Introduction:

Holding My Own, released in 1992, is a country music song by the iconic American country singer George Strait. It served as the title track for Strait’s twelfth studio album of the same name. The songwriting credits for Holding My Own go to Dean Dillon and Pamela Belford, two established names in the country music industry. Dillon, a renowned songwriter, has penned numerous hits for various country artists, including Kenny Rogers and Alabama. Belford, though not as prolific, has also collaborated with Dillon on other songs.

Holding My Own was produced by both George Strait himself and Jimmy Bowen. Bowen, a legendary record producer, played a pivotal role in shaping the careers of many country music stars throughout the 1970s, 1 980s, and 1990s. His production credits include artists like Reba McEntire, Alan Jackson, and Brad Paisley. Strait’s decision to co-produce the album reflected his growing influence and creative control within the music industry.

Holding My Own was a commercially successful song, achieving platinum certification. While it didn’t top the charts, it did enjoy a respectable chart performance. Holding My Own reached number 14 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart, staying on the charts for 20 weeks. This performance helped solidify Strait’s position as a major force in country music during the early 1990s.

The critical reception for Holding My Own was positive. Reviewers praised Strait’s signature vocals and the song’s relatable themes. Holding My Own perfectly captured the classic country music style that Strait had become synonymous with. The song resonated with fans due to its poignant exploration of love, loss, and resilience.

Video:

Lyrics:

There are people who don’t know meWho must think I’ve got it madeFrom all outward appearancesI guess it looks that wayI’ve got good friends and familyThey let me know they careI got a job to keep me goingAnd a car to get me there

I’m holding my ownBut I’d rather be holding youI can make it aloneBut not like I made it with youWithout you hereThis house just ain’t no homeHow long can I go on holding my own

There’s brand new show that’s playingAt the movies down the streetI’ll probably go there after workThen stop somewhere to eatI’ve got cable on my TVAnd I’ll leave her on all nightWhile I dose off to sleepAnd dream that I’m alright

I’m holding my ownBut I’d rather be holding youI can make it aloneBut not like I made it with youWithout you hereThis house just ain’t no homeHow long can I go on holding my own

How long can I go on holding my own

You Missed

LAS VEGAS STOOD SILENT THE NIGHT ALAN JACKSON AND CARRIE UNDERWOOD SANG AS IF EVERY SECOND MATTERED. The arena fell into a hush when Carrie Underwood stepped forward into the light, her gaze settling on Alan Jackson seated calmly at center stage. There was no elaborate introduction, no swelling fanfare—only a stillness so profound it seemed to press against the walls. Then the opening chords of “Remember When” drifted through the room, and the atmosphere quietly transformed. Carrie’s luminous, soaring vocals intertwined with Alan’s rich, weathered baritone—a voice shaped by decades of open highways, heartbreak, faith, and unvarnished honesty. He didn’t need to rise from his chair to captivate the audience. Each lyric he delivered felt deeply rooted in lived experience. Every phrase carried the gravity of memory. What unfolded was more than a duet. It was a bridge between eras. Two artists from different generations, united by a shared devotion to country music’s storytelling tradition. The performance was restrained, almost fragile. No spectacle. No excess. Just authenticity. In the crowd, hands trembled. Some listeners closed their eyes, absorbing every note. Others watched without blinking, unwilling to lose even a fleeting second. The moment wasn’t built on volume or theatrics—it was built on truth. As the final note dissolved into the air, the silence that followed lingered—heavy, reverent, and reluctant. It felt as though the room itself was holding on, aware that something rare and irreplaceable had just passed through it.