If you stand much over six feet, you have to mind your head when walking around the Broken Spoke. A low ceiling with even lower beams can leave painful reminders of Austin's legendary dancehall. Yet just about every month, six-foot-seven Bruce Robison happily hunches over and squeezes onto the stage to entertain a packed house with hours of originals and covers.

Surely it's an experience he could do without. After all, he's released four critically acclaimed albums — five if you include Eleven Stories, due April 4. And his songs have yielded hits for artists like the Dixie Chicks ("Travelin' Soldier"), Tim McGraw and Faith Hill ("Angry All the Time"), and George Strait ("Desperately").

But he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I love it — it's a real cultural grounding for me," says Robison. "That's what I grew up doing, and that's how I started playing music. It's like a muscle you have to use every now and then."

It's a muscle that atrophies for most artists, a fact Robison finds a real shame.

"I think it's kind of an art form to get people dancing and to keep them dancing," he says. "That used to be a big part of country music…. George Jones or Willie Nelson or whoever, they still played dancehalls until between 15 and 20 years ago. And you look up at the Broken Spoke and you say, 'Why don't people play here anymore?'"

Playing a dancehall isn't easy. Musicians have to read the audience to keep it dancing, and they have to play crowd-pleasing covers as well as their own material. Most find it easier to stick with clubs and concert halls, where there's little variation from city to city or night to night.

But Robison relishes the challenge, and he enjoys playing to an audience that doesn't care whether he has new material. "I haven't had a record out in four years, and if I go to a sit-down place I feel like my stuff is so old," he says." So I can go play the Spoke, where you throw a few of your own tunes in there but it's more about the dancing. I'm cool with that."

With Eleven Stories finally ready for release, Robison can add some new songs into the playlist.

The album features eight strong originals — including two co-written with Miles Zuniga (Fastball, The Small Stars). There's the gorgeous country lament "Every Once in a While," the toe-tapping "Virginia," the sultry "Don't Call It Love," the dreamy "I Never Fly" — but none compares to "All Over but the Cryin'," a duet with wife Kelly Willis that's sure to become a hit.

The covers make for some interesting choices, too — especially the Grateful Dead's "Tennessee Jed." While the Dead was essentially an Americana band combining rock, blues, and bluegrass influences, Robison knows some listeners may be surprised.

"It wouldn't be a stretch for me to do a Guy Clark song," he explains. "I really don't know that much about the Grateful Dead, and then I heard that song one night in the middle of the night on the radio. Occasionally you'll hear something that's far enough outside your area that it makes you feel like you might be able to do something interesting with it."

Eleven Stories will be released on Sustain Records, a Texas-based independent with national distribution through Universal Music Group. With artists like Wade Bowen, Ray Wylie Hubbard, and Jason Boland & the Stragglers on its roster, the label seems a good fit — but it also marks a change in approach.

Robison created his own label, Boar's Nest Records, after winning his release from Sony in 2000. He released 2001's Country Sunshine on Boar's Nest, as well as 2003's Happy Holidays.

"When I left Sony a few years ago, it was because I felt like I could do things on my own pretty good, or I could try," he says. "Now I just don't have the time anymore."

Time is in short supply because of his growing family. Robison and wife Kelly Willis have four children ranging in age from 5 years to just 2 months.

With mounting responsibilities, there just hasn't been much time for this seasoned singer/songwriter to practice his craft.

"There is no down time that I can just grab here or there to write songs," says Robison. "I've written two songs while mowing the yard … it's probably something I should do more often."

Boar's Nest may be no more, but that doesn't mean Robison has given up on the business side of his music.

He recorded much of Eleven Stories at his own professional studio space in Austin. Premium Recording Service opened in early 2005, and within its first year the studio hosted artists like Faith Hill, Cory Morrow, and even Queens of the Stone Age.

But Robison's plans for Premium stretch well beyond simple recording space. A Premium Records label is in the works, as a quasi-replacement for Boar's Nest. And he may not even stop at that.

"In my dream I would love to have it be the sound of Austin music someday," he says, "and to be able to make really great records of this music we have here that's so incredible."

While Austin is known around the world for its music scene, Robison feels that not enough artists have managed to convert the city's reputation into financial success.

"It's always been my feeling that as good as the music was out of the clubs, we didn't make good enough records, or make enough records that did really well commercially," he says. "I think there should be a way to do better in that regard."

It may be a problem of insufficient infrastructure, or too much competition, or any of a number of factors. Whatever the reasons, Robison hopes to use his Austin and Nashville connections to build Premium into a force for change.

Surely he has plenty of models for success nearby. One is as close as home: wife Willis is a critically-acclaimed singer/songwriter herself, with such hits as "What I Deserve" and "If I Left You.'" Siblings serve as additional models.

Brother Charlie is a successful recording artist who started playing professionally around the same time as Bruce. Unsurprisingly, there was some brotherly competition in those early days.

"There was a time when it was like 'God, Charlie, we grew up next to each other, and now we live in the same town, and we're playing in the same band, and the same type of music, and we're on the same label — God, will it ever stop,''" says Bruce. "There were those moments, but those are mostly when you're just trying to be heard."

Each found a way to be heard — Bruce as a story-telling singer/songwriter, Charlie as an extroverted, energetic performer.

Last year, sister Robyn Ludwick released her debut album, For So Long (one of our picks for the top albums of 2005). Ludwick's talents proved a revelation, as she'd never shown much inclination to follow in her brothers' footsteps.

One day, out of the blue, she started sharing these dark, powerful songs she'd been writing without her brothers' knowledge. "They're so complex, and they're so original," says Robison. "Man, they make my songs seem like 'Don't Worry Be Happy.' … I sure am proud of her."

The family music ties extend beyond the sibling trio. Charlie's wife Emily is one of the Dixie Chicks, and Robyn's husband John plays bass for her band and has played with Bruce's and Charlie's bands, among others.

His extensive music industry family ties aren't something Robison overlooks. "For the last eight years or so I've had the distinct feeling that my career wouldn't be anywhere near what it is without my family."

And without his family, he probably would be like all the other musicians who've let their dancehall muscle wither away.

Growing up, the Robisons often visited Floore's Country Store and other dancehalls near their Bandera home. Live music helped bring the family together.

Now once a month, he gets to return the favor. "And it's Saturday night in Texas," he says. "That's what it's all about to me."

Patrick Nichols (email)
This Is Texas Music
March 2006