KENNY ROGERS RECORDED A SONG FOR HIS TWIN BOYS AND LEFT IT IN THE VAULT. MORE THAN A DECADE LATER, THEIR MOTHER PUT IT ON HIS FINAL ALBUM.

It is called “Catchin’ Grasshoppers,” written by Laura McCall Torno and Earl Torno, produced by Kenny with Randy Dorman from his band, and sung to Justin and Jordan. The twins were born July 6, 2004, when Kenny was sixty-five. They were fifteen when he died at home on March 20, 2020, at eighty-one, under hospice care with his family around him.

Wanda, who married him on June 1, 1997 at his ranch outside Athens, Georgia, was the one who went through what he left. She curated and co-executive produced Life Is Like a Song, released June 2, 2023, the twenty-ninth and final studio album of his career. Eight of its ten tracks were recordings from 2008 to 2011 that had never been released, among them a Dolly Parton duet, “Tell Me That You Love Me,” that fans had never been able to stream. “I want to make sure his legacy grows and stays alive,” she said.

She also kept “Goodbye” on it — written for Kenny by Lionel Richie, hard to find for years, played at his memorial. A wife going through her husband’s tapes, choosing the song about leaving. For many listeners, that is where the album stops being a collection and starts being a marriage.

Kenny Rogers, the Song He Saved for His Twins, and the Final Album That Brought It Home

Some songs do not arrive loudly. They wait in a vault, tucked away for years, until the right moment gives them a life they were always meant to have. That is what happened with “Catchin’ Grasshoppers,” a tender Kenny Rogers recording sung to his twin sons, Justin and Jordan, and later placed on his final album by the person who knew his archive best: his wife, Wanda Rogers.

The story reaches back to July 6, 2004, when the twins were born and Kenny Rogers was 65. By then, he had already lived several musical lifetimes, but fatherhood still gave him something new to write toward. “Catchin’ Grasshoppers,” written by Laura McCall Torno and Earl Torno and produced by Kenny Rogers with Randy Dorman from his band, became one of those private gifts a famous father could make without an audience watching. It was personal, gentle, and meant for two boys who were still too young to understand how rare that kind of message was.

A final album built from memory

After Kenny Rogers died at home on March 20, 2020, at the age of 81, under hospice care with family around him, Wanda Rogers was the one who went through what he had left behind. She married Kenny Rogers on June 1, 1997, at his ranch outside Athens, Georgia, and for years she had lived close to the private side of his life, the side that did not always make it into the spotlight.

That closeness mattered when she curated and co-executive produced Life Is Like a Song, released on June 2, 2023. The album became Kenny Rogers’ 29th and final studio album, and it was not built like a random archive dump. It was carefully shaped. Eight of its ten tracks were recordings made between 2008 and 2011 that had never been released before. Among them was a duet with Dolly Parton, “Tell Me That You Love Me,” which fans had long been unable to stream.

The meaning of the choices

Wanda Rogers said she wanted to make sure Kenny Rogers’ legacy grew and stayed alive, and that intention is easy to hear in the way the album unfolds. It is not only about catalog history. It is about memory, family, and the quiet choices made after a loss.

For many listeners, that is what makes the album feel different. It is not just a collection of songs. It is a conversation across time.

One track, “Goodbye,” written for Kenny Rogers by Lionel Richie, had also been hard to find for years and was played at Kenny Rogers’ memorial. That detail gives the album an emotional center. A wife sorting through her husband’s tapes, choosing the songs that would carry him forward, including one about leaving, creates a kind of story that feels larger than music alone.

And then there is “Catchin’ Grasshoppers,” the song for Justin and Jordan. It stands as a reminder that the most lasting legacies are sometimes the most intimate ones: not the biggest hit, but the song saved for the children at home.

For five years, Dion played lead guitar and keyboards during Charley Pride’s shows. He also opened for his father, slowly adding some of his own music to the set. By the time he began building a solo career, he had learned those classic arrangements from only a few feet away.

Charley died in December 2020 at 86. But Dion did not simply take over his father’s band afterward. The real story took longer.

In 2025, Dion brought “Dion Pride Sings the Songs of His Father” across Australasia. Standing behind him were three musicians who had once toured with Charley: Ronnie Miller on pedal steel, Danny Hutchins on keyboards and Mark Kalson on fiddle.

Then came the difficult part.

When the familiar opening notes filled the room, everyone knew the voice they remembered. Would Dion try to recreate it, or would he allow himself to remain Charley Pride’s son?

He chose the second.

During the televised CMT Giants tribute, Dion performed “Mountain of Love,” a song he said had become a personal favorite “from touring with him.”

That small explanation carried years inside it.

This was not a son trying to replace his father. It was a musician returning to songs he had once played from the background, now trusting the same men who had helped his father bring them to life.

