Ten years. That’s how long it’s been since Charlie Sexton’s name was on the cover of an album: 1995’s Under the Wishing Tree, by the Charlie Sexton Sextet.

Which is not to say he wasn’t busy. Long one of Austin’s signature musicians, the 37-year-old spent a good part of that time as Bob Dylan’s guitarist, both live and on 2001’s astounding Grammy®-winning Love and Theft and soundtrack projects including Wonder Boys. He also produced records by Edie Brickell, Shannon McNally, Los Super Seven, Lucinda Williams, and the Double Trouble rhythm section featuring performances by Dr. John, Susan Tedeschi, Jonny Lang, and others; lent his talents to no less than 20 other musical compadres (including studio work with Terry Allen, Charlie Musselwhite, Don Henley, Keith Richards & Ron Wood, and Rufus Wainwright, as well as live performance work with David Bowie), and became a first-time father. Now, with his Back Porch debut scheduled for release this summer, it’s time the world got re-acquainted with Charlie Sexton, songwriter; Charlie Sexton, multi-instrumentalist; Charlie Sexton, artist in his own right.

He’s better than he’s ever been. From the stark opening call of "Gospel" to the haunted piano soul of "Just Like Love" to the twang of "Regular Grind," the record is a home-studio postcard made without the expectations of a major label or any preconceptions about sound and style. It’s got dark-night-of-the-soul moodiness as well as bright pop melodies all influenced by blues & roots, rock n’ roll and folk; it’s the record Sexton’s been fixing to make for… well, almost a decade. The record’s ten songs have been crafted by Sexton for a number of years, having weaved them musically and thematically with an unrushed care. “It’s somewhat unfinished business,” Sexton says. “In hindsight, I should have made a record a while ago. But it’s not my nature to just churn out records. It all has to be right before I let them go.”

Sexton first made his mark more than 20 years ago in adolescence—an old soul inside a prodigy, jamming with the likes of Joe Ely, Keith Richards, and Ron Wood, all of whom were dumbfounded not only by his prowess, but by the fact that he was influenced by the same things they were. Born to a teenage mother, Sexton was raised right from the cradle on blues, R&B, and rockabilly—not to mention his songwriting idol and eventual employer. “I grew up listening not to nursery rhymes, but to Bob,” he says. “There’s actually a photo of me as a little baby in a high-chair, and behind me is the Blonde on Blonde poster and him with that scarf on.”

By the age of 17, Sexton was out on the road behind his debut album Pictures for Pleasure. His hair, cheekbones, and the single "Beat’s So Lonely" became the stuff of MTV and John Hughes’ movies, something he has no regrets about. “I was playing certain types of music, and had almost a rockabilly punk band,” he says. “But there was a lot going on around that time and a lot of other things I was intrigued by. I didn’t feel comfortable doing a blues record—I’d been playing with Stevie Ray Vaughan every week, and he was the next guy in line for that. So, I just pushed the envelope and went for a different thing.”

He followed that with a self-titled disc in 1989, then spent the first part of the ’90s in Arc Angels, a “supergroup” (named for the Austin Rehearsal Complex) with fellow guitarist/songwriter Doyle Bramhall Jr., Double Trouble’s Chris Layton, and Tommy Shannon. Then came The Wishing Tree—a creative breakthrough that has resonated for Sexton right up to the current record. His work became more serious, as he began reflecting on his own life and family history through song and storytelling.

“It was somewhat of a Pandora’s Box, dealing with that, but I got to the point where I just couldn’t sing stuff that didn’t have something real going on,” he says. “What I like, the things that really strike that core, have personal meaning, where everyone can identify with an aspect of the story being told. It’s been said that blues is not a type of music, it’s the human condition. What I write is somewhat like modern blues lyrically. We all deal with a lot of the same things in our lifetime — the same biblical mistakes keep getting made.”

The creative satisfaction Sexton took out of the record changed the way he thought of his career, in that “career” was no longer the operative word. Suddenly the record sales and videos and promotion didn’t seem quite so important. “I said to myself, ‘You know what? I am less interested with certain requests these days, because I don’t think they’re heartfelt, and I don’t think they have depth,’” Sexton says. “The people I hold in the highest regard really have nothing to do with that kind of business.” You could say that Sexton broke up with the biz for good in 1999, when the corporate marriage between Polygram and Universal killed the record he and brother Will had signed to make for A&M.

In June of 1999, he joined Dylan; for the next three years he started but never really finished any songs, what with playing hundreds of shows around the world, continuing to work on other people’s records and, not incidentally, spending all the downtime with his wife and son. The family was one reason Sexton came off of the road in late 2002; he was also falling back in love with the recording process. “After I did Lucinda’s record (2001’s Essence) I thought that this is really what I should be doing,” he says. “I’ve always been more comfortable in the studio. When I was nine years old in my room listening to Magical Mystery Tour, I didn’t really want to be in the band or onstage. I wanted to be on the record.”

For the first time in a long time, Sexton concentrated on doing everything himself, both as a songwriter and in terms of playing and recording. On the new record, he plays guitar, steel, dobro, bass, percussion, cello and a lot of piano, which he wrote a lot of songs on. “I’ve always really loved the piano,” he says. “In some ways it’s a lot simpler to sort out things on it than on a guitar.”

Some songs on the record are unchanged from the first demos. “I did a little experimenting with a few of them, to get to a different or a better place,” Sexton says. “But you don’t really ever understand a song again like you do when you first finish it.” Highlights include the insinuating, groovy lope of "Burn," the sweetly urgent "Bring It Home Again," and the stark but pop-y "Once In A While," which, with its reference to a “blue boy with a voice that quivers…accompanied by his cold blue steel strings,” could be about someone like Roy Orbison, or just might be about the very guy who wrote the song.

And a few tracks were more than solo efforts. "Regular Grind" features members of the original Sextet as well as Will, while "Dillingham Lane" was written with Steve Earle, someone Sexton’s known for most of his life. That song was inspired by a street the Sextons lived on in Austin when Charlie was four or five years old.

“Back then it was in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure it’s a subdivision with a Wal-Mart now,” he says. “Dillingham Lane was just this little road that had some old funky shacks in the front. There was this old man, he was probably in his late ’80s, early ’90s, he lived in this cinderblock one room kind of shack thing and he would just sit inside his screen door and look out. I never saw anybody go over there, but my brother and I would, and he’d have this cigar box with little chewy candies—taffy or something. Then one day he just wasn’t there.”

With a new multi-album contract with Back Porch Records, Sexton mentions that “I’m ready to move on to the next kind of place musically.” And he’s ready to do so mostly in the studio. “I love playing live, and things happen live that never do when you’re just playing in some room, but for me the legacy involved with a record outweighs the live performance. I’m still listening to records that were recorded in the ’40s—they just seem to mean more.”

Profile courtesy of Back Porch Records and the artist.