Alan Jackson – This time

Introduction

Released on March 4, 2008, as part of Alan Jackson’s fifteenth studio album Good Time, “This Time” carries the same classic sincerity and down-to-earth warmth that defined his best-known hits . This album notably marked Jackson’s return to his neotraditional country roots and was his first entirely self-written record since collaborating with Alison Krauss in 2006.

“This Time” explores the emotional terrain of love deepened by time and experience—a reflective ballad in which Jackson’s baritone voice vocalizes both the scars and the strength found in long-term commitment . The song subtly blends storytelling with introspection, a hallmark of Jackson’s songwriting style, as he lays bare the complexities of emotional growth and resilience in relationships.

Musically, the track features a gentle backdrop of steel guitar and acoustic arrangement, delivering the clean, warm production fans have come to expect from Jackson. The album’s production, led by long-time collaborator Keith Stegall, underscores Jackson’s intention to go back to the roots of country music, emphasizing authenticity over modern gloss .

Although not released as a single, “This Time” serves as a deeper cut within Good Time, reflecting a more mature side of Jackson’s artistry—one that treasures the everyday and the enduring . It fits naturally alongside fan favorites like “Sissy’s Song” and “I Still Like Bologna,” adding emotional breadth to the album.

In short, “This Time” showcases Alan Jackson’s seasoned storytelling—his ability to illuminate genuine human emotion with simplicity, sincerity, and deep country roots. It reminds listeners that love, like fine craftsmanship, only blooms richer with age.

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THE NIGHT COUNTRY MUSIC HELD ITS BREATH: Alan Jackson Walked Onstage… and Time Seemed to Stop. There were no blazing pyrotechnics, no theatrical farewell designed to soften the truth everyone in the room could feel. When Alan Jackson stepped into the light, it wasn’t the entrance of a star ending a tour—it felt like a man carrying decades of stories onto one last stretch of stage. The crowd roared, but beneath the cheers there was a fragile silence, the kind that comes when people realize a moment will never come again. Each song landed heavier than the last. The melodies were the same ones fans had carried through weddings, funerals, long drives, and quiet nights—but now every note felt like it was slipping through their fingers. You could see it in the faces in the audience: some smiling, some wiping tears, many simply standing still, as if afraid to blink and miss something sacred. What made the night unforgettable wasn’t the setlist or the performance—it was the unspoken understanding. This wasn’t a farewell tour in the usual sense. It felt more like standing at the edge of a long, winding road, watching the sun set behind it, knowing the journey mattered more than the ending. And when the lights dimmed, there was no grand goodbye. Just the echo of a voice that had carried generations, fading gently into the dark—leaving behind the haunting realization that some endings don’t announce themselves… they simply arrive, and leave your heart quieter than before.