One of the keys to the success of Austin singer Toni Price has been her longstanding Happy Hour ("Hippie Hour" in Austin parlance) gig every Thursday at Austin's Continental Club. So don't be surprised if you start hearing more and more about Clay Farmer, the talented Houstonian who has a similar gig at the Houston branch of the Continental.

Farmer is an earnest, sincere young man who, although he's had a couple of bands and has played around Houston for years, has just released his first album. And it was worth the wait, because in this day and time where technology allows literally anyone to put out a do-ti-yourself CD, Farmer is one of those lucky ones who get it right the first time.

Farmer comes in the mold of a Texas singer/songwriter, and he sings with a deep, smooth, lady-killer voice. But unlike a lot of singers with good voices who get hung up on being in the crooner's spotlight, Farmer takes the whole thing one step further. After a year of working with his current lineup, he understands that the dynamic that makes his band a Houston crowd favorite is the energy they create as a group, so on this album he has wisely chosen on several cuts to let his band loose to snort around the guitar corral like a bunch of half-broke broncos. Farmer augmented his lineup with steel player Brian Thomas from the Jesse Dayton band for the recording and the frenzied, twangin' guitar duels between Thomas and guitarist Paul Burnett are the very kind that seem to be out of fashion these days. The result is an interesting and unique record, parts of which are so hot they should come with a smoke alarm. Ole Waylon and the Outlaws would be proud.

The Outlaws would also be proud that Farmer hasn't sold out to slick operators who control the star-making machinery. As the record demonstrates, Farmer is no slouch at a straight country ballad, and he's had numerous offers of financial support from fast talkers who want to be his "manager," who want to "shape his career," or who want to "package" him.

"But it always boils down to the same old thing. They eventually want me to try on a hat and see if I can act like a TV cowboy singer," Farmer says. "You ever seen me in a hat? That just isn't me," he laughs.

With the help of friend Curtis Tarwater who financed the record, Farmer produced his album on a tight budget with help from his band and Bungalow Studios owner-engineer Mark Shannon, and he is marketing and promoting the record with help from his wife. With two of Houston's radio stations already picking up the record, it looks like the Farmers may soon be busy addressing envelopes and licking stamps.

Farmer kicks the record off with a local crowd favorite, 'Texas Skies.' Rather than being a callous, chauvinistic, calculated play at using the Texas thing to lure in the Texo-centric crowd that seems to demand that songs repetitively include the words "Texas," "beer," "gettin' drunk," "taco," bar-b-q" and a slew of other over-worked clichés and buzz-words, Farmer's song is about a fellow who is having to come to grips with some of the choices he's made in his life, a fellow trying to make sure that the next choices are the right ones.

Boy, you got hellfire burning in your eyes
As you hide behind those little white lies
But that's your choice here beneath those blue Texas skies

Fiddler Jason Ellsworth intros the tune with some tasty country fiddle before Burnett, drummer Rod Roberts, bassist Robert DiBlanco and Thomas kick it into that Waylon gear and the Farmer band spins its wheels, throws out a shower of gravel and blasts off down the blacktop. Burnett, who has been playing guitar since he was 8 and had his first paying gig at age 12, proves he can pick with anyone before the cut is half finished, and Mr. Thomas doesn't cut him any slack.

Farmer cools the atmosphere off by following with 'Stardust Lounge.' Farmer said he wrote this song at a lonely, down time in his life, and that the idea came to him one night at Andy's, a late night restaurant in Houston's Heights that had previously been a lounge.

I fight myself all the way
I bleed like hell, I die each day
These memories won't fade away
But I turn away, just like before
And stagger across the barroom floor
And take my place on that throne of fools
Some lady asked me if I was alright
"Hey, are you alone here tonight?"

But the cooling period doesn't last long, as David Spencer of the Sisters Morales band intros 'Already Gone' with a nasty slide guitar lick and Ellsworth counters with barrel house piano before the band jumps in, hitting a hard-edged groove somewhere between country and rock with drummer Rod Robert leading the way. Ellsworth and Spencer get funky on the break while guest organist Eddie Hawkins (Horseshoe) fills in the cracks. Burnett just keeps nonchalantly piling on edgy twang as the band builds to a high-spirited, hard-hitting crescendo.

