McKay Brothers

Cold Beer & Hot Tamales

by Dave Pilot

It’s not always a good thing when the New York Times starts making comments.  It’s a flat out scary thing when that rag says a Texas act has authenticity “as welcome as a drive down a lonely road in a dusty pickup.”  But in the case of the McKay Brothers, the Yankees got it right.  Born and raised as fifth-generation Texans, Noel and Hollin McKay have come to wear their home state and its residents and eccentricities as easily as Faulkner wore Dixie.  There’s no beer, beer, Luckenbach stupidity here.  None of the fake cowboy revelry that comes with a Kevin Fowler appearance.  What the McKays bring to the table is homespun, simple music that paints vivid pictures and mounts them on an interesting instrumental foundation.  The brothers trade vocal leads from track to track, and the distinction is striking.  Hollin has a weathered, whiskeyed-up sound that lends weather beaten authenticity to anything he sings (see “Bottle of Fire” as Exhibit A).  Noel’s voice, on the other hand, is pure Texas and soothing, if not exactly smooth per se.  The contrast in styles adds listenability in spades, and the song choices make it clear both brothers understand where their strengths are best put to use.  Listen to Noel sing “Port Artur,” and you’ll see what I mean.

As you’d expect from fifth-generation Texans, the Lone Star weaves itself tightly into every single song.  As with the state itself, the track list involves a varied and textured tapestry of lives and backgrounds and occupations that all tie to a simple and straightforward way of life.  Jimmy Buffett once summed up his own outlook by saying “I’ve got a Caribbean soul I can barely control and some Texas hidden here in my heart.”  The McKays, on the other hand, mix English and Spanish together when they sing “It’s all because I’ve got a Texas heart, don’t you know, but I’ve got a Mexican soul.”

The road doesn’t stop there, however.  There are beautiful, haunting songs of introspection and spirituality to be found, the kind that tend to present themselves to anyone with an open and searching soul who finds himself alone in the far reaches of the Hill Country.  “Seventh Day” walks an ethereal footpath, led by spirits into the quest for something more than this mortal coil can provide.  “Acompaneme,” alternately, evokes old Mexico and the beauty and reverence of love.  Brush up on your Spanish before you listen.  And if that’s not your cup of tea, settle for pondering the song’s closing lines:

"The wind is blowing off the sea
The night is made so perfectly
You must touch me
Like you touch the beads of a rosary"

Vignette-style examinations of life throughout Texas are the obvious theme for this CD.  Taken individually, they tell compelling short stories.  Collectively, they compare and contrast the state’s regions and inhabitants - - sometimes positively, and sometimes not. (see “Silicone Baby,” which could apply to any number of debutantes in the DFW Metroplex)  But introspection brings wisdom, and wisdom brings appreciation and growth, and you can find all of the above on Cold Beer and Hot Tamales.  It’s an examination of lives and lifestyles and philosophies the likes of which we haven’t heard since Tom Russell recorded Borderland.  This record takes that tack, just on a broader scale.

Visit www.mckaybrothers.com for info, to order CDs, and to find out when the brothers are playing in your town.

                                                                                           

Written by Dave Pilot, November, 2006

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