DECEMBER STORIES

Keith Urban’s Slow and Steady Race to Be Here
By Richard Skanse - CMA Close Up News Service

If a battle of the sexes broke out at a Keith Urban concert, the men wouldn't stand a chance. Outnumbered at least three to one, they'd be crushed in minutes, every last boyfriend and husband.
But the women aren't generally in a fighting mood at a concert by Urban. Recently at the outdoor amphitheater at Stubb's in Austin, Texas, the fifth stop on the Nashville-based Australian's "CMT On Tour: Keith Urban Be Here '04," the men wisely kept a lid on any feelings of jealousy, even when their better halves roared their approval at a KASE 101 FM disc jockey's notion that "Keith Urban is the sexiest man alive."
It helps that Urban is clearly the kind of guy most of them would be happy to hang with - say, for an afternoon of motorcycle riding, which is how Urban tells the crowd he spent his day.
"We pull in today, and I get a call from Gov. [Rick] Perry," Urban said in an affable, "can-you-believe-that?" tone. "He said, 'I hear you like bike riding - how about a tour around Austin?'"
And above all else, music aficionados of both sexes know that the guy can play.
From the opening "Days Go By" - Urban's fifth and latest No. 1 single – and all through the hit-laden set in which even the most heart-on-sleeve ballads pack the punch of Urban's unfailingly melodic and anthem-worthy lead guitar solos, it's clear he's no mere pin-up boy.
Urban is still getting used to being an honest-to-goodness Country Music star. It was his dream more than a decade ago when he moved to Nashville from Australia. The lean years are still close enough to keep him humble, even as he enjoys the No. 1 success of his new album Be Here, which went Platinum in it's sixth week on the charts.
"It's good to be back at Stubb's," he told the sold-out Austin audience three songs into his set. "Seven years ago, I played that little indoor stage here with a band called The Ranch, and about four people came out. So tonight is a good blessing."

Overnight success, Urban reckons, is overrated.

The New Zealand-born, Australian-raised singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist may well be the hottest "new" male artist in Country Music and is the 2004 CMA Male Vocalist of the Year, but success took its sweet time catching up with his talent. Since 1997, Urban has stayed at Capitol Records Nashville through three presidents, "a very unusual" feat which speaks volumes about the label's long-haul commitment to Urban, said Bill Kennedy, Vice President of Sales at the label.
"For every project he's released, he's had to kind of prove himself from the beginning," Kennedy said.
Urban says he has no complaints.
"I really am grateful for the way it's all happened, no question about it," Urban said. "When you're in the midst of that slow steady climb, you can feel a little impatient, but I'm grateful for the slow build that it's been. Really, if I could do it all over again, I would do it exactly the same."
There are a couple of exceptions. Given another chance, he'd likely choose to bypass that little stretch of not-so-golden road between the last days of his old band The Ranch and the launch of his solo career. That's when he endured a period of depression and slipped briefly into alcohol and drug addiction.
"I was just musically lost," Urban said. "I felt like I'd done my best musically, and was still not getting anywhere. When you do your best and it's just not working, it can be challenging to know what to do next. I guess it was just a loss of faith that I had ... but not fully, because it was faith that helped me through the dark."
Urban's self-titled 2000 Platinum solo debut, with its No. 1 single "But For the Grace of God" and the GRAMMY-nominated instrumental "Rollercoaster," turned the tide. The follow-up, 2002's double-Platinum Golden Road, delivered on the promise of his 2001 CMA Horizon Award win. The new Platinum Be Here – Urban's first No. 1 chart-topping album on Billboard's Country Album Chart – is his crossover from next-big-something to big, period.
"Of course," he admitted with a chuckle, "in my stupid, naïve way, I did think it was going to be a lot easier. I thought this would have happened 10 years ago. But God, I'm glad it didn't, because I would have completely blown it, I'm sure."
Ten years ago, Urban may have been just another young hopeful with big dreams on Music Row, but he was already a seasoned performer. He spent years of hardscrabble gigging on the Australian pub and Country Music talent contest scene. According to fellow Aussie guitarist and songwriter Bill Chambers (patriarch of that country's award winning Dead Ringer Band and father of singer-songwriter Kasey Chambers), Urban already had serious chops and star quality back then.
Chambers vividly recalls the first time he saw Urban play. It was at a club in Avoca Beach, just north of Sydney.
"It was one of the best gigs we'd ever seen," Chambers said.
Urban's repertoire was heavy on Country covers at the time, including a storming version "Devil Went Down to Georgia" on which he nailed the dueling fiddle solos on guitar.

