SOME SONGS DON’T CHASE YOU — THEY WAIT FOR YOU TO COME BACK.
In 1978, Images arrived without fuss. No grand rollout. No bold statements about changing country music. It didn’t knock on the door demanding attention. It simply showed up, quiet and unassuming, the way Don Williams always did. At a time when country music was starting to stretch, experiment, and occasionally shout to be heard, Don chose calm. He chose restraint. He chose to trust that a song, if honest enough, would know where it belonged.
Then Tulsa Time appeared.
It didn’t feel like a “big” song at first. No dramatic hook. No sweeping chorus built for stadiums. Just a steady rhythm, plainspoken words, and a voice that sounded like it had nowhere to rush to. It felt almost casual, like someone telling you a story at the kitchen table rather than performing for a crowd. And yet, that was exactly its power.
“Tulsa Time” didn’t stop at country radio. It kept moving. It crossed borders. It crossed generations. Other artists picked it up and carried it in their own voices. Rock singers. Blues musicians. People far removed from the quiet world Don Williams occupied. The song kept finding new rooms to sit in, new lives to quietly accompany.
What’s striking is what Don didn’t do.
He didn’t chase the song. He didn’t reshape himself to fit its growing reach. He didn’t suddenly turn louder or sharper to match its success. He stayed where he was. Low voice. Steady hands. No explanations offered. No attempt to tell people what the song was “supposed” to mean. He trusted it. And in doing so, he trusted the listener.
That quiet confidence mattered.
In an industry built on momentum and noise, Don Williams proved that stillness could travel just as far. His voice never pushed itself into your life. It waited. And when you were ready — tired, reflective, maybe just needing something that didn’t demand anything back — it was there.
That’s why people still return to “Tulsa Time.”
Not for excitement. Not for escape. But for comfort. For the rare feeling of a song that doesn’t rush past you or try to lift you up artificially. It simply sits beside you. Keeps time with your breathing. Reminds you that it’s okay to move at your own pace.
Some songs fade when the moment passes. Others endure because they never tried to own the moment in the first place. “Tulsa Time” is one of those songs. And Don Williams knew that from the beginning — sometimes the strongest thing you can do is stand still and let the music walk on its own. 🎵