"My Soul Ain't Sold"

Five guys, three guitars, a fiddle, a mandolin, a harmonica, and a stuffed monkey mascot named Lester. Willy and Cody are brothers, from a family of musicians. Jay, the drummer forever wearing overalls. Casey, the lead guitarist, soft-spoken and sweet. Chris, the bass player with his hair falling in his eyes...

They came to Texas from the Pacific Northwest, from Idaho and Oregon, with a drummer via Connecticut. The first time I ever saw them play was October of 1997. I didn't know a single song, but by the end of the night I was in love. I was out of cash, but my friend bought me their first CD, Millican, from the little table by the door, manned by one of the flavor-of-the-month girlfriends.

And I went home and listened to it over and over, and sat on my patio and smoked cigarettes in the dark, high on whiskey and Cody's fiddle.

They had been living together in one house in Austin, but had just been evicted for excessive noise complaints. They were young and hungry and working odd day jobs, and the music was a salve to the soul for a girl who was newly (and unwillingly) single. I jumped in head-first.

"sittin' in a run-down dive in Austin,
you've left me here with nothing left to lose.
This delayed misery, you know it's damn near killin' me,
I could spend a lifetime waiting on the blues..."

"Waitin on the Blues"

Reckless Kelly played every Monday night at Lucy's. They'd do original songs, and whatever covers struck their fancy - Steve Earle, Gram Parsons, Robert Earl Keen. Willy would call the songs on the fly or somebody would shout out a suggestion. There was never a cover, and beer was practically free. The Monday night crowd all knew one another... Pony Boy would tend bar and do this thing where he took a big swig of grain alcohol and a lighter and blew fire across the room... Nicole and Bonnie were my "shot partners", buttery nipples or whatever bizarre red thing someone concocted... We'd all get raucously drunk and dance and sing. Every Tuesday morning, I'd wake up hoarse, with feet aching from hours of tapping and dancing, and a raging headache from the bourbon and the shots.

For me it became a command performance. I went to every single Reckless Kelly show, sometimes three or four nights a week. They were playing every venue they could book back then, and I think I've seen them at every club they've played in Austin - Stubb's, Pearl's, Continental Club, the Hole in the Wall, Shady Grove, Ego's, Iron Cactus, La Zona Rosa, Babe's, Hang 'Em High, the Pier, Dessau Hall (some of these clubs have long since shut down). If they were playing, I had to go. I had no choice.

I'd drag all my friends, until eventually they'd shake their heads and roll their eyes and remind me that "I went with you twice last week," or "I can't be late to work again"...

So I'd go alone.

"Hey little dreamer, take a look around
All these things you’ve found
that keep you strung out and wound
up ‘til now
That same old song's been playing all night long"

"Strung Out and Wound"

Then the album reviews started coming in. And the DJs started calling from the morning shows. And what was buzz in "the Live Music Capital of the World" became crowds. Reckless Kelly won "Best Roots Rock Band" at the Austin Music Awards, the annual SXSW Music Festival kickoff. Soon we were paying real cover charges, not just buying the guys a round of drinks and throwing cash in the jar on the front of the stage. Then the shows were on Thursdays and Fridays and Saturdays, and never on Mondays. And Willy started writing out a set list to keep at his feet. And they all quit their day jobs.

"Funny, all those things you took for granted all along
Well, now they're gone"

"Black & White"

The band's name came from Australian bank robber legend Ned "Reckless" Kelly (not from the crappy Yahoo Serious movie based on the same guy). Chris told me once at Mezzaluna (after many many drinks) that other names they'd considered were the Rock Farmers and the Peach Pickers. I'm pretty sure he was kidding.

The guys used to have a big roll of cheap logo stickers they gave away with CDs. I have one on my truck, so faded from the Texas sun that you can barely make out the words. When I got pulled over once for making an unsafe lane change, the sheriff asked me in all sincerity if my name was Kelly. It took me a minute.

My friends call me a groupie. I'm not. Reckless Kelly has tons of groupies... college girls in navel rings and tank tops that scream Willy's name and surround Jay between sets... and the older "girls" that hang back coolly and wait around smoking Camels while the boys load up their amps at 2:00 am.

I don't go because "they're sooooo dreamy!" or so I can stand up front and try to catch Chris's eye.
I go because I need the music.

"So if you hear our words and songs
Take what you need to be strong
Don't be afraid to love us,
We won't do you no wrong..."

"Wild Western Windblown Band"

I need Jay's drums, and to watch him screw his eyes shut like he is in another dimension in what I now recognize as "drummer face." I need to hear Cody's fiddle, the original "high lonesome" sound... and see the waves of energy rising from the crowd and bouncing off the ceiling... rise and fall with Nick through the 3/4 of "8 More Miles", one of the most beautiful waltzes I've known... feel the ringing in my ears as I float out of the club on a high that will last two days...

"Nobody's changin' the way that I'm feelin' tonight,
'Cause I'm doin' all right..."

"Hey Say May"

The Day is out now, Reckless Kelly's third album. They've just won "Best Roots Rock Band" at the AMAs again. They play all over the country, and are opening for Cowboy Mouth this fall. Casey left the band and moved to Nashville, but the phenomenal David Abeyta has come in on lead guitar, and the sound is as tight as it ever was. The encores are part of the photocopied set lists, and the covers are $10 and $15. There are Reckless Kelly hats and t-shirts and posters. There's no time to visit before the shows anymore - I can sometimes catch a quick hello as they take the stage.

Last month I ran into a couple of the guys at the Cedar Door having a drink, and Cody gave me a hug and I asked about the upcoming Gruene Hall show. He laughed. "Are we playing at Gruene this weekend? I don't even know our schedule. I rely on our road manager to keep me in line."

Heh. Road manager. And publicist and management company and booking agent and big label. No more day jobs or broken-down Suburbans or sleeping on couches for these guys. They drink water during the shows now - not whiskey. To get a front row table at their Saxon Pub show last week, we had to arrive at 7:00 pm and pay $20. I don't have a hard time getting friends to go with me anymore, since the guys only play Austin once every four or six weeks.

I'm happy for them. And I'm also wistful because they will only get bigger. No saccharine pop boy-band, but a solid group of talented musician-songwriters that happen to all be 20-something and good-looking, Reckless Kelly is not going to be some flash-in-the-pan phenomenon.

Their last show in Texas is Saturday, before they leave for a three-month tour of the Northwest. And I'm sure I'll be there early to get a space on the front row. But if I win the lottery this weekend, you can bet I'll be on the road right behind them.

"Roll on, you wild western windblown band,
Life's waiting up the road for you,
And the future's in your hand..."