Confounding and eccentric, Willis Alan Ramsey thundered onto the scene in 1972 with the release of Willis Alan Ramsey, a rollicking, joyful, sexy masterpiece that forever changed the lives of critics and hippies alike. In the forty years since, he has been promising, but not delivering, his next big thing. Many of his disciples have tired of the wait, but we cannot forget his glorious impact on their youth. So they wait.

Born in Alabama and raised in Dallas’ toney Highland Park, Ramsey finished high school in the tumult of 1969 and hit Austin at the beginning of the progressive country movement. There were no blueprints or scripts for the magic that was being created at that time by the likes of Willie Nelson, Guy Clark, Jerry Jeff Walker, B. W. Stevenson and others, and Ramsey’s completely original work was a major influence on the scene. Maybe more folk than country, Willis Alan could be found at as many coffee houses as honky-tonks.

Willis’ greatest achievement was to paint a perfect picture of young love as so many of us were right smack dab in the middle of it. “Angel Eyes” is the story of every anonymous boy who wakes up one day to find himself with the girl of his dreams, and “Spider John” warns that she could disappear just as quickly. Maybe Ramsey’s most captivating words are saved for the subject of awakening sexuality. Check out “Geraldine and the Honeybee”, “Watermelon Man” and “Satin Sheets” for his almost innocent musings on the mysteries of carnal love.

Ramsey has done some serious adventuring since 1972, marrying fellow songwriter Alison Rogers in 1991 and living in such exotic places as Colorado, Nashville and England. Yours truly had the good fortune to catch the newlyweds perform together at a mystical oasis in the New Mexico desert, and the magic and memories of seventies Austin came flooding right back.

Find Willis Alan Ramsey, immerse yourself, and call it a day.

Three things you should know about Willis Alan Ramsey: (1) for a bittersweet hint of what we’ve been missing all these years, find a video performance of his unreleased “Boystown”, (2) his syrupy but delightful “Muskrat Candlelight” was covered by America and (regrettably) Captain & Tenille, and (3) his theoretical second release, Gentilly, has been almost ready since 2003.

If you love Willis Alan Ramsey, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out BettySoo, Michael Fracasso and Patty Griffin.




Stories abound about Billy Joe Shaver, the tragedies endured, the stands taken, the paths chosen. Suffice to say that there is not an insincere bone in the body of this man. A son of Corsicana and Waco, Texas, Shaver’s songs leap straight from the heart and speak to those parts of us that need some dignity, some justice. This is poetry straight from the black soil of East Texas, earthy and real.

The word outlaw has a bit of a nefarious meaning. To the Nashville establishment in the early seventies, it was tagged to a number of country and western artists who weren’t as welcome on the Grand Ole Opry stage as the likes of Porter Waggoner or Dolly Parton. At the helm of the “outlaw movement”, as these artists came to be known, were Texans Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and the lesser known Shaver…maybe the truest outlaw of them all.

The trio’s work, and more importantly their attitudes and actions, led to a minor exodus out of Nashville and into Texas, where they found a much better reception for their heartfelt music and their wicked ways.

“It’s all right to call me an outlaw, but it’s hard to be an outlaw when you ‘ain’t wanted”, Shaver said in an interview. “No, back in those days when we first started that movement, it was more like outcast than outlaw. They didn’t want us in there.”

For his part, Shaver stayed out of the spotlight, likely not by choice. Rather, his penchant was for crafting indelible, gruff and spare country songs that bled authenticity. The kind of stuff that didn’t get played on the Opry stage too often.

These songs eventually got the attention of Jennings after he was confronted by Shaver in a Nashville studio. Billy Joe famously warned Jennings to listen to his music or get his “ass whupped”, and Jennings wisely chose to listen. The result was Honky Tonk Heroes, Waylon’s 1973 album of Shaver’s songs that ushered in the outlaw movement, instilling a more rock ’n’ roll approach to country, and influencing a slew of artists then, such as David Allan Coe and Kris Kristofferson, and now, such as Hank Williams III and Wayne Hancock.

