 2026: LONE STARDUST: Masterworks of Texas Songwriters Northern Latitudes Records About | Lyrics/Notes | Reviews | Order | Stream
Songs from Texas I've loved!
Rusty's Notes: A while back, my Houston-Los Angeles pal and frequent musical collaborator, Steven Beasley, came up for a visit. Steve was looking to learn how to use Apple Logic, a music recording computer program. I volunteered to tutor. As a first practice song, I suggested we try recording "Roll On Santa Fe," a song featured by one our favorite 1970s Houston bands, Denim. The next practice song was a cover of our friend Vince Bell's "All Through My Days." And so an idea was born. As I continued writing and recording my original songs, I began toying with the idea of recording an album of songs written by Texas songwriters. With two such songs already in the bag, it was fun to think what could go on such an album. Beyond "Texas songwriter," I had not gone very far with further description. At first, I imagined the album would continue on songs, like "Santa Fe" and "My Days," from the magical Houston music scene circa 1970-1984 (totally coincidently the years I lived there). But then I thought I would want to get some West Texas writers in there who were so influential to me, like Roy Orbison and Buddy Holly. So eligiblity was opened to any song written by someone who was primarily associated with Texas. Finally, the criteria was stretched to the break-point with the inclusion of one of the most beautiful songs ever written about Texas, even if it's from an Oklahoman (see song notes below on my creative justification).
Of course, there are thousands of great songs by Texas songwriters. Texas is a veritable storytelling and songwriting civilization. I thought grabbing a dozen or so would be like plucking lowhung plums, but it turned out to be more challenging. Just as I had widened the criteria for "Texas" songwriters and realized there was an avalanche of potential song possibilities about to land on me, I knew I would need to get very selective. I needed to further ponder what kind of album this should be. I figured what I did not want was a predictable, hits-only, collection from the usual suspects of "best Texas songwriters," or a bunch that a whole lotta other artists have covered. I wanted an eclectic batch, some well-known songs, along with some surprises. Moreover, I needed the songs to hit close to home, meaningful to me, tunes I could sing with conviction and experience, maybe even find a few with a universal theme or some thoughts of wisdom. I like songs that tell a good story, have an original melody and lend themselves to soundscape interpretation. All of them needed to fit my style, vocal-wise. My tendency was toward songs with which I had a previous personal relationship, songs I have known and enjoyed for a long time, but I also wanted to be open to discovering other jewels along the way that I had never heard before or hadn't properly appreciated. Four of those would arise. This project is certainly not a smorgasbord of the flavors of Texas songs. The vast bulk of outstanding Texan-penned songs just aren't the best for me as an artist. I can't, with a straight face, do songs about drinkin', huntin' and fishin', trucks or girls in Daisy Dukes, nor am I probably the best vehicle for honky-tonk romps, most blues, funk or jazz, not to mention songs in Spanish... all genres in which Texas songwriters have long shined. Even with these increasingly restrictive requirements, the list grew... and grew. Suddenly I had dozens of songs that could work. I admit not doing an exhaustive search, nor digging very far back in time. Texas music is a motherlode. I'm sure there are gems galor I missed. I'll probably be kicking myself over some of them. It was a difficult choice to pare the candidates down to the finalists. The one that I was most disappointed to leave off was Roger Miller's "King of the Road." That was the first song I learned on guitar, still a favorite of mine, and certainly one of the best Texas songwriters and songs ever. It would have been cool to complete that circle, but it just didn't happen, for this album anyway. I decided to adhere to the strategy of my other albums, and just cram as many songs as would fit on a CD. That turned out to be nineteen. And here they are. Stylistically, there is not much of a common thread, other than they were all written by damn good songwriters who, one way or another, are associated with Texas. I'm happy, and honored, to get the chance to work with each one of these songs. Art is largely subjective, but from my perspective, they are all masterworks of songwriting. I'm hoping listeners will dig this collection of some well-known favorites and others that, more than likely, they have never heard. Special shout out to the key facilitators of this project: Steven Beasley, Jed Demlow, Austin Moorehead, Rohit Bhusan and MVP Jason Roller. Thanks, of course, to these songwriters for their amazing gifts, and also to all of my collaborators who made these songs theirs and helped make this dream of mine come true.
