The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

Bill Withers – Just the Two of Us (Grammy 1982)

Introduction

“Just the Two of Us” by Bill Withers is a soulful masterpiece that has captivated audiences since its release. Recorded live at the Grammy Awards in 1982, this rendition showcases Withers’ impeccable vocal delivery and the intimate atmosphere of a live performance. Join us as we immerse ourselves in the timeless magic of “Just the Two of Us” and celebrate the enduring talent of Bill Withers.

Did You Know?

  • “Just the Two of Us” was originally released in 1981 as a duet between Bill Withers and Grover Washington Jr., becoming a chart-topping hit and earning critical acclaim.
  • Withers’ live performance of the song at the Grammy Awards in 1982 further solidified its status as a classic, showcasing his raw talent and emotive delivery.
  • The song’s heartfelt lyrics and smooth melody resonate with listeners, making it a favorite for romantic occasions and intimate moments.
  • Bill Withers’ legacy extends far beyond “Just the Two of Us,” with his soulful voice and timeless songs leaving an indelible mark on the world of music.

Video

Lyrics: Just the Two of Us

I see the crystal raindrops fall
And the beauty of it all
Is when the sun comes shining through
To make those rainbows in my mind
When I think of you sometime
And I want to spend some time with youJust the two of us
We can make it if we try
Just the two of us
(Just the two of us)
Just the two of us
Building castles in the sky
Just the two of us
You and I

We look for love, no time for tears
Wasted water’s all that is
And it don’t make no flowers grow
Good things might come to those who wait
Not for those who wait too late
We gotta go for all we know

Just the two of us
We can make it if we try
Just the two of us
(Just the two of us)
Just the two of us
Building them castles in the sky
Just the two of us
You and I

Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us

I hear the crystal raindrops fall
On the window down the hall
And it becomes the morning dew
And, darling, when the morning comes
And I see the morning sun
I want to be the one with you

Just the two of us
We can make it if we try
Just the two of us
(Just the two of us)
Just the two of us
Building big castles way on high
Just the two of us
You and I

(Just the two of us)
Yes, the two of us
(We can make it just the two of us)
Let’s get it together, babe
(Just the two of us)
Yes, the two of us
(We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us
We can make it just the two of us
Just the two of us)

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The musicians at RCA Studio B were ready to make records. They were not ready for the way Elvis Presley entered the room. During his celebrated Nashville sessions in 1970, bassist Norbert Putnam remembered Elvis appearing in dramatic fashion—wearing a flowing black cape and carrying an ornate cane. Putnam later recalled the impression that it was almost as though “a prince had walked into the room.”

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Lisa Marie Presley grew up in a house visited by some of the most famous people in the world, yet the person who mattered most to her was the man everyone else called the King. To millions, Elvis Presley was an untouchable superstar. To Lisa, he was the father who loved to spoil her, make her laugh and turn ordinary moments at Graceland into childhood adventures.

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BOB DYLAN AND JOHNNY CASH SHATTERED THE WALLS OF NASHVILLE WITHOUT FIRING A SINGLE SHOT. Columbia Studio A sat thick with the smell of stale coffee and cigarette smoke on a February morning in 1969. While the rock world was chasing ghosts in psychedelic haze, Bob Dylan stepped into the epicenter of American country music with a voice that sounded like it had been dragged across gravel. He wasn’t there to challenge the gatekeepers at the Opry; he was there to find the heartbeat of a sound he had loved from afar. Johnny Cash walked through the heavy studio doors, guitar in hand, and for two days, the rigid borders of genre simply dissolved into the air. They didn’t record some grand manifesto to change the industry. Instead, they sat on stools and tore through old folk standards and each other’s deep cuts, letting the microphones capture the loose, unvarnished truth of a collaboration that felt more like a porch gathering than a major label session. Carl Perkins added his own licks to the mix, blending the percussive snap of rock and roll with the lonesome ache of a country ballad. It was a deliberate, quiet rebellion that treated the traditions of both worlds as neighbors rather than strangers. When the tape stopped rolling, they walked away having proved that the lines drawn by radio programmers were mostly make-believe. The Ryman Auditorium stage eventually welcomed a new kind of guest, and the air in Nashville felt lighter, forever changed by two men who knew that music didn’t need permission to belong everywhere at once.