By Todd Lavoie
Looks like the third time’s a charm for Texan singer-songwriter Hayes Carll – the rough ‘n’ tumble country-folk outlaw has just released album number three, Trouble in Mind (Lost Highway), and it’s a huge leap forward for the guy. Not only does his move to a major label give an extra boost of exposure beyond the Texan scene and onto the national level – his first couple of discs were either self-released or issued on a small regional label – but along the way he’s landed himself a sweet supporting slot, opening for the similarly boot-stomping Old 97’s. You’ll see what I mean this Tuesday, June 17, when Carll works his storytelling woo-ha on the Fillmore crowd.
You can’t miss that Texan drawl: Carll’s is as thick as a brick, perhaps even given a little extra layer on top just to be sure no one’s confused about his point of origin. Inevitably, Steve Earle comes to mind – particularly his first couple of decades’ worth of recordings, rather than the genre-hopping excursions of recent years – thanks to a similarly evocative dusty whine, equally capable of a sneer and a leer as it is of hitting heartstrings with a broken admission of weakness.
Then there’s the choice of subject matter. Much of Carll’s material shares the barroom bluster of Earle’s ’80s and ’90s output. Drugs and drink, hard-luck men and women, tight-lipped drifters itching for a brawl – sound familiar? Perhaps so, but Carll also tends to inject most of his character sketches and roadhouse recollections with plenty of wit and a no-nonsense poet’s grasp of language. As much as I’d imagine he might argue that his songs are nothin’ fancy, there is considerable complexity at work here. Sure, Trouble in Mind doesn’t put on any airs, but the disc is a wordsmith’s delight, loaded with lingering images and sly turns of phrase.