About the Song

Joey+Rory were known for their genuine, heartfelt approach to country music, and one of their standout tracks, “That’s Important to Me,” perfectly exemplifies their ability to blend personal stories with universal themes. Released as part of their 2012 album His and Hers, this song encapsulates the simplicity and beauty of their relationship, both as musical partners and as a married couple. Written and performed with warmth and sincerity, “That’s Important to Me” speaks to the importance of finding joy in the simple things in life—those moments and values that truly matter, and that shape who we are.

In this song, Joey Feek’s sweet and pure vocals, complemented by Rory’s distinctive voice, create a sense of intimacy that draws listeners in. The lyrics are tender yet profound, reflecting the couple’s deep appreciation for life, love, and faith. The song’s central theme revolves around the idea that material wealth and worldly success are secondary to the meaningful experiences and relationships that define our lives. Whether it’s the quiet moments spent with family, the love shared between a couple, or the faith that anchors them through life’s challenges, these are the things that truly matter.

What makes “That’s Important to Me” so special is the honesty and authenticity with which Joey and Rory deliver their message. The song is not just about their personal values but resonates with anyone who holds dear the simple, meaningful aspects of life. The gentle country instrumentation, with its acoustic guitar and soft rhythm, adds to the song’s comforting and intimate feel, creating an atmosphere that is both soothing and uplifting.

For Joey and Rory, the song also served as a reminder of what was most important to them during a period of personal struggle, as Joey was battling terminal cancer at the time of the album’s release. Their unwavering faith and love for each other shone through in the song, making it even more poignant and meaningful for their fans.

“That’s Important to Me” is not just a song—it’s a heartfelt reflection on what truly matters in life, a message that continues to resonate with audiences long after Joey’s passing. It reminds us all to focus on the things that bring us true happiness, the relationships and moments that make life worth living. Joey+Rory’s legacy lives on through songs like this, filled with love, faith, and the kind of wisdom that only comes from living a life that truly matters.

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Lyrics: That’s Important To Me

Not planning our day around a TV set
Paying our bills and staying out of debt
That’s important to me
That’s important to meOpening the windows and letting in air
Holding hands when we’re saying a prayer
That’s important to me
Yeah, that’s important to meHaving somebody to share my life
Loving my husband and being a wife
And the very best mother I can be
That’s important to meTelling the truth and being real
Feeding my family a home cooked meal
That’s important to me
That’s important to mePlanting a garden and watching it grow
Keeping it country on the radio
That’s important to me
Yeah, that’s important to me

Always having you to hold
Being beside you when we grow old
And they plant us ‘neath that big old tree
That’s important to me

Always having you to hold
Being beside you when we grow old
And they plant us ‘neath that big old tree

Believing our dreams will take us somewhere
Still being ourselves if we ever get there
That’s important to me
That’s important to me

Yeah, that’s important to me
That’s important to me

That’s important to me

 

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SHE HAD BEEN SINGING MOUNTAIN MUSIC SINCE BEFORE BLUEGRASS EVEN HAD A NAME. THEN, AT 80, WILMA LEE COOPER COLLAPSED ON THE OPRY STAGE WITH THE SONG STILL IN HER THROAT. Wilma Lee Cooper came out of Valley Head, West Virginia, where music was not something you studied in a conservatory. It was family. Church. Radio. Coal-country evenings. Her father worked in the mines. Her mother played pump organ. Wilma started singing when she was five, then sang with her family gospel group before she ever became part of country music history. She met Stoney Cooper in the early 1940s. He played fiddle. She sang and played guitar. Together they built a sound that sat between mountain gospel, old-time string band music, and the country music that had not yet decided how polished it wanted to become. They did not wait for genre labels. They drove. They broadcast. They played wherever people would listen. The roads were part of the act. Their daughter Carol Lee sometimes slept in the car under the upright bass while Wilma and Stoney went from show to show. They raised a family while keeping a band alive. They recorded songs like “Big Midnight Special,” “There’s a Big Wheel,” and “Wreck on the Highway.” By 1957, they had joined the Grand Ole Opry. The Smithsonian later called Wilma Lee the “First Lady of Bluegrass.” But that title came after decades of work. It came after she and Stoney had already spent years carrying the mountain sound through a country business that was moving toward smoother voices and cleaner suits. Then Stoney died in 1977. Wilma Lee did not leave with him. She stayed with the Opry. She kept leading the Clinch Mountain Clan. The old mountain voice remained onstage, older now but still carrying the same hard edge. She had already sung for more than sixty years by the time she walked onto the Ryman Auditorium stage on February 24, 2001. She was eighty. During that performance, Wilma Lee suffered a stroke. The career ended there. Not in a retirement announcement. Not in a farewell special. Onstage, in the place where she had kept the old sound alive for generations. The illness affected her speech and voice, and doctors doubted she would walk again. But Wilma Lee did return once more. In 2010, at the reopening of the Opry House after the Nashville flood, she came back for a group sing-along. Not to reclaim the old career. Not to prove anything. Just to stand in the room one more time and thank the people who had carried her. For most of her life, Wilma Lee Cooper sang as if the mountain had come down from West Virginia and entered the microphone. Her last great silence came on the same stage where she had spent decades refusing to let that mountain disappear.