Quote I earned
The Hard truths of a tough life come ringing through with heartfelt and meaningful lyrics and performances here. Keep writing great songs, my friend.
Jordan E. Spivack Composer
The Beginnings of a Songwriter, Part 6
Great Fans
Brian Lee Robinson 2017
I met a nice fan through my website. She is a Professor of Literature in Romania. She was so nice and her writing was very beautiful, so I sent her the final mix of Beauty or Illusion. She sent me an back the most beautiful review of the song, and it was right on point about what I was trying to say. It was so beautiful that I asked her to review the entire new EP. I did edit it a little. This lady is amazing, but way over my intelligence. I removed some references that I honestly, did not understand.
Her name is Andreea Smedescu, she has written several books in Romania. I can’t wait to read them when translated to English. The Texas Side of Nashville By: Brian Lee Robinson. Music is the embodiment of utter freedom. The soul spreads its wings, allowing the artist to experience life beyond limits and in syncope with the rhythms of the world until the universe becomes the echo of his songs. Listening to his music feels like being in the presence of a storyteller and writer of dreams. The image of true Texas is musically depicted, and his voice functions like a magical portal. I listen to his songs, and I am a heartbeat away from Texas. Brian Lee Robinson defines life as a sum of contrasts, “beauty” and “illusion”, hope and despair, light and darkness, happiness and sadness. When one listens to his music, one sees Johnny Cash singing ‘The Ballad of Ira Hayes’. ‘Beauty or Illusion’, has a subtle philosophical meaning. The illusion of the Quixotic life quest mingles with the aesthetic beauty of one’s own inner values and beliefs. And his voice is like the echo of Dante’s Virgil, guiding the listener through the valley of the material world, until the soul sees the light of music. He has a truly peaceful voice. In Brian Lee Robinson’s music, the angel of harmony looks deep inside our souls, reminding us of a mythical Texas which rises out of the ashes of folklore to a new dawn. Brian Lee Robinson is a Texan with a quest. He is in the pursuit of happiness, and for him fulfillment can only be found in the heart of humanity. His love for Texas is strong, but stronger is his determination to triumph over Time, His Demons, and find Redemption for his past. In the comical song “Go Fat and Go Ugly Early” He shows that although people grow old over time, it is only their bodies that change. Their dreams are kept alive by the rhythms of an eternal song of hope. 
Brian Lee Robinson’s voice is strong and peaceful. Texas is born with every strum of guitar. Nashville is recreated as a space of memory, as a chaotic interstice of bygone past. Nevertheless, this past is reanimated by music. If Paul Verlaine has confessed his poetical creed: “Music before all else”, now is Brian Lee Robinson’s turn to let his artistic creed bear the witness of the ultimate truth, i.e. “Music is the beginning and the end, and everything else is but a shadow.” Music becomes the symbol of a faithful companion. “That Old Cat” is both real, and a metaphor of consuming love, encompassing the bond of friendship between an artist and humanity. Yes, That Old Cat was real, because music breathes the intelligence of compassion and kindness upon the children of nature. Even the smallest animal can be the messenger of the inner music which resounds in eternity. And eternity is an odyssey of permanence. Nashville will be but a ghost town as long as there is a Brian Lee Robinson in this world. His music will forever remind that Goodbye is just the prelude of a new encounter, and his music will flow like the water of Lethe. People will come to drink from the waters of harmony, forgetting about Time and Space. They will only feel “The Gone Side of Goodbye” bowing before the power of Art. Only a true Texan has the ability to bestow life upon the State of his sacred geography, and Brian Lee Robinson is a new Orpheus descended to the subterranean sides of life to sing his love for Texas culture and lore. Andreea Smedescu, PhD
Brian Lee Robinson’s voice is strong and peaceful. Texas is born with every strum of guitar. Nashville is recreated as a space of memory, as a chaotic interstice of bygone past. Nevertheless, this past is reanimated by music. If Paul Verlaine has confessed his poetical creed: “Music before all else”, now is Brian Lee Robinson’s turn to let his artistic creed bear the witness of the ultimate truth, i.e. “Music is the beginning and the end, and everything else is but a shadow.” Music becomes the symbol of a faithful companion. “That Old Cat” is both real, and a metaphor of consuming love, encompassing the bond of friendship between an artist and humanity. Yes, That Old Cat was real, because music breathes the intelligence of compassion and kindness upon the children of nature. Even the smallest animal can be the messenger of the inner music which resounds in eternity. And eternity is an odyssey of permanence. Nashville will be but a ghost town as long as there is a Brian Lee Robinson in this world. His music will forever remind that Goodbye is just the prelude of a new encounter, and his music will flow like the water of Lethe. People will come to drink from the waters of harmony, forgetting about Time and Space. They will only feel “The Gone Side of Goodbye” bowing before the power of Art. Only a true Texan has the ability to bestow life upon the State of his sacred geography, and Brian Lee Robinson is a new Orpheus descended to the subterranean sides of life to sing his love for Texas culture and lore. Andreea Smedescu, PhDThe Beginnings of a Songwriter, Part 5
The Reason That I am still here today!!
