We recently lost the King of Escapist Adult Contemporary, Jimmy Buffett. While his studio recordings have been overshadowed by his colorful, hard-partying fan base and Margarita-themed business ventures, his songs reveal an uncanny knack for storytelling and character portraits. It’s no wonder that in the days since his passing he’s received lengthy, heartfelt eulogies on social media from such songwriting superstars as Paul McCartney, Clint Black, and James Taylor.

Sure, Buffett’s most famous songs are the tropical-sounding ditties about sitting seaside or eating and/or drinking something, but the Mississippi native began his career as an aspiring country singer in the late 60’s. Before his “Key West phase” began in the mid-70’s, the Nashville-based Buffett was a prolific busker who released a number of albums which are sometimes even dismissed by the Parrotheads as not being the Jimmy we know and love and drink to today. Back then he was a struggling country singer, and even earned money as a country music critic, writing about the stars of the time like Porter Wagoner, George Jones, and Tammy Wynette. 

A quick disclaimer: this series discusses the rare, surprising, and forgotten instances in which an artist has released a country album, but I’m fully aware that Jimmy Buffett often made country music throughout his career. He even featured numerous classic country covers and all star country guest support on 2004’s License to Chill (hilarious title), a response to his sudden 2003 No. 1 country hit, courtesy of Alan Jackson’s “It’s Five O’ Clock Somewhere.” So, no, I’m not going to pretend Buffett was a one-off country fluke—instead this article is going to highlight one particular album that is fully landlocked and sonically unlike the rest. But more on that later…

Buffett’s 1970 debut, Down to Earth is much closer to country-tinged folk rock than the “drunken Caribbean rock ‘n’ roll” he would later popularize. (That descriptor is in Buffet’s own words, by the way, from his 1978 live album.) But even though Down To Earth isn’t any Parrothead’s favorite, it certainly isn’t bad! It’s jangly and thoughtful, and a few tracks are even Kristoffersonesque, like “The Christian” and “Captain America.”

“I never could break into that strict categorizable country sound,” Buffett recalled on 60 Minutes. Country never knew how to market the man who was more comfortable barefoot than in boots, and so not many heard his early music, at least not for several more years.

Buffett’s would-be sophomore album High Cumberland Jubilee was recorded that same year, and was sonically similar, but because his debut sold so poorly, his record company (owned by Andy Williams—fun fact!) would claim the masters had been lost. And, hey, maybe they really did go missing, but either way the album wouldn’t be released until 1976 after Buffett had finally found some success.

This eventual success can be attributed to a busking trip to Key West organized by Progressive Country figurehead Jerry Jeff Walker. Nashville may not have known what do to with him, but this delayed success turned out to be a blessing in disguise (the disguise of course was a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts). Whereas his off-kilter, proto-alt country contemporaries like Walker and Billy Joe Shaver became heroes of the Texas-based Outlaw movement, ol’ Jimmy started another new genre all his own.

Buffett’s music has been given many nicknames and descriptors, and not just by Buffett himself. His sound is often categorized as Caribbean Rock, Trop Rock, or—my favorite—Gulf & Western. 

But before most of these terms were attributed to his music—before he wrote his signature song and his concerts became stadium-sized carnival cruises—he made a number of earnest attempts at country music, but through his “Gulf & Western” filter.

The album that is perhaps the perfect combination of Buffett’s coastal fascination and country instinct is 1973’s A White Sport Coat and a Pink Crustacean. (The title itself is a reference to country legend Marty Robbins’ classic “A White Sport Coat and a Pink Carnation.”) Though this album hints at the easy-listening, easy-living icon that Buffett would soon become, it’s also thoroughly country. Look no further than the albums two opening tracks, “The Great Filling Station Holdup” and “Railroad Lady,” for great storytelling and an undeniably country sound. The album might lean a bit more Western than Gulf, but is also arguably one of his most consistent albums; it features his signature sound, and is full of his personality, without being hokey. Even the novelty song “Why Don’t We Get Drunk (and Screw)” is delivered with a Prine-like charm.

