Noel McKay chats with Whiskey Preachin

BY TONY SEXTON

HTT Contributor

“Craftsman” and “poet” are two words often bandied around when discussing songwriters. Undoubtedly, many songwriters put their all into their craft, and few people would dispute that it is an art form. Irish poet Brendan Cleary once told me that while a song’s lyrics may be poetic, writing even the most poetic of lyrics does not make someone a poet. It makes them a songwriter, which is as distinct a mode of writing as the novel or the short story, or journalism for that matter. It may be apposite to describe a songwriter’s work as poetic, but that does not make her, or him, a poet. In the world of music writing, where adjectives abound, and superlatives fly like shrapnel, one might wish to avoid this trap. Describing a songwriter as a “craftsman,” however, seems appropriate, even if we should try to use the term sparingly when truly justified. A bit like “genius.” Words have more weight when used with care and deliberation.

Noel McKay is a craftsman. Guy Clark, who disliked being described as a craftsman himself, was a friend of Noel McKay. They wrote songs and even built guitars together. On his new album, “Blue, Blue, Blue,” McKay sings a wonderful version of his old friend’s song “Flying and Falling,” where he captures the phrasing and feel of Clark’s original beautifully. The song fits perfectly with the set of songs McKay has pulled together for “Blue, Blue, Blue,” an album that is very easy to leave on repeat for hours. So, I was very pleased when our esteemed editor asked if I would like to get in touch with Noel McKay for this interview. As well as asking him about the album and his songwriting, I was keen to ask the talented songsmith his opinion on the “lyrics as poetry” question.

TS: “Blue Blue Blue” could be a career-defining album. How do you feel about it? Is this the album you have been building up to making, the one that your previous albums have been signposting? Or do you see it as another mile marker on the way to where you’re going?

NM: Honestly, I’m very happy with how “Blue Blue Blue” came out. I tried, as I always do, to walk the tightrope between perfectionism and letting things come out as they’re going to. When you’ve hired and entrusted someone of enormous caliber to play on your song, as was the case with every artist featured on this record, and particularly when you have something specific in mind, you have to tell them what you want, then let go and let them make their magic. Everyone involved with this record gave me their absolute best, and I think that comes through. I’m very grateful to them for that. I dreamt of realizing this record as it is currently realized, so, yes, I was building up to this record. That said, I’ll try to apply the same level of intention and care to the next one. How it’s perceived and received after I release it is not really my responsibility; only that I do my best with it and involve people who care about making it good.

TS: The album has a lovely, warm, timeless feel. How easy was this to achieve? Where was the album recorded, and who produced it? Is that your band, The Texas Oil Men, playing on the album?

NM: That feel is a combination of me just trying to match the calm I wish to surround myself with and Eldridge Goins’ brilliant production/ playing style. Those became the sounds the songs make when they’re put together here. When I moved to Nashville, I had some new songs that I thought “Blue Blue Blue” would really benefit from, but I didn’t have the luxury of going back to Austin to record them with Eldridge, so I hired Ben Sanders, who is also a brilliant producer. At that point, it became Ben’s job to match the feel that had already been established with Eldridge’s recordings and go from there. We tried to make it sound as seamless as possible from song to song. The record was produced by Eldridge Goins and Ben Sanders. The Texas Oil Men is really who I’ve got on stage with me; it’s what I call my band when there are three or more of us. Many of the men and women who play with me regularly are playing on “Blue Blue Blue.”

TS: Are you playing the guitar you built with Guy Clark on this album?

NM: On many of the tracks, yes.

TS: You appear in the bonus material of “Without Getting Killed or Caught,” the recently released documentary about Guy Clark. Among other things, you discuss writing “El Coyote” with Guy Clark. Do you still play that song live?

NM: I play that song at most shows. When we first finished it, Guy was so fond of it. People would tell me all the time that he’d played it for them and made sure he mentioned that I’d co-written it. I had a realization that knocked me upside the head recently when it occurred to me that I’ll end up playing it many more times in my life than he did during his. This makes me sad, but it’s also an incredible gift he gave me. One of many.

TS: One of the stand-out moments from the film is when Guy is talking about wishing he could write a No. 1 hit for Garth Brooks, but unfortunately finds himself “cursed with artistic integrity.” Do you suffer from this same curse?

