Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today, we are
really digging into the career of someone, well,
foundational. An artist whose work pretty much
defines American roots music over the last, what,
50 years? Yeah, easily. But it's funny, his own
name recognition, it often seems to lag behind
the legends he played with or even the artist
he influenced down the line. Exactly. We're talking
about David Albert Alvin. Born November 11th,
1955, you could call him a true architect of
Americana, of roots rock. And that tension you
mentioned, foundational, but maybe not always
getting the spotlight. That's kind of what makes
his story so fascinating. It really is. We're
looking at someone who's not just, you know,
a musician, a singer, a producer. Yeah. But also
a published poet, a really prolific songwriter.
And yeah, that Rolling Stone quote, they called
him an under -recognized guitar hero, which feels
about right. Totally. And when you look at his
actual output, the sheer volume, it's this restless
creativity, isn't it? Just refuses to sit in
one box. Absolutely refuses. He moves so fluidly
between Americana, then bang, alternative country,
straight up rockabilly, country rock, folk rock.
Sometimes like within the same album cycle almost.
It's incredible. And he even created his own
persona, Blackjack Day. Right. From the 98 album.
Gave himself that moniker. So. Our mission today
really is to trace that whole journey. It's quite
a path. It really is. We want to understand how
a guy starts out, helps launch one of the most,
frankly, exciting roots rock bands of the 80s,
the Blasters. Yeah. And then somehow pivots straight
into the L .A. punk scene. Like, immediately.
Doesn't miss a beat. No. And then navigates setbacks,
gets a huge Grammy success, but in a totally
different genre. Right. Folk music. Yeah. And
ultimately finds this really enduring voice as
a master storyteller, even after going through
a really, really tough personal health battle.
So we're really tracing a path of, I guess, resilience
and constant reinvention. That's it. Exactly.
Resilience is the word. OK, so if we want to
get a handle on that unique mix of styles that
Dave Alvin represents, we have to start where
he started. Downey, California. That's ground
zero. It's the, well, the cultural incubator.
Right. Where he and his older brother, Phil Alvin,
just soaked it all up. They developed this almost
encyclopedic knowledge of American music. Just
growing up there. Yeah. Downey back then, you
know, 60s, 70s. It was this amazing crossroads.
American culture was really fermenting there.
So they weren't just listening to top 40 radio.
Oh, not at all. They were digging deep, spending
their time in venues. listening to actual blues
artists, real rockabilly legends, hardcore country
players, people who were living it. Wow. They
were basically giving themselves a PhD in American
musical history just by hanging out in those
local clubs and bars. That makes sense. I know
he did technically attend Long Beach State University
for a bit. Yeah, he did. But it sounds like his
real education was happening in those, you know,
juke joints where the music was alive. Totally.
And that intense absorption, that deep listening,
it led directly to forming the Blasters. That
was 1979. Right. And it was him, Phil, and then
fellow Downey guys, Bill Bateman on drums and
John Baz on bass. That core lineup. And the Blasters
were, I mean, they hit the ground running. They
were significant right away. How so? What made
them stand out? Well, they were totally rooted
in tradition. They knew their stuff. But they
played it with the speed, the intensity of punk
rock, which was exploding around them. Oh, okay.
So they weren't just a retro act playing dress
up. They were fusing these classic American forms,
blues, rockabilly, R &B, with the raw energy
of that moment. They were like the quintessential
roots rock band before people were even really
using that. term white years before it became
a common label exactly and what's absolutely
critical if you want to understand dave alvin's
specific role in all this yes he was the lead
guitarist killer guitarist but he was also their
chief songwriter and incredibly prolific people
sometimes forget that because phil alvin Well,
Phil had that voice. Oh, yeah. An overwhelming,
powerful voice. Perfect frontman. Absolutely
perfect for that role. But Dave was crafting
the material. He was building the house. That's
a key distinction. And the rough guy to rock
even noted it early on, saying he matured into
a great songwriter. They saw it. And, you know,
let's talk about his guitar playing in the blasters
for a sec. It wasn't just standard blues rock
stuff. No. No, it was aggressive. But also minimalist
in a way. blended like the sophisticated phrasing
of t -bone walker really smart blues licks with
this furious stripped down economy of notes you'd
find in punk interesting combination yeah and
that blend gave the blasters their edge it was
clever music played really really fast and loud
and the proof was in the pudding right his songs
started getting noticed outside their scene almost
immediately right away the prime example has
got to be marie marie That song didn't just stay
in L .A. It became a top 20 hit in the U .K.
and Germany in 1980. But not by the Blasters.
