by Tom Benton

Look for W.C. Clark's new album From Austin With Soul in the blues section, but expect much, much more. Though Clark can trade licks with the most blazing guitar heroes around, his new recording on Alligator Records showcases not only a blues guitarist, but a songwriter, lyricist, and excited musical adventurer. Drawing from gospel, funk, soul, country, and more, Clark's Texas-honed sound is unmistakable; from the funky New Orleans second-line groove of "Bitchy Men" to the gritty Texas shuffle of "Let It Rain," it's the flawless and heartfelt vocals (which draw as much or more from Memphis soul singers than Chicago bluesmen) that thread a common theme through the album. Performing original music as well as classics by Clarence Carter, Oliver Sain, and more, and backed by some of the hometown's finest, From Austin With Soul is a fine document from a Texas music legend.

A true native son of Austin, W.C. Clark was born and raised in the same city he now calls home. Courtesy of his guitar-playing father as well as mother and grandmother, singers in the Baptist church, Clark grew up surrounded by music; though, as he explains, his formative musical years were not with the blues. "My roots are in gospel music, but while I was learning gospel there was hillbilly music going on. I was learning Hank Williams songs and things like that before I was learning the blues because I wasn't allowed to listen to the blues in the house. My mother was from the old gospel altar and that obviously had an impact, but you could get hillbilly music on the radio, which was always blasting. My interest in music at the time was so alive."

Clark's first show, at age 16, was at the Victory Grill, the historic blues and R&B venue which still stands and operates on east 11th street. There he met T.D. Bell, who hired Clark to play bass in his band. For more than a decade he worked with Bell, Joe Tex, Blues Boy Hubbard, and others, playing Austin clubs and touring the southern blues and soul circuits. The break from the road and extensive performing that followed did not last long. A whole new generation of young white musicians were eagerly learning the blues and soon enough, Clark had been recruited into the Triple Threat Revue by a young Stevie Ray Vaughan. The two played together for much of the 1970s before Clark left to finally step out in front of his own group, the W.C. Clark Blues Revue. The Blues Revue provided a forum for Clark not simply to play the blues, but to integrate all of the musical influences he had collected over the decades. The Texas breed of blues that resulted received great critical and popular response.

"You have country swing and big band meeting the blues and what you get is that the Texas shuffle swings more. The backbeat is more obvious than in Chicago or somewhere like that. The swing and the shuffle are really close together already and when that meets what the words are saying, it works," Clark explains.

Now a Texas star, Clark's first incident of serious national exposure came in 1989 when he celebrated his 50th birthday with an episode of Austin City Limits. Appearing by his side were Lou Ann Barton, the Vaughan brothers, Will Sexton, and many other Texas musicians to whom Clark was colleague, mentor, and friend. America took notice and since then Clark has steadily toured and recorded, winning the prestigious W.C. Handy Blues Award twice, for Texas Soul and Lover's Plea. Continuing to cross the country, playing clubs and festivals to enthusiastic audiences, he sums up the appeal of his music simply.

"When my gig is over everyone is happy. Everyone is smiling and telling me how good they feel. Some people think the blues makes you sad or that it brings you down. The blues picks you up. A person brings their own self down.

"If from the time you start playing people are up out of their seats and dancing, to me that can't be sad. Listen to the music and the words, put it all together, and it makes you happy."

If the blues shouldn't make a person sad, it at least has a reputation as a forum for dealing with sadness. But Clark explains that "If the blues is played right, it makes your soul clean. It tells you things you already know but you don't want to admit to yourself. Or something you want to say but you didn't. For instance..." And then he sings, sweetly: "Oh baby, you don't have to go."

Perhaps blues is simply about honesty. Whatever the case, when W.C. Clark steps on stage, rest assured he is speaking the truth.