Roll on Santa Fe
Taking the train up to Santa Fe
Watching all that barbed wire rolling on by
Backstory: Back in the early 1970s, one of the coolest bands in Houston was Denim. They were young guys, a few years older than me, unapologetically country-rock with CSN-Poco-like harmonies, a world-class guitar player named Bill Browder and a sassy drummer-singer, David Moerbe. I just loved them. This band was sure to make it big, we all figured. Imagine my surprise when, as a broke college student, I took a job not far from the UH campus at a tiny tele-marketing business supposedly affiliated with some charity, and there among the dozen or so phoners arranged in a circle around the small, dour, windowless room were both Browder and Moerbe calling random people and offering for sale... American flags. We would get a commission on each flag sold. There was a big whiteboard in the room which kept track of the sales competition among the phoners, and there were Browder and Moerbe near the top, multi-talented as they were. I quickly became the worst in the room, and lasted but a couple of weeks before moving on to a different gig, driving a truck around selling frozen steaks, a job that went about as well and for about as long. Sometime later, Denim released its first record, "Roll On Santa Fe," which became something of a local hit. I still have the 45 RPM single I purchased in those heady days when anything was possible. I never imagined that I would record it, myself, until that day when I suggested that Steve Beasley and I use it as a test to learn a computer recording program. Denim was a favorite of Steve's, as well, and so a project was launched that eventually morphed into this album. Bill Browder is still writing and playing, a well-known figure in the Austin scene these days.
All Through My Days
You were ruled by the Southern sky
Rusty - vocals, electric guitars Backstory: Emerging from Houston, Vince Bell has been one of the foremost singer-songwriters of the Texas folk scene since the early 1970s. Though, unjustly, he has never had a big hit of his own, other artists like Nanci Griffith and Lyle Lovett have scored with his songs. I had seen Vince play many times and was very impressed with his Dylanesque songwriting, but first really met him not at a folkie venue but when he, Steven Beasley, Jack Saunders and Jerry Chambers formed a sort of Houston supergroup called Revolver. After I moved to L.A., one of my running-buddies for a year or so was Sarah Wrightson, who had also come from Houston and had been a part of its original music scene. She then moved to the Bay Area, and somehow ended up in a relationship with Vince. I went up to see them one time and Vince sold me his Bernie Rico acoustic dreadnought (it's the one with the big "R" on the headstock). Then once, they both came down through L.A. when I was living in Manhattan Beach and Vince recorded a batch of songs in my home studio. Steve and Vince remained friends, and during that fateful week when Steve and I were doing "test" songs to teach him how to do computer recording, following our completion of Denim's "Roll On Santa Fe," he suggested we record "All Through My Days," which Vince co-wrote back in the 70s with another notable figure from that Houston scene, Connie Mims. So here are those two songs, back-to-back, which represent the very origin of this project. Both Vince and Connie are still actively writing, playing and singing. I also have a guitar and vocal version of Vince's song "Sun and Moon and Stars" on my website and video channel.
I Can See Clearly Now
I Can See Clearly Now, the rain is gone
Rusty - vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar Backstory: I have loved "I Can See Clearly Now" from the moment I first heard its lilting opening back in 1972. It's a genre in itself; there has been nothing like it before or since. The lyrics thread the fine line between sappy and inspirational; a song of boundless hope and optimism that emerges from darkness, bad feelings, rain and pain. The melody is one of a kind -- with an astounding, 20-second, single breath, eight-note hold to end the bridge. The instrumentation dodges from simple reggae rhythm to soon be joined by blaring trumpets, swooping right along as the emotional intensity rises. If someone were to claim this is the best American pop song ever written, I wouldn't be one to strenuously object. For my version, I wanted to stay pretty true to the original arrangement, just through my voice and guitars. Jed Demlow achieved the rest. Thank you to the late Johnny Nash, of Houston, for bringing this absolute jewel into the world.
