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Introduction

“That’s Important to Me” isn’t just a song—it’s a heartfelt reminder of the simple joys and values that often get overshadowed in the rush of life. Sung by Joey Martin Feek, this ballad is a deeply personal expression of what truly matters. It feels like sitting on a porch with a dear friend as they pour their soul out, sharing the building blocks of their world—love, family, faith, and the beauty of the everyday.

What makes this song so special is its authenticity. The lyrics are a gentle tapestry of life’s precious moments, from “clean sheets on the line” to “a good cup of coffee.” Joey’s tender, angelic voice gives the song an unmatched sincerity, like she’s singing straight from her soul to yours. It’s about stripping life down to its essentials, focusing on what fills your heart rather than what clutters your mind.

Written by Joey Feek, her husband Rory, and Tim Johnson, the song is deeply rooted in their real-life values. It’s less about chasing grandeur and more about cherishing the quiet, meaningful connections that form the fabric of a life well-lived. For Joey + Rory fans, it’s a perfect encapsulation of their grounded, faith-filled approach to both music and life.

The song’s melody, gentle and soothing, mirrors its themes of comfort and simplicity. Listening to it feels like being wrapped in a warm hug, especially when life feels overwhelming. It’s a love letter to staying true to yourself and prioritizing what brings you joy and peace.

For anyone who has ever felt a tug at their heart to slow down and take stock of what truly matters, “That’s Important to Me” is more than a song—it’s a quiet anthem of gratitude

Video

Lyrics

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 me

Opening the windows and letting in air
Holding hands when we’re saying a prayer
That’s important to me
Yeah, that’s important to me

Having somebody to share my life
Loving my husband and being a wife
And the very best mother I can be
That’s important to me

Telling the truth and being real
Feeding my family a home cooked meal
That’s important to me
That’s important to me

Planting 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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SEVEN YEARS AFTER LOSING HIS SON, CRAIG MORGAN WALKED BACK ONTO THE OPRY STAGE IN UNIFORM AND REJOINED THE ARMY AT 59. Craig Morgan had already spent seventeen years in the Army and Army Reserve before country music gave him another life. He had served with the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions. He had been a staff sergeant, a fire support specialist, a paratrooper, and a man who understood service long before he understood red carpets. Then came the records, the Opry membership, the tours, and the songs that made him a familiar voice on country radio. He had left military service three years short of twenty. Then July 29, 2023 came. Morgan walked onto the Grand Ole Opry stage in uniform. The crowd thought they were there for another country show. Instead, officers followed him out. Before a sold-out room, Craig Morgan raised his hand and was sworn back into the U.S. Army Reserve. He was fifty-nine. The process had not been symbolic. He needed a waiver. He had to pass physical tests. He had to prove that the singer people knew from “That’s What I Love About Sunday” and “Redneck Yacht Club” could still meet the standards required of a soldier. The Opry made the moment heavier. It was one of the last places he had spent time with his son Jerry before the boy drowned in 2016. Craig later said that after losing Jerry, every place carried a different meaning. The stage was no longer just a stage. It was a room filled with memory. Then Morgan sang “Soldier.” He was not returning because country music had failed him. He was returning because a part of his life had never felt finished.

THE HANDS THAT HELPED BUILD ALABAMA’S SOUND STARTED BETRAYING HIM YEARS BEFORE THE FINAL GOODBYE. JEFF COOK KEPT PLAYING AS LONG AS HE COULD. Jeff Cook was there before Alabama became a country machine. He was not hired into a finished legend. He helped build it from Fort Payne blood, family harmony, and the kind of stage work that came long before awards started stacking up. Randy Owen had the lead voice. Teddy Gentry had the bass and the bloodline. Jeff brought something restless and bright — guitar, fiddle, keyboards, mandolin, banjo, whatever the song needed. They were not just three men standing in front of studio players. They sounded like a band because they were one. Jeff’s instruments helped give Alabama its color — the fiddle lines, the guitar fire, the country-rock lift that made “Mountain Music,” “Tennessee River,” “Dixieland Delight,” and “If You’re Gonna Play in Texas” feel like they had been raised on both front porches and amplifiers. Then his body began turning against him. Jeff Cook was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2012. For years, most fans did not know. The band kept moving. The songs kept coming. The man who had spent his life making music with his hands was now fighting a disease that attacked movement, balance, coordination, and control. In 2017, he made it public. There was no dramatic speech that fixed anything. Parkinson’s does not care how many records a band has sold. It does not care how many fans know the words. It comes for the simple things first — the reach, the grip, the timing, the ease of doing what once felt natural. Jeff kept going as long as he could. By 2018, he stepped away from regular touring. Alabama continued with his blessing, but the shape had changed. The songs were still there. Randy and Teddy were still there. The crowds still sang. But one corner of the old triangle was missing from the nightly picture. That is the part fans felt without always saying it. A band can keep performing after illness changes the lineup, but it cannot pretend nothing changed. Jeff Cook had helped make Alabama’s sound feel like home for millions of people. When he could no longer stand inside that sound every night, the music carried a quieter ache. On November 7, 2022, Jeff died at his home in Destin, Florida. He was 73. The headlines said co-founder. Guitarist. Fiddler. Country Music Hall of Fame member. All true. But Alabama fans knew something simpler. The hands that once made the fiddle jump, the guitar ring, and the band feel whole had finally gone still.

