George Jones, who died today at 81, was an acquired taste for me, one I acquired well after the peak of his popularity — though I can actually remember when someone first identified him for me on the radio 49 years ago. I see him now as a male Billie Holiday in his ability to convey the emotion of a song — and I do consider that the highest praise.
This essay about Jones — and so much more — is simply incredible. If you read nothing else about the singer, read this.