The Eli Young Band is making the major label leap to Universal South, where it joins a roster that includes Cross Canadian Ragweed and Shooter Jennings.

A new album should be out in September, according to a MySpace announcement, and will include an updated version of "When It Rains" plus 10 new songs. The band last released a studio album, Level, in spring 2005.

I haven't seen the Eli Young Band since the 2006 ACL Fest, but it had been fun getting to know the guys and watching them grow their central Texas audience base. I'd imagine they no longer play many shows like one Sunday afternoon I remember at a small, out-of-the-way restaurant/boatdock along Lake Austin, with maybe 15 people in attendance (counting my wife and kids). That one felt more like a private concert, a feeling substantially dissimilar to what fans will experience when the band opens for Dave Matthews in Oklahoma City, Houston, and Dallas this August.

Listen:

"When It Rains"

It's been a long four years since we last heard from Eleven Hundred Springs. With the anthemic (and multi-syllabic) "Long Haired Tattooed Hippie Freaks," "Thunderbird Will Do Just Fine," and "Hank Williams Wouldn't Make It Now in Nashville Tennessee," Bandwagon was a cage-rattling blast of defiance from one of Dallas's most prolific bands.

But after a run of five albums in six years, the country quintet entered an unexpected studio dormancy. Now with Danny Crelin in for Aaron Wynne on pedal steel, Jordan Hendrix added on fiddle, and Chris Claridy off to Darren Kozelsky's band, the newly reconstituted Eleven Hundred Springs is back at last with a tasty serving of Country Jam.

What happened to slow the guys down? Parenthood, if we judge by "Nobody Told You About the Love," a gorgeous love song from an awestruck father to child:

Everyone said it would be work and it'd take up all your time
Everyone said that it might hurt and you'd spend up your last dime
Everyone told you you were gettin' in way over your head
Everyone said you best be bettin' it'll haunt you 'til you're dead…
But nobody said it wouldn't be fun
Nobody said it would be so hard that it could not be done
Nobody told you it might be better than all that you'd dreamed of
Nobody told you about the love

A similar theme re-emerges in "I'll Be Here for You," a lullaby that perfectly matches Matt Hillyer's soothing lead with backing vocals from guest Heather Myles.

So this is a kinder, gentler Eleven Hundred Springs — but that's not to say this jam is bland by any means. The rockabilly "Every Time I Get Close to You" adds some spice, and things get even tangier with the retro classic "Rocket 88."

Despite the long layoff and slight lineup shuffle, Eleven Hundred Springs still sounds tight as ever. These guys were born to play dancehall music, and Hillyer's will always be a welcome voice.

At first I missed the provocativeness of the Bandwagon days, but the more I listen the more I appreciate the solid songwriting and impeccable musicianship of Country Jam.

The only downside? Each time I look at the sumptuous food photography that lines the CD package, I find myself craving a heaping plate of pancakes, eggs, and sausage. But instead of a feast, I'll happily content myself with another serving of Jam.

Listen:

"Nobody Told You About the Love"

"Whose Heart Are You Breaking Tonight"

"I'll Be Here for You"

"Rocket 88"

Buy:

Lone Star Music, Amazon, iTunes

The third issue of Texas Music magazine's new e-zine is up today, and it includes a Q&A with new "country artist" Johnny Solinger, whose self-titled debut is out this week. The Texas native is the lead singer of Skid Row, a position he assumed when the band re-formed without Sebastian Bach in 1999.

I've listened to the new CD a few times now and had a friend do the same, and I gotta say it just depresses the hell out of me. Solinger has a good voice and is backed by top-notch session musicians like David Grissom, Glenn Fukunaga, Michael Ramos, Warren Hood, Lloyd Maines, and so on. But it's just the most commercially pandering thing I have ever encountered.

Let's read between the lines of the Texas Music interview and I think you'll get a sense of what's amiss.

Q: When you were fronting your old Dallas metal band Solinger during the '90s, were you hip to Jack Ingram and Pat Green and the rest of the independent Texas country artists on the rise at the time?
 
A: I was unaware of the Texas dudes that were doing so well. It wasn't until I started really researching the scene about five years ago that I realized how big it was. I was amazed when Kevin Fowler first came up on my radar. I was like, "This guy's doing 200 shows a year, and he's not even leaving the state of Texas. And he's got his own bus and he sold 200,000 records on his own!" I thought, man, that would be so cool, to go down to Texas and start something like that, because you can do it forever. So I started thinking about the future: How long am I going to be going out there and singing [Skid Row's] "Youth Gone Wild?" The rest of the guys in the band are already set for life, so if they ever get tired of doing it, they're going to quit. I don't see it ending anytime soon, but if it does, I've gotta have a backup plan.

Translation: Holy shit, those guys can make a lot of money! I've never heard of them before, but if they can do it, it's gotta be easy. I can be the new Kevin Fowler and transition from rock to country without skipping a beat. I can even sound like him for my first single, "Too Well to Go to Work." The fans will just flock to me. Ka-ching!