Yet, for all it has accomplished, outlaw country has yet to be accepted by the Nashville elite, and that’s just fine with Shaver. “They were afraid we’d mess up what they had and they had something that was good,” Shaver added, “but it wasn’t as good as what we brought to the table. We were probably ten or fifteen years ahead. They claimed it was rock ‘n’ roll; it wasn’t. It was just kick ass country, the way we play down here in Texas.”

Shaver stands as one of country music’s true originals that is still actively writing, his latest release being the highly acclaimed Long in the Tooth, an album which has shed a brighter light on the honky-tonk hero. The album’s opener is a duet with Nelson, aptly titled “Hard to Be an Outlaw.” It’s the perfect frosting on the cake that is Shaver’s hard fought career, one that was never ideal in terms of development. However, he’s still standing and he remains the epitome of Texas music… independent, ornery as hell, and steadfast. Country as it gets, in all the right ways.

Three things you should know about Billy Joe Shaver: (1) at a young age he lost two fingers working in a sawmill, which shaped the way he plays guitar; (2) Shaver’s son, Eddy, performed alongside his father up until a tragic heroin overdose in 2000, and (3) his on again/off again wife Brenda refused to let Billy Joe play on Honky Tonk Heroes, telling Jennings “He don’t want to be on no outlaw album. He don’t want to go back to that kind of life.”

If you love Billy Joe Shaver, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Guy Clark, Mary Gauthier and Joe Ely.




Ana Egge’s voice pulls from some deep well, somber and strong, calming but bracing. With roots in North Dakota, New Mexico, Austin, and now Brooklyn, she writes powerful songs that are inhabited by the ghosts of a wide swath of old and new America.

Ana’s free spirit was fostered from an early age, growing up on the North Dakota prairie and the daughter of “back-to-the-land” hippie parents. She learned the art of adventure through the sites of a gun and experienced the pulse of a motorcycle at the tender age of five. Her father was a wheat farmer, her mother a teacher, but their wayward spirits soon had them splitting time between the prairie life and a hot springs commune in New Mexico, driving back and forth in a 1969 Dodge van.

Soon they gave up the vastness of the prairie for the spirituality of southern New Mexico, and moved south to open an alternative school. Ana’s days were filled roaming the mountains barefoot and soaking up the banter of a host of eclectic personalities. It was a world that sparked imagination and fueled her natural creativity.

Ana’s musical spirit was stoked by listening to an errant cassette of Iris Dement and a stint in her high school bluegrass band. Egge has since expanded her range of instruments to guitar, mandolin, bottleneck slide and piano. And, of course, there’s that voice.

She has drawn comparisons to such luminaries as Emmylou Harris, Aimee Mann, Nanci Griffith and Patty Griffin, as well as sharing the stage with the likes of John Prine, Lucinda Williams and Sinead O’Conner, and collaborating with Steve Earle (who produced her Bad Blood), and Ron Sexsmith.

Ana is one of those rare souls who is completely comfortable in her own skin. She remains true to her roots while connecting deeply with those fortunate to experience her music. Captivating. Alluring. Ancient water for parched souls.

Three things you should know about Ana Egge: (1) she currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, (2) she studied under a luthier and built her own guitar, which she has been playing since she was fifteen, and (3) she was born in Saskatchewan, Canada, also the home of Buffy Sainte-Marie.

If you love Ana Egge, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Carrie Rodriguez, Will T. Massey and Kelly Willis.




The songs of Mickey Newbury came from a place of serenity and sadness, beautiful recollections of the ones we left behind, pretty portraits of love’s bittersweet residue. He pulls the memories to the surface and leads us through the pain, ultimately to a place of resignation and quiet joy. There is no anger in these songs, and little regret, just dusty gratitude for the love he had and the life he lived.

Newbury came from a different time. Born in Houston in 1940, there were no footsteps to follow, no radio folksters to awaken or inspire him. He was a natural poet, with something inside of him that had to get out. As a teenager he locked himself in his room to dream, write poetry and learn to play a wooden guitar.

At nineteen he joined the Air Force and spent a few years in England, then returned to the States to become a songwriter. He chased gigs to showcase his work in Texas, Tennessee and Louisiana, living in his car and working the shrimp boats when he needed money. He ended up in Nashville and, in 1964, signed with Acuff-Rose. Now a full-fledged contract songwriter with Nashville credentials, Newbury honed his craft in the days before labels and wholesale commercialization, and soon found his songs being recorded by the disparate likes of Don Gibson, Tom Jones, the First Edition, Eddy Arnold and Solomon Burke.

