Eric Hanke: Original Americana Music from the Austin Hill Country
NEW ALBUM: Factory Man
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inspire Texas tunesmith Eric Hanke on Merel Bregante-produced “Factory Man”
Eric Hanke is the kind of guy who naturally stands out in a crowd. For one thing, he’s usually the tallest one in it, unless it’s a gathering of hoops players. But he also stands out among his singer-songwriter peers in Austin and elsewhere — not only because of his resolute refusal to follow Texas or Nashville trends, but for his way with a lyric, his ability to move easily among multiple musical styles, and the respect he’s earned from players he counts as influences and mentors.
With his second release, “Factory Man,” Hanke proves the praise he drew for his maiden outing, 2006’s “Autumn Blues” — including comparisons to Texas’ finest songsmiths and a top 10 of the year pronunciation by the Austin American-Statesman’s Michael Corcoran, the dean of Austin music critics — was well justified.
Both were produced by Hanke’s friend and bandmate, Merel Bregante, who gained fame drumming for the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Loggins & Messina. The players include Bregante’s wife, singer Sarah Pierce; guitarist Kenny Grimes; keyboardist Riley Osbourn; steel player Cindy Cashdollar … names that resonate far beyond Austin’s borders. But for Hanke, it’s not about pedigree, it’s about honesty. Soul. Feeling. It’s about appreciating Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson and Townes Van Zandt, but loving classic rock, too. And knowing that songs about beer and trucks might sell records, but that doesn’t mean they’re good, even if they are by fellow Texans.
“Factory Man,” on Hanke’s own Ten Foot Texan Records label, is filled with songs borne of experience, populated by real people. Hanke adheres to the “write what you know” school; for him, BS just won’t fly. The best grooves come from what you know, too, and this album is a great blend of a little bit ’o soul, some blues, some country, rock, folk … etc. Americana. It’s more electric than “Autumn Blues,” but it’s not ragged, in-your-face rawk. It’s cool, yet warm — and that’s not a contradiction. With Hanke’s high tenor (which sounds not unlike that of his neighbor, Slaid Cleaves) supported by just-right harmonies and instrumentation throughout, it’s a natural progression for an artist who’s not afraid of taking his time to get it right.
He spent half of the time between albums living on South Padre Island, learning to play electric guitar, gigging in bars and hanging out on the beach. Hurricane Ike motivated him to head back to Austin with his trusty dog, Waylon, and record again.
Born in Michigan and raised in Dallas, Hanke likes to say he attended the Merel Bregante school of sensitivity and artist development. Actually, he’s got a bachelor’s degree in German and international studies, but even PhDs know most of the important stuff isn’t learned in classrooms. Musicians tend to start their lessons with somebody else’s record collection; Hanke had his dad’s. But his very first album was a Willie Nelson disc that accompanied the record player his grandparents gave him when he was 3.
He didn’t get serious about his own playing until his late teens, but when the bug took hold, it bit hard. He started delving more deeply into the work of artists he admired, and learning the craft of writing, though the skill clearly comes naturally to him. Hanke etches vivid details into each story he tells on “Factory Man,” starting with the slightly countryish, mandolin-laden title song.
“It’s a workingman’s tune,” Hanke says. “On the back of the album, there’s a picture of my grandfather when he was 17 years old in Germany, when he got his apprenticeship as a tool-and-die maker.” His grandfather immigrated to the States and, like so many of his generation, spent almost his entire adult life working at one plant.
“That song is about when that place, after so many years, was closing down and outsourcing all of the jobs to China and Brazil,” Hanke explains. “At the time, I wrote it about that once place in particular [well before Detroit’s meltdown], but it became about unemployment in general and the hard economic times people are going through.”
Turning a singular subject into one with a universal connection is another measure of a true songwriter. But there’s something else that separates Hanke from the pack: his Midwestern-born work ethic.
“You have to treat being a musician like a job,” he says. “If you’re not doing shit, it won’t get done. If you wanna drop acid and start a drum circle in South Austin, go do it. But it’s not going to get you anywhere.”
