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

Introduction

There’s something about the relationship between a father and son that resonates deeply within us, a bond both simple and profound. This connection is beautifully captured in Conway Twitty’s song “That’s My Job,” a piece that has become an anthem for fatherly love and responsibility. The song, written by Gary Burr, tells the story of a father’s unwavering dedication to his son, a narrative that mirrors the lives of many listeners, making it universally relatable and touching.

About The Composition

  • Title: That’s My Job
  • Composer: Gary Burr
  • Premiere Date: 1987
  • Album: Borderline
  • Genre: Country

Background

“That’s My Job” was written by Gary Burr and recorded by Conway Twitty for his 1987 album Borderline. The song stands out as a poignant narrative of a father’s devotion to his son, encapsulating the essence of paternal duty. It was inspired by Burr’s reflection on his relationship with his father, blending personal experiences with a broader, more universal theme. The song became one of Twitty’s most beloved tracks, resonating with audiences who saw their own lives reflected in its lyrics. Its initial reception was positive, with many praising its heartfelt lyrics and Twitty’s emotional delivery. Over the years, it has cemented its place as a classic in Twitty’s repertoire, admired for its sincere portrayal of fatherhood.

Musical Style

The musical style of “That’s My Job” is quintessentially country, with a blend of acoustic guitar, gentle piano melodies, and Twitty’s deep, resonant voice leading the way. The song’s structure is simple yet effective, using a verse-chorus format that allows the story to unfold naturally. The instrumentation is kept minimal, which places the focus squarely on the lyrics and the emotional weight they carry. The use of steel guitar adds a layer of melancholy to the piece, emphasizing the bittersweet nature of the narrative. This musical simplicity enhances the song’s emotional impact, allowing the listener to connect deeply with the story being told.

Lyrics

The lyrics of “That’s My Job” are the heart of the song. They tell the story of a father who reassures his son throughout various stages of life, from childhood fears to adult responsibilities. The recurring line, “That’s my job,” serves as a powerful reminder of the father’s unwavering commitment. The themes of protection, love, and duty are woven into the narrative, making the song both personal and universal. The lyrics are straightforward yet profound, capturing the essence of what it means to be a father in a way that is both touching and true to life.

Performance History

“That’s My Job” has been performed countless times since its release, both by Conway Twitty and other artists who have been moved by its message. Twitty’s performances of the song were often highlights of his concerts, where the audience would react with a mixture of tears and smiles. The song has also been covered by various artists, each bringing their own interpretation to the timeless theme of fatherly love. Over time, “That’s My Job” has become a staple in country music, celebrated not just for its musicality but for its profound emotional resonance.

Cultural Impact

The cultural impact of “That’s My Job” extends beyond the country music genre. Its themes of love and responsibility have made it a popular choice for Father’s Day celebrations and tributes. The song has also been featured in various media, including television shows and commercials, where its message of paternal dedication continues to resonate with new audiences. In the world of country music, it stands as a testament to the genre’s ability to tell stories that touch the heart and speak to the human experience.

Legacy

The legacy of “That’s My Job” lies in its enduring relevance. Decades after its release, the song continues to be a favorite among listeners, both for its musical qualities and its heartfelt lyrics. It remains one of Conway Twitty’s most beloved songs, a piece that continues to move audiences with its portrayal of fatherly love. Its message is timeless, reminding us all of the importance of family, duty, and the bonds that tie us together.

Conclusion

“That’s My Job” is more than just a song; it’s a narrative that many can relate to on a personal level. Its combination of simple yet profound lyrics, a moving musical arrangement, and Conway Twitty’s heartfelt performance makes it a timeless piece. I encourage you to listen to this song, whether for the first time or the hundredth, and let its message of love and responsibility resonate with you. For a truly touching experience, seek out one of Twitty’s live performances of the song, where the emotion is palpable and the message clear: love is a job, and it’s one worth doing well