Covered by Shakin' Stevens. Shakin' Stevens.
Think about that. A roots rock tune, born in
Downey, gets adapted for, like, European pop
charts. That's wild. It shows how universal Dave's
writing was, even then. It had that classic structure,
a great hook, deep enough roots that it could
be reinterpreted like that. And it didn't stop
there, did it? Nope. Buckwheat, Zydeco picked
it up in 87, gave it a completely new life with
accordion, Zydeco style. That song just kept
going. Wow. Talk about leg. Seriously. And another
great example showing his range early on is Long
White Cadillac. Oh, yeah. Dwight Yoakam recorded
that one, 1989. Dwight Yoakam, Mr. Neo -Traditional
Bakersfield Sound. And Alvin's song just... slotted
perfectly into Dwight's whole vibe. It really
did a perfect fit, proved he could nail that
traditional country narrative, the structure.
And the fact that his songs worked so well for
such different artists, Shakin' Stevens, Buckwheat
Zydeco, Dwight Yoakam, that's the ultimate proof,
isn't it? Yeah. His songwriting chops went way
beyond just the Blasters' particular sound. But
yeah, that core Blasters lineup, especially with
two intense brothers, it couldn't hold forever.
Dave left the original band in 86. Right, and
look. There was definitely internal tension.
That's almost standard issue for bands with brothers,
especially fronting it. True. But the core creative
issue really was Dave. He'd become this great
songwriter and he wanted to sing his own songs.
And Phil was the established voice, the front
man. It's a classic dilemma. So he had to step
out. He kind of had to. It was maybe a necessary
split for his own voice, his solo career, to
really blossom. He needed to get out from under
Phil's, you know, very large shadow. Makes sense.
But what's interesting, though, is the connection
remained. Despite the split, they've reunited
over the years for tours, live albums. Right,
like that Going Home live album in 2004. Yeah,
and Live 1986 came out later. They even popped
up together in that movie Streets of Fire back
in 84. Oh, yeah. Walter Hill movie. That's the
one. So it shows, you know, the day -to -day
partnership ended, but the foundation, the shared
history, that music. Yeah. It's still sacred
to them. The bond runs deep. So leaving the Blasters.
It wasn't like he took a break. Not at all. It
seems like it just lit a fire under him. Oh,
totally. Rocket fuel is a good way to put it.
Instead of just retreating to work on solo stuff
right away, he showed this incredible, almost
kind of chaotic adaptability. How so? He just
dove straight into the deep end of the Los Angeles
alternative scene, which was really volatile
and exciting then. Right. And this is where he
might surprise people who only think of him as
a straight roots rocker. Exactly. Because the
pivot was immediate. His first big move. He joins
X as lead guitarist. X. Wow. That's a powerhouse
L .A. band. Alternative rock punk roots. Yep.
He recorded on their album. See how we are. That
was 87. Now you got to ask, why would a guy steeped
in blues and rockabilly seamlessly join a band
like X? Yeah, it seems like a stretch on the
surface. On the surface, maybe. But he wasn't
just looking for a gig. He was looking for intensity,
a shared kind of worldview. Yeah. Think about
it. X and the Blasters, musically different,
sure, but they came from the same L .A. streets.
They shared that same gritty, working -class,
anti -establishment lyrical core. Ah, I see.
They were both pushing back against the glossy
80s sound. Exactly. Rejecting that polished new
wave stuff for something more raw, more rooted
in the city's reality. Yeah. And Alvin's guitar
style. That T -Bone Walker meets punk thing we
talked about. It actually fit perfectly into
X's controlled chaos. He could bridge those worlds.
He was the bridge. That makes sense. And it wasn't
just X proper. He was also involved with the
knitters. Right. The sort of. Country folk side
project of X members. Yep. Which just shows him
constantly probing those connections, right?
Right. Between punk and folk and country. Deep
roots music. He was on their first album back
in 85, Poor Little Critter on the Road. And he
came back later for the second one, too. He did.