I am here today still writing and, he taught me and my best friend Ronnie, what he knew about guitar and taught me to love great songs. I really miss him. His children gave me his guitar when he passed away. It’s one of my most cherished posessions. My father, I didn’t know him well, he died when I was young. He was a great songwriter. Looking back at his time, he was right up there with Willie Nelson, Doodle Owens and Whitey Schaffer. He could have been great but he was an alcoholic. I think I inherited his musical/songwriting abilities, but I also inherited his alcoholism. While his problems kept him from going Nashville, mine drove me there. I was still young, crazy, out of college, and ready for adventure. My uncle Bob and I went to a NSAI convention in Oklahoma. We played a song we wrote called “The Top of Kite Hill”, about an over the hill singer who retreats to drugs and alcohol to keep his “high”. The song got the best reviews of any song there. The other attendees treated us like kings. One of the panelists there, Bob McCracken, liked the song a lot. I talked to him awhile, and he said I should move to Nashville. That’s all it took. I packed a trailer and headed to Tennessee. I had never even been there. I pulled into the west side of Nashville in the dead of winter.It was beautiful, ice cascading down the sides of the mountains that they had cut roads through, snow, I had hardley seen in Texas. I pulled into a Ho-Jo hotel outside of Nashville the first night for a rest. I cleaned up and went naturally, to the bar. That night, I met some of my first true friends in Nashville. There was a pretty girl singer, Debbie Galloway, and her boyfriend Danny Jacobs, a great singer himself. The main star was Jerry Barlow. He was fantastic. Great singer, wonderful songwriter, hilarious comedian. He told me later that he first thought, oh here we go, another drunk asshole, then he said he realized, that I was just having a great time. We later became good friends. We wrote my only hit record, You Lifted Me High Enough, recorded in Canada by “The Mercey Brothers”
I found Bob McCracken, and he re-wrote a melody to the Top of Kite Hill, and that became my first published song. I found a job at a hotel down on Music Row as a maintenance man. The Hall of Fame Hotel. I met some crazy folks there. Johnny Lee was hilarious, Faron Young was a drunk asshole, that was a great job. My friend Jerry Barlow, found me a job at a publishing company, as a tape copier. I kept my night job, bar backing at the Hall of Fame Hotel to pay the bills. I was only getting 75.00 per week at the publishing company. At the publishing company, owned by Republic Records, I met some great people. Dave Burgess was the director, he used to be in the Champs the band that did “Tequila”, among many others. I also met a young songwriter named Roger Alan Wade, and we almost instantly formed a bond. I had already been listening to his songs in the copy room. We were the same age, loved to drink, and loved Kris Kristofferson songs. We used to sit up late at night drinking and singing every Kristofferson song we knew. He became one of my best friends, still is. He encouraged my writing. I like to say now. We was better drinking buddies, than we was writing buddies. There were a lot of people I would like to mention who helped and encouraged me back then. Jerry, and Roger, of course. But also Eddie Burton (Dancing Your Memory Away), Dennis Knutson, Buck Moore, ” Paint Me a Birmingham”, Tom Grant, who also wrote ‘Dancing Your Memory Away’, and also had a country hit with, the Lionel Ritchie song “Sail On”. Poor Tom, he had so much talent and so much bad luck. He had the country hit “Sail On” with Republic Records, then they went belly up. Then he got signed to Epic Records, and never had a release. Such a nice guy and a great entertainer, he spent years on the Ralph Emery show on the “Nashville Network” He was one of the fan favorites. Their encouragement really helped give me belief in myself. The rest of the songwriters pretty much dismissed me as a nobody.