Video

Lyrics

I woke up crying late at night
When I was very young
I had dreamed my father
Had passed away and gone
My world revolved around him
I couldn’t lie there anymore
So I made my way down the mirrored hall
And tapped upon his door
And I said “Daddy, I’m so afraid
How will I go on with you gone that way?
Don’t want to cry anymore, so may I stay with you?”
And he said “That’s my job
That’s what I do
Everything I do is because of you
To keep you safe with me
That’s my job you see”
Later we barely got along
This teenage boy and he
Most of the fights it seems
Were over different dreams
We each held for me
He wanted knowledge and learning
I wanted to fly out west
Said, “I could make it out there
If I just had the fare
I got half, will you loan me the rest?”
And I said “Daddy, I’m so afraid
There’s no guarantee in the plans
I’ve made and if I should fail
Who will pay my way back home?”
And he said “That’s my job
That’s what I do
Everything I do is because of you
To keep you safe with me
That’s my job you see”
Every person carves his spot
And fills the hole with light
And I pray someday I might
Light as bright as he
Woke up early one bright fall day
To spread the tragic news
After all my travel, I settled down
Within a mile or two
I make my living with words and rhyme
And all this tragedy
Should go into my head and out instead
As bits of poetry
But I say “Daddy, I’m so afraid
How will I go on with you gone this way?
How can I come up with a song to say I love you?”
That’s my job, That’s what I do
Everything I do is because of you
To keep you safe with me
That’s my job you see
Everything I do is because of you
To keep you safe with me

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CAPITOL DROPPED FREDDIE HART AFTER “CALIFORNIA GRAPEVINE” STALLED AT NO. 68. THEN AN ATLANTA DJ STARTED PLAYING AN ALBUM CUT CALLED “EASY LOVING”—AND HART HAD A NO. 1 HIT BEFORE THE LABEL COULD EVEN SIGN HIM BACK. By 1971, Freddie Hart had spent years close to country success without ever fully breaking through. He had recorded for several labels, written songs for other artists, and even supplied hits such as Carl Smith’s “Loose Talk” and Porter Wagoner’s “Skid Row Joe.” But his own records remained modest sellers. Then “California Grapevine” stalled at No. 68. Capitol dropped him. On the album, however, was a song Hart had written called “Easy Loving.” Atlanta DJ Jim Clemens at WPLO began playing it, and listener response was strong enough that other stations followed. Capitol suddenly had a problem. The song was taking off, but the singer was no longer under contract. The label rushed “Easy Loving” out as a single. By September 1971, it had reached No. 1 on Billboard’s country chart, staying there for three weeks, and it crossed to No. 17 on the Hot 100. Capitol quickly signed Hart again. The turnaround became much bigger than one rescued record. “Easy Loving” won CMA Song of the Year in both 1971 and 1972. Hart followed it with five more consecutive No. 1 country hits, including “My Hang-Up Is You,” and became one of the biggest country hitmakers of the early 1970s. A few months earlier, the record company had decided Freddie Hart’s commercial future was over. What changed that judgment was not another Nashville meeting or a new contract negotiation. It was one DJ in Atlanta turning over an album and deciding the song buried inside deserved to be heard.

GARY STEWART’S ONLY NO. 1 HIT WAS ABOUT A MAN DRINKING THROUGH A COLLAPSING RELATIONSHIP. YEARS LATER, THE DARKNESS IN HIS RECORDS WOULD BEGIN TO LOOK FAR TOO MUCH LIKE HIS OWN LIFE. Gary Stewart did not sound like the smooth Nashville country dominating much of the 1970s. Born in Kentucky and raised in Florida, he developed a high, quivering voice that seemed permanently on the edge of breaking. Before his own breakthrough, Stewart and songwriting partner Bill Eldridge placed songs with artists including Stonewall Jackson and Cal Smith. RCA signed him as an artist in the early 1970s. The label initially struggled to find a clear direction, but Stewart’s fortunes changed when producer Roy Dea leaned into the harder honky-tonk sound that suited him best. In 1974, “Drinkin’ Thing” reached the Top 10. Then came “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles).” Written by Wayne Carson, the song placed Stewart inside a failing relationship where the woman was behaving as though she were unattached and the man responded by drinking twice as hard. Stewart’s strained delivery made the lyric sound less like clever wordplay than a nervous breakdown happening in real time. In 1975, it went to No. 1. The album *Out of Hand* produced three major hits and later came to be regarded as one of the strongest hard-country albums of the decade. For a moment, Stewart had carved out a space between traditional honky-tonk and the emerging outlaw audience. But the instability in his records was not purely theatrical. As the decade progressed, Stewart struggled increasingly with alcohol and drugs. Personal losses compounded the problem, and by the 1980s his recording career had slowed sharply. He eventually returned to performing and recording, retaining a devoted audience that had never forgotten the rawness of those RCA records. Then, in December 2003, Stewart’s wife of more than four decades, Mary Lou, died of pneumonia. Less than a month later, Gary Stewart died by suicide at his Florida home. His reputation had never depended on polish. What listeners remembered was the feeling that every syllable might come apart before the band reached the next measure—and that, somehow, Stewart always held it together just long enough to finish the song.