"I just couldn't believe how good he was," Chambers said. "Of course he's a good looking guy and he's got a great voice, but to be able to play those guitar licks at the same time as you sing – I was just awestruck."

Raised on a farm near Brisbane, Urban inherited his love of Country Music from his parents, who signed the family up with the local "Country Music club," a sort of social club in which like-minded fans come together to perform and dance to live Country Music.

"I was so immersed in that scene growing up, I thought everybody was in a Country Music club," Urban said. "It's like a lifestyle in Australia. Families all join these little clubs, and they'd have events once a month. And then once a year all the Country Music clubs in Australia would get together in one town and compete, club to club."

Urban, an accomplished picker and performer by his teens, stood out enough to land a deal with EMI Australia, which released his debut album in 1990. Four No. 1 Australian Country singles - and a publishing deal with MCA – later, he set his sights on Music City, U.S.A.

But Nashville in the early to mid-90s didn't know what to do with the Australian, and at first he barely managed to eek out a living off his publishing deal. His fortunes didn't change much even after he scored an American record label deal, with Capitol, namely because he was signed not as a solo artist but as one-third (albeit the lead singer and guitarist) of the Country rock band The Ranch. The band's self-titled 1997 debut failed to garner much attention.

"In Country Music, it's always harder to sell and market bands as opposed to an individual artist," Kennedy said. "It wasn't Keith Urban and The Ranch, it was The Ranch." (Capitol reissued The Ranch this year, in the wake of Urban's solo success.)

"The stars just didn't line up at the time, but I'm still very proud of that record," Urban said. "It's an accurate record for where I was at the time, and there's a vulnerability to it that I'm still grateful for, because that's what you try to capture on records. But I feel bad for the guy who made that record, because it was a tough time."

A year after The Ranch was released, the band called it quits, but Urban walked away from the breakup – and a stint at rehab to overcome the addictions he battled at the time - with a second chance and a solo deal. This time around, both Capitol and Country radio knew exactly what to do with Urban. And so did Urban himself.

"In hindsight, I don't see (the early days in Nashville) as frustrating so much as I see it as a good time for me to find my musical direction," Urban said. "I think if we had had a huge, massive first single on the Ranch record, it would have been difficult for me to find the time to find my own sort of voice."

There's one other advantage to the slow road to success. Urban's first No. 1 album is also his finest collection of songs and performances to date. Like Golden Road and Keith Urban (and even The Ranch) before it, Be Here, co-produced by 2004 CMA Musician of the Year Dann Huff and Urban, splits the difference between brightly melodic, banjo-flecked Country rock ("Days Go By," "Live to Love Another Day") and achingly effective weepers that pay equal respects to love on the way up (Rodney Crowell's "Making Memories of Us") and on the way down ("Tonight I Want to Cry").

Urban's wrote or co-wrote nine of the 13 songs on the new album. Combined with his pleasing and decidedly untwangy voice and instrumental prowess, it makes him a true triple-threat artist. Take into account his proven track record at radio, high-energy live performances and undeniable sex appeal, and Capitol executives know they have a superstar on their hands.

"Well, we think so," Kennedy said. "I mean, we try to treat him that way. We just hope that he keeps making great records for us to work and compete in the marketplace, and we think he will. Keith totally understands the balance between art and commerce, and he's done a great job of being able to do both. He's been able to build that consistency out there that you look for and the radio programmers look for, and I think that should continue."

Urban is happy to do his part, provided he's allowed to continue making music his way. Fortunately for all involved, that's never really been an issue.

"I'm really grateful to Capitol for that, because it's a pretty unusual thing," Urban said of his artistic freedom. "In the beginning, we had turned down a couple of deals because they were going to try and craft me and not let me do my thing. And you know there's a couple of artists I had heard about where they thought, 'I'll do everything the label tells me to do until I have success, and then I'll pull back the reins and do my own thing.' But of course labels don't want to buck from formula, so if you have success by doing it 'their way,' they're reticent to let you change it. So I thought, If I'm going do it my way, it's got to be on the front end.

