “Mary of the Wild Moor” with our tails together, facing opposite directions. We must’ve done a good job, too, because the room was pretty much dead silent when we finished. No giggling or chuckling at all. Still, we didn’t give Papa a chance to ask for another one. We slid down to the end of the bed, and then ran like hell out the front door. We were screwed after that, though. Once Papa’d figured out that trick for us, we had to sing from under the bed pretty much anytime anybody stopped by the house. And if we went any place, he expected us to sing at the drop of a hat. Just walking down the road, Papa’d pop his fingers and say, “Do ’em one,” and that’s the way it was. We’d do at least one song, even if that’s all we had time for. Papa saw to it. Lord, we hated him for making us sing like that. But as always with Papa, there was probably more to it than what we saw. He worked in ways you couldn’t always figure out at first, and as much as we got pissed off at having to sing, he trained all the bashfulness right out of us. By making us sing those songs for folks, he forced us to learn how to perform. And we began to understand that we could entertain folks.
That first song was electric. The whole church filled with the music of our voices. This was the first time I was really expected to sing along, but I joined in as easily as if I’d been doing it a hundred years. The human voice, that’s what they’re talking about when they say Sacred Harp, and there’s nothing like it in the world. You can’t really record it, either. Since everybody sings, it’s awful hard to get a microphone positioned so you can mix all of them. But it does your soul good to hear it.
“Come on, Charlie,” said Ira. And as scared as I was, I looked up at him. He was smiling down at me, confident and tall. And that was the thing about Ira, as much as he could convince me to do something I knew I shouldn’t do, like chop down that damn persimmon tree, he could always help me on the path to something that needed doing. There was two sides to his gift for convincing, as there was two sides to everything with him.
That was another of Ira’s gifts. You could play him a piece of music and he could take it down to its parts, pull out what he needed, and use it. He could do it with people, too. That’s why he was so good with women, even at an early age. He wasn’t ever as good-looking as he thought he was, but he could see right into them. Unfortunately, it wasn’t always a gift for the rest of us. As surely as he could pinpoint something he could take advantage of, he could spot a weakness. And if he wanted to, he could take your flesh down to the bone with it. Sure enough, from then on after he saw that girl, there’d come a time when we were singing together that he’d slip into one of those high parts and then come back down, just like she did. He built it right into our act. In a way, our entire career was built on doing unorthodox things like that, things no sensible person might do, and we learned a lot of them from Sacred Harp. Sometimes the tenor and the melody would work together, and I would go down as Ira went up, and we would end up in the same place, only he would be twice as high as I would be, and we got so many compliments on it that we started using it fairly regular. It baffled a lot of people, too, how we could change parts without nudging or winking at each other. He’d take the high lead and I’d do the low harmony under it, and he knew exactly when my part would get too high for me just like I knew when his would get too low for him, and we could change in the middle of a word. Part of the reason we could do that was that we’d learned to have a good ear for other peoples’ voices when we sang Sacred Harp. But the other part is that we were brothers. There’s no one that knows your weaknesses like a brother. I knew Ira’s, and, as he proved time and time again in our career, he surely knew mine.
Anyway, we worked the whole rest of that season from sunup until sundown. We worked until it was too dark to work, and then stumbled down to the house and rinsed our bloody hands down with rubbing alcohol, so they’d be ready to use again the next day. Because at the end of every day, Papa would show each of us that tally and say, “You’ll do that every day, or you’ll get your ass whipped.” So who was the dumb one? It sure wasn’t Papa. But being worked liked that, meeting Papa’s tallies, set us on the path of music just as much as our love of singing did. For Ira especially. One night, while climbing into bed, bone-tired after another day of picking, he said to me, “We ain’t got no choice, Charlie. You know that.” “No choice about what, Ira?” I said. I already had the blanket up to my chin and I could hardly keep my eyes open. “No choice about whether or not we make it as singers.” His voice sounded choked up, and I looked over at him. He was older than me, almost full grown, but he looked like he might just bust out in tears. “I can’t do this for the rest of my life.” “I know, Ira,” I said. And I did. I probably didn’t understand how much his back hurt from having to stoop over to keep up with the picking. Nor did I know what it felt like to be the oldest, to take Papa’s beatings the way he did. But I knew what he meant. That having a music career didn’t mean the Opry or riding around in a fancy automobile anymore. It meant not picking cotton for the rest of our lives. It meant survival.
