Bill Medley Finds Soul and Inspiration in Country Music

Your biggest hits have been duets. What does a second voice add to a song?

Singing with a partner gives a little more color. I’ve had the pleasure of singing with people who have beautiful, tender voices, like Shawn Colvin, who sings “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” with me on this album. It’s like the beauty and the beast. With Jennifer Warnes on “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life,” it was that sweet innocence against my — I don’t know. Maybe it’s my sinuses?

You still have a robust voice. How do you maintain it?

I’d like to tell you that I eat real good, but I’m the worst. I’m a McDonald’s guy. I eat steak and taters. I smoked when I was a kid, but I quit for my voice. I barely drink; maybe one cocktail a week. Never did drugs. I did marijuana for three months in 1970. It was the best sleep I ever got. In 1973, I was in Las Vegas doing three shows on the weekend and still working when I got laryngitis. It’s like running on a sprained ankle. One doctor said my throat looked like hamburger meat. Another doctor told me my singing days were probably over. But I ran into my high school choir teacher, who was giving voice lessons, and he said, “I can fix that.” So I got my voice back, and now I know what to do to keep the engine running correctly.

You’ve been performing “(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration,” “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ ” and “Unchained Melody” since the mid-1960s. Has it become tiresome for you?

If I had to sing “Lovin’ Feelin’ ” in the shower every night, I might would hang myself. It’s always the audience. A lot of our people are 60 to 80. Those songs were hits when they were kids, and those songs are very meaningful to them. If I start singing, ‘You never close your eyes…,” they start putting their arms around each other or start kissing, and it makes you feel 25 again.

In your autobiography, The Time of My Life, you wrote a good deal about Elvis Presley, who was a close friend. What did you have in common?

We got together a million times, when it was just him and I and maybe his hairdresser, when the boys weren’t around. Musically, we came up with the same love for gospel music, R&B and good old country. I had social anxiety, and he basically had that. He was picked on in school because he looked different. I was kind of a lonely guy and so was he, even though he had millions of people around him who loved him. We shouldn’t have been lonely. I wish everyone could have had the opportunity to sit one-on-one with Elvis and hear the stories of when he was a kid. This sweet, good country boy became the biggest thing in the world. There were things he did that he shouldn’t have, that didn’t do himself any good. I don’t know how anybody handles that life. He did about as good a job as anybody could. I don’t know how he kept his head on straight.

Bobby Hatfield died in 2003 of a cocaine-related heart attack, and you found him dead in his hotel room. How did you cope with that loss?

People close to Bobby all knew that it could happen. When it did, it was horrifying, but we knew he was running on the edge. My heart stopped and I felt like I never wanted to sing again. He was 50 percent of who I was. But I kept going.

When you replaced Bobby with Bucky, did you get any fan blowback?

The reception has been remarkably wonderful. The audiences just love him. Bucky was a big Bobby Hatfield fan. Bobby left us in 2003, and we didn’t put this together until 2016. A lot of friends and fans and people in my business were telling me to keep the music alive, but I wasn’t into it. I didn’t want to take on another partner. Teaming up with somebody is like getting a mail-order bride. You just don’t know what you will get. I was working in Branson, Missouri, and so was Bucky. He was doing a tribute to Journey. I went to his show and, holy moly, it just surprised me that he could sing that high. I thought, he’s the guy I could do it with.

Your first wife, Karen Klaas, was murdered in 1976, about six years after you divorced, and the case wasn’t solved until DNA evidence surfaced in 2017. Did that give you closure?

When they finally solved it, I must say I could finally take a deep breath. And I was really glad that the guy who did it wasn’t still alive so we didn’t have to go through any court nonsense. It was over. Her death — God, you can imagine? She was 32. It was horrid, and it just stopped me for four or five years. [Their son] Darrin was 10. That’s when I retired for 6 or 7 years, to raise him.

Your fourth wife, Paula Vasu, died of Parkinson’s disease in 2020. Are you optimistic about romance? Is there anyone in your life now?

There’s a lady in my life now. She’s 78 years old. I never thought I’d say I’m dating a 78-year-old woman. She’s wonderful. All my wives were wonderful. Karen was real sweet, and we stayed close because of Darrin. The first marriage was five years. My second was a year. The third was six months. And the fourth was 35 years. And it would have kept going if she would have lived.

You had a throat cancer diagnosis. How is your health now?

The throat cancer was maybe 10 years ago. I’m pretty dang good for 84. The traveling is what tires me out, so I have to slow down a bit. People ask me, “When are you going to retire?” I say, “I have to get a job first. This isn’t a job.” To be 84 and out here singing songs to people who love the music? It’s flat-out a blessing.