Photos & story by Ashley M. Halligan
I must admit, when Sir Sturgill first came ‘cross my soundwaves, I thought I’d somehow overlooked one of the honky tonk forefathers all these years. How had I not heard this jack-of-all-old-school-country-mastery till now? The Merle Haggard storyteller meets those deep Randy Travis vocals meets Texas Hill Country for a campfire pickin’ sesh—and after further listening—probably throws back a few caps and stems while he’s at it. Who the hell was this guy?
I first stumbled across Metamodern Sounds in Country Music [2014] late last year. Always seeking out authentic country for my frequent Texas roadtrips, Sturgill quickly became the bee’s knees, regularly rockin’ max volume through my VW’s grateful Fenders. I was in love. And it wasn’t long before I knew both MSCM and High Top Mountain [2013] cover-to-cover. Among countless country miles, I sang my heart out {and cried it out a little, too}, danced my ass off, and joyously welcomed Texas spring...with the throttle to ten on that {hedonistic} railroad of sin.
Once I realized Sturgill was a relatively new wide-brimmed hat in country music and not a forefather—nor a Texan, for that matter—I was even more intrigued.
While honky tonk origins often celebrate the bottle and the pipe and even Jesus, Sturgill’s wisdom and life perspectives may be a bit more evolved, if you will. Unlike classic country’s common themes, some of Sturgill’s lyrics focus on the profound and the psychedelic, advocating for {or at least freely singing about} the life-altering impacts of dimethyltryptamine {DMT}, among other psychedelics. In his beautiful, can’t-help-but-sing-along track “Turtles All The Way Down,” his song speaks from the soul:
“There's a gateway in our mind that leads somewhere out there beyond this plane /
Where reptile aliens made of light cut you open and pull out all your pain /
Tell me how you make illegal something that we all make in our brain /
Some say you might go crazy but then again it might make you go sane /
Every time I take a look inside inside that old and fabled book /
I'm blinded and reminded of the pain caused by some old man in the sky /
Marijuana, LSD, psilocybin, and DMT they all changed the way I see /
But love's the only thing that ever saved my life.“
When I first heard this track, I centered on the “turtles all the way down” theme, wondering what that must be a metaphor for. I curiously delved into the history of the phrase, finding that the story stems from a conversation between a Harvard scientist preaching the literality of cosmology and a little old lady seeking infinite possibility, who believed Earth rested upon a turtle’s shell—and each of those turtles upon another turtle—all the way down. I’ll buy into that.
Upon further contemplation of that metaphor alongside Sturgill’s other lyrics, I decided his songs are very much mandalic—demonstrating the circular, ever-symbolic connectedness of all things in life. I thought, “Well, hot damn, we’ve got a real badass honky tonk shaman on our hands, boys and girls.” I also agree with him: While all that psychedelic experimentation will shift the hell out of how you perceive, relate to, and understand life—love, both self-love and intimate love, may be the only thing that’ll ever really save your life.
His deep, wise vocals resonate a sound and message far before his time. And, frankly, I think {and Texans certainly agree} he belongs here. After all, he’s sold out every show he’s played in Austin since his December 30 show, with ease and a damn fine twang. Last week alone he played three shows—two on the legendary Stubb’s stage and even rocked a highly sought-after taping at ACL Live. Now that says something—in Austin that speaks numbers.
Austin may be a springboard for rising talent, but said talent, especially out-of-towners, often play a slew of hole-in-the-wall stages before ever making it to Stubb’s—particularly as a headliner—and only legends land a taping. And that’s precisely the energy Sturgill felt {and brought} on the first night of his sold out Stubb’s shows.
