Nashville Cats: Richie Owens & Steve Boyd (2025)

Back in 1966, the Lovin’ Spoonful’s John Sebastian sang “there’s thirteen hundred and fifty-two guitar pickers in Nashville” later adding “and any one that unpacks his guitar could play twice as better than I will.” That loving ode to the Music City, “Nashville Cats” would peak at #8 on the Billboard singles chart, the seventh Lovin’ Spoonful song to hit Top Ten in the U.S. 

As Sebastian told writer Jeff Tamarkin (note: a former editor of mine) of the Best Classic Bands website, he drew inspiration for the song after he and Spoonful guitarist Zal Yanovsky were shocked by a talented unknown guitarist playing in their hotel’s bar, concluding that “how is it that this guy that doesn’t even have a stage can take us to town, and just kill it, in 20 minutes?” Although Nashville has long been known as the home of country music, there’s never been a lack of über-talented “Nashville cats” playing rock, blues, and jazz music. As I posited in my 2012 book The Other Side of Nashville, the Music City’s “rock era” started with the release of R. Stevie Moore’s Phonography album in 1976.

Back in the mid-‘70s, Moore and his friends – notably Roger Ferguson and Victor Lovera – were among the few artists making original, non-country music in Nashville. Moore later lit out for New Jersey and made a name for himself as the “Godfather of Home Recording.” But others would follow, diverse rockers like David Olney & the X-Rays, the White Animals, and Cloverbotton who would later be followed by Jason & the Scorchers, Afrikan Dreamland, and many others. The city’s rock scene thrived throughout the 1980s and ‘90s through today with talents like Sour Ops and William Tyler representing the city alongside immigrants like Jack White and Dan Auerbach.   

Richie Owens’ Redemption

New albums by a couple of the city’s O.G. rockers – Richie Owens and Steve Boyd – show that there’s still plenty of great music being made by the first generation of Music City rockers. Singer, songwriter, and guitarist Richie Owens grew up in a musical family (he’s Dolly Parton’s cousin and has toured as a member of the country legend’s band) and played around town during the ‘80s in beloved bands like Placid Fury, The Dayts (with my old high school buddy Norm Rau!), The Resistors, and The Movement. Most recently, he’s fronted Richie Owens & the Farm Bureau, the band creating an inspired blend of roots-rock and twangy country on albums like 2011’s In Farm We Trust, 2014’s Tennessee, and 2020’s Reconstruction. Owens has also worked in the studio with bands like Jason & the Scorchers, the Georgia Satellites, and Raging Fire.

Redemption, however, is credited to Owens by himself, and billed as “a gutter gospel for the damned,” so don’t let the poppy, melodic album-opener “Welcome To the Evening Show” fool you…this is a deeply-insightful (and disturbing) take on our apocalyptic days delivered by Owen with a smile on his face and a preacher’s fervor as his warm vocals and gorgeous guitar-play support an otherwise devastating message. The song also sets the stage for Redemption, the album, as a sort of rock ‘n’ roll parable, a clarion call for the faithful who have been conned and confused and debased for their empathy and humanity. “Sacrifice” carries the message into blues turf, with Owens’ Delta-dirty guitar lines punctuating his somber vocals. 

“The Hammer” digs even deeper, Owens’ voice warped and obscured by an electronic haze, the song’s deep blues roots modernizing the John Henry myth for a chaotic era. The somber “Muddy the Water” plays like a dirge slotted between “The Hammer” and the up-tempo “All That Matters,” which buzzes like the parasocial hum we find ourselves in daily, the song’s dire message buoyed by a glammy rock ‘n’ roll soundtrack with some tightwire guitar and a driving rhythm. It’s back to the hammer and tongs for “Nameless,” a bruising, metallic, Biblical message with oblique lyrics and a menacing vibe fueled by the flames of a dozen burning bushes.

The electrifying spaghetti western-styled guitarplay of “Trouble” is accompanied by a galloping arrangement and vocals that ride hard above the relentless rhythm to deliver the ‘Sturm und Drang’ while the late night bluesy feel of “Note To Self” offers up an exotic ambience that reminds of Santana’s Caravanserai. Featuring fluid, jazzy guitar lines that soar and dip across the musical landscape, it’s a joyful noise that flows as a counterpoint to the song’s lyrical struggle. “Fighting For Our Sins” is an unbridled rocker with taut guitar lines and a Beatlesque melody which creates a deceptively sunny soundtrack for an otherwise stormy lyrical journey.