That’s why Hanke recently went to Nashville to pair up with other writers in the Carnival Music Publishing stable. (Carnival, it should be noted, is owned by Frank Liddell, Miranda Lambert’s producer and Lee Ann Womack’s husband.) He’s not sure whether more sessions will follow, but in the meantime, he’s got two collaborations on this album: one with Sarah Pierce (“Burn It Down,” inspired, he says, by the small-mindedness in the Texas town his girlfriend is from) and one with George Ensle.
“He’s one of the top troubadours in Texas, in my opinion, though not many people know about him,” Hanke says of Ensle. “He came out of the Houston scene in the ’70s with Guy Clark, Townes and those guys.” The song, “Hope Your Dreams Come True,” has a gentle, early soul/R&B tone. “It’s a nostalgic song that has to do with some of my favorite things: old cars, baseball,” Hanke adds. “It’s sort of a blessing to the people who listen to it.”
Next to the lyrics in the album sleeve, there’s a photo of his dad as a Little Leaguer. The paternal images — not to mention one of a very young Hanke with his first guitar — represent links to his past and his strong family ties; he also has a passion for history.
Maybe that’s why, after moving to South Padre, he spent hours listening to his 85-year-old neighbor, Mr. Washington, spin stories and Muddy Waters tunes while sipping E&J brandy. Old Mr. Washington’s admonition — “There’s just two evils in this world: women and money” (booze, apparently, wasn’t on his list) — became the inspiration for “Mr. Slim’s Blues.”
Turning inspiration into songs … that’s not a bad job at all — especially because no one can tell him to give it up – but anyone who listens to “Factory Man” wouldn’t think of trying.
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"One of the top 10 local albums of 2006."
-Michael Corcoran - Austin American Statesman
“A very strong debut. Eric Hanke wrote all 11 songs, and they're a journeyman's effort throughout. Excellent support from top Austin players illuminating the songs beautifully. Opener "Lonely Road" deals with loneliness in a crowd. No new topic, but Eric's take feels fresh and true. In "The War" a lad deals with his brother being shipped out to Iraq just as the neighbor's boy comes home in a box. "Ride Away" is the last thoughts of one of the Wild West's last surviving outlaws. Fine clean production.”
-Sing Out! Magazine
"Eric Hanke's Autumn Blues (Ten Foot Texan) is an impressive debut that mixes country and folk in a way that confirms his status as a Native Texan. With a batch of songs almost too evocative to have come from a young songwriter's pen and dynamic production from Merel Bregante, Hanke crafts a sound that falls somewhere between Slaid Cleaves and Bruce Robison and one that's well worth checking out."
- Jim Caligiuri - Austin Chronicle
"Eric Hanke...A true singer/songwriter. Autumn Blues takes you on a musical journey that you don't want to end. Eric's genuine voice and deep lyrics seemlessly move from one emotion to another. Eric, thanks for the journey!"
-Marcia Campbell - America's Truckin' Sweetheart
XM Satellite Radio Channel 171 - Open Road
Purchase Factory Man and Autumn Blues at these places:
Sunday come a runnin’ with the whiskey on my breath
Daylight come a creepin’ on a day as cold as death
There’s nothin’ like the present to let the past be known
It ain’t really love babe, you just hate to be alone
Darkness down the hallway, and there’s quiet in our room
A broken hearted lover that won’t chase after you
I’ve run all out of reasons when you let your feelings show
‘Cause it ain’t really love babe you just hate to be alone
Chorus
It ain’t really love babe you just hate to be alone
You don’t want forever you just fear an empty home
How can you say “I love you,” and pack your things to go
Well it aint really love babe you just hate to be alone
By now you’ve found another to keep you warm at night
But words can’t hide the secret buried deep inside
Birds are gonna fly, baby, fly the same way that they’ve flown
And it ain’t really love babe, you just hate to be alone
Notes:
There’s a thousand takes on love. In this song, the character realizes that it’s not love, but rather the fear of being alone that had kept them together. I wrote it at my place in Austin after moving back from the Texas coast. For some people, it’s not the person that’s important–just as long as its someone.
