Texas: Music to our Ears

Warning: Much of what follows will be infuriating to some of you who have the ill fortune to not live in the Lone Star State. Fortunately, it’s not too late for you to rectify your situation.

I’ve studied the subject intensely for more than an hour and I’ve come to the conclusion that there are more songs about Texas, or that mention Texas, or that imply an understanding that there is possibly a place known as Texas, than any other state in the Union (and that includes Canada; I’m unsure about Greenland).

With that in mind, and recognizing that we’re only eight days into a new year and I’ve yet to think of anything better to write about, here’s an expertly and lovingly curated collection of representative samples of said Texas-forward music, courtesy of The Tube of You. I hope you enjoy these selections, but if not…well…I’ll let Ray Wylie Hubbard deal with that later on.

Lyle Lovett (Houston), besides being a Grammy-winning musician, has the high honor of being a fellow Texas Aggie, and was married (sorta briefly, but, still…) to Julia Roberts. He’s know as a deft lyricist and a keen observer of the human condition, as demonstrated by this:

Little Texas, co-founded by Porter Howell (Longview) would not necessarily be considered a Texas band, but its best known song — at least in our state — puts them squarely in the crosshairs of this post, despite the fact that the lead singer was born in Ohio (!). From the year 1993 — the year that the Dallas Cowboys won Super Bowl XXVII (coincidence? I think not):

I wrote about The Panhandlers (Idalou, San Antonio, Lubbock, Flint) in a previous post and even linked to a performance of the song that follows, but I’m including it again for two reasons. First, I think it’s a great tribute to the part of Texas where I spent more than half of my existence, and second, the performance was recorded from the stage at Gruene Hall, the oldest continuously operated … dance hall in Texas (according to its website) and possibly the world’s hottest venue in the middle of summer, based on my and Debbie’s experience last year.

We now move from Gruene Hall to AT&T Stadium, where a nominally well-known, not-very-tall singer by the name of George Strait (Poteet) teamed up with a few other semi-recognizable musicians to perform a honky-tonk staple. How many names can you put to the faces/voices on this video?

John Baumann (San Antonio) was featured above as a part of The Panhandlers, but he also performs with his own band. I couldn’t resist including the next song because we spent 35 years in the city named in the title. Also, it pretty well captures the zeitgeist of a portion of the oil business in general (32 years of my career).

I won’t include the video here but if you’re hankering for another story song, Baumann sings here about the time-honored practice of stalking the big bucks in South Texas.

Now, let’s go back in time again, although I’m not sure how far back. We know it was earlier than 2013, and possibly earlier than 2007, but whenever it was, two absolute giants of country music (and music in general, to be more accurate), Willie Nelson (Abbott) and Noble Ray Price (RIP; Wood County, near Perryville) teamed up to perform Rose of San Antone.

I was slightly confused while listening to the song because it sounded suspiciously similar to one that goes by an equally similar title: San Antonio Rose, a tune made famous by Bob Wills (Kosse) and the Texas Playboys as an instrumental in 1938, and with lyrics added and retitled as New San Antonio Rose in 1940. As it turns out, the song title in the following video is simply a less formal title for the same song. Freaky, huh?

We now come to the part of the program that features a couple of tunes that are, well…a bit more belligerent in tone…apparently in response to certain attitudes which are surely born out of geographic jealousy or envy. Listeners with more delicate sensibilities might want to scroll past them.

Ray Wylie Hubbard might have been born in Oklahoma, but his family got him to Texas (Oak Cliff) as soon as they could. Hubbard is of a similar vintage as a number of other practitioners in the Cosmic Cowboy / Outlaw Country universe that employ three names (think Jerry Jeff Walker, David Allen Coe, Robert Earl Keen — another fellow Aggie, Gary P. Nunn, Michael Martin Murphy, ad nauseam), but he may have the most distinctive voice of the lot. He’s also a storyteller with few equals in the world of music.

The title of this next song was probably once considered highly offensive by some, but compared to the constant dropping of F-bombs nowadays, it seems almost quaint.