“Charlie,” he said. “You’re gonna have to learn to play the guitar.” Well, I would have rather somebody pissed down my leg than told me something like that. “I don’t want to,” I said, hanging my head. “It’s necessary, Charlie,” he said. “The Blue Sky Boys got a mandolin and a guitar, the Monroe Brothers got a mandolin and a guitar, the Delmore Brothers got a tenor guitar and a regular guitar. I’m gonna take up the mandolin, and I need you to take up the guitar.” He was right. There was no getting around it. Every duet had what you’d call a lead instrument and a rhythm instrument. And since there was only the two of us, it wasn’t too hard to figure out who was talented enough to play the lead instrument.
It didn’t hurt us, but it convinced us that working in a woolen mill wasn’t what we wanted to do for the rest of our lives. And maybe it helped us understand that working for Papa wasn’t really any worse than working for anybody else. If you’re killing yourself to make somebody else money, there ain’t no future in it.
I’ll never forget this one pool hall. It was run by this crook who’d pay us to clear beer bottles off the tables in between songs. Only instead of throwing the beer bottles away, he’d have us take all the half-full beers over to this special cooler, where he would fill them up with other half-full beers and twist a new cap on them. Then when some guy got tipsy enough where he couldn’t tell one beer from another, this guy would sell him one of the old beers. Hell, he’d fill up more than a hundred and fifty bottles of beer a night that way. You wouldn’t believe how many half-full beers people will walk off and leave. We’d clear tables like that for an hour, and then get up and play some music.
You can weather any storm if you believe that it’s gonna be better on down the road.
We missed out on a lot of sleep, but that was part of the business. Besides, they had pills for it. Some of the boys back then, they took them even if they never got close to the steering wheel, just to get high, but I used ’em to drive. I had to. Ira couldn’t hardly drive at all because of his back and, sometimes, the beer. I used to be able to get them that were called Old Yellers, and one of them would carry me five hundred miles to do a show and five hundred miles back without sleep. Other people would take one starting out and then two more to make it there, and then three to get back home, but I never could take that many. My body’s too timid. I couldn’t handle ’em all. We were always racing the clock, pulling up just as the show was about to start. We’d pile out of the cars, and the first thing I’d say to the show’s organizer was, “You got a creek around here?” “Right down there,” they’d say, and point me at it. So I’d step down to the creek, and it’d be running just as clear and cold as could be, and I’d pour that water up on my face, then take my handkerchief and dry off, and say, “All right, let’s go.”
He always insisted that if you want to be a star, then the first thing you have to do is look like a fucking star. If you look like a star and you act like a star, then you stand a chance. But if you look like a bum and call yourself a star, they’re only gonna call you by the first name. You’re just gonna be a bum.
The good times with Eddie couldn’t last forever. Nothing does. Around 1949, Ira and I were starting to figure Memphis was getting played out. It was just like every town before. We’d done every venue that was big enough to hold a show two or three times over, and that’s just about all people will put up with from you. They won’t come to see the same program over and over.
I never could understand the drinking. Not with Hank, and not with Ira, either. Whiskey don’t cure nothing. You might forget what you’re trying to forget tonight, but when you wake up tomorrow, it’ll be back. And so will your headache and hangover. It’ll just multiply on you, and eventually whiskey won’t do any good at all for what you’re trying to use it for. Whether it be to forget or to have a good time, there’ll come a day when it’ll require more than you can drink, more than anybody can drink. And that will be your complete downfall. That’s what happened to Hank. It got to where the whiskey couldn’t do him any good, so he had to move on to something stronger.
If I was looking at someone else with the career path we had, I’d have probably told them to let it go at that point. I don’t know how long you should keep trying if you don’t seem to be making any progress. There comes a time when you just have to say, “I’ve given it my best and it wasn’t good enough.” But we never could do that.
We’ve had some others in Nashville that you never saw totally straight, that’s for sure. George Jones was probably the worst. I worked a show with him once and we were standing back in the wings waiting to go on. He was acting a little peculiar, so I asked, “You been drinking, George?” “Naw,” he said. “I been working on my drinking problem.” “How’s that?” By way of an answer, he reached in his coat pocket, pulled out a handful of cocaine, and buried his nose in it, snorting. Then, when he’d fixed up that side of his nose, he went after the other.