He released his first album of his own work, Harlequin Memories, in 1969, married soon thereafter, and produced three classic albums in the coming years, including Looks Like Rain, Frisco Mabel Joy and Heaven Help the Child. These were his finest songs, utterly original and compelling work that was mostly overlooked in the cultural frenzy of the late sixties. But other writers were listening. You can still hear him in their songs.

In 1973, having built a respectable stream of songwriting royalties, Mickey and his wife Susan moved their family to her hometown in Oregon. He continued touring and, in 1980, was inducted into the Nashville Songwriter’s Hall of Fame. He decided to take a break from the business and focused on his family for a few years. Imagine a Texas songwriter living in Oregon, looking like a cross between Robert Mitchum and Pat Boone, playing golf in double-knit pants.

He came back strong in the nineties and produced a wealth of more fine work before passing away in 2002.  Newbury released more than twenty albums over a long career, changing the course of folk and country music alike.

Three things you should know about Mickey Newbury: (1) country DJ Ralph Emery called him the first “hippie-cowboy”, (2) he convinced Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt to pursue songwriting careers in Nashville, and (3) Elvis Presley famously covered “An American Trilogy”, Newbury’s arrangement of classic American folk anthems.

If you love Mickey Newbury, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Chip Taylor, Vince Bell and Will T. Massey.




Guy Clark, who left this world on May 16, 2016, was one of the Texas songwriters who made the path and led the way. His work embodies all that is good about “progressive” country music. Truth and passion. Storytelling. Stories worth telling.

Born in deep West Texas, Clark was the son of a country lawyer, a good and steady man he celebrated in “The Randall Knife”, possibly the most compelling song a son has ever written about his father. Guy hit the road to find the world of songwriting, living over the years in Los Angeles, Austin and ultimately Nashville, where he worked as a contract writer and carried on with the likes of Kris Kristofferson, Mickey Newbury and Townes Van Zandt. He stayed there for the rest of his life. It was, as he said, “where the business was”.

Early on he met the love of his life, a lovely painter from Atlanta, Texas by the name of Susanna. They were together, through thick and thin, till she passed in 2012. Listen to “My Favorite Picture of You”, from his last album of the same name, and hear eternal love put to words.

Van Zandt was a life-long friend of both Guy and Susanna, and they weathered their wild lives together until Townes’ death in 1997.

Clark’s poetry is best demonstrated by his first and seminal album, 1975’s Old No. 1. He was a master at taking us back to the stories of simple folk forging lives in hard places with their backs, hands, and hearts. He was also known for the work he did to supplement his earnings as a songwriter, driving heavy equipment, shaping wood in his workshop, crafting guitars. Listen to “Boats to Build”, a testament to honest craft and proud self-reliance, in which he urges us to turn away from the noise and fear and put your hands to the work that you love. Everything will be all right.

Clark practiced his art for over forty years and was a steady friend and invaluable mentor to those who followed his path. Folks like Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell, Robert Earl Keen and others gathered often around the Clarks’ kitchen table to drink, listen and learn.

Guy Clark was a physical presence, tall and lanky and handsome, his eyes both mischievous and wary. When he spoke the results were equal parts wisdom and silliness, always profane. He was one of those giant souls who gave intelligence and dignity to the songwriter’s art, and he makes us proud to call this music our hearts’ home. The one-woman man, the gentle philosopher, the natural poet of simple presence and strength.

A very tall Texan, and we miss him dearly.

Three things to know about Guy Clark: (1) he was instantly recognizable by his denim shirt and big turquoise ring, (2) he was often accompanied on stage and on record by the great Verlon Thompson, and (3) he first learned to sing in Spanish.

If you love Guy Clark, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Townes Van Zandt, Steve Earle and Mary Gauthier.




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.

If you love Ray Wylie Hubbard, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Joe Ely, Mary Gauthier and Steve Earle.




Following the 1986 release of Guitar Town, Steve Earle was hailed as the savior of country music. Three decades later, and despite personal detours that would have taken a lesser man down, he just might have pulled it off.

