Rebel Son, Mountain Blood.
Hank Jr. didn’t get an easy pass, even with his last name. He almost died falling off a mountain, rebuilt his face, his voice, and his career from the dirt up. And when Nashville told him to act a certain way, he turned the volume up instead.
Bocephus gave us beer-soaked anthems, gospel cries, and outlaw pride. He hunted, raised hell, played his own guitar, and kept his circle tight. He called out phonies, politics, and anything that smelled like sellout.
He didn’t ride Hank Sr.’s coattails. He lit his own damn fire.
Verdict: SphstRDnck.
Too country for Nashville, too real for Hollywood.