Kent Rose
In February, Kent Rose, 60, went from being a hillbilly singer from around Chicago’s bars and on the street in front of brunch place to being a “cell phone celebrity,” as one of his friends called him during an open mic. In February, US Cellular debuted a commercial with Rose playing his guitar, singing and riding the CTA. I sat down with Rose and talked to him about his history with country music and his recent move to being a full-time musician.
How long have you been playing music?
Since I was about 11, 12. Something like that.
You play country music. Has that always been your primary interest?
When I was growing up, my parents played a lot of Pete Seeger, The Weavers, Paul Robeson, Mahalia Jackson, Bob Gibson, all sorts of folk things. There were a lot of those records playing around the house, and we’d always sing along with them, and we’d have family vacations and we’d be singing “Down By the Riverside” or whatever would happen to come into our minds. And so I guess I got used to the idea of singing on a regular basis where it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for me.
And I think as far as country music goes, the first things that I heard were things by Don Gibson, who did “Oh Lonesome Me” and “I Can’t Stop Loving You.” I had a 45 by Stonewall Jackson— not the Civil War general but the country singer— called “Greener Pastures” that I purchased. So I always liked the sound of it, and it was close to folk but more commercial. It was somewhere between rock ‘n’ roll and folk. Folk seemed, at a certain point, kind of square. I mean it’s what I would call ethically sound but not always musically exciting.
But I basically was playing in a ukulele duo when I was about 12 years old playing parties and things like that. One guy played a baritone uke, I played a banjo uke. As I’ve often said, “Worst of both worlds: Looks like a banjo, sounds like a ukulele.” I started playing guitar when I was 13. I actually played at a church thing where payed me two prayer books and five dollars. I think that was the first time I got paid cash money. And being the child of an atheist and an agnostic, I said I didn’t know what to do with the prayer books, but I knew what to do with the five bucks, so it worked out fine.
Are you a musician full time?
I am now. I worked for the post office for 26 years as a letter carrier and always played music on the side, even when I was there and tried to squeeze the jobs in whenever I could.
So what was the tipping point? Why did you move from the job to playing music full time?
I retired. They said, “You’re 55, you have 25 years in, you’re now eligible for retirement.” And I thought to myself as a child, I’d always thought I would be a musician, and I never about being a letter carrier, but what I’ve found is that music, being a relatively unstable profession, it seemed to be good to have a job where I could work during the day and play at night. That seemed to work out for me.
Have you spent a lot of time writing since you retired?
I’ve been writing, actually, since I was pretty young. As a folk singer, I thought, “Okay, I’ve got to write protest songs.” But at age 12 or 13, it’s hard to know what you’re writing protest songs about, especially since you’re growing up in Glencoe in a relatively well taken care of existence.
So you were a letter carrier for most of your adult life?
Three times. The first time I was a casual on the verge of making regular, the second time I was a part-time flexible on the verge of making regular, and both times I quit. One time was to go on tour with a band, and the other time, for some strange reason, to work in a hardware store with a guy I had grown up with whose father owned a couple of them. I was just tired of the post office at that point and I just thought, “Yeah, hardware store!” ‘Course the only aisle I was familiar with was toys. I don’t really know how to fix things. When people came in and asked me how to rewire their house, I thought to myself, “Do you want the number for the fire department number, too?” It’s just one of those things. My father was a clinical psychologist, so my practical knowledge was not great, as you can imagine. However, I did know quite a bit about Rorschachs and that sort of thing.
Your website and MySpace say “The Voice that Remembers,” and that’s sort of your tagline. What does that mean?
I think at the time that I came up with it, I was putting together my first version of the website, and I wanted something that indicated that I wasn’t playing Top 40 country. And I thought by indicating the voice that remembers, I would connect more with the past tradition of country music rather than the modern tradition of country music. Although sometimes, you can say that people still don’t know what you’re talking about. Like I was playing this place out in Gurnee Mills, this place called Bass Pro Shop, and I played a few gigs out there during the Fall Hunting Spectacular, and people came up to me and they would say, “It looks like you’ve been playing a long time,” and I’d say, “Yeah, I’ve been playing for three hours,” and they’d say, “No, it looks like you’ve been playing for many years.” And I’d say, “Yeah.” And they’d say, “Well, what do you play that’s modern?” And I’d say, “Pretty much nothing. I play early country.” And they’d say, “Like early Alabama?” And I’d say, “No, that’s a little too late for me.”
I think that what’s interesting about you is that you don’t fit squarely into one of Chicago’s country music scenes. On one hand, there’s the modern country stuff on the radio, and on the other, you’ve got alt-country, which definitely taps into the older stuff…
Minus the skills. [laughs]
Well I think the Bloodshot Records stuff is great, but it’s way more rock-oriented.
And even punk-oriented. Having talked to the people that run Bloodshot, basically they felt that I was too traditional. And I always thought to myself, “But I’m not traditional traditional.”