Not without some help, though.

Raised outside San Antonio, Earle has done time in prison and in Nashville, and now muscles his way around the streets of New York City. Some sort of hillbilly renaissance man, his impact on songwriting and country music cannot be overstated. This man has advanced the notion of folk music into places never before imagined. Consciousness and conscience. Every melody fresh, every thought committed, every argument sound. Earle is a seer and a flawed messiah, and there is absolutely no telling where he will take us next.

In the early eighties, the country music landscape was bleak for folks intent on creating genuine country music. Steve Earle was one such artist. One that would not be dissuaded, despite Nashville’s best efforts to push him into the mainstream. Earle’s consistent resistance earned him a place in the “outlaw” territory, on the fringes of country and western proper; one foot over the rock and roll border; and a keen eye on the folk horizon.

Earle’s career is a roller coaster tale, fraught with vice, a dismal penchant for marriage and divorce and, most importantly, a gritty determination to find his place in the annals of modern music. He found that place with the aforementioned release of Guitar Town. Up to then, Earle had been somewhat successful at songwriting, his work having been recorded by the likes of Waylon Jennings, Emmylou Harris and Travis Tritt, among others. In the seventies he held down a gig as bassist for the late Guy Clark, but his recording career remained stalled. Guitar Town changed all that, ushering him in as a new school outlaw who was rewriting the rules and carving out a singular voice.

Since then, Earle has consistently continued to record: always on his own terms, never again a servant of Nashville commercialism or a follower of current trends. The pearls of his career, and there are many, include the definitive Copperhead Road and the joyous I Feel Alright, a comeback LP for Earle, fresh off drugs and productive as all get out. Ever the outlaw, Earle found himself in a more political mood with the 2002 release of Jerusalem, which contained the controversial “John Walker’s Blues.” Terraplane, released in 2015, is steeped in the blues and solid evidence that Earle is still as ornery as he is talented.

Steve Earle’s music — roughly hewn, earnest, sullen yet hopeful, resilient and triumphant — is his own. That’s an achievement not reached by the majority of artists, and it puts him the company or Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash and even his hero, Townes Van Zandt. This is directly linked to Earle’s unwavering honesty and steady pursuit of the truth via song, all of which have forever embedded his music into the hard American soil.

Three things to know about Steve Earle, (1) he has won three Grammy Awards, (2) his sister, Stacey Earle, is a singer/songwriter and (3) he has been married seven times, including twice to the same woman.

If you love Steve Earle, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Guy Clark, Eliza Gilkyson and Jason Isbell.




Few songwriters have achieved Eliza Gilkyson’s poetic soup of inventiveness, gravitas and sheer emotion. Her songs are a flowing literature of joy, regret and feminine wisdom, infused with stubborn morality and deep conscience.

The entertainment industry was always a part of Glikyson’s life, and music was always in her blood. The daughter of singer and songwriter Terry Gilkyson, perhaps best known for his sixties work with Disney, and sister of Tony Gilkyson, who played guitar for Lone Justice and X, Eliza grew up in the hustle and bustle of Hollywood.

Tragedy struck when her mother was killed in an automobile accident. Still in her teens, Eliza sought refuge from the pain in the rural southwest. Trading cosmopolitan for communal, worlds away from all she had known in urban California, she began to hone her life’s vision in the wilds of New Mexico.

In 1969 Gilkyson released her first album, Eliza ’69, then took a decade off to focus on raising a family. She worked on her songwriting, and worked at healing old wounds, in the spiritual solitude of the deserts and mountains, performing occasionally in bars and other small venues. She also studied the plight of Native Americans and became their passionate advocate in word and song.

In 1981, Eliza found her way to Austin, where she spent seven impactful years, helping to mold and shape the bourgeoning music scene. Although she later moved back to New Mexico, by way of Europe and Hollywood, Gilkyson remains an important Austin songwriter and citizen. She is an active member of several political and Austin environmental organizations, including Save Our Springs and 5604 Manor.

