The Acuff legend lives on
Rutherford Jefferson
Thought you all might enjoy this article from The Vox Magazine, you can find it online as well at http://www.voxmagazine.com
Love Ruth
The Acuff legend lives on from Roy to Baby Ruth
John Hook
Ruth Acuff performs with her band Rutherford at Harpo's during the 2008 Bluebird Music and Arts Festival in Columbia last November.
By by Chad Painter
January 22, 2009 | 12:00 a.m. CST
The family name. In the music business, having a last name such as Sinatra, Dylan or Lennon opens doors. That's the upside. The downside is the burden of carrying it.
That upside and burden are being felt, at least in part, by Ruth Acuff, a 24-year-old Columbia singer-songwriter with a legendary ancestor.
Ruth Acuff performs with her band Rutherford at Harpo's during the 2008 Bluebird Music and ...
Barry Manilow claimed to write the songs that made the whole world sing, but that mantra might belong to songwriter and publisher Roy Acuff. The Acuff name is nearly synonymous with country music. Roy earned the name "The King of Country Music" while recording classic songs such as "The Wreck on the Highway" and "Wabash Cannonball" in a 60-year career starting in the early 1930s. He was the star before Hank Williams, Buck Owens and Johnny Cash. But he is best known for teaming up with Fred Rose to found Acuff-Rose Publishing, which owned the songs of Hank Williams, the Louvin Brothers and Roy Orbison, among many others. In 1962, he became the first living member of the Country Music Hall of Fame.
Ruth Acuff isn't sure just how she's related to Roy: "He's my dad's third cousin … I think," she says before adding, "I need to figure that out." Although she says the name doesn't affect her because "I never met him," she does admit that people do sometimes approach her after a show and ask "Are you …?"
It's easy to miss the Roy Acuff connection when watching and listening to Ruth because there are many differences between the two. He was a country star; she plays folksy pop. The elder Acuff would have towered over the 5-foot-2-inch Ruth, and her waist-length hair is a far cry from his pompadour. Roy also had a pronounced Southern accent that is missing from Ruth's breathy voice.
But people might ask the "Are you?" question because they see subtle similarities. A quick head dip before starting to sing. The way both bend their knees to sway back and forth between verses. A slight rise in octave at the end of a vocal line.
Acuff doesn't mind the "Are you?" question. But she doesn't think it defines her.
"It's a famous name in an older generation," Acuff says. "He wasn't my father. He's kind of a distant figure."
The family name hasn't opened any doors for her and possibly won't this side of Nashville. Still, she does feel the weight of carrying the surname Acuff.
"I don't want to do anything wrong with the name," she says. But there isn't an alternative to trying to live up to the family name because, she says, "I am Ruth Acuff."
Many musicians have used their last names to open industry doors. Natalie Cole used studio tricks to duet with her dead father, Nat King Cole. Hank Williams Jr. started his career by performing his father's songs. Before Johnny Cash came along, June Carter was best known as the singing daughter of the Carter Family's Maybelle. Nancy Sinatra, Lisa Marie Presley, Arlo Guthrie, and Julian and Sean Lennon also traded in family names to open industry doors.
But there's also pressure associated with that last name: The next generation is constantly compared to its more famous ancestors, and they can never quite win that matchup.
Ruth Acuff is sidestepping those comparisons by emphasizing her songs, not Roy Acuff's legend. It's the model perfected by Jakob Dylan.
"I didn't want to be a footnote in those books," Dylan told Rolling Stone's David Fricke in an Oct. 26, 2000 profile. "His thing is so huge. It's been going on for so long. It's in history books, in your schools. There's countless biographies. In most of the books, there might be one page that mentions the names of his children. That's it."
Dylan's face and name didn't appear on the front or back covers of The Wallflowers or Bringing Down the Horse, and the band was always called The Wallflowers, never Jakob Dylan and The Wallflowers. In 1997, Dylan became a peer to his legendary father when he won Grammys for Best Rock Performance and Best Rock Song while his father grabbed Album of the Year honors.
So Acuff isn't the first musician to play with a famous last name. Many have traded in the family name for a quick glimpse of notoriety. Acuff, like Dylan before her, is taking the harder road, but the end result can be even better.
Peter Buck, guitarist and cofounder of R.E.M, once said that the band's career was a testament to the power of saying "please" and "thank you." Acuff might be nicer than the four members of the Athens, Ga., quartet. Most interviews end with a "thanks" or an awkward handshake, but this one ended with a hug and an apology if the friendly embrace was too much. Acuff has always looked out for other people's feelings. In fact, she first picked up a guitar at age 16 to help out a love-struck friend.
"It's a funny story," she says between halting sips of tea in a Columbia coffee shop. Her best friend had a crush on a guitarist, so they hatched a plan to start a punk-rock band to win his affection. The relationship didn't take, and neither did the band.
Acuff, however, kept practicing, and she started writing original songs one year later. A week before turning 18, she gathered enough courage to play an open mic at the Music Cafe. Several more followed, and many musicians asked if they could play with her. She started saying no to the guys rushing the stage when she realized her fellow performers were more attracted to her flowing blond hair and blue eyes than her musical chops.
But Jeff Mueller wasn't easily deterred. He initially was intrigued by Acuff's lyrics and the way she structured her songs. The first night he saw her, he was struck by a line in her song "Ninth Street:" "Maybe someday all my somedays will fade away."
Her songs "are more compositional than pop songs," he says. "I could hear accompaniment to her music—accompaniment that I was inspired to provide."
He would jump on stage and play bass, guitar and melodica alongside Acuff's originals as well as covers such as a female twist to "Ohh La La," the Faces' ode to adolescent angst, and he eventually landed a permanent gig with Acuff. He married her in March 2008.
The pair of singer-songwriters play under two different names. There's the acoustic duo that's simply called Ruth Acuff. Then there's the more polished, full-on band Rutherford. Both acts work off of the same song list, but the two versions allow Acuff and Mueller to play in more venues. An acoustic act works well at Cherry Street Artisan but might not go over well at The Blue Note while a louder band fits better at the East Side Tavern than the Martini Bar.
"They have totally different feelings," Acuff says. "It really depends on the mood I'm in." If she's feeling upbeat, she prefers Rutherford, which allows her to let loose and jump around onstage. If she's melancholy, it's the stripped-down acoustic version, in which she's more restrained because she knows the audience can hear all of her mistakes. Despite the different names and sounds, Acuff says, "It's all part of me."
Rutherford currently is stationed at Columbia's Mansion Studios recording the follow-up to its 2005 debut CD, Mapping Out Chaos. Acuff was hoping to release it in December but now admits, "Who knows when that'll be finished?"
Mueller wants to get the record out as soon as possible to build Rutherford's fanbase. "I want everyone that would like our music to get a chance to hear it," he says. "I know there's an audience if we can find them."
Acuff used to be like many independent musicians, trying to find time to write, record and tour while holding down a day job. But since marrying Mueller, who told Acuff to focus on their music while he focused on their bills, she has had a lot more time to write. Songwriting is a natural process for her.
At times she can write an entire song in one take. In other instances, it might take an idea six months of gestation to work itself out. What comes out reflects a split personality. Some songs are mellow and sad; others are dark and angry. "Everyone writes about love," Acuff says, but she also focuses on environmental and spiritual songs and indulges in fantasy.
It's easy to think of Ruth Acuff as a split personality. On one hand, she's Ruth, the kind, local singer-songwriter. On the other, she's a descendant of one of the most famous men ever to pick up a guitar. There are advantages and disadvantages to that duality, but she doesn't really have a choice. After all, she is Ruth Acuff.
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