Country Music

Classic Country Music Hits

Country Music

Ben Haggard w/ Noel Haggard “Today I Started Loving You Again”

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.”
Introduction

Have you ever listened to a song that feels like it’s wrapping itself around your heart, pulling at the strings of every lost love and tender memory? That’s exactly what “Today I Started Loving You Again” does. It’s a country classic, dripping with raw emotion and a bittersweet honesty that only Merle Haggard could deliver.

The beauty of this song lies in its simplicity—a few heartfelt lines that capture the kind of love that refuses to fade, even when it’s been through heartbreak, mistakes, and time. It’s a confession, really. A realization that love doesn’t just go away; it lingers, it evolves, and sometimes, it comes back stronger than ever. That’s the magic Merle brought to this track—a love story with no pretense, just genuine, soul-baring truth.

What’s even more special is the story behind the song. Merle Haggard co-wrote it with his then-wife, Bonnie Owens. It was more than just a song for them—it was a piece of their love story. And when you hear Merle’s voice, soaked in longing and hope, it feels as if he’s letting you in on his most intimate thoughts. Whether you’ve experienced the rekindling of a love you thought was lost, or you’re dreaming of a love that stands the test of time, this song speaks directly to that quiet corner of your heart.

It’s one of those tracks that you don’t just listen to—you feel it. The understated melody, the tender delivery, and those poignant lyrics make it timeless. You can almost picture yourself on a porch swing, the sun dipping low, lost in a moment where this song plays softly in the background, making everything feel just a little more meaningful.

“Today I Started Loving You Again” isn’t just a song; it’s an anthem for anyone who’s ever dared to believe in second chances—whether in love, life, or something in between. And every time you play it, it feels like starting over, like the first page of a new chapter in a well-loved story

Video

Lyrics

Today I started loving you again
And I’m right back where I’ve really always been
I got all over you just long enough to let my heartache mend
And then today I started loving you again
What a fool I was to think I could get by
With only these few million tears I’ve cried
I should have known the worst was yet to come
And that cryin’ time for me had just begun
Today I started loving you again
And I’m right back where I’ve really always been
I got all over you just long enough to let my heartache mend
And then today I started loving you again
Today I started loving you again
And I’m right back where I’ve really always been
I got all over you just long enough to let my heartache mend
And then today I started loving you again

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Country Music

RCA WAS CLOSE TO GIVING UP ON HANK SNOW IN AMERICA. THEN “I’M MOVING ON” SPENT 21 WEEKS AT No. 1 — AND THE SINGER WHO HAD BEEN TOLD HE WASN’T SELLING ENOUGH BECAME ONE OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S BIGGEST STARS. Hank Snow had already spent years proving himself before Nashville really listened. Born in Nova Scotia, he had worked as a deckhand, endured a difficult childhood and built a successful career in Canada long before American audiences knew his name. RCA Victor signed him in the mid-1930s, but breaking into the United States proved much harder. By the late 1940s, Snow was trying to establish himself south of the border while country music was changing quickly around him. The early American releases did not do enough. RCA executives reportedly began questioning whether Snow could sell records in the U.S. market at all. For an artist who had already invested years in the move, the possibility of being dropped was real. Then came “I’m Moving On.” Snow had written the song himself, building it around the rhythm and imagery of a train leaving someone behind. He recorded it in 1950, and the response was immediate. The record climbed to No. 1 on Billboard’s country chart and stayed there for 21 weeks. It became one of the defining country records of the decade and turned Snow from a Canadian import Nashville was still evaluating into a major American star. (countrymusichalloffame.org) The breakthrough changed more than his chart position. Snow became a Grand Ole Opry regular, launched long national tours and eventually accumulated more than 80 charting country singles. Songs such as “The Golden Rocket,” “I Don’t Hurt Anymore” and “I’ve Been Everywhere” followed. (countrymusichalloffame.org) But his influence also began showing up in the people he helped. In the mid-1950s, Snow took a young Elvis Presley onto package tours through his management partnership with Colonel Tom Parker. For a time, “Hank Snow Enterprises” was literally part of the machinery moving Elvis from regional sensation toward national fame. That relationship would later become complicated as Parker concentrated almost entirely on Presley, but Snow had already played a role in putting the young singer in front of country audiences across the South. By then, the man RCA once doubted was no longer trying to prove he belonged in America. He had become one of the people deciding who got invited onto the road next.