I showed Roger a song that Uncle Bob and I had been working on called “When George stops Loving Tammy, That’s When I’ll Stop Loving You”. He started reworking it, and they wound up cutting it on a session they were cutting, the very next week, to try and get Roger a record deal. Which he deserved. Everyone told me that song was a smash. But he never got picked up by a label, and soon George married and the song was irrelevant. I saw so much talent go to waste in Nashville, it was a crime.
Present day: I haven’t kept up with many people. Except, Gene Vowell, an old roommate and co-worker at Merit Music. He is the first person who listened to me play a song and said “Brian, I will kick your ass if you don’t give me publishing on that song”. That song, “The Gone Side of Goodbye” is on the new EP “The Texas Side of Nashville” The EP Title is from a line in that song, and Roger Alan Wade. Please check out his music, you will not be disappointed, I promise. I made it easy, just click on his picture below!!
Roger Alan Wade
Beginnings of a songwriter 4
My Uncle Bob was a big influence on me. He was friends with my dad years ago, and was friends with Henry Jackson, as well. He was always more like a father than and uncle. He liked what I was writing, so we started writing together, and learning the ends and outs of the music business, together. We started a company called “The Song Mechanics” and started mailing our songs out to publishers. A thousand and one rejects later, we were still trying. The Nashville Songwriters Association, International (NSAI) was having a workshop in Oklahoma, So. we signed up to go. It was exciting flying out with Uncle Bob to an unknown destination. We got there and signed in, and found our room. We took a song we had written to present called “The Top of Kite Hill. About an old singer on the way down, and how he had to retreat to alcohol and drugs to feel like he was at the top again. Somehow, out song was the best song presented at the workshop. The other writer’s there treated us like kings. It was a great feeling. Bob McKracken, was one of the judges there from the Nashville office of the NSAI. I got the chance to talk to him (I chased him down, lol). I asked him what he thought I should do. He said,” If you wrote those lyrics, you should move to Nashville”. I was a crazy kid, fresh out of A&M with a science degree, that was all it took. With-in a couple of months, I packed a trailer and too off. Uncle Bob wouldn”t come with me, that would have been the icing on the cake. So, I arrived in Nashville in the dead of winter. I highways in Nashville, are cut through the mountainous rocks. The water seeps through the rocks and freezes on the wall. It is a beautiful sight. I had never even been to Nashville, this was my first glimpse. I was young and crazy and ready to learn how to write songs. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I was writing pretty good songs, but I also knew I had a lot to learn. Songwriting is a craft and a talent. I stopped at a Howard Johnson Hotel outside of Nashville, It had been a long day. I checked in and went to my room, and then headed for the bar. Who would think, that on my first night in Nashville, at an out of the way Hotel, that I would meet some of the best friends of my life. In the lounge, they had a singer named Jerry Barlow, not just a singer, but a performer. I introduced myself to him and he introduced me to a couple of his friends. Debby Galloway, Danny Jacobs, Rusty Courtney. We would all become fast friends. Jerry, later admitted that he thought, at first, that I was just another drunk asshole. Then he realized I was just having a great time. Jerry became my first co-writer in Nashville. We wrote a top ten Canadian hit called “You Lifted me High Enough”, Nominated for Canadian single of the year. I still cannot understand why Jerry Barlow was not a star. I met a lot of friends along the way, I can say the same thing about them. Jerry finally gave up on country music, and went back to Colorado. He was one of the most talented songwriters I would meet. He started playing and studying Celtic Music, now is one of the foremost player and storyteller in the Genre. Please check him out at www. JerryBarlow.com Bob McCracken, would go on to publish the first song of mine after coming to Nashville. The same song we brought to the Oklahoma conference “The Top Of Kite Hill”. He rewrote the melody, which Uncle Bob hated, but I liked it. I knew it needed help. I only wish Uncle Bob was still here with me now. I owe him a lot and I miss him all the time.
Songwriter part 3
Growing up with Ronnie was great.
