65 years into this life, Ray Wylie Hubbard might have found the key to inner peace: keeping your gratitude higher than your expectations. Don’t let the fact that he shares that nugget of wisdom during “Mother’s Blues” – a tale of “a fine stripper girlfriend and a Gold Top Les Paul” with a little bit of “Polk Salad Annie” on the side – the words are just as wise.
Maybe that’s the whole deal with Hubbard’s music these days: it’s gritty and greasy and rootsy and real, with lyrics percolated from a life well lived. And the fact of the matter is, Hubbard could’ve just as easily died years ago – and might have, if not for a turnaround sparked by a conversation with the late Stevie Ray Vaughan.
In some circles, “clean and sober” is looked upon as being synonymous with “bland and boring,” but Hubbard could be the poster child for getting your shit together while remaining one funky ol’ cat. At an age where many artists have already soared, peaked, crashed, burned, and vaporized, Hubbard is being fueled by six-plus decades of stories and philosophy that just gotta come out, along with a love and appreciation for those around him and those that came before him.
What was supposed to be a few minutes out of the middle of Ray Wylie Hubbard’s day to talk with Jambands.com about his new album The Grifter’s Hymnal turned into over an hour of fun that included some nasty-ass long distance slide gee-tar over the telephone. Sit back and enjoy some Ray Wylie Hubbard.
BR: Before we burrow into the album, I wanted to ask you about “Mother Hubbard” – your wife Judy, who also heads up WylieWorld Music. We e-mailed back and forth a little bit these last couple of weeks and she’s just a treat to deal with. I know I’m not telling you anything, but she’s quite something, isn’t she? You two make a good team.
RWH: Well, I’ll tell you what … I’ve said this before and I mean it: if it wasn’t for Judy, I would have everything I own in a shoebox and be looking for a happy hour gig. (laughs) I can’t always advise sleeping with the president of a record company, though … just because it works for me. (laughter)
BR: I’ll make note of that. We might have some young and impressionable people reading this and I wouldn’t want to give them the wrong idea.
RWH: Yeah, that’s right. (laughter) No, Judy and I have been married for 23 years. It’s great for me because I don’t have anyone looking over my shoulder telling me what to write or, “Hey, we need to write a song for so-and-so”; or “That’s not ‘radio-friendly’.” I just keep writing these songs and it’s great to have that kind of freedom.
You know, sometimes I’ll say, “I’ve got this song, here …” and she’ll kind of roll her eyes and say, “Put it on the record …” (laughter) Yeah, I’m really fortunate.
Our son Lucas is 18 and he’s playing guitar with me – played on three or four tracks on the record. Like I say, I’m very grateful and very happy to be where I am.
BR: Ah – I wanted to talk about Lucas. I’m a sucker for parents and their children playing music together; some of the most fun I’ve had playing music over the years has been with my two daughters. Was there a moment when Lucas came to you and said, “Hey, I want to do this”?
RWH: (laughs) Well … not exactly. (laughs) You see, Judy and I have this deal where I get a guitar; she gets a refrigerator; I get a guitar and she gets a stove. We take turns getting something, ‘cause, well, we’re okay, but not rich … I can’t just go out and buy a guitar. So anyhow, it was her turn to get something, but I found this old guitar at a guitar show and I bought it. I came walking in through the door with it and she said: “What are you doing? What’s that? It’s not your turn.”
And I went, “It’s … it’s for Lucas! ” (laughter) “Here, Lucas – here’s an E chord!” (laughter)
He was like, 8 years old and I’m showing him where to put his fingers on the neck: “Daddy, it hurts!” “Play the guitar!” (laughter)
But Lucas picked up on it and started playing. I’d have gigs and he’d come out and do a song or two – some blues things. I think it was maybe when he was 16 that he said to me, “I’m tired of being a novelty act.”
And I said, “What do you mean?”
And Lucas said, “Well, you bring me out and just kind of show me off – I want to be a member of the band.”
And I said, “You’re gonna have to earn it. George and Rick will decide if you can do it.” That’s when he really started getting into it.
