Wayne Hancock Creates Sounds of the Road

Touring is a burden for many musicians, but for Wayne Hancock, it’s cause for celebration. “It’s the life that I like best ... so give me my guitar and I’ll roam,” the hillbilly-swing songwriter sings on “Man of the Road,” one of many songs about highways, driving and trains that make up most of his most recent CD, “A-Town Blues” (on Bloodshot Records).

“You can live like a king, man, and stay out here, stay in nice hotels every night,” Hancock says in a phone call from, naturally, a hotel room. Hancock got used to moving around at an early age, thanks to his father’s frequent job changes. “Since I was a baby, we would live some place for two or three years, and my dad would get sick of the people he had to work with or whatever. We’d make these drives from Texas to Idaho,” Hancock recalls.

“After a while when you move so many places, moving becomes an escape route; it becomes a way out of reality,” he adds. Hancock has embraced the romance of that fantasy just the same, starting with his 1995 debut, “Thunderstorms and Neon Signs,” on which he envisions hopping freight trains, living in hotel rooms and spending nights in juke joints. The record earned him critical praise and a devoted following. After a couple of more heavily produced CDs, he’s returned to a less-is-more approach on “A-Town Blues,” relying on guitar, bass and steel guitar.

“I wanted a lot more of the steel guitar and more of that chunk [bass] sound to get that road jazz sound right,” Hancock says. “I wanted music that would go with my driving.” The music is vibrant, as shimmering steel and chattering electric guitars dance over swinging bass lines. Hancock sings his heart out on tear-jerkers like “Sands of Time,” frisky shuffles like “Life’s Lonesome Road” and his tribute to 1920s country legend Jimmie Rodgers on “California Blues.”

Hancock’s musical world seems to begin with Rodgers, peak in the 1940s with Hank Williams’ honky-tonk and Bob Wills’ western swing, and end with rockabilly. “My dad was a World War II vet; he was in it when he was 16 and that was his music. As a kid, that’s what I listened to,” says Hancock, 36.

Hancock keeps these old styles fresh with new variations--he points out that he puts the slapback bass of ‘50s rockabilly into his 1940s-style tunes--and writing with wry humor and hard-nosed realism. A recovering alcoholic who’s been sober for 10 years, Hancock has cautionary tales about drinking and driving, including “Double A Daddy” and the tragic “Miller, Jack and Mad Dog.”

“That happens about once a week,” Hancock says of the DUI-equals-DOA tale. “You drink, you drive, you go fast enough, you can probably spread yourself out pretty far.

“I try to write about reality and maybe put a funny spin on it,” he says. “I can’t sing songs about why you shouldn’t drink especially when I’m playing in a bar.”

Hancock’s songs also acknowledge the toll his wanderlust takes on his love life. “In two or three years, they’re tired of me being gone all the time. They want a man who’ll be home,” he observes. But he recently rented a two-bedroom house in his sometime home, Austin, Texas. Spending two weeks out of the month on tour may have kept him from settling in, but it’s a source of amazement to Hancock that he’s put down roots.

“I don’t have any furniture,” he says. “I just go in the living room and say, ‘Wow, a house.’”

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Kevin McKeough is a freelance writer who contributes to the Chicago Tribune, a Tribune company.