Raised outside Houston, tutored by Ray Wylie Hubbard and now one of the most reliable of the unwashed, uncouth but undeniably talented post-Jerry Jeff Walker singer-songwriters, Hayes Carll has built a career the honky-tonk troubadour way. He tours doggedly and writes songs born from the hillbilly highway, songs full of Texas swing and one-night stands (even when falling down), blasphemous songs about Jesus (who stole his girl) and tirades about the war in Afghanistan ("KMAG YOYO," a.k.a. "Kiss My Ass Guys, You're on Your Own"). His heart may leave him in the wrong places, but his love songs ("Beaumont," especially) are beginning to stand the test of time.
Recommended Cocktail Pairing: Four Roses and water or whatever furniture polish is at hand, backed by a Corona, hold the lime. Carll's wit is acidic enough.
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