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Opie Hendrix Meenu Bhardwaj
Though Opie Hendrix is originally from Indiana, it's hard to imagine his grand, hilarious personality anywhere but here in Texas.
Opie Hendrix -- guitar, vocals
Warren Martens -- bass
Matt Meeks -- percussion
Carrie Ann Buchanan -- vocals, guitar
Don Chachere -- guitar, vocals
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Little Party
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Beautiful and True
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My Favorite Waitress
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Two Swinging Doors
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Track #1
San Jacinto, 2003
Smashed Hits EP, 2000
Chupacabra, 2006
Opie Hendrix isn't his real name. You probably guessed that. The "Opie" part is due to his red hair and the "Hendrix" comes from a rant, many years ago, about Jimi Hendrix not needing to read music to be a rock star. It was only natural for Stephan Buchanan's friends to dub him Opie Hendrix.
"I've tried to change it, but nothing else sticks," he says. "After trying and trying, I said, 'Screw it. I'm Opie Hendrix.' It's catchy. Looks good on a T-shirt."
Hendrix moved from Indianapolis to Houston in 1992 to attend the Art Institute of Houston. Though he left the school about a year later, he had fallen in love with Texas and wasn't keen on going back to a city where, as he says, "they still think Sammy Hagar is king."
He adds, "I just got to loving it here. I was a fish out of water, but Texas ain't like no place out there."
It's a good thing he stayed. It's hard to imagine Hendrix's grand, hilarious personality anywhere but in a state filled with such people (think Kinky Friedman). Hendrix is part hick, part hippie. He sings his "maximum C&W" brand of music (a takeoff of the Who's "maximum R&B" idea) while sporting long hair and Chuck Taylors. His favorite bands include Willie Nelson and They Might Be Giants.
While some performers put on an outlaw persona along with their hat and belt buckle (think Toby Keith), Hendrix is the real deal: a guy doing things his way, everyone else be damned.
"Waylon and Willie and Hank Jr., they were all outlaws because they didn't play the game or follow any sort of rules," he says. "Baby, if I want to sing Björk in the middle of my set, by God, I'm going to do it! If I want to put a backward guitar track on a total country song, I'm going to do it."
Opie Hendrix and the Texas Tallboys' San Jacinto, the follow-up to 2000's Smashed Hits, is a great, crazy ride. It opens with a 44-second intro that's more of a Tom Petty impression than a song. Can't Even Yodel is classic C&W. Little Party and It's My Life are modern Americana. You Don't Care channels both Robert Plant and Junior Brown. Really. Things Gotta Change is a sexy blues-rocker.
"I want people to take my record out years from now and it won't just be a Rubik's Cube, like, 'remember when that kind of music was in?' Hopefully, somebody will take out San Jacinto 20 years from now, pop that puppy in, and it will still be just as relevant as it is now."
There's one song on San Jacinto that sticks out, for better or for worse. My Favorite Waitress is not only mildly offensive ("she's got big boobies/likes dirty movies") but also extremely catchy. That's the kind of combination that makes you famous, and since Opie Hendrix and the Texas Tallboys — guitarist Don Chachere, bassist Warren Martens and drummer Matthew Meeks — play a lot of shows that aren't always traditional music venues, this kind of attention-getter is a blessing.
"If you listen to that song it's really, truly a love song," he explains."But it's just crass enough to make the chuckleheads in the bar pay attention."
Since San Jacinto was released in 2003, Hendrix's bassist and dear friend Pat Sullivan died of a heart attack. Hendrix says his next album, Chupacabra, will deal with this loss and won't have any "silly songs." But, just as They Might Be Giants knows how to write a heart-wrenchingly sad song cloaked in the happiest of sounds, Hendrix believes that being sad doesn't mean writing ballads.
Daddy's Demons, which will appear on the upcoming album, is about hereditary alcoholism.
"You should see these people hear this song! Yelling out 'I'm getting drunk and belligerent!' But if you listen carefully it's about what an awful person I can be when I really let the negative forces take control."
He hopes to release Chupacabra this fall and will be spending a portion of this summer on tour, stopping in Nebraska and Kansas this month; then Kentucky, Indiana, and Nashville in July. Along the way, Hendrix will continue to do the exact opposite of everything fans might expect of him.
"One of these days, I'm going to do a Frank Sinatra show. I'll go all out with a big band behind me. There's so much I want to do and I think life's too short not to do all of it."
-- Sara Cress | June 8, 2005
The question hovering over Opie Hendrix and the Texas Tallboys' latest, "Chupacabra," isn't whether it's good (because it is), but rather can you tolerate the life-sucking character that Hendrix embodies on this album?
He's a hard-drinkin', hurtful cuss who spends a good deal of time navel-gazing.
The sad-sack loser act doesn't tire because Opie's voice is so charismatic. Plus, he shines brightest when he's being bad; the less fiery songs on the album don't capture the imagination like the bombastic ones.
$50 Bill is the perfect drinking song: from its galloping tempo to the vocal help from John Evans (one of Houston's best hopes for breakout fame) to the booze-infused plot (guy finds money, guy's going to drink) to the loose hollering and laughing.
The second standout is "Daddy's Demons." It sounds like another drinking song, but listen closely and you'll uncover a heartbreaking pop ode to the "good-hearted gal refusing to give up on" the unapologetic alcoholic who nearly kills himself driving home from the bar each night. Sure, it's depressing, but it's such a delightfully wrought song that audiences will sing along.
Fire It Up, a rocking tribute to marijuana, offers nothing new to that, um, subgenre. Path Less Chosen is a country song that lacks the bite of the other showier tunes.
Closer Talking to Myself is a ballad that could have benefited from an actual piano - ditch that electric keyboard - and could have been less maudlin. The much better ballad is My Sweet Weakness, a doo-wop tune that drips with sex, sax and betrayal.
Hendrix crafts a complex character on Chupacabra. Is he like the fabled goat killer, preying on helpless women? Or is his bloodlust directed only at himself: As his "daddy's demons" command him to take another drink, he drains himself of a little more life.
He may not be a character you want hanging around your daughter, but his songs are captivating.
-- Sara Cress | August 31, 2006