We had a lot of fun, and more than a few close calls. When we were around 16, I remember a night we were drinking a lot. Most of my stories start that way. We had brought along a friend, Dennis Pryzborski, to be our designated driver. We went over to some girls house that Dennis knew. We were sitting in the girls bedroom talking, I think I was holding one of their hands. Nothing more than that. Next thing we knew, the girls drunk daddy came home. He was pissed at us. Hollaring, get out, I will kill you. We ran out to the car and jumped in. Took off down the road at a fast pace, I told Dennis to slow down, but it wasn’t Dennis driving, it was my drunk friend Ronnie. I asked him to slow down. He was panicked, saying that guy was going to kill us. The next thing I remember was seeing a desd end sign. I hollared “Dead End”. The next thing I remembered was in slow motion. I saw us hit the railroad ties blocking the dead end, I saw the brush going by the car, and I felt the car go airbourne. We flew about 50 ft into the middle of a field of mud. It definitely could have been fatal if it had been a different dead end. I got out of the car, knee deep in mud. Disoriented, looking around. We were all ok. I remember we walked about a mile to long point rd. We were wet, freezing, no jackets. We found a store trying to call a wrecker. A cop car drove up, looked at our dumb asses, laughed and drive off. We finally got a wrecker to pull the car out of the mud, and take us home to my house. It was daylight. I had to wake my grandmother up to pay the wrecker fee. I ran the bathtub full of hot water and got in. I was so hypothermic that I just layed down. It took about an hour for me to warm up.
Then there was the time we went to Austin. We were about 18. I think I was at A&M. We had beer on ice and a box full of marijuana cookies I had made. We had breakfast of a beer and cookie to start the trip. I didn’t know it but, everytime we stopped for a bathroom and beer break, Ronnie was hitting the cookies. I remember we were close to Austin and I saw a fork in the highway. I asked Ronnie, which way? Ronnie, which way? I looked over and he was staring straight ahead, mouth open, so stoned that he couldn’t talk. We finally made it to the campground where his Uncle Mike and family was. We set up the tent, and commenced to the main porpoise, getting drunk. I had my guitar and was playing and drinking. Next thing I vaguely remembered was noticing that Uncle Mike’s 15 year old daughter was looking good. She had grown up. It gets hazy after that. Next think I remember was waking up. I had blood all over my face, and my whole body hurt. My face looked like a war zone, all skinned up. I got up and looked around. First thing I saw was. Line of 55 gallon trash cans were knocked over, and my hat was laying by the cans.It was never admitted to, but I am sure I said the wrong thing to Uncle Mikes daughter, and that big man had thrown me head first though those garbage cans. I am pretty sure I deserved it. For years, Uncle Mike would just look at me and smile.
Another night, I remember Henry had booked us at a bar on Travis Street in Houston. It was known to be a gay bar. We set up the equipment and got a drink. Everything looked pretty normal. We got up and were playing some songs. I saw two big old cowboys with beards come in I started to think that, maybe everyone comes in here. Then we played a slow song, and those two big old cowboys got up and started to slow dance together. I just looked at the floor. I knew if I looked at Ronnie, I would have busted out laughing.
Then there was another night we had been out drinking, probably had been to a topless dancing bar, as would any 16 year old should. :). When We got home, I heard the smoke detector going off. There was smoke everywhere, and my grandmother, Grandma Boo as we called her. She had a broom handle and was beating the hell out of the smoke detector, yelling “shut up you son of a bitch”
I went in the kitchen and she had left the fire on under a iron skillet with nothing in it. That skillet was glowing red hot. About that time Ronnie walked in, took one look at the skillet and said, just let me know when it’s done!! And went to bed.
Ronnie and William were our best friends. William was my brother’s age and best friend. He had a nice car and he loved to drive fast. One night he was driving home. There is a bridge on Ella close to 18th street in Houston. Two lanes on each side. There is a small gap between each side. I guess it was fate, he lost control for a second and his car just threaded the needle between the bridges. His Car flew all the way to the other side of the huge concrete bayou. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Ronnie was listening to police radio and heard about the wreck. He just went to watch, until he realized it was his brother. I still think about William a lot. I looked up to him. He left a big hole in our family.
