Austin is a city which creates its own legends, many of whom aren't even mortals on other maps. Billy Joe Shaver is one. This man, better known outside of Central Texas for his shooting, is known as the first guy you want to get to know when you hit town. Ray Wiley Hubbard is another, as is Townes Van Zandt. Austin treats Bob Schneider and Asleep at the Wheel like local landmarks—something you have to see when you come to town. Blaze Foley was another Austin legend. Lucinda Williams' “derelict in duct tape shoes” was someone you had to see live, someone you had to meet if you wanted to know anything about the Austin music scene. Gurf Morlix is another sort of legend. He is the man behind most of the most respected artists in Austin—the guy who did that lick on Lucinda Williams' album, who produced that album by Slaid Cleaves or Mary Gauthier. In a town that respects the very creation of music, Morlix is a legend for the music he creates for others as much as he is for his own. His latest album is a mixture of both. Blaze Foley's 113th Wet Dream is a Morlix produced Blaze Foley album that, due to circumstance, also features Gurf Morlix on lead vocals and guitar. It is also the result of a 20 year dream, and one we are all lucky to be able to experience.

“Sitting in a barroom counting my dough, running out of money and places to go,” the album starts appropriately with the line that perhaps best sums up the way Blaze Foley lived. “Baby Can I Crawl Back to You” is an affable song about a loser trying to talk his way back into his lady's good graces (or at least her warm living room). The low-rent good times keep flowing with “Big Cheese Burgers Good French Fries.” Morlix also hits on the jaunty celebration of poverty “No Goodwills in Waikiki.” Foley's best known song is probably “Clay Pigeons” which was covered by John Prine on his album Fair and Square. Here Morlix layers a haunting organ into the background and his world-worn voice adds resonance to lines like “I'm tired of running around looking for answers to questions that I already know, I might build me a castle of memories just to have somewhere to go.” Foley himself had a gritty voice, two parts blues, one part country and one part road dirt. Morlix's voice is a smoother, more evocative instrument, but it still has enough grit and pain to make Foley's songs shimmer. And he hits some of Foley's most beautiful and desperate songs. “If I could win your love again someday, you know I would, I'd try my best. But I've looked around and I don't think that I can settle for anything less” he croons on “For Anything Less.” He keeps the moods soft and reverent on Foley's songs of busted beauty,. Picture Card and Down Here Where I Am. But Morlix strays out of the reverent, somber, well traveled folk sting grove that marks so many Blaze Foley Covers. A single electric guitar provides a snarl that matches the vocal growl that Morlix unleashes on “Small Town Hero.” Under Morlix's command, “Rainbows and Ridges” becomes a meandering thing with a a delicate instrumental undertow halfway between a barroom waltz and a side show hurdy gurdy. This combination is perfect for underscoring lines like “they only take horses down memory lanes, if everything passes, what past will remain?” Morlix gives the audience a moment to laugh and catch their breath with the title track, a song that manages to make “Blaze Foley's 113th Wet Dream” into a charming and witty event. The album comes to a close with stately, almost hymn-ike rendition of Cold, Cold World, a song which allows Morlix to channel the full force of his morning for his friend. It’s a strong selection that highlights the care taken in the balance of this album. You start with the easy fun of the kind of hard drinking, hard living life and things start to slowly pull away until, in the end, all that is left are wet dreams and that dime you still owe the bus driver.

Once upon a time there was a genius. He came to a city of brilliance, he laughed, he sang and he wrote a lot of songs. On February 1,1989 he was shot and killed while defending a friend. Blaze Foley was 39. “You saw the wrong and you saw the right, bout the same as black and white, code of honor hammered down hard,” Morlix wrote in a song about his friend, “you had to do what you had to do, but you didn't have to have that done to you.” Morlix and Foley were close, with the kind of mutual admiration that only two talented artists can have for one another against a back drop that offers room for their art and eccentricity. Austin is a city that makes and keeps its own legends. This is their story, and it is one sweet hell of a good one.

You can support Gurf Morlix (and the estate of Blaze Foley) by purchasing this album at Amazon.

If you prefer to own a physical copy of the album, you can purchase it at Amazon.