And boy howdy, the references to Texana in this song will bring a smile of recognition to everyone who claims citizenship here.

Want more classic Ray Wylie? Of course you do, and Snake Farm will do you good.

Then there’s Eleven Hundred Springs (don’t confuse it with the 10,000 lakes of Minnesota, not that you ever would), a Dallas-based band now defunct after a two-decade run. The following recording, partially disguised as a Whataburger ad, displays the braggadocio that perhaps accompanies a few too many longnecks procured with fake IDs in a North Texas honky-tonk, and this version might (I’m not really sure, just a bit suspicious) be a bit toned down to suit the corporate sponsors. But the message is the same as Ray Wylie’s, even if it’s miles away in sophistication.

Well, enough of that crassness (just kidding; I know you love it). In 1973, Jerry Jeff Walker and members of the Lost Gonzo Band gathered in the dancehall at Luckenbach and several days later emerged with what many consider to be one of the finest albums of Texas music: Viva Terlingua.

One of the members of the Lost Gonzo Band was Gary P. Nunn (Brownfield by way of Oklahoma), and the following song was his best-known contribution to Viva Terlingua. It’s an anthem that every Texan who finds him- or herself away from home — whether on a platform in the North Sea, or a battlefield in Syria, or a corporate office in Los Angeles — can relate to on a deep spiritual level.

This performance pairs Gary P. with Jerry Jeff (RIP; Austin by way of New York). Note that in the video, Walker refers to the Luckenbach session as happening in 1974. I would never deign to question outlaw country royalty, but I also understand that many substances have been consumed in the intervening decades, some of which have influences on the memory.

Incidentally, while I never got to see Jerry Jeff Walker perform in person, I’ve had the privilege of seeing Gary P. Nunn in Marble Falls, Bob Livingston (San Antonio) in Horseshoe Bay, and Mickey Rafael (Dallas; Willie Nelson’s harmonica player who appeared on Viva Terlingua) in Midland.

I’m going to close with something different, yet still the same.

What comes to mind when you see the initials “SRV”? Nothing? Hmm. Well, how about the name “Stevie Ray”? Yeah, that’s what I thought. The phrase the best guitar player in the history of the world wouldn’t be inappropriate (although fans of Prince might respectfully disagree). Regardless, Stevie Ray Vaughan (RIP; Dallas) either inspired a generation to play the guitar, or caused a different subset of the same generation to give it up in a fit of despair from being in the presence of talent of a mystical nature.

Maybe all that sounds hyperbolic. Then again, maybe you’ve never watched SRV’s live performance of Texas Flood. I aim to fix that. (And should there be any doubt about his showmanship, be sure not to miss what he does starting at 7 minutes and 33 seconds.)

By the way, this song is an example of a whole subgenre of music called Texas Blues. Eat your heart out, Delaware (although I will give you props for giving us George Thorogood).

Stevie Ray is another musician I never got to experience live. But one Friday evening last year, at the Redbud Cafe in Blanco, Texas (pop. 2,005), I was with my wife and a couple of close friends when Erik Hokkanen pointed to a guy at a table near the middle of the cafe and invited him to come up and do a song with Hokkanen’s trio. He offered the white-haired gentleman his own guitar, then stepped back, and we were treated to the unexpected musical genius of SRV’s older brother and founder of The Fabulous Thunderbirds, Jimmie Vaughan (Oak Cliff). Serendipity, to be sure, but nothing that doesn’t happen a thousand times a day somewhere in Texas.

Yeah, I know I said we were closing, but I can sense that you’re on your feet, yelling for more. Normally, a performance would end on a rousing, room-shaking note, but I’m all about defying expectations.

So, here’s Miranda Lambert (Longview) and Jack Ingram (The Woodlands) supporting Jon Randall (Duncanville) on the final track of their supremely excellent album, The Marfa Tapes. It’s another tribute to that special place in my heart, and I never get tired of hearing it.