"It'll take longer," he continued, "but it'll be worth it in the long run."

By Richard Skanse

© 2004 CMA Close Up News Service

Concert Review: Keith Urban
Thu Dec 16, 2004 03:35 AM ET

Keith Urban (Tues.
By Tom Roland

LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - Convergence emerged in recent years as a buzzword connecting music with technology. But Keith Urban is putting that term in a different context, demonstrating how various talents and assets can converge at an opportune moment to launch a musician to the next level. And make no mistake -- Urban is on the verge of superstardom.
A distant seven years ago, he was playing the Nashville club scene in a three-piece band, the Ranch, generating attention with a guitar style that was impressively flamboyant but raw and unrefined. He took plenty of lengthy solos, but he played as if he were a riff factory, self-consciously stacking sonic phrases end to end, often without connection to the phrase that came before.
Fast-forward to 2004, and the need to prove himself has been replaced by a genial swagger and tasteful restraint. Urban approached Tuesday's instrumental moments prudently, playing with feedback, dexterity and sustained notes on arena rock-inspired pieces, settling into driving acoustic rhythms in the midtempo numbers and ballads. He never played more or less than what was appropriate, and every phrase fit.
The other elements of his creative and public personas have reached an admirable maturity simultaneously with his guitar playing. His songwriting combines the hook-filled tunefulness and buoyant optimism of pop music's AM-driven past. He's confident as a vocalist, cheerleading in bright numbers such as "Days Go By" and "Somebody Like You" and sweet without being sappy in such ballads as "Making Memories of Us" and "Your Everything."
In addition, Urban proved somewhat daring. He employed banjo and/or mandolin in nearly every number, using them to add a surprisingly jagged rhythmic drive to songs chock-full of rock overtones. He inserted a lengthy unplugged segment that required an unusual intensity and a subtle instinct for fresh arrangements to keep it interesting. And, practically defying country dictates, he altered the context of several of his best-known songs, changing tempos and adding extra codas that gave the music new dimensions.
The most notable of those updates came in his rendition of "You'll Think of Me." Delivered as a circumspect parting to a lover, it's one of the gentlest kiss-off songs in memory, chilling in its resolute calmness as Urban considers his jilted heart and bids adieu with only the slightest hint of venom. But where the recorded version fades quietly into the sunset, his Wiltern performance evolved into slow-grinding anger, with a passionate extra verse finally allowing the honest emergence of the pain that had previously been held in check.
To his adaptable musical skills, add a Colgate smile and skinny rock star physique, and it becomes easily apparent why Urban's on the rise. It's a rare convergence of talent and timing, and even those who pay little attention to country music need to keep an eye on this guy with the anti-country last name. Keith Urban is a persistent talent whose time has finally arrived.

Reuters/Hollywood Reporter

The Aussie Way
Country heartthrob Keith Urban says he can't take himself too seriously, thanks to his Australian upbringing

By DOUG ELFMAN
REVIEW-JOURNAL
Keith Urban, country music star and sex symbol, was once cut loose from a metal rock band: "I was busting out these Ricky Skaggs guitar solos. They fired me."
Keith Urban is one of country music's reigning sex symbols. You'd think he'd be able to date more than he does, but leading the job of a touring musician is "a very strange lifestyle. It's not what it used to be," the 37-year-old Aussie says.
"I never get a chance to actually meet anybody out there on the road -- and I'm single! It's crazy," he says. "We get into town, and we're backstage the whole time.

"We'll do a meet-and-greet, and then I have no more interaction with people (individually). And then I go out and do a show for an hour and 45 minutes, and then I walk off stage, get on the bus, and we roll out of town. We rarely even stay overnight. So how the hell am I gonna meet somebody?"