Country Music

JIM REEVES TOOK OFF FOR NASHVILLE IN HIS OWN PLANE ON JULY 31, 1964. A VIOLENT STORM SWALLOWED THE FLIGHT — AND BY NIGHTFALL, ONE OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S SMOOTHEST VOICES HAD VANISHED FROM THE SKY. By 1964, Jim Reeves had already become something larger than a Nashville star. “He’ll Have to Go” had reached No. 1 country and No. 2 pop. His warm baritone had carried him through Europe, South Africa, England and Ireland, helping turn the polished Nashville Sound into something international. He was also a pilot. On July 31, Reeves was flying a small plane back toward Nashville with his business partner and pianist Dean Manuel aboard. Weather around the city had deteriorated badly, with heavy rain and thunderstorms moving through the area. The plane never arrived. Reeves was 40 years old. A search began across the countryside south of Nashville, but the storm, heavy woods and difficult terrain made the aircraft hard to locate. The crash site was eventually found near Brentwood. Both Reeves and Manuel had been killed. For Nashville, the loss was sudden enough to feel unfinished. Reeves had not been fading from public view. He was still recording, still touring internationally and still developing the smooth vocal style that producer Chet Atkins had helped shape into one of RCA’s most reliable sounds. The Country Music Hall of Fame describes Reeves as one of the central voices of the Nashville Sound and one of the most successful country singers of the 1950s and early 1960s. Then something unusual happened. His career kept producing hits without him. RCA had unreleased recordings in its vaults, and Reeves had built such a large audience that new singles and albums continued appearing after his death. Posthumous records helped carry him into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1967. They did not stop there. Jim Reeves continued placing songs on the country charts for years, eventually charting as late as 1983 — nearly two decades after the crash. His reach also remained unusually international. Records continued selling strongly overseas, particularly in places where Reeves had already toured and established an audience before 1964. So the plane crash ended Jim Reeves’s life at the moment his career still seemed to have somewhere else to go. What followed was stranger: RCA kept opening the vault, radio kept finding room for the voice, and a singer who never saw the 1970s was still turning up on country charts in the 1980s.

Country Music

GLEN CAMPBELL HAD BEEN ONE OF THE BIGGEST STARS IN COUNTRY-POP. BY THE EARLY 1980s, COCAINE, ALCOHOL AND A TABLOID ROMANCE WITH TANYA TUCKER WERE PULLING HIS CAREER APART IN PUBLIC. At the end of the 1970s, Glen Campbell still had the résumé of a superstar. “Rhinestone Cowboy” and “Southern Nights” had crossed far beyond country radio. He had hosted national television, starred in films and spent years as one of the most recognizable faces in American music. Then the decade changed, and so did his life. Campbell’s marriage was unraveling. Cocaine and alcohol had become serious problems. At the same time, he entered a highly publicized relationship with Tanya Tucker, who was 22 years younger. Their on-again, off-again romance quickly became tabloid material, with arguments, reconciliations and substance abuse becoming almost as visible as the records either of them was making. The damage showed up professionally too. Campbell continued recording and occasionally reached the country Top 10, but he no longer occupied the position he had held in the 1970s. The Country Music Hall of Fame describes his commercial standing as slipping during those turbulent years. The personal turn began after he met Kim Woollen in 1981. They married the following year. Kim later recalled drawing a hard line on drugs, and Campbell quit cocaine. Alcohol proved harder to leave behind, but over time his home life became more stable and the chaotic relationship with Tucker ended. Then came a professional opening. In 1987, producer Jimmy Bowen — someone Campbell had known from West Coast recording sessions decades earlier — signed him to MCA’s country division. The records began working again. “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle,” recorded with Steve Wariner, reached the Top 10. So did “Still Within the Sound of My Voice” and “She’s Gone, Gone, Gone.” For the first time in years, Campbell was again being heard as a current country singer rather than simply as a star from another era. The comeback did not erase what had happened in the early 1980s. But it changed the shape of the decade. Campbell entered it as a superstar losing control of both his private life and his place in the business. He left it with a steadier marriage, a new label chapter and country hits on the board again.

