“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.

“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.

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.

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!

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,

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.

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.