Diamond Rio’s ‘One More Day’ Marks 25 Years As a Cultural Connector: ‘It Means Something to People’

In the fall of 2000, songwriter Steven Dale Jones (“Ten Thousand Angels,” “Singles You Up”) played a club in Atlanta the night he’d learned that Arista planned to release his song “One More Day.”

“I remember saying, ‘This is going to be a Diamond Rio single, and I hope you hear it so much you get tired of hearing it,’” Jones recalls.

Twenty-five years since the song’s Oct. 27, 2000, release, “One More Day” has been heard more than 5.5 million times on the radio, according to BMI, putting it in league with such titles as The Beatles’ “Penny Lane,” Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5,” Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven” and Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On.”

Diamond Rio has never been a band that commands constant media attention, so “One More Day” reached that level through a workman-like route, finding its place in people’s lives through its utilitarian value: the harmony-drenched chorus has ideal sing-along qualities, it’s an attractive wedding song and even more suited for funerals. The song – and the band – stealthily established a place in culture by assisting people through big personal moments, both in solitude and with company.

“I can never explain it exactly,” Diamond Rio frontman Marty Roe reflects. “You understand why in hindsight. You never expect it, never want it, but there it is, and it’s a blessing that something we did has helped people through all that. It’s a sobering thing to go, ‘Wow, that’s impactful. And I didn’t have anything to do it.’”

More accurately, everyone who had a role in “One More Day” seems to have allowed the song to find its way. Its path has proven quite timely, too, helping the country process its grief in the aftermath of a plane crash in 2001, the death of NASCAR Dale Earnhardt and the tragic loss of life in the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Even now, its 25^th anniversary coincides with developments for songwriter Bobby Tomberlin (“A Good Day To Run,” “Someday It’ll All Make Sense”): he’s been affiliated with Curb | Word Publishing for 30 years, and he just published his autobiography, I’ve Lived Country Music.

“How wild is that,” Tomberlin says. “You know, none of that was planned.”

Tomberlin wasn’t planned either. He was given up for adoption after his birth in Mobile, Ala., but was fortunate enough to be taken into a safe, nurturing home at just four months. “The first thing the foster parent told them when they picked me up in Montgomery was ‘The only time this baby cries is when the radio is turned off,’” Tomberlin notes. “So it was like I was consumed with music from the very beginning.”

Tomberlin got into radio, and when he picked up a gig at WLAY Muscle Shoals, he met Jones, a loan officer at a local bank, on his second day in town. A decade later, both of them had relocated in Nashville, and in late-1998, Tomberlin was missing some loved ones during the holidays. He wrote part of an opening verse, concluding it with a wish for “one more day with you.” The next day, he presented it to Jones at a writing appointment, and Jones immediately linked it to a three-note melody he’d been carrying that fit the “One More Day” title. Jones shifted from his usual guitar to piano, a move that forced him to keep the song simple.

They finished it that day, and Jones turned in a quick demo, and got a quick response. The Clark Family Experience put it on hold, though they let it go a short time later. Alabama considered it for about three days, then Mark Wills, and finally it got pitched to Brooks & Dunn, though Ronnie Dunn thought it sounded like it was best-suited for Diamond Rio.

The band heard it on the bus among a slew of potential songs, and they were fatigued enough from listening that nobody made a big deal about it. Although they all quietly agreed it was a song they should take it seriously.

“There was none of this ‘We know it’s going to be a hit,’” keyboardist Dan Truman suggests. “There was none of this super-excited stuff that you hear these stories about. It’s so subtle, and it’s so simple, but we were all luckily in agreement: ‘Let’s put that one on hold.’”

They developed their own simple treatment – nothing flashy, but enough to take advantage of their trademark, bluegrass-tinged harmonies and Jimmy Olander’s double-bender guitar. And they played in communal spirit, mixing some unison riffs with tradeoffs in the background: Gene Johnson’s mandolin flowed into Truman’s piano into Olander’s guitar so gracefully that it felt like one musician was playing all the parts.

“One More Day” was not a first choice for a single. But when RCA Music Group Nashville president Joe Galante played new music at a meeting in Los Angeles, a woman in the room sent him a note suggesting that he present that song. The response was so overwhelming that the label changed plans and released it quickly. Radio programmers reacted similarly – many added it into rotation early, even though it wasn’t the standard uptempo song that broadcasters routinely seek.

“We really didn’t hear a whole lot about, ‘Oh, it’s getting great spins,’” Roe recalls. “It was more about how it affected them. And that was different – never [happened] before or since.”

At KZLA Los Angeles, personality Shawn Parr told listeners before playing it for the first time that hearing “One More Day” had inspired him to shuffle his schedule and have lunch with his son. Country radio responded. So did syndicated adult contemporary host Delilah, who ultimately put it in rotation on her national show. “One More Day” swelled to No. 6 on the Billboard AC chart.

When 10 people associated with the Oklahoma State basketball team died in a plane crash near Boulder, Colo., on Jan. 27, 2001, KXXY Oklahoma City remixed the song – then positioned at No. 17 on Hot Country Songs – with audio related to the tragedy to pay tribute to the victims. Three weeks later, it was at No. 8 when NASCAR driver Dale Earnhardt died during the Daytona 500. It got another remix with related audio, which Roe heard in the cab on the way from Earnhardt’s funeral on Feb. 22. “One More Day” subsequently surged to No. 1 on the March 10 list, then returned to the pole position on March 31. At that year’s Country Music Association Awards, video provided another cultural connection with images from 9/11 playing behind the band as it performed live. The group members, including drummer Brian Prout and bassist Dana Williams, couldn’t view the screen behind them, but they saw the emotional response in the artists on the front row, including Shania Twain and Tim McGraw.

They saw it in their concerts, too. People brought posters with the names of friends and family who died and placed them in the vacant seat next to them. The group sometimes struggled to get through “One More Day” on stage.

“For eight or 10 years after that song was out, I swear over half the audience was in tears,” Truman says. “I was so moved by that, I probably cried two or three dozen times while we played it, watching other people.”

Diamond Rio played it for a memorial again during a 2010 funeral in Mississippi for 11 workers who died in the Deepwater Horizon oil rig explosion.

BMI has since declared “One More Day” a standard. Tomberlin earned a greater appreciation for it when his mother died in 2020, and again when he lost his father in January. He decided to write I’ve Lived Country Music after that, and his understanding of the song’s significance grew.

“Writing this book, I’ve gone back, and I’ve read old emails and messages from people, and, of course, I still get them from people where the song has connected with them and helped them heal,” he says. “I’ve sung it at many memorials, but I don’t know that I realized how big of an impact the song has had on so many people.”

Diamond Rio certainly does. Fans have repeatedly shared their stories of grief and regret during meet and greets, and the members had to learn how to hear those stories, offer support, but not carry the weight of all that hurt with them. The group has seen first-hand reaction 25 more years since the release of “One More Day,” and they continue to appreciate the power that’s possible in music.

“You got to be careful what you record,” Williams says, “because these songs are a little bit more than just three minutes on the radio. It means something to people.”