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"Just another hat act."
GARY ALLAN
Smoke Rings In the Dark
Those are words Gary Allan has heard
whispered before. Debuting when he
did in 1996, at a time when
Nashville was scratching a rash of
suburban cowboy hat-wearing
newcomers, it was perhaps an
inevitable response. But he had the
edge of experience. Having honed an individual style
on the honky-tonk circuit in his native California
since age 12, Allan is nothing if not resilient, and
like the long line of honky-tonk icons whose music has
inspired him — Lefty Frizzell, Merle Haggard, Johnny
Horton, Waylon Jennings, George Jones, Willie Nelson,
Buck Owens — he's learned that the best way to meet a
challenge is head-on. With a smile.
"There were these guys at Buck's place last night,"
Allan says, the day after giving a by-invitation
performance at a Bakersfield birthday celebration for
Buck Owens. "I was signing their Gretsch guitars. They
were way into punk, and they said, 'Man, we thought
you were just another hat act out of Nashville, and
you rawk!' When people see you're real, they're so
impressed, and they so want something like that. I've
had those guys at my shows since I was 15. Our shows
are different that way — I don't worry about politics
too much. I go in and I have fun."
If Allan sounds relaxed, he's earned the right. After
playing countless smoky bars with his dad as a teen,
he led his own band through the clubs and fairs of
Southern California for several years before signing
with Decca Records and releasing two albums that each
generated Top 10 hits (single "It Would Be You"
climbed to #5). His just-completed third album, Smoke
Rings In The Dark, is by far his most honest and
rewarding release to-date. And the hard-working
entertainer achieved that feat following the most
tumultuous year the music industry's seen in decades.
When Decca closed in January, corporate maneuvers
could have relegated Allan to the "Whatever Happened
To...?" column in tabloid rags. Instead, he was one of
only four artists picked up by parent company MCA. His
new deal afforded him the time and resources to create
a more mature, career-defining record.
Co-produced by top MCA honchos Mark Wright and Tony
Brown (a "magic combo" who had never produced together
before, and specifically requested by Allan), Smoke
Rings In The Dark features a more muscular sound,
replete with some swing, bluesy shuffle and twang.
Allan even tackles Del Shannon's "Runaway," a staple
of every working band's song list. Country sounds come
courtesy of Western country sidemen like pedal steel
man Dan Dugmore, Allan's longtime bandmate Jake Kelly,
and former Faron Young/George Jones fiddler Hank
Singer.
"I always thought Gary had a very distinctive sound,"
Brown comments. "On Smoke Rings In The Dark, this new
creative team (Brown, Wright, Allan) really maxed out
a direction - we found Gary’s musical identity." Adds
Wright, "When I first heard Gary play live, it was all
about his vibe and musical presence. On this record,
we’ve finally captured the essence of his live
performance."
While Nashville contemporaries issue safe pop
garnished with occasional steel licks, Allan has
synthesized the hard honky-tonk vibe with the
high-energy immediacy of his live shows. But it's on
ballads like the sophisticated title tune, Harley
Allen's "Bourbon Borderline," and Buddy Brock's
classic-sounding "Don't Tell Mama" that he really
shows the depth and command of his critically praised
"aching tenor."
A great singer sounds like they've climbed inside the
song and are living it as they sing; there's no
distance between their vocal and the song's emotion.
When Allan sings, whether he's parsing a lyric with
humor or pain, he sounds like he's down with the dust
and sweat and compromise of everyday life. No
high-glam stylings here.
Capturing that mix — the light and the dark, the
laughter with the anger, the conservative and the
unusual — goes to the heart of the sometimes
contradictory cultural traditions that helped shape
the divorced father of three. Allan calls the region
around Orange County, California home, an area rich in
country music history. It's one of the few places in
Southern California with working cattle ranches, where
cowboys still rope and brand and go two-stepping at
night.
"We get asked a lot at shows, 'What’s a guy from
California doin’ playin' country music?’" Allan says.
"There's a lot happening on the West Coast. And it's
different than Nashville. I never heard the terms
'radio-friendly' or 'commercial value' until I got to
Nashville. When we were writing songs in California,
we wrote 'em for how we thought they would come off in
a clubÑy'know, ‘How's this gonna be to sing live to
people?’"
A short drive west from those cowboy roundups are the
beach communities where Allan loves to surf — and
where the punk and modern-rock scene still thrives.
Interestingly, many of its pierced and tattooed
denizens are also exuberant fans of country legends
like Johnny Cash, Buck Owens and Hank Williams. Allan
sees them at his own shows, and believes they respond
to country music’s relevancy.
"It's real life," he says. "The great country songs,
they're powerful — I don't care what kind of music you
listen to, they have a lot of soul. That's what a lot
of country's lacking today."
Soul was a priority for Allan while hunting for songs
for the new album. He heeded the lessons he's learned
from years of reading audiences. The music — more
specifically, the industry — has always gone through
cycles. What outlasts trends are true stories and
strong songs. Allan credits the new album's quality to
the players and the fact that he was allowed to do
three full song searches with publishers.
Additionally, he hosted his own private guitar pull in
a living room with cream-of-the-crop songwriters like
Guy Clark, Harlan Howard, Harley Allen, Shawn Camp and
Byron Hill. "They were there to pitch me songs, and
they all pitched 'em acoustically," Allan says with
enthusiasm. "It was awesome." Three of the album's
best songs — Camp's "Sorry," and Allen's "Learning to
Live With Me" and "Bourbon Borderline" — came from
that enjoyable return to tradition.
That intimate setup also completed a circle, in a way,
by returning to the basic importance of the singer and
the song -- and listening. Allan’s record deal was
cinched by his extensive performance experience on the
club circuit, where, like any stage-savvy veteran, he
learned to listen to his audience and what makes them
respond. For Allan, it’s the live moments connecting
him to an audience through song that still define
country music.
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