And if you thought I'd wait around, baby
That's another thing you had wrong
You may have made me but you're not gonna break me
I've no time to say "So long"
I guess I'm already gone

On 'Hardest Lesson,' Burnett and the rhythm section exorcise their Waylon demons. Robert and DiBlanco put the kick in the tune, and Burnett's picking is vintage Waymore.

Who will you run to if you take a look around
And find things changed you did not approve of
If you wanted you could find a way to live and love
The way you and I talked about and dream of
And that was a hard lesson for you and me

The band shows their versatility on the Cajun-flavored 'Me Tonight.' Farmer says the classically trained Ellsworth found the Cajun fiddling to be a challenge, but once he figured out the style, he gave a journeyman performance. Accordionist Leroy Thomas, brought in specifically for this one cut, proves he was worth the money as he provides that bayou accordion sound that gives the song a genuine danceable Louisiana authenticity.

Most of Farmer's songs are personal, whether he writes about love found or love lost, and he is blessed with a voice that has a sincerity and I'm-not-faking honesty that make his ballads very palatable. He looks into the cracks and crevices rather than at the surface gloss, and what comes out is an impression of a man who takes life very seriously, who values others and who has learned how hard it is to make wrongs right. On the heartbreak country ballad 'Playing Games,' Farmer is in the throes of a relationship that is developing a bad pattern. It's obviously something he's encountered before and hasn't found to his taste, because on this song he seems desperate to head off the cycle of argument and hot words and hurts that can drive a woman and man irreparably apart. Farmer's vocal on this cut has to have Nashville salivating over the prospect of fitting Farmer with a cowboy hat.

Lord I know it's not easy 'cause I've been that way before
And taking turns is just the way that game gets played
Well I say we surrender before we throw it all away
But then we could go on playing games.

Farmer shoots a lyrical arrow directly into the bullseye of what it means to be a Texas songwriter on 'Texas Radio,' which along with 'Texas Skies,' is the most radio-friendly cut on the record. The highlights are Ellsworth's fiddling, Brian Thomas's banjo solo, and Farmer's vocal. This song is very easy on the ears and its images fit Texas to a T.

A beat up Ford and a country road
I've got my best worn-out T-shirt on my back
And these old boots with holes in the toe
You'd think I'd have the sense to turn back
I ain't running too far from empty
But I haven't known another way
I've got my life in this suitcase beside me
And my guitar to show me the way

And the radio, pounding out a beat, that radio
Whispering through the needles of those East Texas pines
Easing my mind, radio, Texas radio

Burnett shines again on 'The Dove,' which is hard country done the rocking way. Ellsworth saws on his fiddle and Burnett spices the mix with blistering chicken-picking guitar licks as the rhythm section jumps the tempo several times, giving this cut a frenetic energy that distinguishes it from what passes for alt-country. I can't think of another artist today who gets this kind of sound from his band. It's country, but it's not the country of commercial radio, and it's nothing that can be classified as fitting in the neo-outlaw Texas country genre or the No Depression alt-country sound. Yet for knowledgeable listeners, there is no mistaking the fact that this is a Texas band, and never more obvious than on 'The Dove.'

Farmer finishes his debut effort with a hymn-like ballad dedicated to his grandmother, who was a big influence in his life spiritually and artistically. Farmer credits Brian Thomas with "making this song, putting it together." He said Thomas came into the studio and just seemed to understand very quickly how the song ought to go, how it ought to sound. Thomas's steel guitar perfectly touches the pathos this gentle song requires, and the tune is a great vehicle for a demonstration of the singing abilities of Farmer's band, as Robert and DiBlanco lend their voices to the gospel harmonies that brighten the track.

For a low-budget, independent, do-it-yourself effort, Clay Farmer has produced an excellent first album that will certainly mark him as a performer to be watched. With the tedious process of recording behind him, he's now planning to get out on the road and widen his fan base beyond Houston and Galveston. I won't be surprised if Nashville comes calling, offering Farmer a wide-brimmed Stetson. And I won't be surprised if Farmer tells them "no, thanks."

* Help Clay Farmer resist the lures of Nashvegas by purchasing his CD at www.clayfarmer.com or at Cactus Records in Houston.

Contact William Michael Smith at: wms-at-rockzilla.net

 
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