I struggled so hard when I was on my own, and it’s enough to bleed me dry,
It’s enough to bleed me dry. I can understand why a man gets stoned, and it’s enough to make him die, It’s enough to make him die
Chorus
I work so hard till the sun comes up, you know I’m gonna see it go down, I packed my bags when I’d had enough, but I’m never gonna leave you now. Never gonna leave you now
You call me up on the telephone, figured that it was time,
figured that it was time
The stars won’t shine and you’re all alone, starin’ at an empty sky,
starin’ at an empty sky
Don’t take nothing when you go, my son, and you won’t leave nothing behind, You won’t feel nothing when the cold wind blows, if you trade it all for a rhyme,
Trade it all for a rhyme
Notes:
I wrote this song not long after I finished and released Autumn Blues, so I held on to it for a couple of years. I tuned my guitar to an open F# with 5 strings (no low-E) like Keith Richards, only a 1/2 step down, and the words just came to me. Life can be a hard road--especially when you go it alone. This is about saying I know some hard things have happened, but I’m here to stay. I believe in traveling light when I do need to go, as musicians do, but not at the cost of losing everything. As someone who loves music--listening to music, writing, playing, etc--I would say that it’s my life, but not my whole life. Life and music is much better when enjoyed in the company of someone you love.
My grandfather worked all his life, at the allied factory site
Making disc brakes for a GM car, Lord he’d come home late at night
And it’s a damned old shame, was all I said, the day he got the news
They’re closing down the allied plant and I’m singing on the blues
Chorus
So have mercy on me, dear Uncle Sam,
I’m just trying to do the very best I can
I make an honest wage, working with my hands
So have mercy on me, ‘cause I’m a factory man
They told our union local 383 there was no way to compete
And we can make some cheaper breaks if we build ‘em overseas
I’ve got two young babies and a wife to feed, and I’m livin’ day to day
‘Cause folks in China will work my job for barely half the pay
John Henry beat that old machine when they laid that hammer down
But there’s no more hammer swingers and no jobs left in this town
The market gained a couple points, but the trading sure was light
And there’s a few less in this town of ours sleeping good tonight
Notes:
This is a true story. However, the place made brakes for Ford trucks, and not GM cars (flows better in song). This is the story of the foundry in St. Joseph, MI where my Grandpa retired from. He worked there as a tool and die maker. Three generations of men in my family had worked there including my Grandpa, my Great-Grandfather on my Mom’s side, and my Dad. When I wrote the song, the story pertained to this place in particular, but it came to have a broader appeal as similar manufacturing operations in the rust belt closed, or outsourced jobs to save in labor costs. Later, the entire U.S. auto industry fell into crisis.
If we make it through the summer time, I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine
And love will come in its own time, if we make it through the summer time
I love you now and always will, like raindrops on my window sill
The days are long and the nights stand still, I love you now and always will
Chorus
Keep my love for all your days, and see me through my distant ways
If you must go but cannot stay, keep my love for all your days
Would you wait for true love’s call, or quit them now like you quit them all
Ease their suffering, free their fall, would you wait for true love’s call
Keep my love for all your days, and see me through my distant ways
If you must go but cannot stay, keep my love for all your days
Notes:
This song speaks for itself. Merel and I left the arrangement pretty open. I enjoy the space in songs. Sometimes that can be as nice as what is there.