I can’t remember where the first gig was, but I remember telling him, “Okay – you’re the guitar player for the whole 90 minutes.” And he stepped up there and just played it, you know? Afterwards Rick said he passed the audition. (laughter)
But yeah – it’s cool to be doing that together …
BR: Oh, it’s gotta be …
RWH: And then he’ll come in and ask me, “You ever heard of a song called ‘House Of The Rising Sun’ by The Animals?” (laughs)
And I’ll say, “Yeah – as a matter of fact …” (laughter)
I think the first record he bought was maybe The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions and then the Stones’ Sticky Fingers – he’s got real good taste in music. (laughter)
I’m really proud of him.
One more quick story about Lucas: I guess when he was 12 or 13 – I think he was in the 9th grade – these kids came up to him at school and said, “We heard you play lead guitar.”
And Lucas says, “Yeah.”
“Well, we’re in this band. We’ve got some gigs coming up and we need a lead guitar player.”
And Lucas said, “Well, what kind of music do you play?”
And the kid said, “Soundgarden/Mudhoney/Nirvana kind of stuff.”
And Lucas said, “Oh, man – sorry. I’m a bluesman.” (laughter) How old are your daughters?
BR: Jessica is 28 and plays guitar; Cassie’s 22 and plays bass. Their brother Jeremy’s in the middle; I think he figured there was already enough noise in the family. (laughter) Now come the grandkids: Lydia’s about to be 4 and she’s always up for a tune. I gave her a harp a while back and said, “Now you practice this all the way home in the car with your folks, okay?”
RWH: (laughs) Aw, that’s cool. (laughs) So, yeah – Lucas is my full-time guitar player now.
BR: And he fits right in with some really talented pickers on The Grifter’s Hymnal.
RHW: Yeah, he does. (laughs) We had all these great guitar players on the record: Audley Freed – he’s played with everyone from the Black Crowes to The Dixie Chicks; Billy Cassis, who’s played with Soulhat and The Bob Schneider Band; and Brad Rice, who’s played in Ryan Adams’ band and Son Volt.
When I wrote “Coricidin Bottle” [producer/bassist] George Reiff said, “Man, that needs to be played by, like, an 18-year-old kid with a Les Paul and Marshall turned all the way up.” (laughs) So we had Lucas come in and just let him have fun on it, you know? That song ended up being just me and Lucas and Rick Richards on drums … I think George might’ve played a little percussion on it, but no bass.
That’s the thing about George as a producer: he’s a great bass player – played with Joe Walsh, Chris Robinson, Court Yard Hounds – but there are times when he’ll say, “This song doesn’t need bass.” That kinda tells you what kind of guy he is as a producer – he listens to what the song needs, rather than just saying, “I’m gonna lay down a groove.”
BR: While we’re talking about the core players on the album, how about a few words about drummer Rick Richards?
RWH: Rick’s been my drummer for, I guess, 10 years now. He really is my favorite drummer – such a deep, deep pocket. Rick’s played on my records and a whole bunch of great records that have come out of Austin: Tom Russell, Mary Gauthier, Slaid Cleaves, Gurf Morlix, Sam Baker … he’s just such a cool drummer.
We did the song “Coochy Coochy” by Ringo Starr on this record, okay? We sent it to Ringo and he called us back and said, “I’m just going to play guitar and sing on it, ‘cause the drums on it now are just too good – I don’t need to play drums.”
So … that’s when I really wished that Rick wasn’t that good, you know? (laughs) I could’ve had Ringo Starr drumming on my record. (laughter)
BR: Listen, I promise we’ll get to the album in just a minute –
RWH: Oh, that’s fine … take your time. (laughs)
BR: Don’t encourage me, buddy. I’ll go right off the track and down over the banking into the puckerbrush with the conversation if you don’t keep an eye on me.
RWH: That’s okay – I’ll be right there with ya … (laughter)
BR: Thanks. (laughter) No, the one other person I wanted to ask you about was the late Stevie Ray Vaughan. I know he helped you with some … navigational issues years ago.
RWH: That’s right – that’s right. (laughs) I’d known Stevie when we were kids in high school up in Oak Cliff – I went to Adamson High School and Stevie went to Kimball. It was kind of weird: I was in this folk group called the Coachmen while Stevie Ray was in a rock group called the Chessmen. Every once in a while they’d show a picture in the newspaper when we were playing a gig and it would say “The Chessmen” – and there were also pictures of Stevie’s band and they would say “The Coachmen”. It was kind of a running joke right up until he passed away: I’d say, “How’s everything in the Coachmen?”
