Charley Crockett isn’t the kind of artist you listen to and immediately understand. He’s lived a lot, and he has plenty to say. Some call him a cowboy singer, while others call him a fraud. Whatever you make of him, Crockett has become one of the most prolific and unconventional artists in country music today. Deeply influenced by legends like Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings, and shaped by years of playing on street corners and subway cars, he’s carved out a lane entirely his own. Like his outlaw heroes, Crockett has never seemed particularly interested in the limits of the traditional music industry. The initial independent release of Clovis was perhaps his clearest expression of that spirit. When Island Records removed the album from Spotify, fans quickly rallied behind the “Free Clovis” movement, calling for its return. And for good reason. Clovis isn’t merely an interesting chapter in Crockett’s career. It’s simply one of his best albums.
The opening track, “Hallelujah Trail,” is killer. Its guitar riff is one of the album’s most immediately engaging sounds, and hearing it right out of the gate makes a compelling case for sticking around to hear the rest of the songs. In the track, Charley tells of Comanche Ghosts haunting the deserts of New Mexico. When Crockett sings, “Rider, keep on riding,” the line feels almost autobiographical, paralleling his own undying spirit and relentless journey as an artist. For an artist often painted as a poser, there aren’t many people currently making anything remotely similar to pose as. Moments like this, abundant throughout Clovis, reveal the depth of Charley Crockett’s artistic vision, proving the label of a “cosplay cowboy” doesn’t apply to him in the slightest. Clearly he’s got more to say than the average Nashville Lucchese LARPer.
As an artist who’s been known to do many covers, his version of Johnny Cash’s “Don’t Take Your Guns To Town” is among the greatest he’s ever done. Infusing a soulful groove into the foundation of the track, he makes it his own. On “Waylon Rides Again,” he shifts gears to pay homage to another member of the Highwaymen. Considering Waylon’s son, Shooter Jennings, helped write and produce this album, there’s an extra personal touch to this song. In a way, Crockett and Shooter pick up the torch where the prime era of guys like the Highwaymen left off. True outlaw country has become a rarity in today’s mainstream, but outsiders like Charley and even Sturgill Simpson continue carrying its spirit forward.
Shooter Jennings’s production may be one of the best additions to Crockett’s music thus far. His vintage touch, which has also been used to recover and remaster his father’s lost recordings, gives Clovis a timeless quality that naturally fits the vocal. There’s a slightly fuzzy tone over everything that makes it sound almost like you’re hearing a tape recording. If you look back at albums like Welcome to Hard Times and The Man From Waco, there’s a clearer, tighter sound to everything. That production style was perfect for its time, but as Charley has shared, there are no limits when he steps into the studio with Shooter. This freedom can be heard in the vocal processing on “Eagle and the Crow,” and the wide-open ride cymbal in “Down By Law.”
Among all the stories told on the record, one of the most fascinating comes from “Albuquerque Lights.” A section of the song references the mysterious disappearance of singer-songwriter Jim Sullivan, who vanished into the New Mexico desert years after releasing his 1969 album U.F.O., a record whose themes eerily mirrored his own fate. This is yet another reminder that with Charley Crockett, you’re not always just in for a jam but a history lesson as well. The richness of the storytelling in this one, and in other tracks like “Last Night at the Alamo,” rewards listeners willing to dig beneath the surface.
Based on the rebellious way this album was released, along with the “Free Clovis” movement, you might expect some grand statement aimed at sticking it to the man. The truth is, Crockett makes plenty of statements, but few are centered on proving a point or disrupting the music industry. Even on “Country Music,” where he sings about the genre and how people often “praise it and confuse it,” he’s more focused on observing than confronting. Rather than taking direct shots, Crockett stays in his own lane, trusting Clovis to speak for itself despite existing far outside what today’s country radio fiends typically celebrate. Vintage, rich, and authentic, every word and note of this record earns the attention of its devoted listeners, placing it in the same class as his greatest work.