NM: First of all, Garth Brooks is still with us (I’m a big fan), and who knows, he might yet record and make a No. 1 hit out of a Guy Clark song. That’s the kind of thing he does. I say that partially to illustrate that artistic integrity might have been a financial curse to Guy, but his songs are the longterm beneficiaries of that integrity.

TS: What is it to be a songwriter? What does it mean to you?

NM: To me, to be a songwriter is to (or attempt to, at least) capture an experience, situation, or feeling with words and then try to match that with the appropriate melody and chord progression, or vice versa. It’s the learning how to express oneself with words and with music that’s the tricky part. Those are lifetime pursuits that can never be completely learned.

TS: What makes Texas particularly fertile ground for singer-songwriters? Is there artistic integrity in the water?

NM: Look, my family has been in Texas for a really long time, and I often get teased for being “Texas as Hell,” but I don’t really think it’s necessarily more fertile ground for songwriting than other places. It’s just got style. What’s made it fertile ground is its proximity to Mexico, its connection with the old west, and its wildness. But, let’s face it, that horse’s been broke. I’ll ask anybody reading this in Texas right now: when’s the last time you saw a mountain lion or even one of its tracks?

TS: How much of your art is inspiration, and how much of it is hard graft and editing? How does the songwriting process work for you?

NM: That varies from song to song, but those are most frequently two separate events. The inspiration usually happens when I don’t have time to sit down and edit something into a linear, believable storyline with an appropriate musical melody and accompaniment. Therefore, the idea goes onto paper or a note on my cellphone, but it, itself, is very quick. There’s still room for little inspirations in the editing process as the song unfolds, but, for me, inspiration is always lightning fast. And, saying “I’ll remember that and write it down later” is a mistake. It’s usually gone as quickly as it comes. The art form for me is mostly the sometimes challenging and sometimes easy work of justifying the idea and rationalizing the idea. Even if it’s far-fetched, there’s no reason it can’t still be believable. It’s all a greater or lesser degree of using psychology to convince the listener that something is really happening and, if you can draw them in and not distract them with anything that takes them out of the context of the song as it’s unfolding, you’re likely to draw them in and keep their attention for the two to six minutes that is the life of a song.

TS: Which song on “Blue Blue Blue” took the longest to finish?

NM: Probably “Pawnee Waltz.” I dreamt the B Section, which is the instrumental part, when I was about 23 or 24. It became its own song called “Waltz For Mary Magdalene” for about a decade, fell out of circulation, and was revived when the idea for “Pawnee Waltz” came around. The A section didn’t take long to complete at all, but those two parts got written about 20 years apart. “Blue Blue Blue” also took a long time to finish. Most of that first verse was part of another song in the repertoire of The Laughing Dogs, which was my brother’s and my band in the 1990s. About 10 years later, I was in a relationship with a woman that I could see, despite my best hopes, wasn’t going to end well. I incorporated those lines into “Blue Blue Blue.” When I thought it might be finished, I took it to Guy to get his opinion about the third verse because I wasn’t sure it was concise enough. He said, “I don’t hear anything wrong with it, man.” If it was good enough for Guy...

TS: “When This Town Was Cool” is the kind of song that stops people dead in their tracks and makes them really pay attention. Is there a song that stops you every time you hear it and makes you think, “I wish I’d written that?”

NM: I wish I’d written “On The Road Again.” It’s perfect. I also wish I’d written “Pineola” by Lucinda Williams, but I wouldn’t have wanted to live through its inspiration. “Last Gunfighter Ballad.” If there were a University Of Songwriting, “Ode To Billy Joe” would be its own semester-long class and a requirement for graduation.

TS: Certain songwriters often have their songs likened to poetry. What is the difference between writing lyrics and writing poetry?

NM: They definitely overlap. To my mind, what defines them distinctly is the point at which they become incompatible. For example, when song lyrics sound poorly recited as poetry or when poetry can’t neatly be incorporated into song structure with melody or meter.

TS: Have you written prose? Is there a novel in you?