Cool Wind
You're a Cool Wind, refresh my soul
Rusty - vocals Backstory: Steven Beasley was born in Sheffield, Alabama and grew up in Nashville, but it was in Houston where he came of age as a musician and singer-songwriter. I met Steve in 1976 in Houston. I had recently left the band Southern Cross, and was setting off on my "solo artist" adventure. I needed players, and found this fantastic guitar sideman playing small clubs. Steve would do multiple recordings with me in Houston. He became an honorary Unreasonable, and we even briefly played together in a short-lived lounge combo called Detour. At the same time, Steve was developing as a songwriter. The first original song I heard of Steve's was "I'm Losin' Susan," which I thought was great. That song would later appear on his first album. I moved to L.A. in 1984, and Steve relocated, as well, soon thereafter. In California, we continued our collaborations. We toyed with the idea of a duo, the Lost Texxans, but it never was commercially launched. Even as my song output dwindled during those California years, Steve ramped up pumping out the catchy tunes. Steven Beasley has a wonderful catalogue of songs. He got the rep in Houston as mainly a sideman. He is still a fantastic player, just listen to this track where Steve plays everything. But I think Steve, as a songwriter, eventually eclipsed all of the frontmen he once backed up. For this album, I was thinking I would just use Steve's "Dog on a Chain," which I had recorded a few years previous. But, eventually, I felt compelled to go with "Cool Wind," very Texasy, and beautiful in its simplicity. After forty plus years, Rusty and Steve, still trading songs.
Heart of Hearts
There are things that no one senses
In your world, you're always dreaming
Part of you is hiding
All the hopes that are forbidden
You can keep your secrets
All the hopes that are forbidden
Part of you is hiding in your Heart of Hearts
Rusty - vocals, acoustic guitars, synth strings Backstory: Following my sojourns to Nashville and Los Angeles, I met Jon Stone in 1973 back in our hometown of Midland, brought together by our girlfriends who were both ballet dancers. We began writing together almost immediately. I went back to college after that summer, and encouraged Jon to move to Houston where we briefly formed a band, Southern Cross, and recorded a dozen or so songs. In 1976, we went our separate ways, then in 1984, I moved back to Los Angeles. But we irregularly kept in touch. Jon was writing some artsy stuff in the late 1970s, and through the 80's and 90's. He collaborated with some of Houston's best studios, musicians and other songwriters in Houston. Those folks who worked with him know how good his songs are. Alas, he is yet another among the legions who never achieved the level of success that the material warranted. Again it was hard to choose a single song for this album. I leaned toward one of his earlier songs that we had played together, but ultimately decided "Heart of Hearts" was more emblematic of Jon's more evolved style. Nashville's Austin Moorehead evocatively helped flesh out the backing track. Jon is still alive and kicking, and stubbornly resistant to his friends urging him to get his material out there streaming.
Balinese
Deep in the South of Texas How, how, how.