And Stevie’d say, “Hey, I love your band, the Chessmen.” (laughter)
But yeah, Stevie Ray’d gotten clean and sober – he was the first guy, in fact, that I knew that did it and didn’t lose his edge, you know? Some of those guys got sobered up and they ended up on the 700 Club and, man … I didn’t want to do that. (laughter)
But Stevie just said, “Hey, man – here’s what I did …” He just took the time to talk to me … and this is where I am now.
He really just helped … well … I love the way you put it: he helped me with my navigation. (laughs)
BR: You couldn’t have taken those same words from just anybody, right? Here was this guy who had straightened out but was still funkier than hell …
RWH: Right, right. After my dad died, I was pretty much in a blackout for about a year, year and a half. And then Stevie and his buddy BC came to see me in ’89, I believe. They heard I was in pretty bad shape through this dancer I knew.
I asked Stevie at the time, “What’s it like? I mean, God, man – what is it?”
And Stevie said that once he got sober, it was like he got the boxing gloves off and he could play guitar.
And I said, “No, man – you could play guitar before.”
And he goes, “No … there was always this film between me and playing. Once I’d been clean about six months, I could play and I could hear … it was better than any drug I ever took.”
And I went, “Nawwww …” (laughs) I asked him, “Remember when we …?” You know, took this or did that?
And Stevie said, “Nope – this is better.” So that gave me some hope, you know? Maybe you could get sober and not turn into a square. (laughter) Yeah …
The thing about Stevie was, he had that same charisma as Freddie King. Freddie King would come out on stage or come into a room and you were just drawn to him – Stevie had that, too. Even when he was just a kid, playing at those Monday night blues jams at Antone’s when there weren’t a lot of people there … you were drawn to him. And once he got cleaned up, it was even more so.
And he really cared about helping people; it wasn’t a preachy thing – it was just, “Hey, man – this is what happened and this is what it’s like now.”
I think of Stevie every day. Besides being an incredible guitar player, he was an incredible human being who took the time to sit down and talk to me. And his legacy lives on, man. He died contributing to life, rather than just seeing what he could get out of it.
BR: Well, thank you for talking about him.
RWH: Stevie was … he was a great cat.
BR: Well … how about we take a look at the new album? One thing that hit me about it was how live and sweaty and intimate the thing sounds. If you did do any amount of overdubbing, it doesn’t sound like it – and I don’t want to know about it if you did. (laughter) I want to keep my vision of you guys just plugging in and letting it rip.
RWH: Well, that’s pretty much what we did, actually. One thing you ought to know is we didn’t use any pedals or effects; these are old amps with old guitars plugged right into them – not even a tuner in between. We’d tune up and then plug the cords right into the amps – no nothing. That’s what we wanted; we figured if we got our tone right, then we didn’t need a lot of EQ or compression or all that … we just wanted it to sound old and funky.
We set up in a church in Round Top, Texas that was built in 1888 and needed to be sanctified with some greasy ol’ rock ‘n’ roll. (laughs) We recorded most of the tracks there and another … four, I think – at George’s studio. Everything is pretty much live. We did overdub Ian McLagan’s parts – and Ringo’s. Like I said before, we sent “Coochy Coochy” to Ringo and he did his thing.
BR: Ian’s a great player, isn’t he? His work on Warren Haynes’ solo album last year was just outstanding.
RWH: Oh, man – he is. He lives here in Austin, you know.
Ian came in and we set him down at the piano and played the tracks one time through. And Ian said, “Okay – I think I got it. Let’s go for it.”
And we said, “No, we got it. You’re done.” (laughter) We wanted that rough, sloppy, Small-Faces-cool piano – and we got it. I just loved the Small Faces. I mean – and I hate to say this, man – but when they were drunk, they were great. (laughter) They were so good and just had that feel, you know?
So, yeah – I think Ian and Ringo were overdubbed … and we might have overdubbed Brad Rice on “South Of The River”, where he played guitar and then went back and played the bass. I think that’s pretty much it, though.
