Drinkin’ Whiskey with a Reverend
The sins and confessions of an outlaw
2005-10-26
Increase Font Size
Decrease Font Size
“IF THEY HAVE WHISKEY THERE, I’ll play,” the tattoo machine-touting,
whiskey-and-a-beer drinking, rock ‘n’ roll reverend Shelby Cobra says.
“I’ll play wherever, I don’t care, as long as somebody’s
going to listen and have a good time.”
And with that, he buys me a drink.
Sure, most artists would say they play for the fans; that there is a definite niche their “unique” form of (insert derivative genre of music here) fulfills. Some even go so far as to profess deity status like they’re the almighty saviors of rock ‘n’ roll (remember Creed?). Well, that’s cool and all if you like that run-of-the-mill, corporate, new-country, love story bullshit that all them cowboys listen to in their big lifted Chevy Silverados. (Yeah, you guys sure are neat. That’s just about as cool as your fancy, ironed Wranglers and pristine white cowboy hats and totally awesome bolo ties. Yeah, I’m calling you fake-ass motherfuckers out.)
But that ain’t Shelby Cobra. On the right hand, he’s the soul of the blues; and on the left hand, he’s the embodied aesthetic of Jimmie Rodgers’ country. In the middle, he’s the societal outlaw with a bottle of Jim Beam and a tattoo gun. So, don’t mess with him.
According to Shelby, country today is for “weenies.”
“It’s pop music. It’s garbage. My stuff will never be on country radio. I accept that. I don’t really care, either. It’s all weenie stuff.” Though, he does admit that Toby Keith was kind of cool when he was smoking dope with Willie Nelson.
Drawing heavily from the David Allen Coe/Highwayman outlaw country motif, Shelby says there has always been a natural attraction to the subversive maturation of angst and discontent.
Outlaw country is somewhat of a niche genre. It’s not something you’re going to find at the mall or down at Diamond W. Western Wear. It’s an internalized belief of sorts. Shelby cites the traveling musician standing in a dive bar at 2 AM, drunk and alone as an example of outlaw country at its finest.
“Most of my songs are about whiskey,” he says. “It’s a comfortable subject [laughs].”
It’s more than that. He’s played the part of country outlaw as well. Having had the long hair, red bandana and a bit-o-fuzz on the ol’ mug would lead many to believe he’s the Willie Nelson redux. But that’s not it. It’s the personal acceptance that rock ‘n’ roll just feels right. It’s dueling with a fellow musician and friend at 4 AM, drunk; going back and forth singing songs about misfortunes, heartaches and a life less ordinary. Having witnessed one of these hootenannies myself, I can honestly say there is almost nothing that compares to the feeling of being entirely swept up in the music, songs and participating crowd. Just make sure you know “Mystery Train.”
Shelby is quick to admit that he has “a better crowd when people are drunk. All my songs are about stuff kids can’t really relate to, too much.” Though, there is a strange twist in this melodrama. “Honestly, I played at the Blue Room and that was the funnest show I’ve ever had, and that was all-ages. So, maybe I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”
The irony of all this talk of decadent behavior is that Shelby Cobra is indeed an ordained minister.
“I did it as a joke,” he says. “I had to sign the license. You have a grueling five minute process on the Internet where you write your name in and that’s it. I essentially told the government I’m a minister now.”
A wise man in a comic book once said, “With great power comes great responsibility.” So, what did the reverend do? He married his friends.
“I did my first wedding this year,” he says. “It was awesome. I had to dress up nice and do the whole deal. I have two more lined up already. My mom was teasing me about it. She said, ‘I think you’ve done more weddings than actual reverends.’”
Armed with a new album on Sacred Art Records, Solid Country Gold, Shelby is heading the way of the highwayman; he’s moving on. He’ll be doing his new, full-band project, Shelby Cobra and the Mustangs, in the Bay Area and hopefully hitting the road with Mr. Cliff Greenwood () as well.
Don’t worry, the Reverend has a business plan for those who want both his marriage and musical services. “We’ll still play weddings and bars for money.”
And with that, he buys me a drink.
Sure, most artists would say they play for the fans; that there is a definite niche their “unique” form of (insert derivative genre of music here) fulfills. Some even go so far as to profess deity status like they’re the almighty saviors of rock ‘n’ roll (remember Creed?). Well, that’s cool and all if you like that run-of-the-mill, corporate, new-country, love story bullshit that all them cowboys listen to in their big lifted Chevy Silverados. (Yeah, you guys sure are neat. That’s just about as cool as your fancy, ironed Wranglers and pristine white cowboy hats and totally awesome bolo ties. Yeah, I’m calling you fake-ass motherfuckers out.)
But that ain’t Shelby Cobra. On the right hand, he’s the soul of the blues; and on the left hand, he’s the embodied aesthetic of Jimmie Rodgers’ country. In the middle, he’s the societal outlaw with a bottle of Jim Beam and a tattoo gun. So, don’t mess with him.
According to Shelby, country today is for “weenies.”
“It’s pop music. It’s garbage. My stuff will never be on country radio. I accept that. I don’t really care, either. It’s all weenie stuff.” Though, he does admit that Toby Keith was kind of cool when he was smoking dope with Willie Nelson.
Drawing heavily from the David Allen Coe/Highwayman outlaw country motif, Shelby says there has always been a natural attraction to the subversive maturation of angst and discontent.
Outlaw country is somewhat of a niche genre. It’s not something you’re going to find at the mall or down at Diamond W. Western Wear. It’s an internalized belief of sorts. Shelby cites the traveling musician standing in a dive bar at 2 AM, drunk and alone as an example of outlaw country at its finest.
“Most of my songs are about whiskey,” he says. “It’s a comfortable subject [laughs].”
It’s more than that. He’s played the part of country outlaw as well. Having had the long hair, red bandana and a bit-o-fuzz on the ol’ mug would lead many to believe he’s the Willie Nelson redux. But that’s not it. It’s the personal acceptance that rock ‘n’ roll just feels right. It’s dueling with a fellow musician and friend at 4 AM, drunk; going back and forth singing songs about misfortunes, heartaches and a life less ordinary. Having witnessed one of these hootenannies myself, I can honestly say there is almost nothing that compares to the feeling of being entirely swept up in the music, songs and participating crowd. Just make sure you know “Mystery Train.”
Shelby is quick to admit that he has “a better crowd when people are drunk. All my songs are about stuff kids can’t really relate to, too much.” Though, there is a strange twist in this melodrama. “Honestly, I played at the Blue Room and that was the funnest show I’ve ever had, and that was all-ages. So, maybe I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”
The irony of all this talk of decadent behavior is that Shelby Cobra is indeed an ordained minister.
“I did it as a joke,” he says. “I had to sign the license. You have a grueling five minute process on the Internet where you write your name in and that’s it. I essentially told the government I’m a minister now.”
A wise man in a comic book once said, “With great power comes great responsibility.” So, what did the reverend do? He married his friends.
“I did my first wedding this year,” he says. “It was awesome. I had to dress up nice and do the whole deal. I have two more lined up already. My mom was teasing me about it. She said, ‘I think you’ve done more weddings than actual reverends.’”
Armed with a new album on Sacred Art Records, Solid Country Gold, Shelby is heading the way of the highwayman; he’s moving on. He’ll be doing his new, full-band project, Shelby Cobra and the Mustangs, in the Bay Area and hopefully hitting the road with Mr. Cliff Greenwood () as well.
Don’t worry, the Reverend has a business plan for those who want both his marriage and musical services. “We’ll still play weddings and bars for money.”
Bookmark: 