Country sounds would continue to appear in Buffett’s music as he inched closer to the beach. And even though nearly every future album cover would feature a shore or ocean from here on out, LPs like Havana Daydreamin’ and A-1-A are quality releases that are at least as country as they are beachy.

But there is one album that is a hard left turn.

Buffett does have one mostly-forgotten album that is all Western and no Gulf: the original motion picture soundtrack to the 1975 comedy Rancho Deluxe, starring Jeff Bridges and Sam Waterston. All thirteen tracks are written solely by Buffett, and it’s easily the most purely country collection he ever released. The OST isn’t on Spotify (you can find it on YouTube), but a couple of the songs were re-recorded and released on later studio albums (specifically for Buffett’s breakthrough 1977 album Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude, and its 1978 followup Son of a Son of a Sailor), though the tracks underwent noticeable changes.

And guess what! The songs from Rancho Deluxe are pretty good! There’s even a number of instrumental songs that are fully country and musically stand on their own without lyrics. And for what it’s worth, the album cover is incredible: a cartoonish pinup cowgirl sitting on a muscular bull that is also a motorcycle. And she’s holding a rope that has lassoed itself into a perfect cursive “Rancho Deluxe.” It’s nothing like any of his other album covers and it’s amazing. 

This album has largely been lost—partially because it was a few years before his monster “Margaritaville,” and even though he’d continue to incorporate country sounds into his music, it’s reasonably considered a genre departure. But if you like Buffett’s voice and you like classic Western country, you’ll probably like Rancho Deluxe. 

Modern country and Americana hero Charley Crockett even said that the Rancho Deluxe soundtrack is what turned him into a Parrothead, and calls it a “country concept album.” Crockett also said he thought he’d coined “Gulf & Western” years ago as a sub-genre to explain his own music, only to discover that Jimmy Buffett had invented the title and genre almost 50 years earlier. He goes on to acknowledge that Buffett is a hero and influence not only to him, but to so many country singers that don’t fit the Nashville mold. “He was also very country, and highly unusual. Difficult to pin down,” wrote Crockett on Instagram, “Margaritaville casts a mighty long shadow, and because of that, a lot of folks discount Jimmy’s brilliance.”

One thing worth remembering about Buffett is that despite being involved in a number of large and often-successful business ventures, his music (country and non-country) is not just pro-vacation, but largely anti-work and anti-materialism. The beach bum persona is what he’s known for, but before that he was a full-blown Southern hippie who railed against capitalism and religious hypocrisy in his lyrics.

Of course he’s a special guest on Alan Jackson’s iconic anti-work anthem “It’s Five O’ Clock Somewhere,” which was his first big hit since “Margaritaville” decades earlier. But in other songs throughout his career he can be heard singing “Money don’t mean nothing to me” (“Makin’ Music for Money”), “Tomorrow I’ll just hit the street and bum another dime” (“There’s Nothing Soft About Hard Times”), and “[God] don’t wear no fancy clothes, He’d rather take the bus, He would pay a tourist fare, So he could sit with us” (“God Don’t Own a Car”). And there’s plenty more lyrics that share the sentiment.

Buffett may have been a self-proclaimed workaholic, but he lived for helping listeners feel like they were on vacation (or at least calling in sick just for the hell of it). During his superstardom he sobered up and racked in tens of millions of dollars annually, but this didn’t stop him from being the High Priest of Sippin’ a Beer and Takin’ It Easy. And even though a boot-licking yowl by singer Anthony Oliver has recently become an anthem for anti-Welfare conservatives, and country music has sang about the pride and pain that accompanies hard labor, there’s not much that’s more country than telling your boss to shove it and celebrating quittin’ time. So at the end of the day, Buffett was always pretty country, even when he wasn’t. 

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