BR: And the church never got hit by lightning while you were there?
RWH: (laughs) No … no, it didn’t. But we got the sound we were after. Our good friend Chris Robinson called Joe Gastwirt on our behalf and asked if he would master the album. Joe’s the best – he’s worked with everybody from Hendrix to Crosby, Stills & Nash … everybody. He mastered it onto 2” tape, which cost us an extra … 400 dollars, I think. (laughs) But by doing that – and I know this is gonna sound funny – you can hear the air, you know? You can hear the room, almost. And that’s what we wanted.
When we mixed it, we took out the lip smacks, but we left in the coughs and the string noises and the squeaks on the drum pedals. Took out the lip smacks and left everything else. (laughs)
BR: Maybe sometime you could release the lip smacks as an EP.
RWH: (laughs) Yeah!
*BR: But until then, we’d better get to talking about The Grifter’s Hymnal, I guess. Here’s how I began the review for Jambands.com: “I used to think the first 40 seconds of the Stones’ ‘Gimme Shelter’ made for one of the most tension-filled, terrifying opening segments in rock ‘n’ roll.
I still do, but I have to tell you something, right now: ol’ Ray Wylie Hubbard has managed to rival it. ‘South of the River’, on his new album The Grifter’s Hymnal, gets the job done in half the time. And only two chords. (The Stones used three.)*
RWH: (laughs) Well thank you – I appreciate that. That’s funny that you compared it to the Stones. What happened was – after all this time – I finally took off the low E string and tuned to open G like Keith Richards does, you know? I’ve always heard about it, but I never have done it.
BR: Ha! What guitar did you use?
RWH: Oh, God … I think I used an old Martin D-18E – it’s a Martin with a DeArmond pickup. The only other one I’ve ever seen is the one Kurt Cobain used on MTV Unplugged. They only made 300 of them.
So I tuned the thing to open G and then played the song in the key of E – that’s where I think it just kinda got this weird and evil sound. That’s one of the songs that Ian’s on – and he really adds to that Stones/Nicky Hopkins vibe.
BR: The twin acoustics of you and Billy on “Lazarus” is a nice piece of work.
RWH: Aw, thank you. I always loved Delaney & Bonnie’s version of “Poor Elijah”. We wanted it to have that same sort of guitar groove. That was fun to play.
BR: And I wanted to ask you about Rick’s “drums and bird feeder” on that one.
RWH: (laughs) Oh, yeah! When we were recording “Lazarus”, we kept trying shakers, but they didn’t sound right. We had this little bird feeder and Rick shook it and said, “Let’s use this.” He’ll pound and shake on anything to get the right sound.
The great thing about Rick is – and excuse my language – we can say to him, “Those drums sound great … now fuck ‘em up!” (laughter) And he knows what we’re looking for – we want the drums to sound like Slim Harpo, you know?
BR: Same vibe as the guitars and amps. You don’t want a drum that sounds too pretty, right?
RWH: That’s right. (laughs) It’s part of that whole thing – the right vibe; the right tone; the right groove. I hate to sound like an old guy saying, “Back in the day …” but sometimes I think some of these young bands depend too much on pedals and not enough on chops, you know what I mean?
BR: And maybe not knowing where it all came from.
RWH: Yeah – that’s right. Honor your roots. It didn’t start with the Eagles or Lynyrd Skynyrd, you know? You gotta go to go back to where they got it: Hank Williams or Jimmie Rodgers or Cisco Houston or Robert Johnson or Son House … back to those guys. Show respect.
I was talking with Eric Burden when he was down here for SXSW and he was telling me about going to Bo Diddley’s funeral. And I said, “Really?”
And he said, “Yeah – I never met the man, but I knew him. I just felt like I had to go to his funeral.”
And that’s just showing respect. I tried to do that on this record to some of those guys, ‘cause they all mean the world to me.
BR: I think you’re onto something in “New Year’s Eve At The Gates Of Hell” with this theory that God is outsourcing work to the Devil.
RWH: Yeah, well … sometimes I … I think too much. (laughter)
But when you think about it, you know … the Devil’s just kind of doing his job. I mean, they’ve got to be working together, right?