NM: I’ve recently been inspired by the writings in the book “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones.” That’s the first sort of prose I’ve written in a long time. Of course, after it was written, my mind started wanting to put it in song form, but I think that would ruin it. In terms of a novel, I did start writing one when I was on tour with High Plains Jamboree a few years ago. Maybe I’ll finish it sometime.

TS: What novelists do you like reading? What’s your favourite Texas novel?

NM: I’ve been reading sci-fi novels written by Larry Niven, non-fiction books like “Caste War Of Yucatán” by Nelson Reed and “Relación de Las Cosas de Yucatán” by Fray Diego de Landa. I’ve also been slowly reading some Shakespeare plays like “Love’s Labour Lost” and “The Tragedy of Julius Caesar.” Those, I can only read for short periods of time because they’re so incredible that I’m humbled, and I have to stop and gather myself. I recently re-read “Lonesome Dove” by Larry McMurtry. It’s pretty extraordinary. I also like “Comanche Dawn” by Mike Blakely. He did an incredible amount of research on the Comanches, and it’s a book about Texas that explains a lot about how and why it is like it is now.

TS: “Real Cowboy” is an alternative take on the cowboy song. Who is your favourite cowboy songwriter, and do you have a favourite cowboy song?

TNM: My favorite cowboy song is probably “Goodbye Old Paint,” which was written by Charlie Willis.

TS: There is an excellent podcast by Andy Hodges called Cowboy Crossroads, about cowboy poets and cowboy poetry. Do you have a favourite cowboy poet?

NM: I’ve actually been on that podcast. I was very honored to be invited. “The Strawberry Roan” is also a favorite poem as well as song. That was written by Curley Fletcher. My buddy James Steinle writes some mean cowboy poetry.

TS: You co-host the Songwriter Thursday night at the American Legion Post 82 in Nashville. Who have you hosted recently that we should keep an eye and ear open for? Who are your favourite songwriters working today?

NM: The level of skill that these writers are bringing to Songwriter Thursdays astounds me. There are new faces with great songs every week. I’ve particularly been enjoying the compositions of Alec Lang, Charlotta Clutter, and a bunch of others. Too many to list here. I had a hunch that there were people who cared more about the songs than if they made them look cool. The success of the night shows I was onto something.

TS: “The 50 Loneliest Places in the Nation” deserves to become a classic. How long did that one take to write? Is there a story behind this song, or is it as simple as a great melody and a map?

NM: Thank you! I actually rewrote it for an England/Scotland tour that got canceled last year because of Covid. It’s called “The 50 Loneliest Places In The UK.” Maybe I’ll get the chance to play it there this summer. I dreamt the chorus of the song. Roger Miller was singing it. I looked at a map a couple of times when I was trying to match up sounds and rhyme cities with one another as I finished it.

TS: To a British ear, “Lurlene” is reminiscent of Chas and Dave, the cockney personas of the late Chas Hodges and Dave Peacock, two British session musicians with storied careers. Are Chas and Dave a known quantity to you?

NM: I do see a little bit of a parallel. However, Chas and Dave were products of their time and generation, and “Lurlene” is about a woman getting some much-needed and very belated personal autonomy. It’s just from the perspective of the person who that affects the most.

TS: What’s next for you? Are you already thinking about the next album? What’s the situation with touring the album?

NM: I’m going to do a record about a smaller South Texas city that was central to my childhood. I’ll be including two or three Mexican corridos as well. The place has two blending cultural identities.

TS: Dead or alive, who would you have on the bill at your fantasy festival?

NM: I’d bring Guy back (no surprise) and Townes Van Zandt. Lucinda Williams would get booked, Miguel Aceves Mejia and Lola Beltran with an accompanying Mariachi band for each, and the classical pianist and composer Fredric Chopin.

TS: What words of advice would you give to aspiring songwriters out there?

NM: You do it, or you don’t. If you want to write songs, do it, and study music theory and poetry. Read as much as you can and be patient with yourself. Nobody is born knowing how to do it, and nobody’s really very good at it until life crushes them a few times, and don’t expect to get rich. If you want to get rich, start a health insurance company in America. Writing songs is a lot better for your soul, though.

“Blue, Blue, Blue” is available everywhere now. It’s a lovely album and deserves to be listened to far and wide and often.