The Modern Sounds of the Knitters in 2005. Still
exploring that connection decades later. That
ability to just shift gears from the electric
onslaught of X to the acoustic, more traditional
sound of the midders. It's pretty remarkable.
It really is. Yeah. But if you want to talk about
the L .A. scene's interconnectedness, the quintessential
supergroup that showed how tight that community
was. you have to talk about the Flesh Eaters.
Ah, yes. Legendary status, that lineup. Totally
legendary. Yeah. Because back in the early 80s,
even while he was still technically a blaster,
Alvin played on their classic album, A Minute
to Pray, A Second to Die. And the lineup on that
record, it's insane. It's a who's who. You had
Alvin plus fellow blasters Bill Bateman and Steve
Berlin, and then John Doe and DJ Bonebrake from
X. all on one record that's not just a band that's
like a snapshot of the entire la underground
scene at that moment exactly it captured the
energy synthesized the best of it and that project
had staying power didn't it it wasn't just a
one -off that's what's amazing this specific
lineup was so potent so iconic they kept getting
back together they reunited for the album's 25th
anniversary in 2006 Did a short tour in 2015.
Wow. Another run in 2018, which actually led
to them making a new album together, I Used to
Be Pretty, in 2019. No way. Yeah. So it wasn't
just nostalgia. It was this deep, recurring,
creative connection between those specific players.
It still worked. That collaborative spirit seems
to define that whole period for him. It wasn't
just structured bands. Not at all. It spilled
into weirder, more eccentric stuff, too, like
touring as the Pleasure Barons. Right. With Mojo
Nixon and Country Dick Montana from the Beat
Farmers. Can you imagine those shows? Yeah. Guaranteed
chaos. And yeah, predictably, there's a live
album from that live in Las Vegas, 1993. capture
some of the madness. So while he's doing Blasters
Reunions, X, Knitters, Flesh Eaters, Pleasure
Barons, he's also doing session work? Constantly.
That's the fascinating part. He maintained this
super active parallel career as a studio guy,
the go -to guitarist for a certain sound. Who
did he play with? Oh man, a diverse list. He
backed up the folk legend Ramble and Jack Elliott.
the great bluesman, Little Milton, singer -songwriters
like Katie Moffat and Sid Straw. Wow, that's
real breadth. It is. And we can't forget, he
played guitar on a couple of tracks for the Gun
Club's 1984 album, The Las Vegas Story. Another
hugely influential band, Jeffrey Lee Pierce.
Exactly. Alvin really had his fingers in all
the pies. He wasn't just making his own music.
He was like essential connective tissue for that
whole roots adjacent L .A. musical world. A key
player, literally. OK, so all this collaboration,
all these different projects. It was like the
ultimate training ground for the solo career
he really wanted. Right. The one he loved the
blasters for. Exactly. But ironically, when he
finally launched it. It started with a pretty
major professional blow. His first solo album,
Romeo's Escape, that was 87, also called Every
Night About This Time Over in England. Yeah.
And the critics, they loved it. It got really
strong reviews. It clearly laid out the sound
he'd been honing and distinct from the blasters,
showcased his songwriting. But critical success
and commercial success are often miles apart,
right? The sales were just poor, really poor.
Ouch. And that had consequences. Big time. That's
where the music biz reality bites. Despite how
good the record was, the low sales meant his
contract with Columbia Records got terminated.
They dropped him. Wow. After just one album.
Imagine that feeling. You leave this successful
foundational band to go it alone, put out a great
record, and boom, you're dropped by the major
label. It's gotta be. crushing psychologically.
It just highlights how tough it is to translate
that sort of critical acclaim or cult following
into solo stardom, especially back then. But
if there's one thing we're learning about Dave
Alvin, it's that he doesn't quit easily. Not
a chance. Tenacity is definitely a theme. So
he pivots. He moves away from the major label
system, finds a home, finds stability with a
respected indie label, High Tone Records. And
his second solo album, Blue Blue VD, comes out
in 1991. And this one starts to shift things.
Gets good reviews again, but crucially, it sells
moderately well. It proves he can sustain an
independent solo career. That stability must
have been huge, allowed him to breathe and explore
more. Totally. He follows up with Museum of Heart
in 93. But then comes a really significant move
in 94, King of California. Ah, the acoustic album.
