The Osborne Brothers performing at Sangamon Park in Mahomet IL, June 9, 1968. Photo by Dan Tackett.

In a phone conversation over the weekend I was privileged to talk to Sonny Osborne for the second time in my life. I wanted to check on some details of any Monkees’ recollections he had. Sonny was gracious enough to oblige me.

But I got more than I bargained for and was extremely thrilled.

Sonny continued to tell me how the Monkees’ sessions were the most idiotic he ever experienced. He mentioned that Mike Nesmith’s mom invented Liquid Paper. It was quite evident Nesmith came from money, with many of the stories Sonny heard him tell.

To me, this was the first tones of how down-to-earth Sonny Osborne is as a performer and a man. Here is a gentleman who has very little patience for any kind of pretension.

Sonny mentioned that while he was in the studio with Nesmith, he never saw him play a note. Most of the time was spent in the control room, occasionally disappearing from there to vanish to who knows where. This was the beginning of a serious loathing that Sonny gained for session work.

He worked doing sessions for about a 6-month period. During this time, he would do 2 or 3 sessions a day. His final session work was during a Jerry Reed recording. The powers that be asked Sonny to play a chromatic riff on his banjo and he insisted that he didn’t play that way. The assembly ended with Sonny packing up and saying so long to session work.

He recalled a recording with Wade Ray and Floyd Cramer, where Cramer ended up beating on the piano several times, frustrated with the music industry and what a hard life it was.

Several times during my conversation with Sonny, he insisted it was incredibly difficult to put up with the various entertainers’ egos. He stated the trouble began when they would read their glowing press clippings and started to believe the accolades that were being heaped upon them. He felt many of these entertainers would have preferred if you would have bowed before them, much as you would with royalty.

At one point, I told Sonny I grew up in the rock-and-roll era but had a Dad who loved country. Ironically, one of our joint favorites was the Osborne Brothers. When I mentioned this to Sonny, he seemed to very much appreciate it. Sonny said, “We were 25 years ahead of our time. We laid the groundwork for many of the new bluegrass bands who are out there now.”

Our talk came around to Sonny’s health. He has not picked up a banjo since 2003. Last year, he suffered a stroke and when asked how he was feeling, he mentioned he was doing OK. I told him how much I missed seeing him out there on the road and he said, “I sure don’t miss it.”

“Nobody is a legend, we all put our pants on one leg at a time.” - Sonny Osborne

During our phone conversation, he told me a great story that had just happened. During a breakfast conversation with his wife that morning, they discussed something which had happened the night before. Sonny ventured out to see Chris Hillman and Herb Pedersen play at the Station Inn in Nashville.

After the show they all sat around and talked, Sonny told his wife they made me feel like a legend. It is evident, Sonny is thoroughly uncomfortable with this term. He mused that perhaps he shouldn’t have gone to the event. Sonny acknowledged, “Nobody is a legend, we all put our pants on one leg at a time.” He said he just did his job as well as he could. This was a thought he affirmed several times throughout our conversation.

Sonny Osborne let me know that he didn’t do interviews anymore. When I told him I felt privileged with the time he had taken with me, he stated this very well could be the last interview he’ll ever do.

This is a man who appears to not have a pretentious bone in his own body and along with that, abhors anyone who acts as though they are more important or special than warranted. He feels many in the music business are phony. His attitude is, if you want to get along with these super-egos, you have to play the games with those particular individuals.

“These people read the accolades heaped upon themselves and they start believing them as well. We all put our pants on the same,” he said. He grew increasingly tired of playing the games.

Sonny took great pride in the Osborne Brothers being just “down-home boys.” Returning back to the story about Hillman and Pedersen treating him as a legend he says, “I don’t look like a legend.”

I asked him to tell me some of the talent he personally has looked up to in the business. Sonny first mentioned Bill Anderson and was quick to point out that Anderson had made a great deal of money in his life, but was still a down-home boy. He also liked Jim Ed Brown, Ricky Skaggs, the Whites, Faron Young, Merle Haggard, and believe it or not, Jerry Lee Lewis.

Sonny stated Lewis had a little wild side but was still a pretty good guy.

The Osborne Brothers “Live in Germany” (Pinecastle)

The talk also came around to a discussion of the new CD and DVD set of “The Osborne Brothers: Live in Germany.” Sonny told the story about how that video was illegally recorded and was to be sold to whoever wanted it for distribution.

Sonny decided he wanted it done right, so the Pinecastle label bought the video and they worked for a year on piecing it together.

I admire Sonny Osborne. The two times I’ve talked to him and the moments I have been lucky enough to see him perform are incredibly special to me. This is a man who speaks his mind. Sonny is honest and has a problem with phoniness in people and in the music industry. He grew tired of it and who can blame him for that?

After I got off the phone with Sonny, I thought what if this is the last interview he’ll ever do. God forbid if that is true. Then I thought about how much I miss seeing him perform.

