Someone, can’t remember who, once said that Van Morrison was the only musician to have invented a personal emotional equivalent of the blues. Almost right, but not quite.
Ray Wylie Hubbard is an original cosmic cowboy who got lost for a few decades only to be born-again as a near holy man. He grabbed hold of the craft and took it somewhere different, right up to the edge of the blues, and in the process invented his own damn personal emotional equivalent.
Austin Songwriter remembers him at the Alliance Wagon Yard on a rainy Friday night in 1975. He had travelled a hard and wild road from his boyhood in Oklahoma through Dallas, New Mexico, and now downtown Austin. Along the way he picked up a few bad habits, but he held that audience like a sunset holds a gaze.
Hubbard was one of the lesser known outlaws, and he made no friends in the music machines of Nashville or Los Angeles. He fought for the recognition he deserved but refused to compromise, and as a result his immense talent was little known outside of Texas. For those reasons, and probably a hundred others, he started to disappear into the dark recesses of the times, and by the late eighties he was almost forgotten.
Hubbard was not the only impaired genius stumbling around the stages of Austin in those days, and he would certainly not be the last. Some never stopped stumbling, but Ray Wylie eventually cinched up his jeans, dusted off his soul, and came storming back with a lot more stories to tell, a lot more music to write.
In 1987 Hubbard stopped the drugs and alcohol, and was propped up by none other than Stevie Ray Vaughan when his will got weak. He pursued guitar lessons to take his talents to a new level, and in 1992, eight years after his last album, he self-released the incredible Lost Train of Thought. He has continued with a string of records that are increasingly breathtaking in depth, form and spirit, and he shows no signs of slowing down. Like some old-time evangelist run out of town, Hubbard has a new church, a new congregation, and a new suit of clothes. Katy bar the door!
Ray Wylie Hubbard speaks pure truth and hard-earned wisdom, and you cannot listen to him without learning something about yourself. A hint of New Mexico, a bit of Dallas and a lot of Oklahoma and the Texas Hill Country. You will certainly hear the blues. The front porch kind, played with calloused fingers on weathered guitars. You will also hear a bit of Ray Wylie in the songs of worthy young writers, and their songs are better for it. He is grizzled and his music is gritty, but he is a messenger and his words are true and real.
Three things to know about Ray Wylie Hubbard: (1) he attended high school in Dallas with B. W. Stevenson and Michael Martin Murphey, (2) his seventies band, the Cowboy Twinkies, invented an early version of cowpunk, and (3) in his early years he was the prince of the Outpost music club in Red River, New Mexico.