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SEVEN YEARS AFTER LOSING HIS SON, CRAIG MORGAN WALKED BACK ONTO THE OPRY STAGE IN UNIFORM AND REJOINED THE ARMY AT 59. Craig Morgan had already spent seventeen years in the Army and Army Reserve before country music gave him another life. He had served with the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions. He had been a staff sergeant, a fire support specialist, a paratrooper, and a man who understood service long before he understood red carpets. Then came the records, the Opry membership, the tours, and the songs that made him a familiar voice on country radio. He had left military service three years short of twenty. Then July 29, 2023 came. Morgan walked onto the Grand Ole Opry stage in uniform. The crowd thought they were there for another country show. Instead, officers followed him out. Before a sold-out room, Craig Morgan raised his hand and was sworn back into the U.S. Army Reserve. He was fifty-nine. The process had not been symbolic. He needed a waiver. He had to pass physical tests. He had to prove that the singer people knew from “That’s What I Love About Sunday” and “Redneck Yacht Club” could still meet the standards required of a soldier. The Opry made the moment heavier. It was one of the last places he had spent time with his son Jerry before the boy drowned in 2016. Craig later said that after losing Jerry, every place carried a different meaning. The stage was no longer just a stage. It was a room filled with memory. Then Morgan sang “Soldier.” He was not returning because country music had failed him. He was returning because a part of his life had never felt finished.

THE HANDS THAT HELPED BUILD ALABAMA’S SOUND STARTED BETRAYING HIM YEARS BEFORE THE FINAL GOODBYE. JEFF COOK KEPT PLAYING AS LONG AS HE COULD. Jeff Cook was there before Alabama became a country machine. He was not hired into a finished legend. He helped build it from Fort Payne blood, family harmony, and the kind of stage work that came long before awards started stacking up. Randy Owen had the lead voice. Teddy Gentry had the bass and the bloodline. Jeff brought something restless and bright — guitar, fiddle, keyboards, mandolin, banjo, whatever the song needed. They were not just three men standing in front of studio players. They sounded like a band because they were one. Jeff’s instruments helped give Alabama its color — the fiddle lines, the guitar fire, the country-rock lift that made “Mountain Music,” “Tennessee River,” “Dixieland Delight,” and “If You’re Gonna Play in Texas” feel like they had been raised on both front porches and amplifiers. Then his body began turning against him. Jeff Cook was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2012. For years, most fans did not know. The band kept moving. The songs kept coming. The man who had spent his life making music with his hands was now fighting a disease that attacked movement, balance, coordination, and control. In 2017, he made it public. There was no dramatic speech that fixed anything. Parkinson’s does not care how many records a band has sold. It does not care how many fans know the words. It comes for the simple things first — the reach, the grip, the timing, the ease of doing what once felt natural. Jeff kept going as long as he could. By 2018, he stepped away from regular touring. Alabama continued with his blessing, but the shape had changed. The songs were still there. Randy and Teddy were still there. The crowds still sang. But one corner of the old triangle was missing from the nightly picture. That is the part fans felt without always saying it. A band can keep performing after illness changes the lineup, but it cannot pretend nothing changed. Jeff Cook had helped make Alabama’s sound feel like home for millions of people. When he could no longer stand inside that sound every night, the music carried a quieter ache. On November 7, 2022, Jeff died at his home in Destin, Florida. He was 73. The headlines said co-founder. Guitarist. Fiddler. Country Music Hall of Fame member. All true. But Alabama fans knew something simpler. The hands that once made the fiddle jump, the guitar ring, and the band feel whole had finally gone still.

JOHNNIE JOHNSON SAT DOWN AT THE PIANO IN 2003, AND THE KENTUCKY HEADHUNTERS PUT THEIR OWN ALBUM ON HOLD. THREE DAYS OF MUSIC WENT INTO A BOX — AND DIDN’T COME OUT UNTIL TEN YEARS AFTER JOHNNIE WAS GONE. The Kentucky Headhunters were supposed to be working on *Soul*. By then, they were no longer the new long-haired band that had shocked Nashville with *Pickin’ on Nashville*. The awards, the double platinum record, and the first big wave were behind them. What stayed was the part that had always been there — Kentucky boys with country, Southern rock, blues, and bar-band grease all mixed into the same hands. Then Johnnie Johnson walked in. He was not just another guest musician. He was the piano man tied to Chuck Berry’s early rock and roll records, the kind of player who could make a band stop chasing a plan and start listening to the room. The Headhunters had brought him in for the *Soul* sessions. But once he sat down, the session changed shape. They put *Soul* aside. For three days, they played with Johnnie. Songs came fast. Blues tunes, rough takes, live-room energy. Not polished like a label meeting. More like a band and an old master catching something before it disappeared. When it was over, the tapes were not treated like the next release. They were put away. Richard Young later kept them under his bed. Johnnie Johnson died in 2005. The music stayed hidden until his wife Frances asked about those recordings. In 2015, The Kentucky Headhunters finally released them as *Meet Me in Bluesland*. It was not just another late-career album. It was three days from 2003, pulled out from under a bed, with Johnnie’s piano still alive in the room.