Rusty - vocals Backstory: For over fifty years, that "little old band from Texas," ZZ Top, has been a font of blues-rock gems. The band has sold over 50 million records. People kinda like them, ya think? All three members were generally credited as songwriters on their tunes, and all three are Texans: Billy Gibbons, Houston born and bred, Dusty Hill, born and raised in Dallas and Frank Beard, a native of Frankston in East Texas. Maybe because the songs are so simple and fun, they don't get enough credit for the craft of creating those songs, which turns out not to be so simple (or someone else would have already written them). Though never an official hit, "Balinese" was always one of my favorite ZZ songs. Like their monster hit, "La Grange," it was another of their songs about quirky, real places in Texas. In my mind, it is a certifiable masterpiece of blues-rock. But then I went and messed with it. You see, the song was released in 1975 when the Balinese Room in Galveston still existed. The story of this joint gets more poignant 33 years later when the Balinese was taken out by Hurricane Ike in 2008. I began to wonder, "Shouldn't that be in this song these days?" There was another fascinating factoid that the band left out of the original lyrics: it was not actually "on a crowded island," it was out on a pier - over the water - off that island. In mulling my version of the song, I dared tamper with the masterpiece to add in these two important aspects of the Balinese Room's story. To fit these parts in, something had to give and go. The pier got added to the first verse, and Ruby was still "dressed in red," but the "rag wrapped around her head" was deleted in favor of the hurricane's wrath. I think this adds to the legend of the now gone but never forgotten Balinese. That's Jason Roller on guitar. A lot more from him coming.
Galveston
Galveston, oh Galveston
Rusty - vocals, synth strings Backstory: OK, no, Jimmy Webb is not officially a Texan, wasn't born here, never lived here; he may have played music in Texas, as a child, accompanying on piano and organ his traveling Baptist minister father who regularly ventured into West Texas. He was born in Elk City, Oklahoma about 35 miles from the Texas border, and then moved to within 20 miles where he grew up in Laverne. What he is, officially, is merely one of the most celebrated American songwriters of the last six decades. One of those cherished songs is, arguably, the most beautiful song ever written about a Texas city. The song is "Galveston," originally sung by another near-Texan, Glen Campbell, who grew up in Delight, Arkansas, also about 35 miles from the Texas border. I was a huge Glen Campbell fan in the late 1960s. I played and sang "Gentle on My Mind" at a high school assembly and suddenly everyone was calling me "Glen!" I was beyond flattered. When I first heard "Galveston" on the radio, I was gobsmacked. It was the third of a trio of "city songs" that Webb and Campbell turned into mega-hits, including "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" and "Wichita Lineman." By virtue of my potentate status for this particular album, I decree Jimmy Webb an honorary Texan, at the very least. And for those who might still balk, I would point you toward the 1845 map of the Republic of Texas, which easily included the soil of Oklahoma that birthed the great Jimmy Webb.
Faithless Love
Faithless Love like a river flows
Rusty - vocals, Backstory: John David Souther was born in Michigan but grew up in Amarillo. It was there he became a musician and songwriter and released his own music with the help of Norman Petty, Buddy Holly's former record producer. From Texas he migrated to California and became forever associated with the magical 1970s SoCal singer-songwriter and country-rock scene, working closely on and off with the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt, Dan Fogelberg, Chris Hillman and Richie Furay. His biggest solo hit was "You're Only Lonely" which channels fellow West Texan Roy Orbison. I was very enamored by that group of musicians and songwriters, and aspired to write songs as good as theirs. I was actually there, briefly, in L.A., when they were just breaking big in 1972. Somehow I managed to not even find the scene, which is probably a good thing because my material was not yet up to any kind of snuff. "Faithless Love" is emblematic of some of the best of those songs: you love it the first moment you hear it. Judging by the number of covers, including Linda Ronstadt and Glen Campbell, it is well beloved. So was J.D. and his beautiful songs and beautiful voice. Alas, Texas singer-songwriter J.D. Souther passed away in 2024 at the age of 78.
