NEW BEATS
ELY FOR YOU TO SAY You gotta hand it to Joe Ely. Here’s a guy who’s been kicking around the club circuit for the past, what, 20 years or more, consistently puts on one of the most murderous rock ’n’ roll shows you’ll ever see, yet has been laboring under the double-edged sword of that status called “cult” for lo these many moons—and isn’t even bitter about it.
NEW BEATS
ELY FOR YOU TO SAY
You gotta hand it to Joe Ely. Here’s a guy who’s been kicking around the club circuit for the past, what, 20 years or more, consistently puts on one of the most murderous rock ’n’ roll shows you’ll ever see, yet has been laboring under the double-edged sword of that status called “cult” for lo these many moons—and isn’t even bitter about it.
On the contrary, West Texas firebrand Ely (who, incidentally, is a gentle, unassuming interview subject) is almost content to be where he’s at. “It’s kind of a nice position to be in,” says Ely, in this tangy Lubbock-bred drawl, “because I feel like we’re really kind of in gear, but I’m not constantly on the road and all, so I still have time to write. It’s not really frustrating.”
Ely, 40, began playing professionally in his pre-adolescent days. He—along with fellow Lubbockites Jimmie Gilmore, Butch Hancock, Tommy Hancock, Al Strehli, and a few others—has since gained semi-legendary status.