“How’s that working for you?” I asked. “Pretty good,” he said. “Waylon told me it’d help.”
A lot of times I’d come home, and the first thing she’d do is tell me that she’d told one or another of them that I would whip his ass. But I never did have much stomach for that. I’d say, “Hey, I didn’t come home to beat the kids. I come home to enjoy them.”
Teddy and Doyle of the Wilburn Brothers didn’t get along. And the Delmore Brothers didn’t get along, either. It seemed like in every duet, there’d be one of them that was a drinker. In the Delmore Brothers, it was Rabon, and in the Wilburn Brothers, it was Doyle. You’d think two brothers from the same family would be something alike. But it never worked out that way.
It’d get him trouble now and then, too. Once we were working a dance in Buzzard Roost, Texas, and some guy came over and asked Ira, “Buddy, would you do me a great favor?” He was a big old boy, as tall as Ira, but about twice as broad. “If I can, I will,” Ira said. “My wife really wants to dance with you,” the guy said. “She does?” Ira said. “Which one is she?” “That’s her right there,” the guy said, pointing. And she was a real beauty. Had to be the prettiest woman in Buzzard Roost, anyway. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Ira said, but he was still looking at her, ogling her, really, and I could already tell how this was gonna end. “Aw, there’s nothing to it,” the guy said. “Just do me a favor and dance with her for one song.” Well, Ira got out there and started to dance with her. And as the song wore on, they kept moving a little closer together. Right up until that guy walked out on the dance floor, grabbed Ira’s shoulder, and just knocked the shit out of him. Laid him out on the floor. “What the hell’s wrong with you, man?” I said. “You talked him into it.” “I asked him to dance with her,” the guy said. “Not fuck her on the dance floor.”
It’s not very cool when you go to enough funerals to eradicate an entire family, an entire generation. It’s the worst feeling in the world, if you want the truth.
Old age is different from anything you’ll ever encounter in your life. Your head will lie to you, your heart will lie to you, and your pecker will lie to you. You’ll see something sitting there that you used to handle with one hand, just pick it up and sling it, and your head will tell you, “Are you kidding, man? You’ve lifted twice that much.” Then you’ll grab ahold of it and find out that it’s more than you can handle. Those golden years they talk about, they’re bullshit.
January 28, 2019
Riveting and charming and full of amazing things Ira & Charlie survived. Charlie narrates with heartfelt and humble astonishment that he and his brother rose from dire poverty in Alabama to the pinnacle of Grand Ol Opry country and gospel music success. Their music has remained glorious and influential all these years later, and despite the misery of his brother Ira’s alcoholism and early demise, Charlie retained a sweet and generous spirit. Pull up a chair, let Charlie Louvin tell ya. It’s a great story.
February 11, 2025
Very blunt first-hand take from a guy who lived one of the craziest lives in one of the craziest eras country music. If you’re a country music fan, or just a fan of music in general, this is a good one. It’s simple writing, but there’s a lot of complex themes about God and brother struggles and addiction and violence and Heaven and Hell all wrapped up in it.
March 21, 2020
The entertaining and somewhat tragic story of the Louvin Brothers is a great read. Charlie and Ira had their ups and downs but recorded some great country music this book covers it all. A easy read that is hard to put down.
January 24, 2021
This was a fun read. The Louvins are amazing. It's by no means a standout in the annals of music autobios but it captures the brothers' story nicely and succinctly. These guys toiled to make it in the industry and unfortunately were only truly recognized and appreciated after their era.
September 29, 2017
If you love music, this book is essential. The building blocks for so many loved country and bluegrass artists.
September 30, 2023
An Alabama version of Ham On Rye, set to a great period of country music
January 13, 2024
One of the best memoirs I've ever read. Should be required reading for every country music fan.
March 21, 2025
So well written you would think you were reading fiction.
Read
October 2, 2022Charlie Louvin has a gritty, brothers in love and in conflict story to tell. The as told to style used by the ghostwriter is perfectly suited to the tale told. If you’ve loved a hard living, hard drinking, impossible, creative sibling, you’ll easily relate.