The acoustic album. This was a deliberate choice,
a dedicated turn towards acoustic music, stripping
it all back. Why do that, then, after finding
some footing with the electric stuff? Well, I
think it was a powerful statement. It was him
saying, my work is defined by the songs, by the
lyrics, by the stories, not just by how loud
my guitar is. Right. Shifting the focus entirely
to the songwriting. Exactly. Stripping the sound
back just highlighted the depth of his writing,
showed he was way more than just a hotshot electric
player. Was it risk? Maybe. but a really necessary
creative evolution for him, I think. And he was
kind of building his own mythology around this
time too, right? With the Black Jack Day's nickname.
Yeah. That came from his 1998 album, Black Jack
David. The title track inspired the nickname
that stuck, Black Jack Dave. It's like he's defining
himself through the characters in his songs,
the wanderer, the gambler, the storyteller. Embracing
those archetypes. But the absolute peak of his
mainstream recognition, the big award, it came
in 2000. And from a slightly unexpected direction.
Public domain. Songs from the wild land. Which
wasn't his original song. No, exactly. It was
a collection of traditional folk and blues classics.
Yeah. Public domain tunes. And that won the Grammy.
That won the Grammy award for best contemporary
folk album. Now we should pause here because
this win is really significant. Yeah. Why specifically?
Well, it wasn't just a trophy. It was this major
recognition of his role, not just as a writer
or player, but as a musical historian and interpreter.
It's kind of ironic, isn't it? His biggest award
comes from interpreting other people's really
old songs, not his own compositions. It is ironic,
but it speaks volumes about his power as an interpreter,
his depth of understanding. It acknowledges him
as a custodian of American musical tradition.
So on Public Domain, he wasn't just covering
these songs. No way. He was reinterpreting them.
These ancient American tunes, some centuries
old, he breathed new life into them, injected
them with contemporary clarity, his own narrative
focus. That's why the contemporary folk label
fits, I think. He made that wild land feel immediate
again, relevant now. That makes sense. He connected
the past to the present. Perfectly put. So after
hitting that peak, winning the Grammys with traditional
folk, what does he do next? Knowing him. Probably
something different again. Exactly. He makes
a conscious choice to return to the sound that
first defined him. Electric roots rock. Power
trio stuff. Ah, okay. Full circle, sort of. Kind
of. This brings us to 11 .11, released in 2011
on Yep Rock Records. And it was a loud record.
A deliberate, I'm plugging back in statement.
And how was that received after the acoustic
success and the folk Grammy? The credits definitely
noticed. This is the album that sparked that
Rolling Stone review calling him the under -recognized
guitar hero. Ah, okay. So the timing was right.
Yeah. It was like after years of acoustic refinement,
playing Sideman, digging into folk history, the
electric guitar player finally got his explicit
due in the mainstream critical conversation.
It proved he could do both. Master the whisper
and the roar. So following those solo highs,
the Grammys, and the return to rock, one of the
really maybe most enduring and frankly heartwarming
chapters of his career starts up. The reunion
with his brother Phil. But not as the Blasters,
right? Something different. Exactly. Not a Blasters
reformation, but as like equal partners paying
homage together to the music they both grew up
loving. Their shared foundation. Okay. So what
did that look like? Their first studio collaboration
since way back in the mid -80s Blasters days
was Common Ground. Came out in 2014. And it focused
entirely on covers of songs by one specific artist,
Big Bill Brunzi. Big Bill Brunzi. Okay, why him?
Well, Brunzi is such a key figure. He was one
of those guys who successfully made the jump
from rural country blues to the more urban blues
sound. Ah, okay. He represents that transition.
Perfectly. That complex intersection of styles
that the Alvin Brothers themselves embody. So
by covering Brunzi, they weren't just singing
old tunes. They were basically reaffirming their
shared musical DNA. Going back to the source.
That makes a lot of sense. And they followed
up pretty quickly, too. Lost Time came out in
2015. Another collection of covers. This time,
heavily featuring songs by Big Joe Turner. The
great jump blues shouter. Another foundational
figure from their youth, I bet. Absolutely. Another
cornerstone of that Downy Roots music education
they had. So these albums, Common Ground and
Lost Time, they weren't just records. They kind
of set up a new way for the brothers to perform
together. Exactly. They established this new,
stable, live dynamic. And in these duo shows...