Urban says he doesn't understand why anyone would think of him as a sex symbol. That's partly due to his Australian demeanor. He says it is true that a lot of Aussies speak of themselves humbly, as if they're just a bunch of "wankers."
Talking aobut this makes him laugh robustly, and he attributes a good deal of this attitude to Australia's history as a one-time island prison for England.
"It's a pretty self-effacing country, yeah. We tend to kick the (expletive) out of ourselves before anybody else gets a chance. It's just an Aussie way, a convict mentality we all adhere to for some distant reason.
"That's just the extreme," he says. "Australia's been that way for many years, but I tell ya what, it's changed a lot in the last 10 years. I really feel Australians are starting to become proud of their exports and Aussies that have gone overseas and done well."
That would be good for him at this point, since he's an acclaimed best-selling country star who just won the Male Vocalist of the Year award from the Country Music Association. He plans to tour his home country soon, something he's rarely done while trying to break into the States.
Does he anticipate any Aussies giving him a backlash for becoming a star in the States first?
"I don't think so. I haven't experienced any of that. I mean, it's really obvious where I had to go, anyway. I think most Aussies'll tell you there's only so far you can go in Australia before you go overseas, anyway. I just sort of shortcut doing it that way and (came) here first."
He sure won't be taking a prima donna attitude back home.
"I don't think you're gonna find many Aussie divas. You just can't do it. You can't have any sort of arrogance in Australia, or they really do cut you down fast. So you keep a natural humility, and a humorousness about what you do and who you are, and you get on with the job."
That approach would never have worked for Urban if he'd gone into hip-hop or pop music.
"Yeah, bravado is definitely the main ingredient" in other music formats, he says. "I would have sucked at that, obviously. I don't have it in me."
In fact, he was fired once from a rock band.
"It was, like, a heavy metal band and I was busting out these (country) Ricky Skaggs guitar solos. They fired me. No, I wasn't cut out for that at all, I just couldn't take it seriously."
The fired rocker says he's still "completely baffled" by his best male vocalist award.
"I can tell you so honestly, not in a million years would I picture myself winning that award. I mean, not just that night, but ever," he says. "I mean, Alan Jackson, that's a country singer. George Strait, there's a country singer. It just absolutely blew my mind."
Instead of gunning for awards, he's tried to focus on writing music -- he's a rare, guitar-playing singer who co-writes his own hits -- and putting on good concerts.
And at his age, with his latest hit album, "Be Here," he doesn't even worry as much as he used to, or stress himself out.
"I find it's almost unprofessional -- my approach to things, sometimes. When we were making this record, I would show up with not the faintest idea what I was gonna do. But all the players are there, I got a bunch of songs in my head, so I grab the acoustic guitar and play a couple and see which one feels good to me that day," he says. "It was great, because whatever song you're into that morning is the one that you cut."

FROM DOWN UNDER TO ON TOP OF THINGS
Tom Lanham

Sunday, December 12, 2004

It's a curious phenomenon unique to Australia. It's called Tall Poppy Syndrome, country music sensation Keith Urban says with a sigh, and there's no proven method of fighting it. As Urban describes it, any artist -- or "poppy" -- who begins to outgrow his peers is automatically cut down to size via fan, press or industry backlash. Rise above your raising Down Under, and you'll be humbled in short, swift order.

"And it used to be really vicious, in the sense that it didn't inspire anybody to want to succeed overseas," says Urban, who seems to be doing all right for himself in spite of the syndrome. Four chart-topping albums into his Nashville career, he just nabbed a Country Music Association Award for top male vocalist. "You not only didn't get any support, but you really got knocked for your achievements. And much of it has to do with how prepared you are to dig in, as well. A lot of acts are successful in Australia, and they think that's going to translate to the States, but in most cases it doesn't. You've got to start all over again, and a lot of people aren't willing to do that."

Urban, 37, speaks from hard-earned experience. On his latest hook-filled twangfest, "Be Here" (Capitol), the singer looks -- and sounds -- like an alternative-edged Music Row natural. He's got the requisite shoulder-length blond hair, perpetual three-day stubble, chiseled cheekbones, multiple hoop earrings and elaborate sleeve tattoos -- one is a Hopi thunderbird, and another reads "Love conquers all" in Latin.
And his songs -- originals like "Days Go By," "These Are the Days" and "Live to Love Another Day," and obscure covers such as Elton John's "Country Comfort" and Rodney Crowell's "Making Memories of Us" -- ring with a seasoned authenticity that's missing from most Hallmark-card country outfits these days.

