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Shooter Jennings had a country Outlaw for a father (Waylon), grew up on tour with country rebels the Highwaymen, and is now breaking a few country rules himself by embracing the Southern rock side of the biz that Nashville’s been ignoring for too long. To make this point, consider a conversation recently overheard at his West Hollywood show between his tour manager and a friend: “I keep telling him to lay off the effects. So he said, ‘Tonight, no effects. We’ll play acoustic.’ I said, ‘Good. Then maybe it’ll sound like a country show.’ And he said, ‘Fuck you. We’re using effects!'”
And so goes Jennings’ quest to play by his own rules — just like his dad. His opening act, Shelly Fairchild, is just as young and just as ornery; the two are working together on Fairchild’s next album, infusing it with a bit of ’70s-era, fuck-you country soul. Fairchild is a far cry prettier than Jennings’ tattooed scruffiness, but it’s her bluesy growl and redneck-free, Gretchen Wilson-style authority on her tracks that’ll get you stomping your feet. That Mississippi accent doesn’t hurt, though.