Dave Alvin's stage role shifted pretty significantly.
How so? Well, Phil naturally handled those incredible
lead vocals. He's still got that powerhouse voice.
But Dave really stepped into the role of, well,
MC, Master Storyteller. Ah, interesting. Yeah,
he would weave narratives between the songs,
give context, tell anecdotes about the artists,
about Daphne, about their history with the music.
And they'd mix in Blaster's tunes alongside the
covers. But Dave was the guide. He became the
curator on stage, explaining the connections.
That's it. The connective thread, explaining
the history, the personal meaning. And that storytelling
persona, that became really central to his other
collaborations that followed, too. Especially
with the legendary Texas singer -songwriter Jimmy
Dale Gilmore. Right. That seemed like a really
natural pairing. It really did. That partnership
blossomed into the album Downey to Lubbock in
2018. Don't eat to Lubbock. The title says it
all, doesn't it? Perfectly. It's that cultural
meeting point. Elvin's California roots, Gilmore's
Texas flatland mysticism. It's literally mapping
the American musical landscape, coast to heartland,
right there in the title. And I bet the live
shows emphasize the stories again. Oh, absolutely.
The strength of their shows was as much in the
music as it was in Dave's stories between the
songs, connecting the dots for the audience.
And that partnership has lasted, right? They
just put out another record. They did. Really
resilient collaboration. Their latest is Texicali,
released just this year, 2024. Texicali, another
great title. Isn't it? But the time between those
two Gilmore albums, that period was marked by
immense personal struggle for Dave. Yeah, I heard
about that. He had a serious health battle. Extremely
serious. Starting around May 2020, he began what
his team described as a grueling two -year battle
with different forms of cancer. Wow, two years.
Yeah. It was a really tough fight. Took him completely
off the road, off the stage, right during the
peak of the pandemic lockdown, too. Just a brutal
time. That's incredibly sobering. Puts everything
else in perspective. It really does. And his
return to performing, it became this powerful
symbol of resilience and maybe the healing power
of collaboration, too. When did he come back?
In April 2022, he announced he was ready to return
to public performance. And significantly, he
chose to do it with Jimmy Dale Gilmore. They
booked a series of nine dates together in California.
He specifically chose to return with Jimmy. Yeah.
And I think that decision really underlines the
depth of that partnership. After this life -altering
health battle, where all focus had to be on just
surviving, he chose to step back onto the stage
with a trusted friend, relying on that warmth
of the existing musical conversation to ease
back into the demands of performing. That's really
moving. It is. And you have to think, that personal
struggle, it inevitably deepens the emotional
resonance of his work since then. Those themes
of loss, endurance, memory. They were already
in his songs, but now they carry an even greater
weight, you know. So we've covered Dave Alvin,
the musician, the singer, the songwriter, this
incredibly versatile figure. But his influence,
his work, it goes beyond just performing, right?
He's always had these parallel things going on.
Absolutely. Yeah. We have to talk about his role
as a producer. And as a writer, a literary writer,
and even occasionally an actor. Let's start with
producing. How does that fit in? Well, his production
work feels like a natural extension of that historical
sensibility we talked about. He acts like a curator
in the studio, too. How do you know? He helps
artists capture their authentic roots sound,
but makes sure it has, you know, modern clarity
and punch. He's produced records for a really
diverse group. People like Chris Gaffney, remember
his 95 album, Loser's Paradise? Michael, yeah.
Dave produced that. Also, Tom Russell. The Derailers,
Big Sandy and his Fly Right Boys, the country
band Red Meat. Okay, so a real mix within that
roots world. Definitely. And he brings that depth
knowledge of musical history into the control
room. He even collaborated with the legendary
rockabilly pioneer Sonny Burgess, producing him,
making sure that foundational sound got captured
right for a new audience. Preserving the legacy
through production. Exactly. And he's still very
active. He produced Carolyn Wonderland's fantastic
2021 album Tempting Fate. Oh, yeah. That got
great reviews. It did. And he's apparently lined
up to produce her next one, too, Truth Is, coming
out in 2025. So he clearly has this knack for
finding raw, soulful talent and helping them
translate that feeling onto tape, make it last.
OK, before we get to his writing, which seems
like maybe his most consistent side gig, let's
just quickly touch on the film and TV stuff.
