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Wheeler Walker Jr. w/ Birdcloud at The Sinclair


The Sinclair
52 Church St 02138 Cambridge United States
Bowery Boston presents
Wheeler Walker, Jr.


6:30pm doors / 18+ / $15 advance, $18 day of show
On sale now!

If, as Kinky Friedman once said, “an artist is a man who’s ahead of his time and behind on his rent,” then consider Wheeler Walker, Jr. the Michelangelo of country music. Now, of course I’m biased, being a dear friend of the man’s for going on damn near thirty years now. But keep in mind: I’m an official Colonel of the Great State of Kentucky. They don’t hand that shit out to just anybody.

You can’t begin to talk about Wheeler without first talking about the Bluegrass State. We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the Ashley Judd, Rosemary Clooney, Billy Ray Cyrus version of Kentucky. Wheeler comes from that special Kentucky dirt, the dirt that brought us Hunter S. Thompson, Loretta Lynn, the Everly Brothers & Johnny Depp (Just his good movies of course. Not that lame Pirates dogshit.)

I still remember the first time I laid eyes on young “Wheels” (as he was known back then). A local talent contest in nineteen-eighty something. The kid had a gift. Singin’ those Hank Jr. and George Strait songs better than the originals. He didn’t win that day, on account o’ him changing the lyrics of “All My Rowdy Friends are Coming Over Tonight” to “All My Rowdy Friends Will Blow Each Other Tonight”. But a friendship was sealed, and in some ways, the Wheeler I met that day hasn’t changed a lick: Pissin’ people off, can’t win for losin’… but making sure nobody who saw him would ever forget the name Wheeler Walker, Jr.

So it came as no surprise to me (or his lovely, supportive parents) that when I went off to the University of Kentucky, Wheeler decided to skip the whole college thing and instead boarded a bus to Nashville. (I graduated with an English degree. Most Colonels do. Diction is the forte of all Kentucky Colonels, and an integral part of what makes us who we are.)

Wheeler got his first breaks early. Famed country A&R man Ronnie Phillips heard him playing at the Bluebird Café and signed him to Capitol Nashville. He was partying with the new “young bloods” in town: Brad Paisley, Blake Shelton, Keith Urban. I remember envying his life in those days: Stayin’ up late, drinkin’ beer, smokin’ grass, knee deep in that sweet Tennessee muff. Wheeler had it all.

Unfortunately Wheeler could never quite get along with “the man”. Wheeler doesn’t like being told what to do. Never has. That’s what his heroes Waylon, Willie, Johnny and Hank taught him.

After refusing to censor his songs, Capitol dropped him. (Wheeler being Wheeler, he broke into the studio to steal back his master tapes – but those studios are dark at night, and he ended up stealing some shitty Lee Greenwood album instead. I’ve still got a framed portrait of the both of us pissing on it while it burned.)