June 21, 2017
This book is best read as more or less one-half of the Louvin Brothers' story. Unfortunately, Ira Louvin died far too long ago to have his half of the story told for him, but the other half of the story can be found in "In Close Harmony," which serves as a great analysis of the Louvin Brothers' music, whereas this autobiography by Charlie serves as the human side of the story. Both are fascinating in their own way, but reading the brothers' life story as told by Charlie, is truly illuminating.
Charlie Louvin doesn't pull any punches, or make any apologies. Like many of the other country and western brother duets (Blue Sky Boys, Delmores, Monroes, Everlys), quite often one of the two siblings was a hell raiser and one tried to get the job done. Charlie also points out the strife and animosity that almost always existed between these ultra talented singers whose voices, if not life styles and choices, seemed totally inspired by God.
Charlie gives a full account of the hard scrabble existence the family knew as small time farmers in Oklahoma, and how they got their start hearing and listening to music. Their father's way of discipline (which would easily be child abuse today), the boys' often inhumane (to animals) and cruel jokes, and their lack of "opportunities" for things such as an education are told with attention to detail and compassion, but without "prettying up" for the (dare I say it?) politically correct reader.
Even more fascinating is the hard road these singers traveled, even while famous. The driving from town to town in the middle of the night, the difficulties encountered with promoters, producers and others who often grabbed rights to songs they had nothing to do with writing, and the ambition and goals of the singers to reach the Grand Ole Opry and other pinnacles of success are recited in amazing detail. Charlie may not have been one to record all the details of his life over the years, as dates and documentary evidence is often lacking, but no one could question is ability for recall or his attention to detail. It is a fascinating oral history of one of the most beautifully talented of all C&W acts, ever.
Inevitably, Charlie's life is more and more affected by Ira's drinking, womanizing and volcanic eruptions over music, alcohol and life in general. The more charismatic, enigmatic, and handsomer older brother exerts his influence over everything in Charlie's life, both prior to and following Ira's untimely death in an auto accident that left multiple victims dead and naturally left Charlie to carry on as a solo (though they had already broken up) and perpetuate the Louvin Brothers legacy throughout the next several decades, which he did to with pride and integrity.
Charlie also speaks briefly about the changes that occurred in country and western music over the years, becoming more pop oriented and mainstream (though he fails to admit that very likely the Louvins themselves were part of this trend very early on). He writes very modestly about his achievements during the latter part of his life, though he admits with pride that he had more chart placements as a single act than as a duet with his late brother.
An utterly fascinating oral history of a place and time that will never return. It is so fortunate we have this account of the Louvin Brothers. Along with "In Close Harmony," which delves into their recording sessions and music, this book makes a beautiful and chilling portrait of a very talented man and the flawed genius who was at once his alter ego and Achilles tendon.
Charlie Louvin doesn't pull any punches, or make any apologies. Like many of the other country and western brother duets (Blue Sky Boys, Delmores, Monroes, Everlys), quite often one of the two siblings was a hell raiser and one tried to get the job done. Charlie also points out the strife and animosity that almost always existed between these ultra talented singers whose voices, if not life styles and choices, seemed totally inspired by God.
Charlie gives a full account of the hard scrabble existence the family knew as small time farmers in Oklahoma, and how they got their start hearing and listening to music. Their father's way of discipline (which would easily be child abuse today), the boys' often inhumane (to animals) and cruel jokes, and their lack of "opportunities" for things such as an education are told with attention to detail and compassion, but without "prettying up" for the (dare I say it?) politically correct reader.
Even more fascinating is the hard road these singers traveled, even while famous. The driving from town to town in the middle of the night, the difficulties encountered with promoters, producers and others who often grabbed rights to songs they had nothing to do with writing, and the ambition and goals of the singers to reach the Grand Ole Opry and other pinnacles of success are recited in amazing detail. Charlie may not have been one to record all the details of his life over the years, as dates and documentary evidence is often lacking, but no one could question is ability for recall or his attention to detail. It is a fascinating oral history of one of the most beautifully talented of all C&W acts, ever.
Inevitably, Charlie's life is more and more affected by Ira's drinking, womanizing and volcanic eruptions over music, alcohol and life in general. The more charismatic, enigmatic, and handsomer older brother exerts his influence over everything in Charlie's life, both prior to and following Ira's untimely death in an auto accident that left multiple victims dead and naturally left Charlie to carry on as a solo (though they had already broken up) and perpetuate the Louvin Brothers legacy throughout the next several decades, which he did to with pride and integrity.