True Love Ways
Just you know why
Throughout the days
Rusty - vocals
Backstory: I grew up in Midland, just 100 miles down a straight-as-an-arrow Texas highway through tumbleweeds and cotton fields from Lubbock, the hometown of many renowned singer-songwriters, that group surely headed up by Buddy Holly. Buddy's songs were, of course, very popular in West Texas, and I was exposed to them by the time I was five or six years old, a very impressionable age. I think, more than anything, I absorbed his music by osmosis... it just went from the radio airwaves straight into my subconscious. The same with the Everly Brothers and Elvis Presley about the same time. I didn't know why, I just knew I liked them - and these influences were bound to come out when I later turned to trying my hand at writing songs. For this project I knew I wanted to do "True Love Ways," which I consider his best melody... and one of the last songs he recorded, so it represents the apex of his songwriting. I listened to a bunch of versions of the song, and found that most cover versions follow pretty closely along with either Buddy's kind of schmaltzy orchestral arrangement or Mickey Gilley's piano version. I wanted something quite different from these, more stripped down, more guitar oriented and starkly intimate. I charged multi-instrumentalist Jason Roller with the assignment and, boy, did he come through brilliantly. I asked Jason for a few different takes on the instrumental section. He sent three for me to choose from. Just for grins I played them altogether and... OMG!... they lined up perfectly. Such, sometimes, is the magic of music... and life.
The Change
Do you see The Change in me?
Rusty - vocals, acoustic guitars, electric guitar, percussion Backstory: Jon Dee Graham was born in the Texas panhandle, and then grew up along the Texas/Mexico border, but he is best identified with Austin. I first met Jon Dee Graham in Houston in the early 1980s when he was with a new wave band called The Lift. I was knocked out by the band and its lead singer-songwriter guitarist. Shortly thereafter, I recorded one of Jon Dee's songs, "Still Life." I don't know, but I may have been the first to ever cover a Jon Dee Graham song. I wasn't surprised to find him later finding success with the Skunks and True Believers, and then as a solo singer-songwriter. When mulling over this collection, I figured I might include "Still Life." But when I heard "The Change," I realized that was really the JDG song for me. Not only does it ring true, personally, but thematically it's eerily similar to a few of my "change" songs on my Head to Heart album. In working up my version of these songs, I would scan the internet to see who else had covered each song. I'm not sure, but it looks like I may be the only one who has covered this song. I sent an early mix to Jon Dee and he replied, "This is beautiful. I am honored." No, It's my honor. After wrestling with death through what must have seemed like eleven lives, one of Austin's most beloved musical poets gently passed away in late March, 2026.
Only the Lonely
Only the lonely
Rusty - vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar Backstory: As a young child listening to my mom's records and the radio, I gravitated toward distinctive vocalists. That would never change. Among the earliest voices to penetrate deep into my awareness and appreciation was that of Roy Orbison. "Nobody can sing like Roy," my mom would say of our home area, West Texas, hero and early Sun Records rockabilly star. With his coke-bottle dark glasses and statue-like stage performance, his lips barely moving, it was hardly charisma that won over his legions of fans, it was that wondrous voice. But from the beginning, Roy was also a songwriter - a great songwriter, though he rarely gets credit as such. "Only the Lonely" was written, with Texas buddy Joe Melson, during a lull in his career in my hometown of Midland, Texas. The two songwriters offered "Only the Lonely" to Elvis Presley, and then the Everly Brothers; both acts turned the song down. Imagine that. So Roy recorded it himself, in March of 1960 in RCA Studio B, the same studio I would get the opportunity to record at 12 years later. Roy claimed to have not been very confident in his voice during his early career. "Somewhere between 'Ooby Dooby' and 'Only the Lonely' it turned into a good voice," he said. Uh, yeah, just a little... staking his claim as one of the best-ever Texas songwriters, as well. As with "I Can See Clearly Now," I turned to Nashville pro Jed Demlow to basically recreate Roy's version of "Only the Lonely," and allow me to just add my vocal and guitar bits.
The Beauty of You
As I was walking through the forest
Rusty - vocals Backstory: Although he grew up in Oklahoma and carried that Oklahoma red dirt spirit with him, Jimmy was born in Willis Point, Texas, and, for much of his professional career, was based in Austin. Jimmy LaFave is one of my favorite Texas singer-songwriters. I love his songs; I love his voice. Alas, I never met him or saw him play in person. Selecting a LaFave song was a challenge, so many possibilities. I was leaning toward the pointedly political "This Land." But then listened again to "The Beauty of You," and just knew there's my Jimmy song. It's a deeply spiritual song, aimed directly at precisely what should command our awe and allegiance. What a lovely tribute to Mother Earth. She doesn't get near enough songs devoted to her.