BR: Got to be. (laughter) The songs “Moss And Flowers” and “Red Badge Of Courage” – the first one paints such beautiful, big pictures and the lyrics of the second one take you right into the center of a young soldier’s soul. Where do songs like that come from? Did the grooves show up and they summoned the words? Or do the words show up, looking for a home?
RWH: Well, “Moss and Flowers” I wrote with Charlie Shafter. Charlie came up with the lick and I took it and said, “Man, I want to write a Led Zeppelin/English Lord Byron/Irish wake song and Charlie went, What?”
And I said, “There’s an opportunity here to make it kind of deep and dark, you know.” And we did that one pretty much live.
And then on “Red Badge Of Courage” the idea came up first. These two kids came up to me at one of my shows – they’d been in Afghanistan and were leaving to go back.
They told me, “We’re big fans of yours.”
And I said, “Well, thank you.”
And they said, “We play that song of yours – ‘Dust Of The Chase’ – every time before we go out on patrol.” That’s an old song of mine off Loco Gringo’s Lament.
I said, “ Really? ” and they said, “Yeah, we play that every night for the line about ‘I kill a man, I say a prayer …’ We play that every night before we go out on recon.”
I mean, they were kids, man. And I thought about them after that, over there in Afghanistan, playing my music. And I just kind of put taht song together from there.
When we recorded it, I just had the first three verses and I wasn’t sure where I was going from there. And then it came to me that these kids were going to go through the rest of their lives with these ghosts, these images in their heads – how can you rationalize that? And somewhere along the way, I heard that line “It takes young men to do the dirty work for the failures of old men.”
It’s not their fault – they’re just kids doing the dirty work because the old men couldn’t work it out. That’s the way it’s always been.
BR: You want to be prepared to hear some pretty powerful stories from vets as they come home and hear this, man.
RWH: Well, like I say, those kids touched me. They’re home now – they both made it back.
BR: Oh, good – good.
RWH: Yeah, it … it really hit me when they told me that.
BR: Tell me what you used for a guitar to play that nasty slide on “Train Yard”.
RWH: That was … I believe that was an old Gibson I got. Hang on a second … I think this is it right here …
[There’s a moment or two of silence, then I can hear a bit of blues guitar over the phone.]
Yeah – this is it right here, I think. Hang on, hang on …
[I do – and for the next thirty seconds or so, I’m treated to my own little Ray Wylie Hubbard slide guitar concert.]
Yeah … that’s it. (laughter)
It’s an old Gibson HG-22 and it was made in 1929 – just an old, funky guitar. It’s really mid-rangy … kind of a one-trick pony, but it’s a good trick.
I wrote “Train Yard” with Liz Foster who’s in a band called the Trishas. Liz used to work for Judy for a while, and she was at the house one time, talking about songwriting and stuff. I said, “We should write a song,” and she agreed.
And I said, “Of, course I’ve never written a song with a woman before.”
And she kinda laughed and said, “Oh, it’ll be okay.”
So I had some lyrics and I said, “What about this?”
And she goes, “I don’t think you can say that.”
Then I said, “Well, how about this line?”
And she said, “Uhhh, I wouldn’t feel comfortable singing that.”
I said, “Huh … Well, how about this?”
And she said, “Mmmm … I don’t think so …”
So we wrote a clean one. (laughter)
BR: I imagine you’re going to get pummeled with folks asking you how much of “Mother Blues” is true. I will say this: by the time you get to the end of the story, it’s a cool way to show your appreciation for your family and the folks you’re making music with. I love the line “When I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, well, I have really good days.”
RWH: (laughs) Thank you. I will give you a couple of quick details – Judy really was the doorgal at Mother Blues when she was 16.
BR: Yeah?
RWH: Yep – she really was. She’d take Lightnin’ Hopkins his gin and Lightnin’ would look at her and go, “I don’t like white people.”
And she’d go, “Well, I don’t either.” (laughter)
But I always came in the stage door whenever I played there, so we didn’t know each other. And then we finally ran into each other 23 years ago and got married … (laughs)
BR: Well, there.