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Country Music

RCA WAS CLOSE TO GIVING UP ON HANK SNOW IN AMERICA. THEN “I’M MOVING ON” SPENT 21 WEEKS AT No. 1 — AND THE SINGER WHO HAD BEEN TOLD HE WASN’T SELLING ENOUGH BECAME ONE OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S BIGGEST STARS. Hank Snow had already spent years proving himself before Nashville really listened. Born in Nova Scotia, he had worked as a deckhand, endured a difficult childhood and built a successful career in Canada long before American audiences knew his name. RCA Victor signed him in the mid-1930s, but breaking into the United States proved much harder. By the late 1940s, Snow was trying to establish himself south of the border while country music was changing quickly around him. The early American releases did not do enough. RCA executives reportedly began questioning whether Snow could sell records in the U.S. market at all. For an artist who had already invested years in the move, the possibility of being dropped was real. Then came “I’m Moving On.” Snow had written the song himself, building it around the rhythm and imagery of a train leaving someone behind. He recorded it in 1950, and the response was immediate. The record climbed to No. 1 on Billboard’s country chart and stayed there for 21 weeks. It became one of the defining country records of the decade and turned Snow from a Canadian import Nashville was still evaluating into a major American star. (countrymusichalloffame.org) The breakthrough changed more than his chart position. Snow became a Grand Ole Opry regular, launched long national tours and eventually accumulated more than 80 charting country singles. Songs such as “The Golden Rocket,” “I Don’t Hurt Anymore” and “I’ve Been Everywhere” followed. (countrymusichalloffame.org) But his influence also began showing up in the people he helped. In the mid-1950s, Snow took a young Elvis Presley onto package tours through his management partnership with Colonel Tom Parker. For a time, “Hank Snow Enterprises” was literally part of the machinery moving Elvis from regional sensation toward national fame. That relationship would later become complicated as Parker concentrated almost entirely on Presley, but Snow had already played a role in putting the young singer in front of country audiences across the South. By then, the man RCA once doubted was no longer trying to prove he belonged in America. He had become one of the people deciding who got invited onto the road next.

Country Music

JIM REEVES TOOK OFF FOR NASHVILLE IN HIS OWN PLANE ON JULY 31, 1964. A VIOLENT STORM SWALLOWED THE FLIGHT — AND BY NIGHTFALL, ONE OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S SMOOTHEST VOICES HAD VANISHED FROM THE SKY. By 1964, Jim Reeves had already become something larger than a Nashville star. “He’ll Have to Go” had reached No. 1 country and No. 2 pop. His warm baritone had carried him through Europe, South Africa, England and Ireland, helping turn the polished Nashville Sound into something international. He was also a pilot. On July 31, Reeves was flying a small plane back toward Nashville with his business partner and pianist Dean Manuel aboard. Weather around the city had deteriorated badly, with heavy rain and thunderstorms moving through the area. The plane never arrived. Reeves was 40 years old. A search began across the countryside south of Nashville, but the storm, heavy woods and difficult terrain made the aircraft hard to locate. The crash site was eventually found near Brentwood. Both Reeves and Manuel had been killed. For Nashville, the loss was sudden enough to feel unfinished. Reeves had not been fading from public view. He was still recording, still touring internationally and still developing the smooth vocal style that producer Chet Atkins had helped shape into one of RCA’s most reliable sounds. The Country Music Hall of Fame describes Reeves as one of the central voices of the Nashville Sound and one of the most successful country singers of the 1950s and early 1960s. Then something unusual happened. His career kept producing hits without him. RCA had unreleased recordings in its vaults, and Reeves had built such a large audience that new singles and albums continued appearing after his death. Posthumous records helped carry him into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1967. They did not stop there. Jim Reeves continued placing songs on the country charts for years, eventually charting as late as 1983 — nearly two decades after the crash. His reach also remained unusually international. Records continued selling strongly overseas, particularly in places where Reeves had already toured and established an audience before 1964. So the plane crash ended Jim Reeves’s life at the moment his career still seemed to have somewhere else to go. What followed was stranger: RCA kept opening the vault, radio kept finding room for the voice, and a singer who never saw the 1970s was still turning up on country charts in the 1980s.