Charlie also speaks briefly about the changes that occurred in country and western music over the years, becoming more pop oriented and mainstream (though he fails to admit that very likely the Louvins themselves were part of this trend very early on). He writes very modestly about his achievements during the latter part of his life, though he admits with pride that he had more chart placements as a single act than as a duet with his late brother.
An utterly fascinating oral history of a place and time that will never return. It is so fortunate we have this account of the Louvin Brothers. Along with "In Close Harmony," which delves into their recording sessions and music, this book makes a beautiful and chilling portrait of a very talented man and the flawed genius who was at once his alter ego and Achilles tendon.
March 5, 2012
I read this book way too fast. I downed it like a shot of whiskey. I am a book pig, no doubt. Charlie Louvin is a great storyteller and does a fantastic job telling the story of The Louvin Brothers’ rise to fame and subsequent fall. I wish I would have taken my time reading Satan Is Real but I suppose I can read it again, no?
The Louvin Brothers were the sons of an Alabama cotton famer. Their mother taught them a lot of old time, traditional songs, which fueled their love for and desire to get involved in music. Life on the cotton farm was another huge inspiration for them to succeed in music. When he wasn’t tanning their hides, their father was as supportive of their musical leanings as he could be, occasionally bringing home records for them to listen to and forcing them to perform for anyone, any time. With Ira on mandolin and Charlie on guitar, the brothers’ voices combined into an amazing, haunting third instrument that made them unforgettable from the first listen. Something about brothers singing together, the way their voices combine, is pretty awe inspiring. The Everly Brothers are another good example, but there was something magical in the way Ira and Charlie sang together.
The brothers worked hard and gained success through sheer determination and hard work, earning a spot at the Grand Ole Opry and releasing many, many influential songs. The list of Louvin disciples is long and impressive and includes Graham Parsons, Emmylou Harris, Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. Ira’s demons and drinking eventually lead to the end of the road for the brothers Louvin but Charlie went on to enjoy a lot more success in country music.
You wouldn’t have to be a Louvin Brothers fan to enjoy this book. Charlie makes everything he talks about seem interesting. While Satan Is Real is not an exhaustive bio full of facts and chronological accuracy, Charlie hits on what he thinks is important and, in the end, tells the story in a compelling way.
Also, kudos to cover designer, George McWilliams of Meat And Potatoes. I love the fake wear at the corners and edges and the use of The Louvin Brothers' most famous album cover.
If you know The Louvin Brothers, Satan Is Real will fascinate you. If not, you could do worse than to give them a listen. You’ll have a tough time going wrong with any of ‘em.
The Louvin Brothers were the sons of an Alabama cotton famer. Their mother taught them a lot of old time, traditional songs, which fueled their love for and desire to get involved in music. Life on the cotton farm was another huge inspiration for them to succeed in music. When he wasn’t tanning their hides, their father was as supportive of their musical leanings as he could be, occasionally bringing home records for them to listen to and forcing them to perform for anyone, any time. With Ira on mandolin and Charlie on guitar, the brothers’ voices combined into an amazing, haunting third instrument that made them unforgettable from the first listen. Something about brothers singing together, the way their voices combine, is pretty awe inspiring. The Everly Brothers are another good example, but there was something magical in the way Ira and Charlie sang together.
The brothers worked hard and gained success through sheer determination and hard work, earning a spot at the Grand Ole Opry and releasing many, many influential songs. The list of Louvin disciples is long and impressive and includes Graham Parsons, Emmylou Harris, Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. Ira’s demons and drinking eventually lead to the end of the road for the brothers Louvin but Charlie went on to enjoy a lot more success in country music.
You wouldn’t have to be a Louvin Brothers fan to enjoy this book. Charlie makes everything he talks about seem interesting. While Satan Is Real is not an exhaustive bio full of facts and chronological accuracy, Charlie hits on what he thinks is important and, in the end, tells the story in a compelling way.
Also, kudos to cover designer, George McWilliams of Meat And Potatoes. I love the fake wear at the corners and edges and the use of The Louvin Brothers' most famous album cover.
If you know The Louvin Brothers, Satan Is Real will fascinate you. If not, you could do worse than to give them a listen. You’ll have a tough time going wrong with any of ‘em.