“Ode to Billie Joe” was Bobbie Gentry and nothing else — her words, her voice, her guitar, a keeper take in about forty minutes. Jimmie Haskell dubbed strings over it afterward and won a Grammy for the arrangement. The producer credit went to a Capitol staffer. Gentry always maintained the work had been hers, and she said why in an interview: a woman “doesn’t stand much chance in a recording studio.”

The song shoved the Beatles out of number one and stayed four weeks. Her album ended the fifteen-week reign of Sgt. Pepper. She took home three Grammys. The BBC gave her a series, and the producer later admitted she was effectively co-directing it while the network refused to put an artist’s name on the credits. She spent the 1970s headlining Las Vegas in a production she ran herself, writing the music, designing the costumes.

The last time the public ever heard Bobbie Gentry sing was a 1981 television special for Mother’s Day. The song was “Mama, A Rainbow.” Her mother was sitting in the audience. She has not performed, recorded, or given an interview in the forty-four years since.

Ella Langley was writing about the voice in her head long before anyone was listening. On “monsters,” a deep cut from her 2024 debut, she sings about a voice that lists off everything she will never be. On her 2023 EP she was already wishing she could call the man upstairs whenever she needed someone to talk to.

Then came 2025. In the middle of the biggest year of her life she pulled out of a run of shows to rest, went home, and started reading her Bible again. The song that came out of that stretch is called “Loving Life Again.”

Now she stops the show before she plays it. On July 10, at the Cowboys Music Festival in Calgary, she told the crowd how easy it is to scroll and feel behind and not good enough, and said she has quit caring what any of that thinks of her. The one opinion she still cares about, she said, belongs to someone who loves her the same on her best day and after she has sinned seven hundred times. Then she gave the crowd the ending she has been giving crowds all summer. You are loved, you are worth it, you are worthy.

You Missed

For five years, Dion Pride stood behind his father playing guitar and keys. In 2025, three of Charley Pride’s old touring musicians stood behind him.

Before Dion Pride ever stood at the center microphone singing his father’s songs, he knew them from inside the band.

For five years, Dion played lead guitar and keyboards during Charley Pride’s shows. He also opened for his father, slowly adding some of his own music to the set. By the time he began building a solo career, he had learned those classic arrangements from only a few feet away.

Charley died in December 2020 at 86. But Dion did not simply take over his father’s band afterward. The real story took longer.

In 2025, Dion brought “Dion Pride Sings the Songs of His Father” across Australasia. Standing behind him were three musicians who had once toured with Charley: Ronnie Miller on pedal steel, Danny Hutchins on keyboards and Mark Kalson on fiddle.

Then came the difficult part.

When the familiar opening notes filled the room, everyone knew the voice they remembered. Would Dion try to recreate it, or would he allow himself to remain Charley Pride’s son?

He chose the second.

During the televised CMT Giants tribute, Dion performed “Mountain of Love,” a song he said had become a personal favorite “from touring with him.”

That small explanation carried years inside it.

This was not a son trying to replace his father. It was a musician returning to songs he had once played from the background, now trusting the same men who had helped his father bring them to life.

She wrote the greatest mystery in American song, and then she became one herself.

“Ode to Billie Joe” was Bobbie Gentry and nothing else — her words, her voice, her guitar, a keeper take in about forty minutes. Jimmie Haskell dubbed strings over it afterward and won a Grammy for the arrangement. The producer credit went to a Capitol staffer. Gentry always maintained the work had been hers, and she said why in an interview: a woman “doesn’t stand much chance in a recording studio.”

The song shoved the Beatles out of number one and stayed four weeks. Her album ended the fifteen-week reign of Sgt. Pepper. She took home three Grammys. The BBC gave her a series, and the producer later admitted she was effectively co-directing it while the network refused to put an artist’s name on the credits. She spent the 1970s headlining Las Vegas in a production she ran herself, writing the music, designing the costumes.

The last time the public ever heard Bobbie Gentry sing was a 1981 television special for Mother’s Day. The song was “Mama, A Rainbow.” Her mother was sitting in the audience. She has not performed, recorded, or given an interview in the forty-four years since.

Ella Langley was writing about the voice in her head long before anyone was listening. On “monsters,” a deep cut from her 2024 debut, she sings about a voice that lists off everything she will never be. On her 2023 EP she was already wishing she could call the man upstairs whenever she needed someone to talk to.

Then came 2025. In the middle of the biggest year of her life she pulled out of a run of shows to rest, went home, and started reading her Bible again. The song that came out of that stretch is called “Loving Life Again.”

Now she stops the show before she plays it. On July 10, at the Cowboys Music Festival in Calgary, she told the crowd how easy it is to scroll and feel behind and not good enough, and said she has quit caring what any of that thinks of her. The one opinion she still cares about, she said, belongs to someone who loves her the same on her best day and after she has sinned seven hundred times. Then she gave the crowd the ending she has been giving crowds all summer. You are loved, you are worth it, you are worthy.

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