Gilkyson’s musical resume is impressive. She has released nineteen solo albums to date, and has collaborated on others with folks like Ian Matthews, Ad Vanderveen, John Gorka and Lucy Kaplansky. She has shared the stage with the likes of Patty Griffin, Mary Chapin Carpenter, and Dan Fogelberg, and her songs have been covered by Ray Wylie Hubbard, Joan Baez, Bob Geldof, Tom Rush and Rosanne Cash. She has appeared on NPR, Austin City Limits, Sirius XM Radio, PBS and prime time TV. She has two Grammy nominations, was inducted into the Austin Music Hall of Fame and the Texas Music Hall of Fame, and has received too many other awards to mention.

Eliza Gilkyson is a willowy beauty with a naked soul and a sharp tongue, and her catalog is deep, diverse and stunning. Her life is a book, each chapter taking us on a journey of self discovery, encouraging us to ask hard questions, challenging us to search for our deepest meaning. Music has coursed through her veins since those early Hollywood days, and our world is a better place for it.

Three things to know about Eliza: (1) she earned her first Grammy nomination at age fifty-five, after she had become a grandmother, (2) her son, Cisco Ryder, has produced two of her albums, and (3) she often hosts songwriting workshops at her home near Taos, New Mexico.

If you love Eliza Gilkyson, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Mary Gauthier, Eric Taylor and Lucinda Williams.

A|S Series (November 23, 2016)




Eric Taylor’s voice sounds a little like God’s might, starting off low and considered and ending up booming and insistent, as though he were speaking a truth that no one else had yet discovered. One of those intimidating kind of guys, big and smart, singing and staring you down, even when his eyes are on the floor. It is almost certain that this man’s mind stretches to places that are just beyond the reach of the rest of us, places of darkness, but also places of inspiration.

As a boy, Taylor was a natural student of the ways of people, particularly drawn to the plight of the black community in Atlanta. He took to their culture and was soon enough learning their music, playing bass in a succession of soul and R&B bands, often the only white person on the stage. By the early seventies he headed to California, “like everyone else”, but only made it to Houston. There he was welcomed into the songwriting scene, perfecting his craft at places like Anderson Fair and Sand Mountain with folks like Townes Van Zandt, Guy Clark, Nanci Griffith and Lyle Lovett. He also found work at the Family Band Club, and met and played with blues legends Lightnin’ Hopkins, Mance Lipscomb and Mississippi Fred McDowell.

Houston was a cultural melting pot of people who knew no labels and followed no rules. Taylor absorbed the influences swirling around him and began to construct something all his own.

Almost literature (Griffith called him the William Faulkner of songwriting), his work combines complex lyrics, that tell a story you long to hear, with ethereal melodies that seem to float above the broken characters he describes. It is all delivered by voice and guitar that is a bit more polished than many of his peers.

Taylor has developed a unique and mesmerizing style of fingerpicking that blends traditional folk with blues licks he learned at the Family Band Club. To this day he makes his dreadnought ring and sparkle, almost effortlessly, tucked up high under his beard. His voice has grown rough and gravelly, but the important words come through clear and pure, the meaning never in doubt. Often he speaks instead of sings, like some hard-edged preacher from a different time, warning of the end and demanding repentance. Then he’ll look up and smile, and you wonder if he was playing all along.

In his long and distinguished career, Taylor has released nine albums, most notably Shameless Love (1981), Eric Taylor (1995), Resurrect (1998), Shuffletown (2001), The Great Divide (2005) and Hollywood Pocketknife (2007). He shows no signs of slowing down.

Three things you should know about Eric Taylor: (1) no less than Steve Earle refers to him as one of his heroes, (2) Vince Bell sang back-up on Hollywood Pocketknife, and (3) he has hosted songwriting workshops in England and Wales.

If you love Eric Taylor, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Mickey Newbury, Guy Clark and Steve Earle.




In 1977, Joe Ely came blowing out of Lubbock with his first record, Joe Ely, after sowing the early seeds of the High Plains scene with other hardy souls. He’s been delivering the goods ever since. Powerful music that pulses with rhythm and life, full of gritty optimism and unrelenting love.

Ely was born in 1947, in a place where one can gaze out on the horizon and still believe that the world is flat. The men in his family had worked on the Rock Island Railroad Line as far back as anyone could remember, but Joe didn’t take to the miles of steel and the smell of coal. Instead, the growing boy was drawn to music.

