Texas’
most
advanced
proton
therapy?
Precisely.
Targeting Cancer, Precisely
maintain full creative control, your
publishing rights, and ownership of
your master recordings.
CJ: Exactly. My deal was always this:
I’m not willing to give somebody a
piece of a pie that they didn’t help
me make, so I’m not going to let them
have publishing. I have my own pub-
lishing company. I’m on a record la-
bel that we’ve worked hard to create,
so I want it in front of whatever other
label we’d partner with.
TM: Your past careers as a bull rider
and prison guard carried a lot more
practical risks than the ups and
downs of the music business.
CJ: There’s always a physical risk
walking into a penitentiary, a chance
that something bad is going to hap-
pen. There are moments where you
think, “Am I going to go home today?”
And I’ve gotten mangled up pretty
bad in the bull riding arena. It’s scary,
but I think fear is good fuel if you al-
low it to be. If you can keep your com-
posure, whether it’s riding a bull or
playing in front of 74,000 people for
the first time, you take that risk and
the fear that comes with it, and you
manufacture it into confidence. Not
arrogance but confidence.
TM: Baked into so much of the mod-
ern Texas country scene is a skepti-
cism or outright rejection of Nash-
ville. Why don’t you have that?
CJ: Because I think it’s dumb. Willie
Nelson and Waylon Jennings did get
kicked out of Nashville, so they had a
reason to say “Screw Nashville.” But
Lyle Lovett doesn’t say it. Robert Earl
Keen and Jerry Jeff Walker never
said it. And then later on down the
line, artists from Texas with that reb-
el outlook went to Nashville, made
poor management decisions, made
poor business decisions, signed deals
that they shouldn’t have signed, and
got a bad taste in their mouth.TM: I imagine that because of the
radio play you’re getting now, there
are fans who don’t know about the
twelve-year grind it took to get here.
I assume that’s okay with you?
CJ: One of my favorite things to do at
shows is to ask the crowd how many
first-timers we have. And ever since
this deal [with Warner], more than
half the crowd, even in Texas, raise
their hands. To me, that speaks to the
power of the way we’ve done it. By
not saying “Screw radio” or “Screw
Nashville” and by sticking to our
guns, we made it to here. And peo-
ple are finding out about our music
because it was played on the radio.
To me, that means I’ve got another
job to do, and that is to uphold my
work ethic and maintain my look,
my sound, and everything about my
music. My job is to not change. I owe
that to the people who have gotten
me here.
TM: It feels like a lot of Texas guys
fall squarely into the Willie Nelson
or George Strait camp, and you’re
Team Strait.
CJ: It might look like that, but there
is not an artist in the history of my
32 years on this earth that has ever
influenced me as much as Willie Nel-
son. Willie Nelson can play any kind
of music he wants, and he’s still Wil-
lie Nelson. The George Strait type
of traditional country music is what
I like, and that’s what I stand for. But
at the same time, Willie Nelson’s un-
willingness to waiver on who he is
means just as much.
TM: What about people who com-
pare you to Strait? Are we making
too much of that?
CJ: If somebody wants to say I’m the
next George Strait, don’t ever think I
don’t understand the gravity of that
compliment and that I don’t appreci-
ate it. However, I am in no way trying to
pursue the title. He didn’t set out to be
the next someone either. He just kept
being himself. That’s the takeaway. TTHIS INTERVIEW HAS BEEN EDITED FOR
CLARITY AND LENGTH.“MY JOB IS TO NOT
CHANGE. I OWE
THAT TO THE
PEOPLE WHO HAVE
GOTTEN ME HERE.”CHAT