July 16, 2013
These guys were/are a huge influence on many of my favourite bands, so when I found this auto-biography it caught my interest (I was looking for the album of the same name, incidentally). I hadn't heard about any of their rather traumatic history, so this was all new to me while a seasoned fan (or anyone who knows more about the history of country music in general) would probably be more familiar with a lot of this. I won't go into many of the particulars, but Charlie has lived quite the life and tells the story quite well.
It reads a bit like anecdotes that a particularly interesting neighbour might share you over coffee and while the chapters don't hang together as a very cohesive narrative, each is pretty engaging in its own right. Definitely a page turner.
The bulk of the book details their lives growing up and playing music together (as you might gather from the sub-title) but there are a few chapters that talk about Charlie's life after parting ways with his brother. The story telling is a little looser here as Charlie tries to reason why things turned out the way they did both with his brother and the country music scene, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone with a more intimate perspective of either.
I'd recommend the book to most everyone. As a heads up, the language is strong at times, and there are several violent scenes of domestic abuse. Their lives was many things, but rarely peaceful.
It reads a bit like anecdotes that a particularly interesting neighbour might share you over coffee and while the chapters don't hang together as a very cohesive narrative, each is pretty engaging in its own right. Definitely a page turner.
The bulk of the book details their lives growing up and playing music together (as you might gather from the sub-title) but there are a few chapters that talk about Charlie's life after parting ways with his brother. The story telling is a little looser here as Charlie tries to reason why things turned out the way they did both with his brother and the country music scene, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone with a more intimate perspective of either.
I'd recommend the book to most everyone. As a heads up, the language is strong at times, and there are several violent scenes of domestic abuse. Their lives was many things, but rarely peaceful.
March 30, 2015
The word 'legendary' has been tossed around and diluted so much over the years, that I hesitate to use it here...but, the fact is, the Louvin Brothers (Ira and Charlie) ARE true legends of country music, and their songs have touched and influenced countless performers who are (rather sadly) more widely known in the field.
But, one need not be a country music fan to become completely engrossed in this book. In SATAN IS REAL: THE BALLAD OF THE LOUVIN BROTHERS, Charlie Louvin and Benjamin Whitmer have weaved a wonderful collection of anecdotes into a immensely readable biography of the two distinctly different brothers. There is a good amount of comedy in these pages, and a good amount of tragedy. But, through all the triumphs and tribulations, the abiding love between Charlie and Ira really shines through...even when Charlie had to kick Ira's ass!
More than just the story of the two talented brothers, SATAN IS REAL: THE BALLAD OF THE LOUVIN BROTHERS also works as a snapshot of the music and recording industry "back in the day", and includes a number of photographs of the Louvins, their family, and some of their familiar friends.
I really enjoyed the story of the Louvin Brothers, and one listen to their music will let readers know why they truly ARE legendary.
But, one need not be a country music fan to become completely engrossed in this book. In SATAN IS REAL: THE BALLAD OF THE LOUVIN BROTHERS, Charlie Louvin and Benjamin Whitmer have weaved a wonderful collection of anecdotes into a immensely readable biography of the two distinctly different brothers. There is a good amount of comedy in these pages, and a good amount of tragedy. But, through all the triumphs and tribulations, the abiding love between Charlie and Ira really shines through...even when Charlie had to kick Ira's ass!
More than just the story of the two talented brothers, SATAN IS REAL: THE BALLAD OF THE LOUVIN BROTHERS also works as a snapshot of the music and recording industry "back in the day", and includes a number of photographs of the Louvins, their family, and some of their familiar friends.
I really enjoyed the story of the Louvin Brothers, and one listen to their music will let readers know why they truly ARE legendary.