Ever since he was 7 years old, growing up in the rural Aussie hamlet of Caboolture, Urban remembers dreaming of far-off Nashville. Like fellow revivalist Kasey Chambers, he pored over his father's vintage Glen Campbell, Charley Pride and Don Williams records and set his sights on country. At the tender age of 10, he appeared on the TV talent show "Pot of Gold," warbling Dolly Parton's "Coat of Many Colors"; by 15, he'd ditched high school for the touring life. In 1990, he inked a publishing deal with EMI Australia, released a local debut disc and shipped out for several songwriting assignments in Tennessee.
He finally settled in Nashville in 1993, and he swears that city damaged him more deeply than Tall Poppy Syndrome ever could.
Caboolture, Urban recalls, "was just great -- a small town, no crime, where it really wasn't that odd for a kid to be into American country." But Music Row was instant culture shock.
"It's a hard town, you know," he says, his Australian accent still "G'day mate" thick. "And when you're away from your country, your friends and everything you know, it gets really lonely and cold. You don't really think you can trust anybody. You're doing the best you can, and nothing's happening. It gets pretty damned depressing."
The newcomer's three-piece combo, the Ranch, was "the wrong presentation -- not the right place for me to be, musically or spiritually." And his new hometown, he soon learned, wasn't paved with gold, but with but politics.

"And I truly wasn't prepared for the two-faced side of people there, shaking your hand, slapping your back, saying, 'We want to help you.' And then finding out that, behind your back, they're all laughing and thinking, 'Is this kid serious? Surely he's got to get the hint and go back to Australia.' And once you start realizing that's going on, it gets really lonely."

So lonely that Urban sought solace down some dark side streets. After reportedly serious bouts with booze and crack cocaine, he was treated at Nashville's Cumberland Heights Clinic. He refuses to dwell on those grim days, summarizing past addictions tersely.

"I got through it, I've moved forward, and I'm grateful to be on the other side of it now," he says. "But John Lennon said, 'Whatever gets you through the night,' and I guess, to some extent, there's a point in your life when that's really what you're most concerned with -- just getting through. It never occurred to me to go home, and I think that's why things kept getting harder and harder."

Meanwhile, country powers-that-be saw a remarkably marketable commodity in the handsome young star. After the Ranch disbanded, Urban paid the bills by playing session guitar for Garth Brooks and the Dixie Chicks. Bigwigs started pulling him aside, advising him to play it safe and use their songwriters, musicians, studios and producers. If he'd play the game, they intimated, he'd hit the top in no time.

"So I had to keep rising up against that, and keep staying strong toward my own musical vision," he says. His souped-up take on traditional tones caught on -- his eponymous 2000 debut went gold, launched a No. 1 hit ("But for the Grace of God"), and earned him an 2001 CMA nod for best new artist.

And Nashville, Urban is pleased to report, "has mellowed with age, just like people. It's become more accepting of different lifestyles and different kinds of people, who can now co-exist all in one city."

The town is now treating its tall poppy like a prized orchid.

"And thanks to all these new acts coming along who are way more rock or pop than I am," Urban chortles, "in contrast, I'm looking really hick. So now my main goal is to finally get more success in my own land, which has always eluded me. They still think I'm all 'yee-haw' country down there. I'm going to have to change those Australian misconceptions."

Urban makes his mark here with hypnotic mix of country and rock
By Barry Gilbert
Of the Post-Dispatch

