“I Wonder Do You Think of Me”
Keith Whitley
Written by Sanger D. Shafer
Radio & Records
#1 (1 week)
August 18, 1989
Billboard
#1 (1 week)
September 9, 1989
Garth Fundis can be credited as producer for all six of Keith Whitley’s No. 1 hits. This is the first of the three that he had to complete without Keith by his side.
“I Wonder Do You Think of Me” appealed to Whitley because of its similarities to the Lefty Frizzell classic, “I Never Go Around Mirrors,” which Whitley had wanted to release as a single from Don’t Close Your Eyes. The label was eager for a follow up to that smash album, and Fundis was tasked with working toward a fall release date. The sessions for Don’t Close Your Eyes had gone perfectly, which was a relief to Fundis, who’d received guarantees from RCA that Whitley’s alcohol days were behind him.
The sessions for I Wonder Do You Think of Me were tortured, with Whitley frequently missing recording sessions. Before those sessions were complete, he was gone, and Fundis had to construct his next album from the work they’d completed. Whitley’s widow, Lorrie Morgan, gave her personal approval for “I Wonder Do You Think of Me” to be the lead single.
I can’t imagine them going with anything else from those sessions, given Whitley’s passing. It’s a haunting, heartwrenching listen. He’s a whisper of his former self, no doubt, but the phrasing and emoting are still there. It’s eerily similar to hearing late career albums from great singers who have made into their sixties and seventies. It’s still so sad 35 years after his death that I can’t even imagine how hard this must have hit his fans upon release.
Whitley didn’t have enough in the tank to elevate this to the level of the Don’t Close Your Eyes classics, but you can’t tell his story completely without including this hit.
“I Wonder Do You Think of Me” gets a B+.
Every No. 1 Single of the Eighties
Previous: Holly Dunn, “Are You Ever Gonna Love Me” |
I certainly recall the weight of this lyric (and the song title specifically) as the backdrop to Whitley’s premature passing. As “nostalgia for lost love” ballads go, this one was middling in its impact, but I didn’t pick up on any diminished quality of delivery on Whitley’s part. In fact, I thought Whitley’s delivery significantly helped the song punch above its weight. He didn’t power through it like “Don’t Close Your Eyes” because the wistful tone didn’t call for that kind of energy.
I always thought this mimicked the vocal stylings of George Jones in “I Always Get Lucky With You”. I don’t think I’m familiar with the Lefty Frizzell song. The history with Garth Fundis is intriguing. I wasn’t familiar with it but its not surprising that there were bright red warning signs in the lead-up to Whitley’s passing of how out of control his problem was.
Grade: B
I actually prefer the “I Wonder Do You Think of Me” album over “Don’t Close Your Eyes” but think both are essential listening. Although I agree that the singles are better of DCYE album. Keith leftovers were still fantastic
I listened to this album as much as any of the other albums from the artists from the class of ’86 or ’89. It is as significant and important a recording as Randy Travis’ “Storms of Life” Dwight Yoakam’s “Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc. ” Lyle Lovett’s eponymous debut, Steve Earle’s”Guitar Town,” Clint Black’s “Killin’ Time,” or Garth Brooks’s debut.
It is that good and consistent.
I think Whitley had more matured as a vocalist with this set more than the bottle had robbed him of his singing skills. There is a soft, burnished restraint to his singing that would be celebrated as gravitas had he not passed. His vocals are now in service of the song. Ranging from the vulnerable despair of “Tennessee Courage ” to the hopeful longing of “Lady’s Choice” to the twangy vocal pop of “Talk to Me Texas” to the bounce of “I’m Over You,” Whitley’s singing shines throughout.
And the song selection is stellar across the board on the album. There is a reason Tritt, arguably his generation’s best pure vocalist, covered “Between and Old Memory and Me” and Mark Chestnut, his generation’s staunchest traditionalist covered “Brother Jukebox.” These compositions were absolute gems.
There was the sense of having received a vaguely haunted gift upon this album’s release. I felt the same way about the Jim Reeves music I was listening to at the time. The big difference being Reeves came from my mom’s record rack while, I was seeking out Whitley’s albums on cassette on my own while his songs were charting.
His career was live it it was now.
He was my generation’s superstar vocalist, recording hit music before our ears, and with his death, he became it’s first tragedy. He was both our George Jones and Hank Williams.
Whitley cast a monstrous artistic shadow.
For all the sadness and despair hanging around the release of this album, it is a rare accomplishment that an artist’s final recording is also their best.
This song is a classic.