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TROY CAMPBELL
Biography
Those who've followed Troy Campbell through his evolution
over the years, from the punk-wired Highwaymen, to
Americana-drenched Loose Diamonds, and now three albums into
a stellar solo career, have always known he's a restless
soul. It's written in his songs, which flit between a jumpy,
let's-blow-this-town urgency, and more sorrowful expressions
of longing, hope, idealism. And it's there in his remarkable
voice, a uniquely expressive instrument comfortable with
everything from jagged murder ballads to four-on-the-floor
Chuck Berry rockers to candlelit love songs.
But now that restlessness finds new harmony in Campbell's
life: Rather than sit on his hands as the new century
dawned, Campbell reinvented himself, emerging as one of
Austin's most promising filmmakers, a sharp mind delving
into the spot where music, culture and film converge, a
mover and shaker with a passion for his subjects.
Campbell first produced A Place to Dance, a
documentary short about New Orleans big-band maestro Pat
Barberot, which won the audience award for best documentary
at the 2004 Austin Film Festival. Meanwhile, with his
partner/animator Dano Johnson, he launched Collection Agency
Films, exploring his love for storytelling in great clips
covering Texas gubernatorial candidate Kinky Friedman,
songwriter du jour Ray Wylie Hubbard, and others. More
recently, Campbell's put his camera to good use filming
something near and dear to the heart of any Texas rock 'n'
roller--the astonishing return to live performance of
psychedelic legend Roky Erickson.
None of which really preps us for Long in the Sun,
Campbell's extraordinary new album. With roots maven Gurf
Morlix (producer of a veritable who's who of American music,
from Lucinda Williams to Butch Hancock) at the helm again,
Long in the Sun is easily Campbell's most assured and
most invitingly intimate effort yet, a panoramic collection
with an intent eye on human interconnections, motivations,
emotions.
Perhaps the most immediately striking element of Long in
the Sun is Campbell's gorgeous, magisterial way with a
melody. From the beguiling chorus of the opening cut,
"Famous," to "Lovers," which, with its sparkling guitar
lines and sunny tune, is nothing if not an update of the
classic Buddy Holly & the Crickets' sound, the songs are a
bedrock merging of country, folk, and pop with the simple
elegance of early rock 'n' roll. The shimmering "I'll Let
You Know" positively glows, Campbell cradling the song like
a newborn baby, and Morlix unspooling gorgeous guitar
texture in the best David Lindley tradition. "Over and over,
I find new hope . . . ," Campbell sings.
Which is not to say Long in the Sun doesn't have its
share of darkness. Campbell leans into a bluesy cover of
Woody Guthrie's "Along in the Sun & the Rain" with knowing
gusto, letting the painful yowls and between-the-lines
nuances tell the story. The foreboding march "Killing Time
in Texas," co-written with Morlix, is the kind of harrowing
ballad that could've been penned by Townes Van Zandt, and
with its backdrop--meth-addicted mid-America--it's likely to
resonate more than most folks care to admit. "The Oklahoma
speedway will only make you mean," Campbell intones.
Campbell’s been defining his own element, and writing
eloquently from that experience, from the time his
international genetics blessed him with what he jokingly
calls “that un-American Indian look, exotic white trash from
Ohio.” Despite the cultural strains of his parents’ marriage
(“he brought her from Korea to Kentucky to show what really
poor people looked like,” Troy says with a laugh), both of
them instilled the love of music from his earliest memories.
When he’d take road trips in his dad’s coal truck, they’d
listen to Elvis and George Jones on the radio and play Red
Sovine on the truckstop jukebox. Back home, he’d sing with
his mother, who favored the likes of Sam Cooke, Freddy
Fender, even Bobby Darin, the sort of distinctive crooners
who inspired Campbell to develop a voice all his own.
Like so many among his generation, Campbell responded to the
alarm of the ‘70s punk-rock revolution, embracing the
emotional urgency of the Ramones and the Clash, seeing every
touring band that passed through nearby Dayton. Among them
were the True Believers from Austin, Texas, fronted by
Alejandro Escovedo and his brother, Javier. Flying the
do-it-yourself flag of inspired amateurism, Alejandro
encouraged Troy and his brother Mike to form a band and said
he’d let them open for his band, even though they had no
musical experience.
Playing with enough passion to offset their lack of
instrumental proficiency, the Campbells quickly developed
the Highwaymen into one of the most promising bands from the
Dayton area. From the start, Troy found it easier to write
material than try to play someone else’s. Winning a radio
station’s battle of the bands gave them studio time to
record their 1986 debut EP. The four-song, self-titled
release served as a calling card for the touring band, who
quickly lived up to their name, opening for the likes of the
True Believers and Green on Red.
In 1989, the brothers Campbell followed Alejandro all the
way back to Austin, a creative hothouse filled with kindred
musical spirits. Fusing rootsy heartland strains with punk
energy, the band found it’s spark renewed through Austin
guitarist Scrappy Jud Newcomb, who played like Keith
Richards to Troy’s Gram Parsons. After changing their name
to Loose Diamonds (from a song by Jo Carol Pierce, whose
acclaimed Austin tribute album Troy co-produced). the band
became a national favorite. They conquered clubs one by one,
with the intensity of their live performances recalling
Austin hero Joe Ely or even Bruce Springsteen (who
proclaimed himself a fan of the band’s “wide-open sound,”
while calling Troy “a rare voice”).
Though 1993’s Burning Daylight debut won NAIRD’s
award as the year’s best indie rock CD, and 1996’s Fresco
Fiasco was listed among that year’s 10 undiscovered gems
by the New York Times, deals with financially-plagued
Austin labels and years of hard touring eventually ground
Loose Diamonds down. Campbell and Newcomb retained a
creative friendship (co-writing the title track to 2002's
American Breakdown) that keeps the possibility alive for
a band reunion, while both continue to pursue separate
musical paths.
While American Breakdown represented a kind of
traumatic reconnection (with himself, with history, etc.)
following the Diamonds' late-90s breakup and the willful
experimentalism of 1999's Man vs. Beast--resulting in
songs both harrowing (the title track) and elegiac ("World
Without Tears")--Long in the Sun is the work of one
of America's best songwriters operating from a place of
strength, open to all that comes his way, and pushing
himself and his songs to new heights. Amen.
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