Had an old ball glove that my daddy gave to me
Spent our days playing at the old school yard
I was Mickey Mantle workin’ on a sandlot dream
My dad told me son, you’re gonna be a star
Chorus:
I hope your dreams come true
I surely hope they do
Long before you’re through
I hope your dreams come true
Used to cruise these streets in the cool night air
Chasin’ bowling alley queens and debutantes
I was James Dean in a ‘56 red bel air
My brother left me before he went to Vietnam
Son, I’m gonna give you this ball and glove
And some day these bel air keys
Hope you find your one true love
Like your mama’s been to me
You can be Mickey Mantle, or you can be James Dean
You can be anything you want, just don’t forget to dream
Notes:
This is a nostalgic tune that I wrote with my friend George Ensle. We included some of our favorite things-baseball,
Washington, on the porch all day
Mr. Washington, on the porch all day
Gonna get so high man, when ol' Muddy Waters play
Sippin' EJ brandy 85 years old
Sippin' EJ brandy 85 years old
Gotta tell you man, little something you should know
Chorus:
Said there's just two things, make you lose your mind
Yeah there's just two things, make you lose your mind
Women and money man, they getcha every time
I was just 19, never meant no harm
Yeah I was just 19, never meant no harm
Gave me 12 long years, man, on the Louisiana Farm
Fishin' in his chair, ain’t no woman by his side
Fishin' in his chair, ain’t no woman by his side
Not a dime to spare, but everything is alright
Notes:
When I was living on the Texas coast, I used to spend days on the porch wedged between my friends Slim and Dennis, who lived across the street from me. Slim was 85 at the time, and Dennis was a retired veteran of the Vietnam War. We had great conversations. We used to sit out on the porch and listen to Muddy Waters on a little jam box, watching the
Spent ten long years on my knees
Man, this town I know will be the death of me
Won’t you burn it down, won’t you please
I just can’t wait to see those flames
Ten miles high and burning like the judgment day
Won’t you burn it down, I just can’t stay
Burn it down, burn it down, burn it on down
Burn it down, down, down, down, down
Had enough of this town, I’m gonna burn it on down
Chorus:
Tomorrow I’m leaving you behind
Saying good bye to you and all your kind
Won’t you burn it down, has to be tonight
If there’s nothing left of it then I won’t really care
Just as long as when it burns that I am standing there
Notes:
This song channeled my inner pyromaniac, as it is about setting fire to an entire town and watching it burn. This song stems from a friend of mine that was constantly put down by a town’s closed-mindedness and judgmental nature. A small town where gossip queens run rampant, everyone knows your business, and hypocrites abound. Ok, you’ve pushed me far enough and thats it!
Well I got a little money in my pocket now,
and all of my debts are paid
I got a little money in my pocket now,
time for me to go away
Well I got a little girl who treats me right,
brightens up my day
I got a little girl and she’s alright,
Know it by the smile on her face
There’s no telling what the future brings
And I can’t see that far
For now I know I got songs to sing
Play ‘em on the ol’ guitar
Livin’ out of suitcases, tryin’ to find some new places
To hide from them ol’ blues chasin’ you
You got nothing better to do
Well I got a little money in my pocket now,
and all of my debts are paid
I got a little money in my pocket now,
time for me to go away
Notes:
This song is part autobiographical and part fantasy. I really can’t think of anything better to do than playing music for a
Under a far off sky, shades of blue and green
I watch the clouds roll by, I’m walkin in my dream
There was a winding road, through a barren hill
And away I rode, ‘cause I can’t sit still
Chorus:
I been knocked down, and I got back up
And I never looked back, when the times got tough
If rock and roll were only here to stay
I’d be another guy on a lost highway
You get too old when you’re born too soon
You know that love is gold, like the harvest moon
Don’t you ever give up on a dream
and won’t you come and fly away with me, come and fly away with me
Take your fears, cast ‘em all aside
There’s nothin’ left ‘round here, and it’s time to ride
You’re jumpin’ in your car, with your only one
And you drive it far, into the setting sun
Notes:
This is the first song I ever wrote on an electric guitar. This song is about daring to dream your dreams, despite the pitfalls of life. Things get in our way and sometimes knock us down.
Driftin’ through the ages, siftin’ through the pages of my life
I can see the faces, from long forgotten places of my time
Sing another song, for all the years that long passed me by
Chorus
Someday you might try to find me
Someday you’ll ask yourself why
But don’t count the days left behind me
There’s no more tears left to cry
There’s no rhyme or reason to the changing of the seasons or your mind
And where you make your bed, you’re gonna lay your head down and lie
Say you need a friend, baby, in the end I’m not that kind
Sometimes you hit the road, leavin’ just to go to someplace new
Sometimes you gotta roam, just to get back home to being you
Pickin’ on guitars, neon lights, and bars to get you through
Notes:
A troubadour looks back in reflection on his life and lost love. The arrangement of the song is very simple, which I liked. Carl LoSchiavo played upright bass, Merel Bregante played some light percussion, I played a couple acoustic guitar parts, and Cindy Cashdollar added some sweet