IRA LOUVIN SANG SOME OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S MOST BEAUTIFUL HARMONIES ABOUT SIN AND SALVATION. OFFSTAGE, HIS OWN LIFE WAS COLLAPSING UNDER ALCOHOL, RAGE—AND A SHOOTING THAT NEARLY KILLED HIM. The Louvin Brothers sounded almost impossibly pure together. Ira Louvin sang lead and played mandolin; Charlie supplied the harmony and guitar. By the mid-1950s, songs such as “When I Stop Dreaming,” “I Don’t Believe You’ve Met My Baby,” and “Cash on the Barrel Head” had made them one of country music’s most important brother duos. But the man singing those high, tightly controlled parts was becoming much harder to control away from the microphone. Ira struggled heavily with alcohol and a violent temper. As the drinking worsened, so did the tension between the brothers. Charlie later described a partnership in which the harmony could still lock perfectly onstage even when the two men were barely getting along off it. The contrast became brutal after the duo broke up in 1963. Not long afterward, during an alcohol-fueled fight with his third wife, Faye, Ira was shot and nearly killed. He survived and returned to performing, later singing with his fourth wife, Anne Young. The comeback did not last long. In June 1965, Ira and Anne were traveling after a week of performances in Kansas City when their car collided head-on with another vehicle near Williamsburg, Missouri. Both were killed. Ira was forty-one. Charlie continued alone, but the Louvin Brothers were finished for good. Their records survived because the voices made pain sound ordered, almost sacred. Ira’s private life had been anything but. That may be why the old performances still feel so unsettling: the man warning about sin and destruction was not singing from a safe distance from either one.

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GARY STEWART’S ONLY NO. 1 HIT WAS ABOUT A MAN DRINKING THROUGH A COLLAPSING RELATIONSHIP. YEARS LATER, THE DARKNESS IN HIS RECORDS WOULD BEGIN TO LOOK FAR TOO MUCH LIKE HIS OWN LIFE. Gary Stewart did not sound like the smooth Nashville country dominating much of the 1970s. Born in Kentucky and raised in Florida, he developed a high, quivering voice that seemed permanently on the edge of breaking. Before his own breakthrough, Stewart and songwriting partner Bill Eldridge placed songs with artists including Stonewall Jackson and Cal Smith. RCA signed him as an artist in the early 1970s. The label initially struggled to find a clear direction, but Stewart’s fortunes changed when producer Roy Dea leaned into the harder honky-tonk sound that suited him best. In 1974, “Drinkin’ Thing” reached the Top 10. Then came “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles).” Written by Wayne Carson, the song placed Stewart inside a failing relationship where the woman was behaving as though she were unattached and the man responded by drinking twice as hard. Stewart’s strained delivery made the lyric sound less like clever wordplay than a nervous breakdown happening in real time. In 1975, it went to No. 1. The album *Out of Hand* produced three major hits and later came to be regarded as one of the strongest hard-country albums of the decade. For a moment, Stewart had carved out a space between traditional honky-tonk and the emerging outlaw audience. But the instability in his records was not purely theatrical. As the decade progressed, Stewart struggled increasingly with alcohol and drugs. Personal losses compounded the problem, and by the 1980s his recording career had slowed sharply. He eventually returned to performing and recording, retaining a devoted audience that had never forgotten the rawness of those RCA records. Then, in December 2003, Stewart’s wife of more than four decades, Mary Lou, died of pneumonia. Less than a month later, Gary Stewart died by suicide at his Florida home. His reputation had never depended on polish. What listeners remembered was the feeling that every syllable might come apart before the band reached the next measure—and that, somehow, Stewart always held it together just long enough to finish the song.