April 7, 2018
I don't know if I've ever been more wrong about a band than I was about the Louvins. I first heard of them the same way most irony-breathing indie-rockers did, on a worst-of list for the Satan Is Real album cover. I've come to discover an amazing album catalog, albums when most were recording singles, original tunes when most were rehashing the same Dallas Frazier or Fred Rose tunes. The musicianship is amazing, a big and warm sound, fun, spirited, virtuoso without being showy. Oh, right- the book. Goodness, what a bastard Ira was. Holy hell, that upbringing. The book is an exploration of family; how much would it take for Charlie to bail on Ira, considering what they'd survived together? We find out. By the way, Charlie Louvin isn't some sanctimonious old choir boy. His prose wont be confused for Andy Griffith, which is what I think I was expecting. Old-gospel-singer-reflects-on-life; I expected more "Take My Hand, O Precious Lord." turns out he cusses like Keith Richards, and is a million times easier to like. Your shopping list: 1) This book. 2) "Tragic Songs of Life" 3) "My Baby's Gone" 4) "Satan Is Real"
December 31, 2020
Easily one of my favorite books ever! This book was personally recommended to me from someone who knew of my interest in bluegrass and country music. It’s also one of the few books I continuously hound others to read. I read this book long before the listening to the Cocaine & Rhinestones podcast episode about the Louvin Brothers.
I always enjoy crazy stories about the life and times of 1950s and 1960s traveling musicians, but I get the sense that the Louvin Brothers is a bit crazier than most. The coolest part about this book and one of the things I enjoyed most was the feeling that, as the reader you feel like you are in the same room with Charlie, as if he were just telling stories in front of a cozy fire or over a beer. Decades transpired between the time that most of the events took place and the time the book was written, and although the stories are thrilling, they are told with a tone of casualness that makes you think Charlie Louvin has experienced even more than he was willing to tell.
I always enjoy crazy stories about the life and times of 1950s and 1960s traveling musicians, but I get the sense that the Louvin Brothers is a bit crazier than most. The coolest part about this book and one of the things I enjoyed most was the feeling that, as the reader you feel like you are in the same room with Charlie, as if he were just telling stories in front of a cozy fire or over a beer. Decades transpired between the time that most of the events took place and the time the book was written, and although the stories are thrilling, they are told with a tone of casualness that makes you think Charlie Louvin has experienced even more than he was willing to tell.
June 25, 2014
A short, nicely produced memoir that is basically a collection of short (4-5 pages)snippets of incidents as told by Charlie Louvin.
He has a slightly foul mouth but a good sense of humor, and he is unsparing on his description of the life and behaviour of both himself and his brother, Ira.
One funny incident mentioned on page 176; they were on tour with Elvis, and were present when Elvis seemed to pass out on stage; the ambulance though was only 10 feet away. Later at the hotel, he said hi to them; as it turns out, the Colonel had put him up to pretending to faint to get publicity. All of the media there were on Elvis hospital watch, and as a publicity stunt it worked well.
The next time you seem something about a star like Justin Bieber passing out on stage, remember this.
He has a slightly foul mouth but a good sense of humor, and he is unsparing on his description of the life and behaviour of both himself and his brother, Ira.
One funny incident mentioned on page 176; they were on tour with Elvis, and were present when Elvis seemed to pass out on stage; the ambulance though was only 10 feet away. Later at the hotel, he said hi to them; as it turns out, the Colonel had put him up to pretending to faint to get publicity. All of the media there were on Elvis hospital watch, and as a publicity stunt it worked well.
The next time you seem something about a star like Justin Bieber passing out on stage, remember this.
July 3, 2012
Really great country music bio. Written by the 'good' brother Charlie, the story of the Louvin Brothers act was fascinating. The meatiest parts were the ones with Ira, the troubled brother. I have to wonder how much the co-author countrified the language of the book. For my taste, Charlie injected a little too much hindsight into the duo's later years and his solo career. However, this book is an easy recommendation for almost anyone who enjoys music. Tales of the country music touring circuit, the Opry, and old-school brotherly slugfests were fun. And watch out for that Little Jimmy Dickens!
The book's design is just like the old hardback Hardy Boys books. I'd like to know why the publishers went that way. It's great!
The book's design is just like the old hardback Hardy Boys books. I'd like to know why the publishers went that way. It's great!
June 1, 2012
A very matter-of-fact account of an extraordinary life. Charlie Louvin was half of the legendary C&W act The Louvin Brothers. Coming from a downright abusive childhood on a cotton farm, Charlie and his brother became musicians, and after decades of struggle became a cornerstone of the Gran Ole Opry. His brother Ira eventually self-destructed, and Charlie then moved into a successful solo career that spanned decades more. In this book he lays out the whole story in a manner that feels like you are listening to an old guy spilling his guts, which, in effect, you are. Bonus, almost every old-school country star shows up in anecdotes, as well as some pop icons.
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