But my way of doing it is going to be little bit different from all the other guys I've been out to see, because I'm not going to have a guitar — I'm going to front a band, which is what I've always done. And I'm playing "Highway to Hell" at the end of my country show, because I grew up on AC/DC, too!

Translation: I'm no musician, but I've got pipes. And I fucking rawk!

Q: Do you see any difference between your Skid Row crowds and the crowds at the Texas country shows you've been to?
 
A: It's all the same. You know, the Skid Row crowds, they're nuts — they know all the material, they're singing everything. And it's the same at these country shows. I went out and saw a song swap in San Marcos at Cheatham Street Warehouse with Cody Canada and Stoney LaRue. I did not know any of the songs, because I'm just not schooled on the material, but that crowd of 300, they sang every single word. It was almost like a cult, and I was probably the only casual fan there.

Translation: People are sheep. Like I said, it'll be easy!

Q: You call yourself a redneck, so here's an easy little test for you: What's your alltime favorite country record?
 
A: I'd have to go with what's in the player right now — Hank Sr.'s Greatest Hits. I don't know what volume it is, but it's got 22 songs on it, and I can't not listen to that. I don't cover any Hank stuff myself — I don't think I'd be very good at it — but I love it. I mean, the guy died at 29 years old, drank himself to death! That's classic.

Translation: Favorite country record? Umm, lessee, do I even own any? Oh, I can just pick something generic and no one will catch onto the fact I don't give a shit about country music. Oh, and dying from alcoholism with a young family … that's just awesome.

I'm not trying to knock Johnny Solinger the man. Never met him and likely never will. And as I've mentioned, he's got a good voice. Also, plenty of people pick their musical genres because it's what they're best suited to, or where they stand the best chance to succeed. To some extent we all do that — our careers are a compromise, not a passion.

But this cross-over just rubs me the wrong way. I'm angry and sad at the same time.

As John T. Davis wrote yesterday, the collected works of Guy Clark, Joe Ely, John Hiatt, and Lyle Lovett come about as close to a modern American songbook as any other combination of songwriters. Last night, the four long-time friends closed out a brief stand at the Paramount Theatre with a two-and-a-half-hour performance that was part songswap, part standup, and wholly certain to remain a lifelong memory.

Though hobbled by a broken leg (jokingly mythologized as an "old songwriting injury"), Clark started with "The Cape" and soared on from there with fan favorites like "Out in the Parking Lot," "Magdalene," and "Dublin Blues," plus the new "Hollywood" (see session video below). The 66-year-old's fingers may not glide across the frets quite like they used to, but the craftsman's touch never fades away. For my money, there's few things better in live music than hearing him play "The Randall Knife."

Sitting to Clark's right, Joe Ely opened with "Up on the Ridge" but would later push the tempo more than any of his stagemates, reaching a positively fevered pitch on "Me and Billy the Kid" and "For Your Love." John Hiatt's catalog is the least familiar to me, but even then it's near impossible to not recognize career-sustaining hits like "Have a Little Faith in Me" and "Thing Called Love."

If Guy Clark was the elder statesman, Lyle Lovett played master of ceremonies. Sitting stage right, Lovett relished the opportunity to gaze across the slightly arced lineup and offer good-natured verbal jabs between songs. The banter wound down as the night wore on, but not before he ended a lengthy effort to get Hiatt to explain the motivation behind one of his songs by assuming a therapist's pose: "I think we're making good progress here."

Of course Lovett was there more for the music than the mischief. He drew largely upon his most recent material, like the nostalgic "South Texas Girl" and the elegiac "Don't Cry a Tear." But there was levity in his selections, too, especially with the double-entendre driven "Keep It in Your Pantry."

When called back for an encore, Ely invited Shawn Colvin to join the group on stage. She joked about disturbing the "sea of testosterone" before beginning an impromptu rendition of Ry Cooder's "Borderline." Hiatt, Cooder's former tour partner, helped fill brief lyrical gaps and carried the bridge's chord progression on guitar.

The intimate Paramount proved a perfect setting. Even with our upper balcony seats, the acoustics were crisp and the sightlines near flawless.

With Guy Clark's recent cancer battle and the whole group's advancing age (the youngest, Lovett, turned 50 last year), there's no telling how many more opportunities we'll get to see these Americana standard-bearers share the stage. After all, it took more than 15 years to bring the group's in-the-round format to Austin.

Hopefully they'll be back again someday soon. And if so, you can count me in for both nights. This is an event not to be missed.

For writers and musicians, it's notoriously difficult to get a mention on NPR's Fresh Air. And few country artists would ever even dream of having their name uttered by host Terri Gross. He's not likely to land a coveted studio interview just yet, but Hayes Carll got a boost today with a 6-minute review of Trouble in Mind by rock critic Ken Tucker.

For the most part, Tucker likes what he hears in Carll:

This guy can come on like a young Andy Griffith — corn-pone clever — and deepen his music with a simple melody and a real gift for playful romance.

But he's wary of how someone whose music is so "all over the map" and "loose and shaggy" can possibly succeed in today's country radio market.

It's not an easy review to summarize neatly. I suggest you listen and draw your own conclusions.