Alan Jackson Shares Tribute After News of Jimmy Buffett's Death

About the Song

“It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” is a song performed by American country music singers Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett. It was released in June 2003 as the lead single from Jackson’s compilation album Greatest Hits Volume II. The song was written by Jim “Moose” Brown and Don Rollins.

The song is a lighthearted anthem about relaxation and enjoying life. The lyrics describe two friends who are tired of their workdays and are looking forward to the end of the day when they can finally relax and have a drink. The song has a catchy melody and a laid-back vibe, making it a popular choice for parties and get-togethers.

“It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” was a huge success, reaching number one on the Billboard Hot Country Songs chart for eight weeks. It also peaked at number 17 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and was the biggest pop hit for Jackson since the 1970s. The song won the Country Music Association Award for Vocal Event of the Year in 2003.

The song has been covered by many artists, including Kenny Chesney, Rascal Flatts, and Little Big Town. It has also been featured in several movies and television shows.

Here are some additional facts about “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere”:

  • The song was recorded in Nashville, Tennessee, in February 2003.
  • The music video for the song was directed by David Hogan.
  • The song was included on Jackson’s Greatest Hits Volume II and Buffett’s Live at Fenway Park albums.
  • The song has been certified platinum by the RIAA for sales of over 1 million copies in the United States.

Jimmy Buffett's lasting influence on country music

Video 

Lyrics: It’s Five O’ Clock Somewhere 

The sun is hot and that old clock is movin’ slow
An’ so am I
Work day passes like molasses in wintertime
But it’s July
I’m gettin’ paid by the hour, an’ older by the minute
My boss just pushed me over the limit
I’d like to call him somethin’
I think I’ll just call it a dayPour me somethin’ tall an’ strong
Make it a “Hurricane” before I go insane
It’s only half-past twelve but I don’t care
It’s five o’clock somewhereOh, this lunch break is gonna take all afternoon
An’ half the night
Tomorrow mornin’, I know there’ll be hell to pay
Hey, but that’s alright
I ain’t had a day off now in over a year
Our Jamaican vacation’s gonna start right here
If the phone’s for me
You can tell ’em I just sailed awayAnd pour me somethin’ tall an’ strong
Make it a “Hurricane” before I go insane
It’s only half-past twelve but I don’t care
It’s five o’clock somewhereI could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cab
An’ be back to work before two
At a moment like this, I can’t help but wonder
What would Jimmy Buffett do?
Funny you should ask Alan, I’d say:
“Pour me somethin’ tall an’ strong
Make it a “Hurricane” before I go insane
It’s only half-past twelve but I don’t care”
Pour me somethin’ tall an’ strong
Make it a “Hurricane” before I go insane
It’s only half-past twelve but I don’t care
He don’t care
And I don’t care
It’s five o’clock somewhere

What time zone am I on? What country am I in?
It doesn’t matter, it’s five o’clock somewhere
It’s always on five in Margaritaville, come to think of it
Yeah, I heard that
You been, there haven’t you?
Yes sir
I seen your boat there
I’ve been to Margaritaville a few times
Alright, that’s good
Stumbled all the way back
Okay, just wanna make sure you can keep it between the navigational beacons
Ha ha ha ha, between the buoys, I tell you
Alright. Well, it’s five o’clock. Let’s go somewhere
I’m ready, crank it up
Let’s get out of here
I’m gone

 

You Missed

EVEN WHEN CANCER HAD SLOWED HIM DOWN AND FORCED HIM TO SIT, A TRUE WORKING-MAN’S HERO LIKE TOBY KEITH FOUND THE STRENGTH TO RISE UP ON HIS OWN TWO FEET ONE LAST TIME FOR THE SONG THAT STARTED IT ALL. Back in December 2023, Toby Keith stepped back onto a Vegas stage for three sold-out nights at Park MGM after fighting stomach cancer for over two years. He joked with the crowd that they were just “rehab shows.” But on that final night, December 14, his body was tired, and he had to sit down for almost the entire concert. Even so, when he opened his mouth, that familiar, strong voice was still right there, and his spirit hadn’t budged an inch. Then, near the end of the set, the band struck up the opening chords of “Should’ve Been a Cowboy.” That was the very song that blew the doors wide open back in 1993 and went on to become the most-played country tune of the entire decade. And right then, Toby stood up. Not fast, and certainly not easily—you could just tell every inch cost him something real. But he pulled himself up anyway. He stood tall and sang the song that launched a legend, right there on his feet one final time. Just thirty-eight days later, we lost him. He left behind twenty number-one hits, eighteen grueling USO tours playing for over a quarter-million soldiers in dusty war zones, and a legacy built on pure grit. But for everyone who was in that room, there’s one image that will never fade: a proud cowboy refusing to quit until the very end.

