Dead Man’s Credit Card
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Dead Man’s Credit Card
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“Say Listen…” — Remembering J.R. Chatwell
“Say Listen…” — Remembering J.R. Chatwell
Every town has its characters, but San Antonio had one who could stop a room cold just by clearing his throat. J.R. Chatwell didn’t need a spotlight. All he had to do was lean in your direction and say, “Say listen…” and you knew something worth hearing was on the way. Some men talk. Some men play. J.R. did both, and he did them with the kind of easy confidence that only comes from being born to it.
He came into this world in 1915 up in Weatherford, Texas, part of a big farming family where everybody played piano but only one boy took to the fiddle like it was breathing. By eight years old he was already his daddy’s “fiddlin’ boy,” and by fifteen he was sneaking out windows to play dances across the Panhandle. That’s not folklore — that’s documented Texas history.
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Willie James Lacey
Every now and then, when you’re thumbing through the old 78s or letting some scratchy blues roll out of a dusty speaker, a name jumps out that makes you stop and wonder how a man could play so well and still slip clean out of history. That’s how it is with Willie J. Lacey, one of the finest blues guitar pickers to ever stand behind a microphone, and one of the least remembered.
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One Night the Skies Turned Eerie
One Night the Skies Turned Eerie
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Hard Times Coming
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How the Blues Built American Music
How the Blues Built American Music
From hard times to a new sound
The music you hear today—country, rock, soul, bluegrass, even the pop on the radio—didn’t come from record labels or marketing departments. It came from people who had nothing but their voices, their troubles, and a need to tell the truth. Once you understand how the blues grew out of that soil, you start seeing how American music—and American life—took shape.
Two Paths That Finally Met
For centuries, music walked on two separate roads. One belonged to the wealthy. From 1750 to 1820, the golden age of classical music filled grand halls with sounds ordinary folks never heard. That world was polished, expensive, and built for people who lived comfortably.
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Curbside Jimmy’s Prophetic Song
Every now and then a song comes along that isn’t just a song. It’s a warning. A wink. A little tap on the shoulder from the future saying, “Pay attention, friend. This road don’t stay smooth forever.”
That’s what “When Times Got Really Weird” has always been to me. It’s a folk tale dressed up like a tune, the kind of thing an old-timer might hum while whittling on the porch—except the message hits a whole lot closer to home
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Max Baca: The Bajo Sexto That Took Texas Around the World
Every music town has its heroes, but San Antonio has one who didn’t just make his mark—he carved it deep enough for the whole world to hear. His name is Max Baca, and if you’ve ever tapped your foot to a conjunto beat, chances are you’ve felt his fingerprints on the music.
Max isn’t just a musician. He’s a force. A lifer. A man who picked up a bajo sexto as a kid and never put it down long enough for the dust to settle.
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Bett Butler: San Antonio’s Quiet Flame
Some musicians burn fast and bright, and some burn slow and steady.Bett Butler is the second kind—the kind of artist who doesn’t chase the spotlight because she is the spotlight, at least for anyone who’s been paying attention in San Antonio these last few decades.
She’s one of those rare Texas originals who can sit down at a piano, open her mouth, and suddenly the whole room feels like it’s leaning in a little closer. Jazz folks claim her, songwriters claim her, poets claim her—but Bett Butler has never belonged to any one camp. She’s carved out her own lane, and she’s stayed in it with the kind of grace that only comes from knowing exactly who you are.
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Dub Robinson & The Drugstore Cowboys
There are some musicians who chase the spotlight, and then there are the ones who just keep playing because that’s what they were put on this earth to do. Dub Robinson falls squarely into that second camp. He’s been leading the Drugstore Cowboys out of San Antonio for more than 45 years, and he’s still writing, still recording, and still putting out music that sounds like Texas feels. Continue reading
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