By New Times
By Derek Askey
By Mark Deming
By Serene Dominic
By Jason Keil
By Robrt L. Pela and Amy Silverman
By Jeff Moses
By Serene Dominic
For a singer-songwriter with a decidedly traditional streak, Mark Insley seems remarkably attuned to contemporary necessities. At 44 -- and as a 20-year music veteran -- Insley's hearty demeanor is matched by an uncommon business savvy, as suggested by the following exchange.
New Times: Have you ever been so down and out that you wanted to just give up?
Insley: It's those times that I usually dig deeper into the creative well. It's mostly a catharsis for me, writing. I'm not one of those guys who sits down at the table each day and say, okay, I'm gonna write this song and then this song. It probably shows in my writing because it's pretty rudimentary, you know? But for me it's all about gut. So I'd say I was never ready to give it up, but there have been times when I was desperate enough to sell gear, and that hurts, man. It makes you wonder if it's all worthwhile. But ultimately, it is.
NT: Then is it reasonable for Americana musicians to aspire to more than just getting by?
Insley: There's not a lot of money or record deals just floating around. At the same time, I think there's plenty of audience for everybody. There's enough work if you're ambitious enough and have a good enough work ethic to go out there and get it. I know guys who make their living playing resorts, but then through that they are able to finance making the kinds of records they want to make. If that's what it takes, more power to them. Use your head for business. Say you want to get played on the radio -- Americana is a very competitive field, only about 45 reporting stations, and there's a glut of material -- and you've got something good.
In my case, the title track is the first obvious single, but it had the word "shit" in it, like, "the stuff you go through." So we created a radio single version where we edited out the word to appease the FCC. Lucinda Williams did the same thing with the song "Essence" because it says "get fucked up." They just took a big guitar chord and went "skronkkk!" over it. It's of little consequence to the vision and artistic integrity of the song. It's all about being smart.
The Kansas-born Insley grew up listening to the likes of Merle, Buck and Johnny Cash, nurtured a love for the Stones, Hendrix, Neil Young and Tom Petty, and landed his first professional gig with a California bluegrass band. After years of rambling, he settled in Ventura, California, performing in hot spots like Bakersfield and L.A.'s now-defunct Palomino Club while rubbing shoulders with a who's-who of SoCal luminaries. Among them were several who'd play significant roles in Insley's future: Dave Alvin and his guitarist Rick Shea, session king Albert Lee, Tony Gilkyson (Lone Justice, X, Chuck E. Weiss), Taras Prodaniuk (Dwight Yoakam), and in-demand multi-instrumentalist Greg Leisz.
In 1996, Insley issued his solo debut, Good Country Junk. The Prodaniuk-produced set notched good reviews and earned comparisons to Dwight Yoakam, Buck Owens and Chris Gaffney just in time for Insley to see his record label go belly up. Then, not long afterward, Insley's younger brother Dave, a Phoenix-based musician (Trophy Husbands, Nitpickers), partnered with a couple of friends to form Rustic Records. The Valley label made it clear it'd be happy to do the honors for the next Insley record.
Soon enough, Insley was recording what would become Tucson, and he wasn't shy about ringing up some of the aforementioned who's-who, either.
Cutting the rhythm tracks with drummer David Raven, Insley established a foundation for the songs, and then started checking to see who'd be available for overdubbing work.
"Albert Lee was going to Europe the next day, so we got him for a day and did a bunch of tracks," Insley recalls. "We would just let it go whatever direction it was going to, based on who came over. 'Hey, you're here -- you wanna play?'
"We knew we wanted Dave Alvin to play some high-strung guitar on the last song ["Can't Get Over You"], but then we realized we had this perfect electric thing for him, too, on 'Bus to Bakersfield.' That's even got a solo that [is edited so it] starts with Tony, goes to Albert, then ends with Dave. You could never get all these guys in a room together because of scheduling problems, so we got the tracks down, then spent most of the budget mixing. [Laughs.] We created this 'band' that really doesn't exist."
Imaginary combo or not, Tucson (which also features ex-Cracker bassist Davey Faragher and Tom Waits' keyboardist Danny McGough) nails the vaunted tight-but-loose, band-in-the-garage aesthetic, from the Creedence-meets-Steve Earle title cut to the spooky, desert-noir blues of "Guilty" to the hard twangabilly of "Bus to Bakersfield." Also included is a classic honky-tonk weeper, a cover of Wayne Carson's "She's Actin' Single (I'm Drinkin' Doubles"). Throughout, Insley's voice -- think Steve Earle's burnished drawl married to a Neil Young/Chris Cacavas keening whine -- and his wanderlust lyrics keep the focus sharp.