Texas songwriter Charley Crockett finds the upside of feeling down

This is an updated LOOKatOKC version of a story published in The Oklahoman last December.

Charley Crockett carried moving boxes from a trailer hitch and started digging for an outfit.

The singer-songwriter isn't a stranger to searching for tokens of the past in both musical form and fashion. He settled on a vintage brown shirt and made it fit like the jukebox mix of honky tonkers, Creole-flavored tunes and classic country songs he's got memorized.

He calls Texas home but Crockett — along with a large cast of touring players — belongs to the road these days. He'll be back through Oklahoma at least twice more this spring, including a stop at Tower Theatre. 

The sun started setting on the chilly, quiet November evening, and it's the sorta night where the allure of Netflix burns like a crackling fire. But Charley had sold out the Blue Door. Pulling in roughly 100 concertgoers on a weeknight is no small task.

So how did this bluesy performer — a claimed descendant of the storied Davy Crockett — wind up back in Oklahoma with an eager crowd on such a sleepy evening?

The easy answer would be to name-drop who he’s opened for throughout the Oklahoma music scene. The Turnpike Troubadours have toured endlessly to crowds of thousands and it’s often Charley and Co.’s job to warm up concertgoers. At the time, he was also about to head overseas for a lengthy European tour with Tulsa-native JD McPherson.

By now, Crockett’s own name is making splashes on the national scene by catching the attention of Thirty Tigers, a Nashville-based label that’s got a knack for finding and amplifying the stories of Americana songwriters that have something worth singing about.

It’s a tide of luck and timing that packed his Blue Door concert, which was more than a decade in the making. Crockett, who's still in his early 30s, sat down with me in the blue venue’s green room to share his journey from playing to anyone who’d listen on New York subway platforms and the streets of Louisiana to finding an audience of his own in Dallas’ Deep Ellum district and then around the world.

It all started in the kitchen

Crockett’s mother loved singing throughout their singlewide trailer, especially in the morning. The pair lived in a rural slice of South Texas. As a youngster, Charley would join in with her soulful voice.

“She doesn’t sing in front of me anymore,” Crockett said. “I guess I’ve gotten older, and she thinks I’m a star. She’s like embarrassed or something. When I was a kid, she wasn’t embarrassed at all.”

She embedded a confidence in Charley at an early age. However, he wasn’t dead set on becoming a musician until later in life, but he learned an important lesson.

“I didn’t ever have any fear about singing,” Crockett said. “If your parent is singing, you start singing with them and they never tell you otherwise, then you think you got it. That’s a good thing. In life, most of it's just believing that you got it. It doesn’t matter what it is.”

Believe it and it happens, he said. Even when you’re hopping trains and hitchhiking to get by? Charley would make that argument.

"I’ve been thrown off of a train outside Chicago in real rough way," Crockett said about a run-in with railway security. "That's happened a few times ... but you have a way better chance of changing your situation on the road rather than staying in decaying suburbs or a dying town."

His travels have taken him everywhere, but no place has been as influential as Louisiana.

That’s where he met his trumpet player and longtime bandmate Charlie Mills Jr., who’s got some great advice if you ever find yourself in New Orleans: Don’t drink the water.

“Think about it, man. Everything from all the rivers, refineries and farms meets down there,” Crockett said. “The flip side of that logic explains why the music is so amazing in Louisiana. You could be listening to swing jazz or traditional honky tonk bands all on the same block. There’s also so many kinds of hip-hop that came from those neighborhoods.”

It’s a melting pot of genres.

Everything from Louis Armstrong's trumpet to Big Freedia's bounce has found a voice in New Orleans. Charley’s passion stems from the styles of yesteryear. He couldn’t help but soak in traditional music while making ends meet as a street performer. When it was time to make a covers album, Crockett sat down and made a list of nearly 20 songs.

“If I’d picked a different day to really nail down the track list, then they could’ve all been different,” he said. “A lot of them are love songs that make you so sad that you feel good. You have to hear them over and over again in the bar. That’s why I recorded those. Isn’t it strange how some of those really sad honky tonk, drinkin’ songs make you feel so good?”

“Charley Crockett presents Lil G.L.’s Honky Tonk Jubilee” landed in September, and Crockett built the record's playlist from his favorite versions of his favorite songs. He tried avoiding overplayed tracks. Old-school cuts from Hank Williams, Loretta Lynn, Ernest Tubb and one modern number from Brennen Leigh made the 16-song collection. The classic country playlist feels almost off the cuff, like the way his band sounds in concert.

“I don’t ever rehearse. This band doesn’t rehearse,” Crockett said. “All the guys who end up playing with me end up the same way. We play all the time.”

Charley originally had planned to release his covers record under the obscure "Lil G.L." nickname. After all, the record was mostly just for him.

But after returning to Texas, his sophomore LP “In the Night” started building momentum thanks to public radio and Thirty Tigers knew adding “Charley Crockett presents” could spark a fire. 

A new record

Crockett's momentum led to another recording session at Sam Phillips Recording in Memphis for a fresh batch of tracks called "Lonesome As a Shadow" due April 20 via Thirty Tigers. It's his first collection of 100 percent original material.

The record flexes what Charley does best: It sticks to simple stories from his own life. He gave that sold-out Blue Door crowd an early taste of the record when his band left the stage, and he played a song solo. 

He dedicated the acoustic number to his late sister. It’s called “I Wanna Cry,” and the track respectfully mixes a tender story with an upbeat energy — even without accompaniment.

The track opens the new record with a thumping beat and jubilant accordion sounds. It's a really, really sad song when you think about the inspiration, but it's hard to feel down. Charley's warm, old-school delivery — where Texas sounds more like Teh-thas — makes his brand of blues feel brighter and more optimistic. 

The album's littered with song titles referencing teardrops, sadness and worry, but Crockett seems to love his songs — especially the downcast ones — so much that they can't sound hopeless. 

“My newer work is my best effort at trying to write songs that can last and mean something,” Crockett said. “I’ve got this old timey Cajun and rockabilly thing rolling through it. I’ve also got stuff on there that brings out the Bill Withers side of me. But it’s still my deal.”

It's uncanny to see and hear how much Crockett respects the past. He name-checked American songwriters such as Woody Guthrie, Irving Berlin and Leon Payne, not only because of their popularity but also because their songs have withstood the test of time.

“We have not outdone those people,” he said. “Maybe we’ve added layers, but we haven’t outdone them. Think about film. I think that the narratives of old films, just like the narratives of the old songs that Hank Williams made popular, haven't evolved so much that our stories are any different.

“The feeling of being on a lost highway or having that ramblin’ spirit … there’s something about the sadness of the song makes you happy by getting it out.”

IN CONCERT

Charley Crockett

With: Greyhounds

When: 8 p.m. April 19

Where: Tower Theatre, 425 NW 23. 

Tickets: $15-$17, www.towertheatreokc.com