It's a good thing videotape and TiVo exist, because Keith Urban remembers very little about being named male vocalist of the year by the Country Music Association last month.
Urban and his band had just finished performing and he was heading back to his dressing room to change clothes when, onstage, the name of the winner from among Urban, George Strait, Alan Jackson, Kenny Chesney and Toby Keith was being announced by SHeDAISY and Buddy Jewell.
"People came up to me and grabbed me and said, 'They read your name!'" the native Australian says. "'No way,' I'm thinking, 'there's no way they're reading my name,' but they're virtually pushing me out onstage. Everything went silent for a few minutes, it was all in slow motion. I remember seeing the girls from SHeDAISY, because who could forget them, but your mind's just going all over the place."
The next time Urban, 37, comes through town, odds are he'll be too big to play the Family Arena in St. Charles, where he is booked Thursday. With three major-label CDs in five years, the blond and charismatic Urban has proved that he is a for-real triple threat as a singer, songwriter and guitarist.
According to Billboard's Nov. 27 issue, his new CD, "Be Here," which peaked at No. 1, was holding steady at No. 10 after eight weeks on the Top Country chart. It was No. 43 on the Top 200. The first single, the rocking and ultra-infectious "Days Go By," had a run at No. 1 among country singles, and the ballad "You're My Better Half" is at No. 19. And after a staggering 110 weeks, Urban's previous CD, "Golden Road," is at No. 18 on the Top Country chart.
Urban's done all this with music that doesn't so much straddle the traditional and rock camps of contemporary country as it assimilates both. His guitar heroes are Dire Strait's Mark Knopfler and AC/DC's Angus Young. He grew up listening to his father's Don Williams records, and loves the sound of the "Waylon stomp" - that unmistakable, loping rhythm of Waylon Jennings' records. He is a fan of alt-country icon Rodney Crowell.
Urban's music is propelled by muscular, memorable hooks and melodies and is supported by his guitar and banjo, which percolates right up in the mix and is becoming his signature sound. He wrote or co-wrote nine of the 13 tracks on "Be Here," which are overwhelmingly positive, celebrating living and loving in the moment and being accountable, without being preachy or pandering.
"We're so consumed with thinking about next week and next year, and planning on when we'll start living our life way down the track," Urban says. "We keep thinking about cashing it in and living the simple life, and we watch 'The Simple Life' and reality shows because we don't have a life. But this is it, this is the real deal. I try to be mindful of that each day."
Urban came of age in and around Brisbane, on Australia's east coast.
"My dad was a drummer," Urban says. "His father was a piano teacher right up to the day he died. Most of my father's side is musical, and I inherited that, particularly the rhythm side of things. Dad says I used to strum the ukulele in time to whatever was on the radio. At 6, I got a guitar and loved it immediately, and I started competing in talent quests when I was 7 or 8. I've never looked back. I've been onstage since that age."
After a successful run in Australia with a hit album and road-seasoned band and crew, Urban struck a publishing deal with the Australian arm of MCA Records on condition that they would send him to America to write, which they did in 1992. In 1995, Urban recorded his first U.S. album as part of a band called the Ranch, and that's when he began using a banjo - actually, a "ganjo."
"That's the unofficial name for a six-string banjo, like a guitar," Urban says. "I've always loved banjos, but I can't play one with five strings and tuned all funky and weird. I'm just a simple guitarist.
"When we started making the Ranch record in '95, we had a song and, man, we really needed a banjo. A guy came in to play on it, but I couldn't translate what I heard in my head to him, I couldn't get my mind around five strings. Then I went to a music store and there, like the Holy Grail, like there was a light shining down, was a six-string banjo on a guitar stand. I picked it up and played it and bought it on the spot. I put it on that track ... and it's become a really important part of my sound. It's part of the base color."
Urban's battle with substance abuse is also part of the base color of his writing. On "Be Here," he writes about a higher power and alludes to 12 steps on "God's Been Good to Me" and other tracks. This, too, he says, ties into the CD's theme of living in the present.
"That's where the most power comes from," he says. "The power to heal and recover - it's all about acceptance. I would like to have taken an easier road to where I am, but everything happens for a reason."

