Loretta Lynn, “The Queen of Country Music” and easily one of the most iconic American songwriters and performers, died Tuesday at her home in Tennessee. She was 90.
“Our precious mom, Loretta Lynn, passed away peacefully this morning, October 4th, in her sleep at home in her beloved ranch in Hurricane Mills,” her family wrote in a statement, asking for privacy as they mourn the loss.
Lynn was born Loretta Webb, a coal miner’s daughter, in 1932—one of eight children living destitute in the remote backwater of Butcher Holler, Kentucky.
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Her remarkable life story—a classic tale of literal rags to riches—has been told many times over, whether it be through an Oscar-winning film or a multitude of books and TV shows or, of course, a jaw-dropping 50 studio albums.
She was a recipient of the Presidential Medal of Honor, a Grammy winner, the songwriter behind some of country’s most beloved anthems, and the most awarded female country singer ever.
Loretta is often placed on the proverbial Mount Rushmore of country music, alongside other mononyms like Hank, Cash, Waylon, or Willie—and she damn well earned her spot.
At age 15, she met and married Oliver “Doo” Lynn, and began a 48-year-long famously tumultuous relationship that inspired much of the pain and joy behind her early songwriting.
They moved to a remote logging town in Whatcom County, Washington, near the Canadian border, and amid housewifing and motherhood, Loretta learned to play the guitar, started her own band, and was flown to Los Angeles to record her first hit, “I’m a Honky Tonk Girl,” in 1960.
Loretta and Doo had six children together—four by the time she turned 20—and, despite Doo’s philandering, alcoholism, and occasional violence she stood toe-to-toe with him until his death in 1996. Every time Doo “smacked me,” Lynn famously quipped, “he got smacked twice.”
Lynn did not drink or smoke but her experience in dealing with her husband’s struggles with alcoholism inspired decades worth of iconic country records, including “Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin' (With Lovin’ on Your Mind),” “You Ain’t Woman Enough (To Take My Man),” and “Fist City.”
But she also famously broke through the boundaries of country music’s notoriously conservative subject matter, taking defiant stands on birth control (“The Pill”), the drudgery of frequent child-rearing (“One’s on the Way”), and the stigma of divorce placed almost exclusively on women (“Rated ‘X’”). Some got her banned from country music stations in a nation still grappling with changing sexual mores and expanding women’s rights.
Loretta’s entire career was based on her own lived experience—pure, raw, and emotionally affecting. Absolutely none of it was bullshit.
I had the pinch-me luck of spending time with Loretta through my wife’s work in the music business. No matter the environment or the company around, whether it was behind the scenes or on-stage, what you saw was exactly what you got: An astonishingly authentic, warm, and confident storyteller who had seen far too much crap to ever hide behind the cloak of artifice.
From day one, Loretta Lynn’s songwriting made clear who she was. And no amount of riches, fame, or accolades ever changed that. She seemingly had it all figured out: All we know for certain are our connections with our roots, our family, our loved ones, our own heartbreak, and the lessons we learn from it all.
Most importantly, Loretta’s music suggested: You have to take responsibility for yourself.
It was a natural fit for her wicked sense of humor and a gritty late-career delivery that should never be overlooked. In 2004, she collaborated with indie rock guitar god Jack White on Van Lear Rose, yet another mostly autobiographical album full of gripping tales, including the tearjerker opening track, punctuated by White’s peerless guitar flourishes.
At a time when the Nashville establishment—with its emphasis on bro-country and un-ironic iterations of the “parked out by the lake” cliché—had turned its back on the voices that made country so badass in the first place, Lynn at 72 years old was rewarded with indie street cred and a Grammy Award for Best Country Album.
She was time and again an instant show-stopper, easily becoming the highlight of any high-profile musical partnerships she entered, whether it be with White or Conway Twitty, Ernest Tubb, and Willie Nelson.
Countless eulogies will be full of gendered clichés and repeated references to her being a great woman of the genre, a legendary female songwriter—like qualifying Serena Williams as the greatest “female tennis player,” rather than among the greatest tennis players, period. This comes at a time where, as music writer Marissa Moss has exhaustively detailed, women artists in the genre are still often harassed and sidelined by mainstream country institutions and treated as second-class acts.
To be sure, Loretta was absolutely a pioneer for women in music, being the first woman to win many of the industry awards that were (and still mostly are) reserved for men, and kicking open the doors by writing candidly about women’s experiences.
But Loretta Lynn wasn’t just the “Queen of Country Music,” she was among the greatest of all songwriters. Her confident retelling of true-life stories—with sharp wit, unflinching honesty, and a well of empathy—is something every artist, country or otherwise, seeks to achieve.
We’ve seen Loretta’s impact in fiercely independent-minded songwriters far and wide, from Brandi Carlile to Miranda Lambert, Margo Price, Sturgill Simpson, Chris Stapleton, and non-country acts like Jenny Lewis, Hayley Williams, Elvis Costello, and, of course, The White Stripes. She will live on through any artist who refuses to compromise their integrity or self-worth for the sake of pop-culture whims.
Loretta Lynn was the greatest at simply being herself. And no one will ever do it better.
