In this episode, we explore why George Strait's career-defining 1983 classic "Amarillo by Morning" isn't just a great song, isn't just Strait's own favorite, but is in the conversation for greatest of all time.

We tackle a listener request: Randy Travis's all-time great "Hard Rock Bottom of Your Heart". From melody to harmony, instrumentation to lyrics, everything works about this neotraditional classic. And we didn't even talk about Randy Travis's smooth, effortless phrasing! Only country music would lay bare the sort of righteous indignation the unfaithful might feel, on days when shame turns into anger. It's brilliant.

We finally tackle the song that's been at the top of our list all along, Alan Jackson's 1994 hit "Gone Country". Is this classic the straightforward celebration it sounds like? Or might the on-the-nose harmony and melody hint at something more satirical in the lining of this new kinda suit? Watch this video, listen to this episode, and let's find out!

We expand our way backwards through Reba McEntire's discography, with the title track of her relentlessly gut-wrenching 1991 album, "For My Broken Heart". Natural minor tonality dominates the specifically empty sorrow of this sad country song about Day 2 of a devastating breakup. But what happens when we compare this cut to our previous selection "How Was I to Know", and what can that comparison tell us about the trajectory of McEntire's 80s & 90s body of work?

We revisit mid-90s Girl Power as Reba cuts her hair and changes her tone, from victim to victor, in her 1996 hit "How Was I to Know". The first-chorus rug-pull is clever enough on its own, but how is this moment pivotal not just for this song, but for McEntire's entire corpus?

This year's Christmas episode takes us back to 1982, and Dolly Parton's nuanced version of "Hard Candy Christmas". Chords, lyrics, and melody all keep this song subtly shifting between bitter and sweet, but how does Dolly Parton's exquisite delivery turn this one from lovely to legendary?

Alan Jackson takes the Lovable Loser through a 12-bar blues romp complete with lighthearted fun, virtuoso solos, and even some poetic justice, in his 1995 hit "I Don't Even Know Your Name". But is it more George Jones this time, or Buck Owens?

Diamond Rio restacks the harmony and dishes out the twang in their 1991 hit "Mirror, Mirror". Everyone's delivering blue notes on this one, but how do the lyrics and tonality suggest something darkly humorous about the singer's hardluck introspection? (Also, what exactly is the Mandela Effect?)