The Beginnings of a Songwriter, Part 2
I started drinking around the age of 12. I remember my brother buying a bunch of beer, he was only 15 or 16. My grandmother’s were of the mind, let them drink at home so they can learn how to handle themselves. Mom was divorced and gone most weekends with her new boyfriends. So we were left alone to do what we wanted. And that usually meant drinking. My best friend Ronnie, and his brother William. We all grew up like brothers. Their mom and dad, were best friends with my mom and dad. Their dad and mine used to play guitars and write songs together. I think I started trying to learn how to play the guitar around 17 or 18. Ronnie had started playing about the same time. I just wanted to be able to write melodies for my songs, so I had no great drive to be a “Musician”. We started taking lessons together on Saturday mornings. To be honest, we were so hung over on Saturday mornings that it was hard to concentrate. Mostly, I learned to play by ear. I could hear a song a few times, and I could figure out how to play it. Lyrics were easy for me. I seemed to have a good memory for song lyrics. I loved learning new songs. Kris Kristofferson was my favorite, of all time. I tried to write songs like him but I could not even come close. Looking back at my first years of writing I was pretty bad. Ronnie and I continued to play together, and eventually started a band with Ronnies dad, Henry. Since we all played guitar players, I decided to learn Bass guitar. It was pretty easy since the top four strings on the guitar, are the same as the bass. We were pretty bad. We eventually found a drummer and a fiddle player. I had started college at A&M, with the intention of becoming a Veterinarian. We played on the weekends. In spite of my continued escalation in drinking, I was always an excellent student. I made straight A’s, in spite of not studying, till the last moment. In my late teens, I started having a lot of stomach problems. I got to the point where I could not eat without having severe pain in the stomach. I quickly learned that a drink before eating , would prevent the cramps. My mom took me on a round of doctors to find the problem. I was put through some brutal tests. At 16 or 17, I was bent over a table in the ER, and had what felt like, a 2 foot long pipe shoved up my ass. It was called a Rigid Sigmoidoscopy. They don’t do them anymore, I think they are against the Geneva Convention!! They ought to be!!! Back they they didn’t give sedation for such procedures, no dinner or dancing, not even a kiss behind the ear. Just bend over and here we come. I later had a Coloniscopy by Dr Walter Fagan. Again, no sedation back then, but once you’ve had a pipe shoved up your ass, a colonoscopy is no big thing. Dr Fagan discovered that I had Crohn’s disease, a little known inflammatory disease of the intestines. Remember, this was 40 years ago. I was treated with prednisone, the only real treatment they had back then. I would learn many years later the price I would pay, but it saved my life. Dr Fagan, if you are still alive, I think of you often. Thank you. In spite of all that, life and music went on. More to follow. Brian Lee Robinson
The Beginning of a Songwriter, Part 1
I remember that the only time I saw my dad, was when I went to my grandmothers house. Later he moved to her house in the country. Donie, Texas. I remember that every Saturday night that I was there, we went to Aunt Ida’s house. She had the only TV in the town. We would watch all of the Country Music shows. Porter Wagoner, The Wilburn Brothers, and many others. Daddy loved country music. He loved Willie Nelson, back when. Willie was wearing a suit, clean shaven, and singing “The Party’s Over”, Waylon Jennings, also clean shaven, in a suit singing “Only Daddy That’ll Walk The Line”. I knew daddy wrote songs, but I didn’t know he had already written a hit for Hank Thompson called “Just an old Flame” I loved his songs and looking at his lyric books. I didn’t know grandma had offered to pay his way to Nashville, and her cousin Bob Wills was willing to help out. But he wouldn’t go, I guess he was scared. I learned later that he was a bad alcoholic, and grandma was his enabler. He actually accomplished a lot from Donie. He was always sending his songs off to Nashville, and actually got a lot recorded and published. I was told many years later by an old friend Doodle Owens, that it was so easy to get songs recorded then. I could have been a spoiled rich kid living off daddy’s royalties. But he never went. He was not a big part of my life, we lived in Houston, and only saw him when grandma took us. When he died in a car crash when I was 8, I don’t even remember crying. That’s where the line from my song “Across The Hands of Time” came from. “since the day my daddy died, and I learned what ambivalence was” After that, all I had was his song books. I treasured them. I used to read them all the time. I never tried to write songs myself. It was when I was 15 or so that lyrics started coming to my head. I started to write them down. Sometimes I had to pull over and write them down. That was when I started to become a Songwriter. Not a very good one, but the spark was there.