Neon Moon
When the sun goes down on my side of town
Rusty - vocals Backstory: Certainly my list of best Texas songwriters is not going to be without Ronnie Dunn. But I have a kind of weird, bittersweet, history with this, particular, hit song for Brooks and Dunn. In 1994, my marriage was flailing. One night we were at a Manhattan Beach honky tonk, ostensibly, dancing. My wife, who was much younger than me, loved to dance, and was very good, but I've never been much of a dancer. So I said, "Go ahead, dance with that guy." Suddenly she was sweeping around the floor with this tall, young fellow in expensive boots and a black cowboy hat. They were in perfect sync, he was holding her tight and she was leaning in, they looked made for each other. A wave of melancholy came over me, and a sick feeling in my gut. This love is over; I'm all wrong for her; she deserves someone like that. But this awful feeling didn't preclude me from realizing, damn, that's a well crafted song! It was "Neon Moon." Listening to the great melody and the sad lyrics, it wasn't lost on me that at that moment I was alone, sitting at a table for two, watching my broken dreams literally dancing in and out of the beams of a neon Blue Moon beer sign. Everytime I hear it, I'm tranported right back to that bar, getting my heart danced on. But, it's still a fine song, and now I'm stealing it away from those dancers and making it mine.
Alchemist
Break down the tables all again
Rusty - vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar Backstory: In my hunt for cool songs I found a band of young folks from the Lake Jackson area, Blue Water Highway, and was just knocked out. I like all their songs. The most prolific songwriter is Zack Kibodeaux. He wrote "Alchemist," which hit me immediately. Not only is it beautiful, I am a sucker for a song that introduces me to a new word. "Eucatastrophe!?" It was a eucatastrophe that the avalanche of great songs that fell upon me had me stumbling out of the chaos with this song and then finding Rohit in Mumbai to help flesh it out. I'm an old alchemist, like all songwriters (and many other creators), trying to make gold out of our own plans and combinations. So far, I have not come close to fashioning gold. Quite the contrary. Probably like most alchemists through the centuries, I only succeeded in spending a lot of time and fortune chasing the improbable, if not impossible. Only we alchemists understand that there is little choice in the matter... it's just what we do... and the glints of thrill and happiness we gain in the process are gold enough. So I keep wandering into my little home studio... mixing the wrong, the right, the shadows in the night. Keep an eye on Zack. He's on to greatness my crystal ball prophesizes.
Pancho & Lefty
Livin' on the road my friend
Pancho was a bandit boy
All the federales say
Lefty, he can't sing the blues
All the federales say
Poets tell how Pancho fell
All the federales say
A few gray federales say Rusty - vocals, acoustic guitars, eletric guitar, lap steel Backstory: "Pancho & Lefty" was the last song added to the album. I wasn't going to do this song. Everybody and their monkey has covered this song... mostly poorly in my humble opinion. Sample them for yourself and see if you don't agree. There is a tantalyzing live version with Townes and Freddy Fender; I wish Freddy had done the song himself. Lord knows I don't have anything to add to the Townes Van Zandt legend. But in the end, I couldn't leave it off. It's just too good, perhaps the virtually perfect "Texas songwriter" song. Nanci Griffith, among others, championed Townes as the "best Texas songwriter." I'm not willing to go that far; the concept is just too complex, probably, for there to be such a thing. Perhaps the "best Texas songwriter" is/was someone someone who was never recognized. But Townes struck an artistic vein of gold in channeling this from the still lingering ghosts of the Old West. I suppose as long as people keep singing it, old Townes will be virtually synonomous with the very notion of Texas songwriter. For my version, I decided to stay true to his solo guitar-playing singer-songwriter usual mode of performance, sometimes with somebody accompaning on a second guitar and adding harmony. So I kept it simple and just did it that way, but my way. It's my small contribution to the brilliant poet's telling of the tale.