Right. Not a huge part of his career, but it's
there. We mentioned The Blaster showing up in
Streets of Fire back in 84. Yeah. But he also
took on actual acting roles in a couple of indie
movies, Border Radio and Floundering. Huh. Didn't
know that. And maybe most fittingly, given the
kind of dusty, noir -ish feel of many of his
songs, he popped up on the FX series Justified
in 2011. Oh, Justified. This makes perfect sense.
Elmore Leonard territory. Modern Western. Exactly.
It's like the visual echo of the kind of blues
and folk ballads he champions. A perfect cameo.
Okay, but the writing. The poetry, that seems
like a much bigger piece of the puzzle. It absolutely
is. We really can't talk about Dave Alvin fully
without acknowledging that he's maintained this
serious parallel career as a published poet for
decades. It's not just a hobby, then. Oh, no,
not at all. He's not just a musician who scribbles
poems on the side. He's a recognized figure in
the L .A. literary scene. His first book of poetry,
Manna, Big Joe and the Fourth of July, came out
way back in 1986. Wow, 86, right around when
he left the Blasters. Exactly. And his second
collection. Any rough times are now behind you,
followed in 96. And the themes in his poetry,
do they connect to his music? Directly. It's
often the same territory. Working class stories,
meditations on that Southern California landscape,
the beauty and the grit characters navigating
hard times, loss, memory. His poems have shown
up in respected anthologies and journals, too,
like Caffeine, Rattler, Poetry Loves Poetry.
So it's all connected, the songs, the poems.
It really feels like it. The poetry and prose
are just maybe a different delivery system for
the same core narratives, the same obsessions
that fuel his songs. And he kind of confirmed
that himself recently, didn't he, with that big
collection? He did. That really cemented the
unified vision. In 2022, he released New Highway,
and the subtitle tells you everything. Selected
lyrics, poems, prose, essays, eulogies, and blues.
Wow. Lyrics, poems, prose, essays, eulogies.
Right. That subtitle is like the Rosetta Stone
for his whole career. It shows that in his mind,
a eulogy he wrote for a friend, a poem about
growing up in Downey, and the lyrics to, say,
Long White Cadillac, they all come from the same
place, the same creative wellspring. It confirms
that the core of his art isn't really about the
instrument he's holding. Exactly. It's about
the story, the narrative, and the pen that shapes
it, whether it ends up as a song or a poem or
an essay. That's the constant. Hashtag tag outro.
So when we try to wrap this all up, look back
at this whole deep dive, you realize Dave Elvin's
career isn't really a straight line at all, is
it? It's more like a fractal pattern or something.
How do you mean? Well, those core themes, history,
place, resilience, the power of narrative. They
just keep repeating themselves, but across all
these different mediums, different roles. Yeah,
he mastered shifting between them, the tight
structure of leading a band like... The blaster.
Right. Then the seeming chaos of those punk adjacent
scenes. The quiet introspection of being a folk
songwriter. And then stepping up as this authoritative
voice of musical history, the interpreter, the
producer. His whole career path is just a masterclass
in versatility and sheer endurance, too. Totally.
He proved he could be that electric guitar hero
who helped shape Roots Rock. Right. The Rolling
Stone line. Yeah. And yet his biggest mainstream
award, the Grammys, came for being a folk historian.
Preserving the blues legacy. It's fascinating.
His journey really shows that true artistic depth.
It often requires more than just musical talent,
right? It's about that willingness to embrace
multiple ways of communicating. Poetry, prose,
production. Whatever it takes to get the story
told. And that dedication to the narrative and
to the source material, the history, that feels
like why he's still such a vital figure. He always
points back to the tradition, even while he's
pushing it forward somehow. Well said. He keeps
the roots alive by making them relevant now.
So maybe we can leave you, the listener, with
this final thought to chew on. We started out
asking if he was the under -recognized guitar
hero. But when you look at the incredible scope
of his career, everything we've talked about.
Does his enduring legacy ultimately rest more
on the power of his pen? Whether that pen is
writing Grammy -winning lyrics, quiet acoustic
ballads, published poetry. Or does it rest more
on the undeniable influence of his guitar? That
aggressive electric sound that started with the
blasters and keeps resurfacing. Yeah. The volume
of his amp. The pen or the amp. Maybe it's both.
Something to think about. Thanks for diving deep
with us today.