“Miggido” is another brilliant, western-flavored romp with twangy guitar and a wide rhythm that strides the same dark side of the street as some of the best work from Luther Perkins, James Burton, or Hank Garland to ride alongside Owens’ brilliant, provocative, and poetic lyrics. Album-closer “The Last Song Written” is a bigger and bolder rocker than anything previous with the sound of a guitar army marching lockstep to Owens’ reflective albeit reflective lyrics, one final sermon for the end of the world. It’s the perfect closer for Redemption, a masterpiece painted with Owens’ effortless mastery of rock, blues, and country music to deliver a timeless message. “Redemption” is on the horizon, but we’re going to have to keep walking through hell to get there…

Steve Boyd’s King of the Losers

The White Animals were one of the most popular local bands during the first half of the ‘80s, releasing five studio and a live recording on their own independent Dread Beat Records label circa 1981-1987. Bassist Steve Boyd was along for the ride from the very beginning, and while fat-string players generally get short-changed on receiving credit for a band’s success, Boyd was integral to the Animals’ heavy rhythmic sound, playing off drummer Ray Crabtree like Entwistle and Townshend in the Who, or maybe Aston Barrett and Carlton Barrett in the Wailers.

Boyd also had a hand in the band’s songwriting, contributing fan favorites like “Constant Attention,” “Such A Long Time,” and “This Girl of Mine” to the Animals’ songbook. He brought similar pop/rock sensibilities to the Claimstakers’ self-titled 1988 album; a well-regarded side project Boyd recorded with White Animals bandmate Rich Parks. Boyd’s solo debut, King of the Loners, starts up front with a wry bit of humor…credited to Boyd and “The Loners,” in reality, the talented musician wrote all the songs, played all the instruments, and produced the album save for cameos by guitarist Will Kimbrough on two songs. By definition, Boyd would be “King of the Loners” as he was largely alone when he created this stunningly impressive solo debut effort. 

“Drowning” kicks off the album, the song reflecting more than a little Tom Petty influence; although Boyd’s vocals are slightly more flexible than the late rock superstar’s, they’re every bit as engaging. The folkish influences evident on “Scattered Down the Road” only add to the song’s enormous charm, Boyd’s wistful vocals accompanied by a filigree acoustic guitar strum. The mournful harp-play evokes Dylan, but with less grandiosity and more humility. The result is an overall gorgeous performance with intricate lyrics and wonderful vocal/guitar interplay. The title track is an upbeat rocker with a rollicking arrangement and a melody that’s two lanes wide and supported by wiry fretwork and power-pop vocals.

The loping rhythm that opens “Sands of Idle Time” draws you in with effortless grace, offering vocals that verge on melancholy accompanied by gossamer guitarplay that delights even as it mesmerizes. By contrast, the country twang of “Now I Understand” brings a bit of honky-tonk authenticity to a deep personal song that delves into the ages-old father/son divide. The languid “Lazy Tuesday” pairs swampy, Creedence-styled guitar twang to a slow-rolling lyrical feast while the ballad “The House Where Blue Light Lives” showcases a different facet of Boyd’s talents, lyrically and musically capturing an innocence too-often lost in the void of social media-driven “content,” relying instead on heartfelt, plaintive vocals and immaculate guitarplay. The lilting “A Prison Song” – originally recorded by the White Animals – offers a sublime 1960s-era country-rock vibe with weeping pedal-steel guitar and a gentle acoustic strum; “Up For Air” closes King of the Losers with an up-tempo performance that echoes the ‘Laural Canyon’ sound of the 1970s with glimmering vocals and guitar.

While I’ve always enjoyed and respected Boyd’s contributions to the White Animals, the bassist’s first solo shot at the brass ring is simply stunning in the heart and soul displayed by King of the Loners’ delicate wordplay as well as Boyd’s carefully-crafted instrumentation that wields either a velvet glove or brass knuckles, depending on which best serves the song. These are intelligent, carefully considered songs akin to artists like Dwight Twilley, Peter Case, and Big Star-era Alex Chilton as well as another Nashville cat, Bill Lloyd. Boyd’s ability to fuse classic pop and rock to a contemporary sound is a welcome breath of fresh air.

With apologies to John Sebastian, there’s more to Nashville than just “guitar pickers.” As these albums from Owens and Boyd – as well as recently releases by Tommy Womack and the late Todd Snider (R.I.P.) and a 2024 album by the White Animals – prove, the Music City is teeming with talent, even if it’s not always recognized.