Billy
Carter
Country Swing Virtuoso
submitted by Bill Fulbright, SETBS
Webmaster
This is just the beginning of a piece that will grow...as it turns out Steve Watson has some RARE pictures of Billy playing at Yvonnes. Thank you STEVE!! I can now tell my story of how Billy Carter made such a huge impression on my life.
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I first met Billy Carter at the "Little Brown Jug" a small joint out on the Old Port Arthur Highway. It was 1974 and I had just gotten out of North Texas State University Music School. My primary instrument was Guitar, secondary was piano... I was arrogant. |
The Essential Billy Carter |
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Anyway, I had been invited down by Raymond Nalley (behind Billy
playing mandolin in the Yvonne's pic above) to see
Billy play. |
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| I was pretty impressed, needless to say. I had
never seen so many jazz chords in Country Music, nor had I ever seen so many
jazz chords used as passing tones between the really important chords like the
I, IV, V, ii, iii and VI (vi).
His sidemen
Ramond Nally - bass, mandolin and brother Luther Nally often on
drums and/or organ, along with his rhythm guitarist (unknown), steel
players, and keyboardist would charge through many a triple harmony head
and instrumental break with out so much as a grimace. Right in
South East Texas... Rice Farmers, Soy Bean Farmers, Cattle Ranchers,
very serious rednecks and goat-roper country. |
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I watched this man drip notes off his fingers
like it was just so much water. I mean, the notes just fell off his
fingers, in between the cracks of the changes. So effortlessly. He
made it all look so easy, and effortless. He was so at home. |
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We would become an unlikely pair. He became my mentor, and I
was just glad to be allowed to hang around. He had the nick
name "Popeye" because his forearms were so huge. He was a
pipefitter by trade. He always greased his "hahr" back like a
greaser from the '50's or country singer. He was a cross between a
'50's greaser and a country picker. An early Danny Gatton, ala Bob
Wills. No kidding. |
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Anyway, my pitiful story went from possibly redeeming
itself to the most embarrasing and humbling moment of my life. One would
think that could not happen at a beer joint called the Little Brown Jug.
But it did. Billy was such a giant, and I just hadn't gotten that
yet. After his second set, I swaggered up to the stage and introduced
myself and asked if I could sit in.... Billy said "Sure, man. Go
ahead and knock yourself out... Say Raymond, could you and your brother hang out
for another tune or so and let this cat play for us." You can smell
it coming, can't you. |
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| Well, I sat down on his stool, and reached around to pick up HIS guitar. When I wrapped my fingers around the neck, I broke out into a cold sweat, brought on only by the certain truth that I was truly screwed. He played strings as thick as my fingers. Telephone poles stretched for miles from his bridge to the nut. By this time, my cotton mouth and sweaty hands were simply extensions of my rubberized brain. I knew I was up shit creek. I had never in my life seen such stiff strings. And it was on a nice 50's Telecaster. |  Billy always played with a Camel jammed between his ring and pinky fingers, or stuck up under the strings |
| Naturally I tried to play the blues. I croaked out a lame version of Stormy Monday, and gracefully exited the stage after one tune. |
I thought my life was over. |
| Billy came over and said "Hey man, that was pretty good." I was feeling humiliated, but I said "Thanks." I continued, "I want to apologize for being so cocky, and for making such a fool out of myself." He said, "Hey, listen don't sweat it. We are having a rehearsal next week, why don't you drop by and bring an axe you are more familiar with." I about fell out. | |
| Naturally, I showed up. As it turned out, he became my mentor for quite a while. He would take me out on these country swing dates at the BPOE, the Elks, the BRAD, out in ANAHUAC back in the woods, I mean we played all the joints, BPOE, ELKS, private parties. He would stand behind me and stomp his foot on the swing beat, and yell at me on the beat to get the swing groove just right. If he wasn't hollerin' where the beat was, he was calling changes between the lyrics. I didn't deserve such a training. But I was glad he would let me come along. | I might have gotten paid a few times, but I really didn't care. All I wanted to do was hang with this guy and soak up as much as I could. Working with him and the players he kept assembled around him was an enormous privilege. That about covers it for me with Billy. I loved the guy. You know, Epiphone, back in the USA days, even came to him to have him endorse a guitar for them. He lived up off Crow Rd. back then. He said, "Naw, I just told 'em no." Billy was a private guy, but everybody loved him.
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He would drink straight Wild Turkey or Jack Daniels Black Label whisky, smoke Camels, which he always rolled up under a short sleeve, and either hold the smoke in his right hand while picking, or put it up under the strings by the tuners to hold it while he "really" played. What can I say. I could never really put a tag on the guy. But he made an everlasting impression on this boy. I only wish I had gotten a picture of us playing together.
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Bill Fulbright, 3/15/2000