Country Music

GLEN CAMPBELL HAD BEEN ONE OF THE BIGGEST STARS IN COUNTRY-POP. BY THE EARLY 1980s, COCAINE, ALCOHOL AND A TABLOID ROMANCE WITH TANYA TUCKER WERE PULLING HIS CAREER APART IN PUBLIC. At the end of the 1970s, Glen Campbell still had the résumé of a superstar. “Rhinestone Cowboy” and “Southern Nights” had crossed far beyond country radio. He had hosted national television, starred in films and spent years as one of the most recognizable faces in American music. Then the decade changed, and so did his life. Campbell’s marriage was unraveling. Cocaine and alcohol had become serious problems. At the same time, he entered a highly publicized relationship with Tanya Tucker, who was 22 years younger. Their on-again, off-again romance quickly became tabloid material, with arguments, reconciliations and substance abuse becoming almost as visible as the records either of them was making. The damage showed up professionally too. Campbell continued recording and occasionally reached the country Top 10, but he no longer occupied the position he had held in the 1970s. The Country Music Hall of Fame describes his commercial standing as slipping during those turbulent years. The personal turn began after he met Kim Woollen in 1981. They married the following year. Kim later recalled drawing a hard line on drugs, and Campbell quit cocaine. Alcohol proved harder to leave behind, but over time his home life became more stable and the chaotic relationship with Tucker ended. Then came a professional opening. In 1987, producer Jimmy Bowen — someone Campbell had known from West Coast recording sessions decades earlier — signed him to MCA’s country division. The records began working again. “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle,” recorded with Steve Wariner, reached the Top 10. So did “Still Within the Sound of My Voice” and “She’s Gone, Gone, Gone.” For the first time in years, Campbell was again being heard as a current country singer rather than simply as a star from another era. The comeback did not erase what had happened in the early 1980s. But it changed the shape of the decade. Campbell entered it as a superstar losing control of both his private life and his place in the business. He left it with a steadier marriage, a new label chapter and country hits on the board again.

Country Music

IN JUNE 1965, JOHNNY CASH WENT INTO CALIFORNIA’S LOS PADRES NATIONAL FOREST IN A CAMPER. HOURS LATER, 508 ACRES WERE BURNING, CASH HAD TO BE AIRLIFTED OUT, AND THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT WAS EVENTUALLY COMING AFTER HIM FOR THE DAMAGE. By 1965, Johnny Cash was successful enough to fill theaters and unstable enough to frighten the people closest to him. His amphetamine use had become severe, his marriage to Vivian Liberto was deteriorating, and long stretches away from home were increasingly common. That June, after another argument at home in Casitas Springs, California, Cash left with his nephew Damon Fielder and headed toward the Sespe Creek area of Los Padres National Forest. The trip quickly went wrong. Fielder later recalled Cash drinking whiskey and taking pills as they drove. After the two separated to fish, Fielder smelled smoke and returned to find a fire spreading near Cash’s camper. Fielder believed Cash had tried to build a small fire and lost control of it; Cash later maintained that sparks from a defective exhaust system had ignited the brush. Whatever the exact ignition, the result was not disputed. The blaze tore through 508 acres of national forest watershed. Cash ended up in a creek while flames spread around the area, and a helicopter crew eventually evacuated him. Then came the government. Federal authorities sought more than $125,000 in damages. Records later released from Cash’s FBI file show that the case centered on the 1965 fire, and Cash ultimately paid an $82,000 settlement. The episode became even uglier because the burned area was important habitat for the already endangered California condor. Later accounts connected the fire with the disappearance of most of the condors then using that part of the refuge, though claims about exactly what happened to individual birds should be treated cautiously. For Cash, the forest fire was only one disaster in a year full of them. His drug use kept producing arrests, accidents and family damage. The polished man in black audiences saw under stage lights was becoming harder to reconcile with the man his family saw when he came home. A few years later, Cash would rebuild much of his life and career around discipline, faith and an unusually public willingness to talk about where he had gone wrong. Los Padres belonged to the period before that rebuilding. Not the mythic outlaw standing safely outside the rules—but a man whose private chaos had finally burned far beyond himself.