Humble
Intensity
Keith Urban Has Chops, But He Won’t Use Them
By Darrin Fox

“When I first arrived in Nashville, I was still used to playing the Australian pub-rock scene,” says new-country cover boy, Keith Urban. “And those ratty clubs require you to play with a certain ferocity. But in Nashville, that level of intensity kind of freaked everyone out.”
Music City must have been freaked, as it took a skeptical Nashville establishment quite some time to see the recipe for success in Urban’s super-model looks, seasoned stage presence, grade-A singing and songwriting chops, and versatile guitar style that could conjure Glen Campbell or Brett Mason.
“Every label told me that singing guitar players were a tough sell,” says Urban, who was born in New Zealand, but raised in Australia. “But I kept pointing out that I wasn’t merely a guitarist who dabbled in singing, I was also a singer who wrote songs. So I spent some time writing songs—as well as finding material by other writers—that would allow me to showcase what I do in a balanced way.”
After a couple of strong, but relatively unnoticed records, he released Keith Urban in 1999, and the ball began to roll. His next record, 2002’s Golden Road, spawned three number one singles and made Urban one of country music’s top concert draws. His latest album, Be Here [Capitol], sports immaculately polished songs and production, as well as Urban’s fierce solo chops and keen ear for crafting glorious guitar textures.
Your guitar style is interesting in that it has a country twang to it, but you don’t sound like a typical country guitar player.
Well, I definitely listened to country guys like Ray Flacke and Albert Lee. But my biggest influence by far is Mark Knopfler. And one of his biggest influences was Chet Atkins—which undoubtedly brought a country feel into his playing. I think that’s what you hear in my style—that same sort of indirect influence.
A lot of the airy, atmospheric acoustic textures on the record are very reminiscent of Lindsey Buckingham.
Oh yeah—other than maybe Jimmy Page, nobody has such an innate sense for layering guitar parts. Plus, Buckingham’s style is so unique. I struggle to hear any influences in his playing. Maybe that’s why he’s able to make each layer sound as if there are different people playing each part. When I’m layering parts, they all sound so similar to me.
How do you get around that?
Get someone else to play it! [laughs]. I don’t have the kind of ego that gets in the way of that. A lot of times, Dan [Huff, producer] would suggest little melodic lines, and then he’d try to teach me the parts. I’d just say, “Dude, you do it.”
Where does that selfless attitude come from? A lot of guys would insist on doing the parts themselves.
It’s because all I want to do is honor the song. That’s it.
For a Knopfler fan, it’s a bit surprising that you’re drawn to Telecasters.
Well, I did go through a long Strat phase in the late ’70s, when I was totally obsessed with Mark. Now, around ’83 or ’84, I stumbled upon the chicken-picking thing, and I figured I’d just make my Strat sound like a Tele. It didn’t work. Then, during my first trip to America in 1989, I saw this Fender Custom Shop Tele at Manny’s Music in New York, and it was like the Holy Grail sitting in a glass case. I immediately fell in love with it. In fact, I cherished it so much that I hid the guitar under my bed and only used it on sessions. Thankfully, the bright light of logic went off over my head, and reminded me that guitars are meant to be played, not put away. It’s like they say, “Ships are safest in the harbor.” But that’s not what ships are for.
What gear did you use to record Be Here?
For the new album, I mostly used that Custom Shop Tele through a custom Matchless head. Occasionally, I plugged into a Dr. Z or a Fender Vibrolux. But a new guitar emerged on this album, and that was a Les Paul Jr. The solos on “Nobody Drinks Alone” and “Days Go By” were the Jr. and the Matchless—it’s a great marriage.
“The Hard Way” evokes the classic Glen Campbell/Jimmie Webb collaborations of the late ’60s.
I was a huge Glen Campbell fan when I was growing up. I never even knew he was a guitarist until years after. My dad had all of his albums, and I thought he was just a killer singer. I guess I should have read the credits! The whole time, I was also being influenced unknowingly by Jimmy Webb’s songwriting.
I remember Dan and I discussing the need for a musical break in that tune, but we didn’t want a typical guitar solo. So we let the atmospheric fingerpicked part take the place of a solo. It’s really an anti-solo—just a musical atmosphere to get you to the next point in the song.
How does the co-writing process work for you?
It works kind of mysteriously, actually. For the most part, I stick with two co-
writers: John Shanks and Monty Powell. I typically start the process with a groove and a guitar riff. After that, I’ll lay a melody over it, and then I’ll get someone to help with the lyrics. This is usually when Monty or John will enter the picture. Sometimes, just hanging around with those guys will allow me to come up with something that I wouldn’t have sitting alone in a room.
When you play live, you’re all over the stage, working the crowd. Did you ever do the typical, stare-at your-fingerboard thing that guitarists are often guilty of?
Oh yeah. In 1988, I got this sideman job with a lead singer who was a real showman. And he was always on me about performing, saying, “Keith, when you solo can you please stand at the front of the stage? You don’t have to go crazy, but can you at least commit to being a performer?” I told him I didn’t want to look like I was full of myself. So he asks, “Well are you?” I said “no,” and he said. “Don’t worry then, it won’t come across that way.” That’s the difference between posers and guys who are genuinely entertaining.