BACK IN 2002, THEY TRIED TO SILENCE TOBY KEITH FOR STANDING UP FOR AMERICA. TODAY, WITH ALL THE NOISE AND CONFUSION ON OUR STAGES, THAT HONEST PRIDE IS MISSED MORE THAN EVER. Memories come flooding back with just one old photo, a familiar guitar lick, or a song that takes you right back to better days. Twenty-four years ago, Toby Keith was pulled from an ABC Fourth of July special simply because he wouldn’t apologize or soften “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.” The song was angry and raw—born straight from the grief of a son who lost his father, and a country still hurting after September 11. Toby didn’t change a single word. He kept right on singing it for the working folks who understood every line. Now, as America gets ready for its 250th birthday, our stages have gotten tangled up in politics, public statements, and endless corporate noise. Some artists are stepping back; others are caught in the middle of things that have nothing to do with good music. That’s why missing Toby hurts a little more these days. Whether folks always agreed with his opinions or not, everybody knew where he stood. When Toby passed away in February 2024 after fighting stomach cancer at age 62, country music lost a giant. He didn’t treat love of country like a marketing trick—it was just who he was, plain and simple. We don’t need to turn his memory into a political argument. We just need to remember what real country music feels like. Some singers entertain a room for a night, but Toby Keith made folks stand a little taller. And right now, that quiet spot where his voice used to be is hard to ignore.

WHILE THE WORLD MOURNED THE PASSING OF THE COAL MINER’S DAUGHTER, HER TWIN DAUGHTERS QUIETLY CARRIED FORTH A MUSICAL INHERITANCE FORGED IN TRUTH, BLOOD, AND UNBREAKABLE FAMILY TIES. Loretta Lynn spent decades scaling the absolute summit of country music, transforming raw domestic heartbreak and rural grit into immortal anthems. But away from the flashing marquee lights and the sprawling expanse of Hurricane Mills, her most profound creation was the family she anchored. When her twin daughters, Patsy and Peggy, stepped into the spotlight as The Lynns in the late 1990s, they didn’t ride their mother’s coattails or mimic her iconic delivery; instead, they forged their own path with sharp songwriting, distinct harmonies, and CMA Vocal Duo of the Year nominations that proved artistic independence ran deep in the bloodline. They understood better than anyone that the woman who commanded stadiums was first and foremost “Mom”—the steady heartbeat behind the chaos of a legendary life. As the years pressed on, that bond evolved into a deeply moving artistic partnership. When most legends would have faded into quiet retirement, Patsy stepped into the control room to co-produce her mother’s final, critically acclaimed albums, ensuring that Loretta’s voice remained fierce, uncompromised, and vital until the very end. When Loretta passed away peacefully at her Tennessee ranch in October 2022, country music lost an irreplaceable pioneer. Yet, the true legacy left behind wasn’t just a museum of gold records or a historic homestead; it was the quiet courage passed down to daughters who learned how to look life in the eye and tell the unvarnished truth in their own voices.

WHILE AMERICA FELL IN LOVE WITH HIS GAP-TOOTHED GRIN AND HIGH-SPEED TRUCK DRIVING ON THE SILVER SCREEN, NASHVILLE’S ELITE GUITAR GODS LOOKED AT JERRY REED AND SAW AN ABSOLUTE MONSTER OF THE FRETBOARD. To millions of moviegoers, Jerry Reed was the charismatic, fast-talking “Snowman” who kept pace with Burt Reynolds and turned “East Bound and Down” into an immortal highway anthem. But behind the comedic swagger and cinematic car chases lived a restless musical genius whose hands could do things on a guitar that defied explanation. While Hollywood typecast him as the lovable sidekick, the industry’s absolute titans knew the truth. When Chet Atkins—the gold standard of Nashville fingerstyle—declared Jerry the greatest guitar player he had ever heard, it wasn’t mere industry flattery; it was an admission of awe from a master looking at a wizard. Jerry’s unique picking style was a masterclass in controlled chaos, allowing him to weave thumping bass lines, syncopated rhythm, and sharp melodies simultaneously as if three musicians were sharing the same instrument. When Elvis Presley needed that razor-sharp, driving rhythm for “Guitar Man,” producers didn’t even look for a substitute session player; they called Jerry directly because no one else on earth possessed his specific rhythmic DNA. He eventually stacked up Grammy Awards not for cracking wise in Hollywood blockbusters, but for weaponizing a six-string into a full orchestra, proving that while the world bought a ticket for his smile, the music world bowed down to his strings.