Sonny Osborne was and is a unique, one-of-a-kind banjo picker, who in my mind will always be a legend. It is his destiny that this legend status will forever be affixed to him. And finally I miss seeing that wonderful smile of Sonny’s. This is a smile that like the man is bigger than life.

Gosh Sonny, we miss your kind out there.

Share This

Sonny Osborne on stage at Sangamon Park, Mahomet, IL - June 9, 1968. Photo by Dan Tackett.

Bluegrass is one genre of music that totally captivates me. Another period of music I dearly love is the rock of the 1960s. I was a teen when the British invasion landed in America.

Without a doubt, the biggest act from that assault was the Beatles. America countered with a fabricated group, which was on fairly equal footing during the years of 1966 through 1968, the Monkees.

Despite what many critics say, I am fairly reverential when I speak of the impact of the Monkees. One of the four main proponents of the pre-fab four was Mike Nesmith. Many people don’t realize at the time, Nesmith, Gram Parsons and Ricky Nelson were in an unknown race for being deemed the originator of what would later be termed country-rock.

There also is great evidence that Nesmith might have been a little ahead of the pack.

In 1966, Nesmith used Glen Campbell on a country rock track Nez had written. The song appeared on the debut of the Monkees first album, “Papa Gene’s Blues.” In 1967, the Monkees used Doug Dillard for some fine banjo work on a tune for their fourth disc. Michael Martin Murphy had penned this song titled, “What Am I Doing Hangin Round.”

By 1968, Nesmith was in full-blown invention of country rock. In May of 1968 (Wow…it was 40 years ago, this month), Nesmith flew to the RCA studios in Nashville to record with some of the finest musicians Music City had to offer. One of those incredible session banjo pickers hired at the time was a 30-year-old Sonny Osborne.

I got into a conversation with Sonny a few years back at one of Terry Lease’ s festivals at the Crowne Plaza in Springfield, Ill. This was the last time the Osborne Brothers played the event. In cornering Sonny for a few moments, I asked him about the Monkee sessions. Sonny’s face lit up. It appeared to me he had to purge himself of the whole proceedings that had gone on several years prior to our conversation.

I could tell he probably had never been asked about the Monkees sessions for years, if possibly ever. He honestly wanted to talk about it. During our conversation, many people tried to approach Sonny and it was quite evident to me that I had his steadfast attention.

Sonny said the sessions were really weird and idiotic. The whole thing was exceptionally disorganized. Many of the premiere Nashville session players were in the studio: Wayne Moss on acoustic guitar, David Briggs on organ, Lloyd Green on steel, Norbert Putnum on bass, Kenny Buttrey on drums, and of course Sonny Osborne on banjo. As a sidenote, many of these musicians in the 1970s spawned the great eclectic band Area Code 615 and from that group, would evolve into Barefoot Jerry.

The studio had been booked for a week or two, and the sessions were paid for. But, there was no sign of Mike Nesmith. Evidently he was out in Nashville somewhere and these A-team musicians spent much of the day, as much as 8 or 9 hours, awaiting his arrival.

“Nesmith was enthused with Lloyd Greens steel work,” Sonny recalled. “He went down to ShoBud and spent $15,000 to $18,000 on a steel guitar.” This was a great deal of money in the 1960s to spend on an instrument.

On May 28, 1968, Nesmith finally showed up and they recorded the first version of Nesmith’s classic song, “Propinquity.” This version didn’t appear until Rhino Records released it 28 years after the fact, on a disc of Monkees rarities titled, Missing Links Volume 3. It is interesting to note, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band did a wonderful version of the song on their Uncle Charlie and his Dog Teddy album,which happened to yield the band’s hit version of “Mr. Bojangles.”

The next day of recording was even more prolific. On this particular day, Harold Bradley replaced Moss on guitar, Bobby Dyson replaced Putnum on bass and Jerry Carrigan replaced Buttrey on drums. Sonny was still around for more of the action.

On this May date, they recorded another Nesmith-penned tune, “Don’t Wait for Me,” which appeared on the Monkees disc from 1969, Instant Replay. They also recorded the first version of “The Crippled Lion,” which later appeared on, Missing Links Volume 2 issued from Rhino in 1990.

Also from that same May date; there was an early version of a great Nesmith tune, “Some of Shelly’s Blues,” which also appeared on Missing Links Volume 2. Ironically, this song appeared also on the above-mentioned Nitty Gritty album. The final song covered that day was entitled Hollywood, and that recorded version has never been issued.

Sonny continued to stress the idiocy of how the sessions were handled. He thought they were terrible and didn’t enjoy them one bit. To this day, he hasn’t listened to those sessions and doesn’t care to.

My life has been filled with many serendipitous moments. One of those wonderful times was the few minutes I got to pick Sonny Osborne’s brain about being –somewhat reluctantly — a Monkee.

Editors Note: BluegrassJournal.com writer and music fanatic Rickey Lamb contacted Sonny recently to clarify some memories from that conversation years ago and Sonny was gracious enough to talk with Rickey at length about the Monkees Sessions and the music industry. We’ll have that part of the story on tomorrow.

Share This