Suppose you’ve read about singer-songwriter Charley Crockett, a Texas-born descendant of Davy Crockett. In that case, you know his nomadic, scuffling existence in the first three decades of the award-winning, now 40-year-old’s career. Fourteen records in, his keen observations and having-lived-it wisdom give him a seemingly endless well of ideas and experiences to draw from. $10 Cowboy is his follow-up to 2022’s widely acclaimed Man from Waco, a well-conceived concept album. While this one didn’t begin that way, the results yielded well-connected songs. Many were written on the fly as he toured through the country, at truck stops, casinos, alleys behind venues, or in his truck parked in South Austin. Mostly, he writes about those who have fallen through the cracks.
The album was recorded in Austin, co-produced by Crockett and his long-time ally Billy Horton. Done live to tape with 6-12 musicians on each track, it feels like a live performance. There are way too many to list in the credits but be assured that his regular bandmates – Kullen Fox, Nathan Fleming, and Mario Valdez are reinforced by the city’s talented musicians such as Rich Brotherton, Kevin Smith, Jason Lee Moeller, T. Jarrod Bonta, and more, even a string quartet.\
The title track opens with a country singer who begins by singing on street corners, the type you see busking on Lower Broadway in Nashville, Austin, or any major city. Crockett, the epitome of the rambling man, doesn’t need to do any research here; he’s lived it countless times. In his open letter, the tune “America” Crockett sounds a bit conflicted, taking on the voice of the working class. The love he has for his country is no longer unconditional, he expresses fear that he and his kind will be ignored and overlooked – “America/Have I told ya?/How I labor in your fields/America/I just keep working/Doesn’t matter how I feel.”
He continues his crusade for the underserved and those whose resilience helps them prevail, as heard on “Hard Luck,” Good at Losing,” and “Ain’t Done Losing Yet,” all highly relatable to his blue-collar audience. Yet long a disciple of Dylan’s songwriting, Crockett can also be a bit abstract with songs that lend themselves to multiple interpretations. His dark narrative centered on a conversation with a shady, menacing but confessional character in “Spade” leaves us guessing what the spade means – cards, an implement to dig a grave, or a racial slur. In the jangling “Solitary Road,” he employs Biblical references akin to Dylan with ‘Jezebels,” “jackals,” “gates of the city,” and such. The stinging electric guitar and whirling B3 add intensity to this standout track. The slow-burn narrative of “City of Roses” has us attuned to each word as Fleming supports it with his teeming steel guitar. As good as those songs are, though, Crockett takes a step back in the sappy love song, “Lead the Way,” which plays out like the stereotypical country song, albeit with much cleaner and sensible production values.
Recovering from that slight misstep, Crockett closes with “Midnight Cowboy” (which has nothing to do with the film of the same name). This version of the ‘cowboy’ is not a country singer or a ranch hand but the long-haul trucker, escaping his family troubles, alone in his bubble, refusing to conform. He’s symbolic of the heartland in Crockett’s not-so-subtle dig during these divisive times. Nonetheless, he leaves us with the notion of remaining hopeful in his refrain, “In front the headlights shine.”
Crockett has a potpourri of songs here, from the relatively simple country ditties, to arresting narratives, to those filled with symbolism that demand multiple listens. He remains squarely in the front row of today’s best writers.