Joe’s timing was good, as these were increasingly fertile grounds in the sixties. Buddy Holly and Roy Orbison were sending their signals worldwide. Waylon Jennings was shaping up the long-standing country scene into something else altogether. Lubbock and its environs would produce not only Joe Ely, but also Guy Clark, Delbert McClintonDon Walser, Terry Allen, Lloyd Maines and his daughter Natalie, Tanya Tucker, Jo Carol Pierce, Jesse Taylor and Joe’s enduring musical partners Butch Hancock and Jimmie Dale Gilmore.

Ely’s father passed away when Joe was fourteen and his mother, stung by the sudden loss, was institutionalized for a year. He and his brother lived with relatives in different cities until they reunited, when Ely dropped out of school to help support what was left of his family by washing dishes and playing his guitar in the honky-tonks of Lubbock.

Like many a West Texan, the rest of the world beckoned and Joe heeded the call. He hoboed around America and ended up working in the theater industry in Europe. He headed home to Lubbock, ready to rock, and formed The Flatlanders with Hancock and Gilmore. By 1974 he had put together the Joe Ely Band with cohorts Taylor and Maines. He started passing around demo tapes and pretty soon he was signed by MCA and released his first solo album in 1974. Joe was up and running.

Joe has lived near Austin for many years, and has been tearing up the clubs and recording studios for close to four decades now. He has performed with The Clash, Bruce Springsteen, The Rolling Stones, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, John Hiatt, Los Super Seven and The Chieftains, and has worked with a host of Texas songwriters, including James McMurtry, Lyle Lovett, Clark, and of course Hancock and Gilmore.

Always a beacon of the West Texas blend of country, soul and rhythm, he has also honored Hispanic influences, including del norte accordion with Joel Guzman and Spanish flamenco with Teye.

Joe Ely is, first and foremost, a cowboy poet with a steel-trap mind. He can pick it, croon it or waltz it, and he can rock it like a juiced-up quarter horse.

Three things you should know about Joe Ely: (1) a collection of his written musings, Bonfire of Roadmaps, was published in 2007 by the University of Texas Press, (2) in 1992, Ely joined John Mellencamp, Dwight Yoakam, John Prine, and McMurtry in a band called Buzzin’ Cousins to record “Sweet Suzanne” for the soundtrack to the film Falling from Grace, and (3) he wrote songs for the film The Horse Whisperer.

If you love Joe Ely, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Ray Wylie Hubbard, Carrie Rodriguez and Steve Earle.




It is absolutely worth your while to rediscover the recently passed Jesse Winchester, a writer of uncommon heart, wit and grace.

Born in 1944 in Bossier City, Louisiana and raised in Memphis and Mississippi, Winchester started playing guitar in high school and continued at Massachusetts’ Williams College. Shortly after graduating in 1966, he received a draft notice and, instead of reporting for Vietnam, boarded a plane for Montreal. He would become a Canadian citizen and stay there for thirty-five years despite the fact that President Carter granted amnesty to draft evaders in the seventies.

Winchester joined a Montreal band called Les Astronautes and began to write his own songs. Word got around and Robbie Robertson came to meet him, and agreed to produce his first album, Jesse Winchester, recorded in Toronto and released in 1970. Third Down, 110 to Go followed in 1972, then Learn to Love It in 1974, Let The Rough Side Drag in 1976. Be sure to revisit “Mississippi You’re On My Mind”, a 1974 love letter to the south from a young man very far from home.

Jesse released the incredible Nothing But a Breeze in 1977, the same year that Rolling Stone credited him with “the greatest voice of the decade”. That voice. Longing and hope and conscience all dipped in southern honey. Deep wisdom mixed with silly lust and sung in perfect pitch. A captivating, beautifully controlled yodel.

Winchester released four more albums, A Touch on the Rainy Side, Talk Memphis, Humour Me and Gentlemen of Leisure, before moving back to Memphis in 2002 for the love of a woman. He is remembered in Montreal as much for his Quebecois “ya’ll’s” as for his songs, rich in story, melody, rhythm and humor. He ultimately settled in Charlottesville, Virginia, and lived there with his wife until his death on April 11, 2014.