You've Got a Lover
The clubs are all closin', there's no place to go
Rusty - vocals, acoustic guitars Backstory: Shake Russell remains the quintessential Houston troubador. Back in the 1970s and early 80s, I saw him play live often enough, but I don't think we ever actually met, even though my friend Steven Beasley and Shake were friends. "You've Got a Lover" was written and released early in Shake's long and prolific career. It became a local hit, a rarity in those days of increasingly corporate radio playlists, and that success gave the rest of us singer-songwriters hope we might do the same, but few ever matched this feat. When contemplating this album, "You've Got a Lover" was one of the first songs I thought to include. It's been covered many times, but I always thought everyone maybe played it a bit too fast, certainly the most popular version, Ricky Skaggs' gallop. It is, after all, a sad song. For my version, I wanted something different, slower, rougher, rawer, stark, spare, more emotional with a hint of dissonance. I asked Steve Beasley to come up with bass and percussion and piano backing. He complained about the tempo, "This is putting me to sleep." I let him speed it up just a tad. "It's still too slow," he grumbled, but I stood firm at that point. After fiddling with some acoustic guitar parts that would complement, I ended up with close to what I had envisioned.
Back to the House that Love Built
I know its raining baby
Forget about the past
Backstory: Backstory: Though written with others, this Tito Larriva song (featured in the movie "Desperado") is emblematic of the El Paso-Juarez area singer-songwriter's style. I saw Tito with his band the Cruzados at Club 88 in Los Angeles in 1987. I was just knocked out. That was the sound I wanted: rocking, twangy, sassy, stripped down, cool songs. Only later did I learn he is from Texas. When contemplating this album, Tito was one of the first songwriters I thought about. After the Cruzados, Tito started up his current band Tito and Tarantula, and he is still one of my favorite artists. While the style here is only peripherally Tex-Mex or Chicano, allow this song of Tito's, along with the next song on the album, to stand in for my deep appreciation for Texas-based Latino music.
Day of the Dead
It's a hundred and ten here in Lajitas
Rusty - vocals, electric guitar Backstory: There's a Texas singer-songwriter I really like, Wade Bowen. I was browsing through his excellent catalog to maybe find something. Bingo! "Day of the Dead." Wow! Whoops! Darn it. Wade didn't write it. Who did? Keith Gattis? Never heard of him. Please, please, please, let him be from Texas. Whoo-hoo!... Georgetown boy... not D.C. Georgetown or Brooklyn Georgetown... Georgetown, Texas. I have been to Lajitas when it's hot as hell, staring across the river at Mexico. I had a wedding in San Antone with a bride in white... who left me with just my shoes. This was just the kind of song I had hoped for, one that just sailed in from out of the blue, musical manna from heaven, a stealth tune that no one else but Keith and Wade, and now me, know about. Imagine my surprise when my sister said, "Oh yeah, I know that song. We line dance to it." I asked Jason to honor Wade's arrangement but allow room for our own flourishes, and, as always, he knocked it out of the park.
Oh, What A World
Northern lights in our skies
Rusty - vocals Backstory: Of course, I wanted to get at least one female-penned song on this record. There have been so many excellent women songwriters associated with Texas. I was all set to give a go on Nanci Griffith's "I Wish it Would Rain," then stumbled upon Kacey Musgraves' "Oh, What a World." Kacey is from Golden and Minneola, Texas. This song hit me in the heart from the first line, "Oh, what a world... don't wanna leave." I've been thinking like that for some time now. As I am getting up there in age, I don't fear death - there is nothing to fear; death rescues us from dying - but I love this world of nature so much, I don't wanna leave. So much magic all around. If you are properly tuned in, it seems too good to be true... but here we are... me... and then there is you.
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