IRA LOUVIN SANG SOME OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S MOST BEAUTIFUL HARMONIES ABOUT SIN AND SALVATION. OFFSTAGE, HIS OWN LIFE WAS COLLAPSING UNDER ALCOHOL, RAGE—AND A SHOOTING THAT NEARLY KILLED HIM. The Louvin Brothers sounded almost impossibly pure together. Ira Louvin sang lead and played mandolin; Charlie supplied the harmony and guitar. By the mid-1950s, songs such as “When I Stop Dreaming,” “I Don’t Believe You’ve Met My Baby,” and “Cash on the Barrel Head” had made them one of country music’s most important brother duos. But the man singing those high, tightly controlled parts was becoming much harder to control away from the microphone. Ira struggled heavily with alcohol and a violent temper. As the drinking worsened, so did the tension between the brothers. Charlie later described a partnership in which the harmony could still lock perfectly onstage even when the two men were barely getting along off it. The contrast became brutal after the duo broke up in 1963. Not long afterward, during an alcohol-fueled fight with his third wife, Faye, Ira was shot and nearly killed. He survived and returned to performing, later singing with his fourth wife, Anne Young. The comeback did not last long. In June 1965, Ira and Anne were traveling after a week of performances in Kansas City when their car collided head-on with another vehicle near Williamsburg, Missouri. Both were killed. Ira was forty-one. Charlie continued alone, but the Louvin Brothers were finished for good. Their records survived because the voices made pain sound ordered, almost sacred. Ira’s private life had been anything but. That may be why the old performances still feel so unsettling: the man warning about sin and destruction was not singing from a safe distance from either one.

MEL STREET SPENT THE 1970S SINGING ABOUT CHEATING, LONELINESS, AND MEN WHO COULDN’T HOLD THEIR LIVES TOGETHER. THEN, JUST AS MERCURY GAVE HIM HIS BIGGEST LABEL OPPORTUNITY, HE DIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY. Mel Street had taken a long route to Nashville. Raised in southwestern Virginia, he worked as a radio-tower electrician, sang in clubs around Niagara Falls, then returned to West Virginia and opened an auto-body shop. From 1968 to 1972, he also hosted a local television show in Bluefield. His breakthrough came from a song he had written himself. “Borrowed Angel” was first recorded for a small regional label and later picked up for wider release. In 1972, it reached the country Top 10, giving Street his first national hit. “Lovin’ on Back Streets” followed and became his biggest chart record, reaching No. 5. The songs established his territory. Street specialized in men already standing on the wrong side of a decision: affairs, guilt, secret meetings, marriages breaking down, and the loneliness left afterward. “I Met a Friend of Yours Today,” “Forbidden Angel,” and “If I Had a Cheating Heart” kept that voice on country radio through the middle of the decade. But touring and family pressure were taking a toll. Accounts of Street’s final years describe serious depression and alcohol problems even as his career continued moving forward. In 1978, he signed a new contract with Mercury Records, a major opportunity that suggested another step up was still possible. On October 21, 1978—his birthday—Mel Street died by suicide at his home in Tennessee. Contemporary and later sources disagree over his exact birth year, but not the date: he died on the same calendar day on which he had been born. His career did not stop immediately on the charts. “Just Hangin’ On” and other recordings appeared posthumously, while “Borrowed Angel” continued growing into a honky-tonk standard. Street never reached the level of fame that George Jones, Merle Haggard, or Conway Twitty did. But his best records shared something with theirs: they did not ask whether the man in the song deserved sympathy. They simply put him in the room, closed the door, and let the consequences stay with him.