Clay Wilson (Photo courtesy of Clay Wilson)
“It may be five people or maybe 100, but having that one person explain to you that what you’ve put together is your favorite thing, that will make you get out of bed and play music for the rest of your life. That is the coolest thing to me.”
February 17, 2013, 5:23 p.m.
A mix of laughter, music, and the sound of clanking glasses streams through my iPhone speaker and penetrates my ear. Through the muddled background, I manage to hear a voice on the other line: “I’m at Katy Trail right now.” I begin to respond, but before I’m able to explain how sorry I am for bothering him on a Sunday evening, he cuts me off, “Well come on!”
After experiencing six of his concerts and encountering him on other occasions, meeting at a bar for an interview, truthfully, didn’t seem all that unusual for a character like Clay. Within 10 minutes of hanging up, I stood outside of Katy Trail Ice House.
I scanned the bar not with my eyes but with my ears: there is no missing the boisterous voice of Clay Wilson.
No voice stood out to me however. I continued to inspect the room, looking for a hefty 6′ 2”, 26-year-old boy who might be standing on a tabletop-causing a scene-or making inappropriate gestures towards various women. But the boy I found looked more like a man: His hair had been groomed, his face cleanly shaved, and instead of sporting his usual old, dirty t-shirt, he wore a fresh, long-sleeved, J. Crew Henley.
But what was most shocking was not his clothes or hair: it was his calm voice-which wasn’t spilling out profanity, as usual-and his hand-which was entangled with a girl’s.
He still had the same contagious laughter, perpetual grin, and sparkle in his eye that he always had when I would watch him perform on stage. But he seemed different: it was as if the sparkle in his eye, which was once a mischievous flame, had turned into a glimmer of confidence.
Flashback
“I fell off the stage one time and I thought that was pretty ridiculous. I had reached down to grab a beer from a guy in the audience and my boot got caught on a cord. I tried to save myself, but I just ate shit.” Wilson recalls this memory with laughter and I can tell there are dozens of similar stories running through his head.
A good friend and former SMU football teammate Shaun Moore explains, “Going to their concerts was more of an entertainment show. It was about the music, obviously, but it was really about getting the crowd involved.” Wilson’s energy was infectious, which set him apart from other performers. But what grabbed the attention of his audience was his honesty and rebellious attitude.
“He will say whatever the hell he wants,” says Moore. “And because he’s inappropriate, he will say what’s on everyone else’s minds that they are afraid to say.” Moore recalls a song Wilson wrote called, “Politics, Religion, and the Art of Making Love.” When further asked about Clay’s bluntness, Moore responded, “I couldn’t even say out loud the things he would say.”
The band that Clay started in 2007, The Clay Wilson Band, saw quick success. Wilson wrote and recorded an album, Desperate, and make enough money during his six months of touring to live comfortably. But he is not touring now: Wilson recently took a full-time job as a project manager with a construction company.
The Band’s Current State of Affairs
“It feels like a rollercoaster. Every hill that we go down we come up higher,” explains Clay. “But at the same time, it feels like every weekend that we’re not playing hurts us a little bit and makes me feel like everything that we’ve put into the band is being thrown away.”
Wilson taught himself how to play guitar when he was 15, and since then, music became a prominent part of his life. He explains how playing, singing, and writing music was both therapeutic and fun, which is what led him to start a band of his own and ultimately make a career out of music.
The original band-Wilson and a fiddle player from the Texas State string quartet-came together at Texas State University and quickly grew into a five-person band. After two years of playing football at Texas State, Wilson transferred to SMU, where he continued to play football. At SMU, Wilson was fortunate enough to find new band members that shared his same passion for Texas country and southern rock. His new band performed weekly for fraternity parties and at local bars like Barely House.
After a year at SMU, Wilson went back to Texas State to finish up his undergraduate studies, earning a bachelor’s degree in political science. During that time, his lead guitarist and former SMU teammate, Tyler Jones, kept the band together while Wilson focused on writing Desperate. By the time Wilson graduated, the band was ready to tour.
The band played four nights a week, traveling all over Texas. Invitations to play out of state, however, came shortly after their tour began. “We were spreading our music and it made me feel like we were doing something right,” Wilson says. The band visited numerous southern universities, played along the East Coast and eventually made it to Chicago.
Throughout his travels, Wilson gathered a strong fan base. Two of his friends from the SMU football team, Zach Zimmerman and Bryce Hudman, have always supported Clay: “Zach and myself have probably been to almost every show he has had no matter where it’s been,” Hudman says. But fans are not enough to keep the shows going: it takes money and unity.
“Music is a labor of love,” Wilson says, “and very few people ever make it to the situation where they can financially just live off of being a musician.” And after six months of profitable touring, the band took a turn. “My decision to take another job was strictly based on getting some capital flow into the band,” Wilson says. But finances aside, Wilson’s faced other obstacles.
The band began to diverge. “I don’t think there was ever a point when everyone was on the same page in the band,” Moore says. “They all seem to have other things going on.” Consequently, Jones left the band because he and Wilson could not see eye to eye.
“When you’re trying to get six other people on board with what you’re thinking and you have all these ideas in your head, you forget that other members of the band their own ideas too,” Wilson says. “You have this picture in your head and it gets frustrating sometimes when you try to create it but it comes out differently.”
Since the departure of Jones, Wilson has found another lead guitarist and the band remains intact. But in losing his lead guitarist-and close friend-did Wilson’s outlook change? Maybe it was time for Clay to tone down his rowdy image and let his behavior reflect his intentions for the band.
“Clay has changed dramatically, well in my eyes,” says Samantha Van Orman, Clay’s girlfriend. “He is still his goofy, weird self all the time but now that he has accepted this wonderful job, he is a busy man. I am used to seeing him in Red Hot Chili Pepper T-Shirts and Converse, but now, he’s in slacks and a tie.”
February 17, 2013, 5:47 p.m.
Samantha is right about the Clay who stands before me. His appearance has been altered, he now has a steady girlfriend-and is no longer chasing after girls-and a serious job.
He is still his goofy, weird self though, according to Samantha, and I hope that she is also right about that. “Clay’s youthful, irresponsible way is what got him to where he is,” Shaun points out. It’s his quirky personality that has allowed him to find success in pursuing his dream of being a musician: It’s what makes him entertaining-resulting in a loyal and undying fan base-and encourages him to take risks-which has allowed him to challenge and improve his abilities.
“There is a lot to be said for what Clay has done with his talent,” says Samantha. “But above all else, it makes him really happy to play music. He is a gifted man and I look forward to see what he does in the future.”