RWH: And all the other stuff in there is pretty much close to the truth. (laughter) That’s another one of those cases where George knew when not to play – the bass doesn’t even come in until, I guess, 30 or 40 seconds into the song. And when it does, it’s so cool.
BR: Oh, man – speaking of cool: my first thought when I heard “Henhouse” was, “That’s got Doug Sahm’s vibe all over it.”
RWH: (laughs) I kind of get these thoughts and ideas and I have to write the whole rest of the song in order to say what I really wanted to say … which was that I like the Small Faces rather than Fleetwood Mac. (laughter)
But Doug Sahm … man, he was so cool.
I went to Doug Sahm’s funeral in San Antonio and it was a rock ‘n ’roll funeral. All the East Side/Chicano/low rider cats were there … everybody had on Ray-Ban sunglasses … (laughter) it was cool. Doug would have dug it. He was a rock ‘n’ roll cat, man. Just a great, soulful cat.
Doug used to hate the Dallas Cowboys – hated them – and he’d come over here and watch the games. When Lucas was little he used to refer to Doug as “The guy that yells at the TV.” (laughter)
I remember we did a gig up in New York one time at the Lone Star café and flying back, I was sitting on one side of Doug and my guitar player was sitting on the other side. And the whole flight, Doug was talking to my guitar player about professional wrestling and talking to me about baseball … (laughter) At the same time, you know? He just kept the conversation going steady between the two of us, on two totally different subjects.
BR: Like a Texas version of Neal Cassady, right?
RWH: (laughs) Very much, very much. I’m honored that you mentioned Doug – he was a special cat.
BR: “Count My Blessings” is another one with both a wicked groove to it and these great, great pictures that the lyrics paint. Again, which came first: the tune or the groove?
RWH: Well, I was driving and listening to some old Lightnin’ Hopkins when this crow landed on this fencepost alongside the road. And as I was driving by, this crow was cawing – and I know this sounds weird, but it looked like the crow was singing what Lightnin’ Hopkins was singing. And I just kinda slowed down and watched this crow sitting on the fencepost, singing away like Lightnin’.
And then the next song that came on was an old Sam Cooke song and I got thinking about him. I would’ve been a sophomore in high school when he was killed, I think. And I remembered when they had the trial, it seemed like it only lasted about 15 minutes. So when I got home, I did a little research on the Sam Cooke thing and the conspiracy theories that maybe he was set up by some Mafia guys … it was just kind of weird.
And then I got to thinking about my family when I was a kid and how they were all kinda gamblers and grifters (laughs). I was kid, eight years old, playin’ cards … (laughter) I mean, just playing Go Fish, you know … (laughter) And for some reason, I had the first verse, and then I got to the chorus and said, “Well, what is it about this?” And then I said, “Maybe I should count my blessings” … and it just kind of come together from there.
BR: You always want to pay attention to crows, man.
RWH: Oh, yeah – Flannery O’Connor once said, “Never second guess inspiration.” When it happens, you gotta grab it.
BR: It was interesting what you said earlier about the bass laying out on some of the songs. On the album’s last cut, “Ask God”, George, Rick, and Audley are there, but you almost don’t notice them … it’s just enough.
RWH: They play the song, you know? There’s some guitar players who say, “I’ve got this lick …” and they’re going to play it, whether it fits the song or not. And then you have George and Rick and Audley, who are so subtle in what they do – if they weren’t there, it would be really, really different. What they add is powerful.
BR: Those are also the words I’d use to describe your slide guitar on that tune – subtle, yet powerful.
RWH: Well, thank you. Getting into that Lightnin’ Hopkins fingerpicking blues style really helped me – it saved me, man. It kind of gave me a career.
You know, I feel very fortunate that I started off in folk music when I was in high school; got into Dylan, Woody Guthrie, Eric Anderson – all those great folk writers – so the lyrics are important to me.
After that I was kind of a folk/rock guy; then that whole “outlaw country” thing came along and I was doing that; and when Stevie Ray came along, I got into the blues.
So I feel kind of fortunate that I’ve got the depth of those folk lyrics and the greasiness of those blues cats. That’s kind of where I am right now: trying to be a cross between John Lee Hooker and Guy Clark … and that’s a good place to be, you know what I mean?
BR: Oh, yeah. (laughter)