Over the years Jesse’s songs have been recorded by the likes of Joan Baez, Elvis Costello, The Everly Brothers, Emmylou Harris and Jimmy Buffett.

During his life Winchester’s persona evolved into a sort of dancing Memphis dandy, best demonstrated in 1999’s Gentlemen of Leisure, a completely original gem that cannot be described but must be experienced.

Jesse released Love Filling Station in 2009. In 2012, notable artists paid their respect to Jesse on a tribute album, Quiet About It, including Tex-centrics Lucinda Williams, Rodney Crowell and Lyle Lovett as well as James Taylor, Rosanne Cash and Costello. It is a testament to Winchester’s performing prowess that none of these giants improve even a whit on his originals.

Winchester’s last album, A Reasonable Amount of Trouble, was posthumously released. Remember Jesse in the way he would have wanted. Listen to “good music, slow and steady, and share it.”

Three things to know about Jesse Winchester: (1) he arrived in Canada with $300, knowing no one, (2) he met Robertson in the basement of an Ottawa monastery, and (3) Jesse formed the band the Rhythm Aces, which ultimately became the Amazing Rhythm Aces.

If you love Jesse Winchester, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out BettySoo, Willis Alan Ramsey and James McMurtry.




Hailing from Gilmer, Texas, Freddie King held his own with B. B. King, T-Bone Walker, Muddy Waters, and other masters of the electric blues. In the cauldron of the early seventies Austin scene, “The Texas Cannonball” was the local ambassador of the blues, schooling young hippies at Armadillo World Headquarters and other legendary venues. Remembered in Texas as a kind giant with an armadillo bursting from his chest, King delivered the goods until his tank ran dry in 1976.

Although originally from Texas (born in Dallas), his family moved to the South Side of Chicago when he was six. That same year the youngster began learning to play rural country blues under the tutelage of his mother and uncle, and listening to the likes of Sam “Lightnin’” Hopkins, Howlin’ Wolf and Louis Jordan. He didn’t know it at the time, but he was beginning his journey to “stir the souls of millions and inspire and influence generations”. This prophetic vision, courtesy of his great grandfather, a full-blooded Choctaw, would serve as a driving force in King’s life.

King was a student of the blues, full of grit and determination. He played records over and over, learning and perfecting the smallest licks and details, then put a distinctive Freddie King spin on it all. He developed his thumb and finger picking style of his own, in contrast to B.B. King’s single-string style and the manic slide style of another hero, Elmore James. Other Chicago mainstays helped Freddie hone his craft and carve out his own place in history, including Jimmy Rogers, Eddie Taylor, Robert Lockwood, Jr. and Hound Dog Taylor.

That success didn’t come easy, though. King was repeatedly refused the opportunity to record for the premier South Side blues labels, ultimately bolting for the up and coming West Side scene. There he found his place, and the world finally found Freddie King.

His influence on other artists was as deep as it was wide. He toured with Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson and James Brown and played alongside such greats as Led Zeppelin, Grand Funk Railroad, Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Mick Taylor and Lonnie Mack. The list of those he influenced is just too long to cover, but his songs were performed by the likes of Magic Sam, Dave Edmunds, Peter Green, and a host of others. It’s a sure bet that a certain South Side label regrets missing Freddie’s mark.

King lived his life like he played his music…fearless, full throttle and larger than life. Ultimately, his body couldn’t take the wear and tear of touring 300 days a year. King left us all too early at the age of forty-two. His legend remains, however, and his presence can still be felt in the work of a hundred guitar greats, both in the blues and rock genres.

Three Things (no, make that six…this guy is a true legend) you should know about Freddie King: (1) he was one of the first bluesmen to have a multi-racial backing band at live performances, (2) in Chicago he married a fellow Texan, Jessie Burnett, (3) he recorded and produced an album with Eric Clapton called “Burglar”, (4) he picked cotton just long enough to earn the money to purchase a good guitar, (5) he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2012, and (6) he preferred a bloody mary to solid food to save time when setting up for a show.

If you love Freddie King, Austin Songwriter suggests you check out Carolyn Wonderland, Ruthie Foster and K Phillips.