Photo credit: Michael Wilson
Tell us about your tour vehicle. Any notable breakdown stories?
There’s been a long line of vehicles dedicated to service. 1965 Belair, 1983 Dodge truck, several various makes of vans and my latest is an acquirement of divine ‘11 Toyota Sienna.
I had experience working at the gas station back in the day, where I could fix most things on older cars. That has come in damn handy for me over the years. The list of repairs is so long and fairly uneventful. I do remember replacing an alternator on the side of the road between Kingdom City and St. Louis on I-70 in the rain about 25 years ago when you could still lift the hood and identify the parts. No, I’ve never missed a gig due to a breakdown.
I spent five days outside of Pittsburgh getting a transmission rebuilt on the Dodge Caravan about 18 years ago. I was on my way to the Rosebud. I made it to the toll booth kicking white smoke across Pennsylvania. I left it there to be towed while the promoter picked me up and drove me down to the club with minutes to spare. Covered with transmission fluid and distracted by the near takedown, it was probably the best set I ever played.
How do you eat cheaply and/or healthy while on tour?
I used to run on gasoline, tequila and truck stop fare but, that will kill you. Same goes for the “free“ breakfast at the hotel. Good healthy food and finding it is not the problem. Patience and cost is the challenge. I travel with Cheerios and water, like a horse. Pour me another cup of coffee please.
How many strings do you break in a typical year? How much does it cost to replace them?
I rarely break a string. I change them before every show. That’s my job. I’ve had a partnership with LaBella strings for over a decade. Unbelievably grateful for their support and belief in me.
I’m not sure the best way to calculate it. The cost. You have to consider the time and – it’s a part of an important ritual. The most important thing to me is that it is yet another way to connect with my guitar, mandolin. It’s never a chore. It’s always a pleasure. Sweet new strings that have settled in? Priceless.
Where do you rehearse?
My house. My little house down south. In particular, my kitchen. That’s where I write and that’s where I walk miles around the kitchen table trying out new songs. I hate to rehearse. When I get new songs to a place where it’s still risky to play them live is the transition and that’s where I learn. That circle of the live exchange is where I arrange. Doesn’t matter how you look at it or where you rehearse. You can write a song, but you cannot escape having to learn it.
Hotel rooms, driving down the road and everywhere in between cannot beat my beeline from the kitchen to the stage. It’s a strange astral plane that I can’t describe.
What was the title and a sample lyric from the first song that you wrote?
“Night Train” I was 17.
I’ll have to look for those lyrics. Here’s what I remember off the top of my head.
“When I was young I used to dream about riding the rail
Daddy said son you’ll die if you try underneath the wheel
There’s box cars rolling just hide and see
I bet they’re full of strong women and good whis-key”
I had just read “Bound For Glory”. It was my dirt road take on “Big Rock Candy Mountain”.
Pretty good song.
Describe your first gig.
Some of my first gigs were field parties near my little farm town where I grew up in Missouri. We would all be out raising hell and it wouldn’t be too long before a friend would say “Hey Jeff, go get your guitar”. Parked out in the pasture, sitting on the tailgate, that’s truly where I cut my teeth. Playing Billy Callery and Ray Wylie Hubbard songs. They were obscure back then, so it enabled me to sneak in one of my own fairly unnoticed.
What was your last day job? What was your favorite day job?
I haven’t worked a day job in 35 years. I’ve done everything though. Temporary jobs, warehouse, worked on a trash truck for a couple of days. Delivered kegs of beer around my old town. Drove a forklift for a while when I first moved to Nashville. I was a bouncer at a blues club down in Kansas City.
My favorite job was pumping gas and fixing tires. I am one of the tire Kings. That was all through high school and beyond until I moved to KC. it wasn’t too long after that when I started hitting the road. Every job behind me is the link, the mist of a dream. Material. My insubordination was hard to hide with this dream in my pocket. Honestly, I still feel like I just get paid to drive.
How has your music-related income changed over the past 5-10 years? What do you expect it to look like 5-10 years from now?
You can ask everyone I know that operates as a legacy artist. It usually starts out with a lousy guarantee – if you get a guarantee at all. It usually works out, but I’ll be honest with you, I don’t see that changing. It’s a contract business: whether you’re a geologist or a wild rider troubleshooting oil lines, if you don’t have a contract you shake hands and trust. I’ve had to fight on more than one occasion. It’s never been valued across-the-board.
It’s so up and down all the time. It’s a good thing I love my job. Thank the Lord for the people who hold value in intentional music. The current kowtow to what’s popular is a mystery to me. Fame is purchased and there’s a contingency of the public that doesn’t realize that.
I don’t think music related income will ever change in relation to survival. It’s what’s in your mind and in your heart that has to change. I don’t do it for the money. I never did. I’ve made a lot of money and, I have made very little money. Like I say, I get paid to drive.
There are two paths. Guy Clark said it best “You can either be an artist or try to be a star”.
That kind of math is outside of my skill set. I think the sooner up-and-comers start putting real value in what they contribute, the better off it’s going to be for everyone coming down the line.
What one thing do you know now that you had wished you knew when you started your career in music?
I’m not sure about what I wish I would have known. There are a lot of clichés. “If you quit, you fail” – that one is confusing. Still true.
I always knew that performing and sharing my songs with a crowd was a spiritual lift. I did not know that it would bring me so much joy for so long. And that this joy was shared a million miles away.
The most important one in my opinion, the one thing I wish I would have known when I first started writing, is that music travels much further than you realize. Humbles me now. It touches people that you will never meet and they make my songs their own. That my songs don’t belong to me after they are revealed. And – They are only truly revealed where I am nowhere to be found.