What do you think of Bloodshot?
I like some of the things they have out. I like the energy sometimes more than I like the results. You know, I like Robbie Fulks— I’ve known Robbie for a long time. I’m friends with Jon Langford, though I can’t say his records knock me out all the time ‘cause I’m more of a singer/singer, if you will, or I like that approach. But I know they signed the Dexter Romweber Duo, and I like Dexter Romweber and the Detroit Cobras are cool and they’ve got some nice bands. And Wayne Hancock, of course, who I’ve known as a guitar player since 1972 or so.
Everytime you play, you’re dressed up like an old-time country singer. Why do you always dress the part?
I’ll give you a couple reasons. When I was younger, even when I was in bands in high school, I tended to dress up quite a bit because I always thought that was part of it. The feeling of being on stage, wearing things that I just wore for stage performance. But I would say the major influence was at the Bar Double-R when I was subbin for The Sundowners. The Sundowners were an old-school Western trio, and they always wore Western shirts, scarves, cowboy hats, cowboy boots, and usually they would wear matching shirts. I think the first time I went to see them, I was wearing a Panama hat and silver lamé shoes with plastic heels and kind of a pimp jacket. And they were kind of worried about me until I showed up for the gig, and I had a cowboy hat, cowboy shirt, cowboy boots.
And so when you dress for stage, people look at you differently. It gives you a more professional mindset when you go on stage. In an earlier band, a friend of mine said, “Have clothes that you never wear except when you’re playing on stage, and then when you wear them, it’ll always connect with the feeling of being on stage.” I’m not saying that everybody should dress the way I do. I’d hate to see what it’d be like if they did. But I always enjoyed bright colors. White men aren’t real comfortable with other white men who wear bright colors I guess, I don’t know. But it’s stage clothes. It’s not how I would dress going to the grocery store.
So you don’t dress like that all the time?
No, I don’t. Around the house, I’ve got hooded sweatshirts, and T-shirts and American-made Converse All-Stars. So I’m doing all right.
Have you always played country music or have you been in different kinds of bands?
Oh I’ve been in all different kinds of bands. In ‘78, I started working at the post office and played tenor sax. And at that time, I joined up with a New Wave soul band that did soul and R&B, like Sam & Dave, Johnnie Taylor, Otis Redding and that kind of stuff, and I was just playing horn in that band. I sang a couple songs a set, but we had at lead singer who did all the stuff and I was in the horn section. So we went on the road and we were doing well, but there was an artistic conflict in the band, I guess, so I went back to the post office after that band.
What was the name of that band?
It was Alfonso and The Night Shift.
It seems like you play out on the street quite a bit.
I do have a street performer’s license so I that can play on the street anywhere I want in Chicago. It’s an odd thing, but I thought, “There are all these guys that play blues on the street and all these guys who play jazz on the street, but there are hardly any hillbilly singers on the street.” Once I retired from the post office, I played a lot of Potbelly sandwich joints and shows for moms and kids, and it’s OK. I don’t consider myself a children’s musician because it’s a whole separate genre. And I also feel that kids are a lot more responsive to things they haven’t heard. If it’s energetic, they’ll dance to it. I think kids are really responsive in a number of ways that adults forget they were as kids. Of course, they were veterans of Toy Story 1 and 2 and probably 3 by now, and so they connected the whole thing about Woody from that picture, the cowboy guy. But the kids respond to the hyperactivity of a guy who’s as hyperactive as they are.
But I like playing for audiences of all kinds. I play for senior centers, sometimes. I did one on the South Side a month or two ago. It was a senior luncheon and they all had a good time. I play songs that they had heard before. And in those cases, you play the older stuff because they’ll still remember it. Sometimes I’ll play “San Antonio Rose,” the old Bob Wills song, and people would say, “I used to rock my children to sleep to that song.” One of the reasons why I worked at the post office is because I thought, “I’ve got to have legitimate, blue collar credentials.”
I remember driving out to California because I was going to try to make it, and I stopped at a gas station in pacific California and I was talking to this guy about music. And he said, “I don’t understand this music, this, “Bye bye Ms. American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levy,” I don’t get that. But I said, “What about, ‘Hey good lookin’, whatcha got cookin’?” And he said, “That I understand.”
It’s interesting that a Hank Williams song is so universally liked by so many groups of people.
Every music has its golden age, and in a lot of ways, that was a golden age of country music. The writers didn’t know exactly what they were doing, but they were cranking out some great tunes. It’s the same way that rock ‘n’ roll and pop music and showtunes and the blues had their golden ages. It’s not that I pick songs that are only popular— I like an obscure song as much as the next guy. But on the other hand, you have to respect that people need to hear things they like. You can’t just play your own stuff, as much as I’d like to. It’s not really my fare, but people need something to grab hold of. Like sometimes when I’m playing, I was playing this steakhouse out in South Barrington a week or two ago and I played a Buddy Holly song “Everyday,” which is the flipside of “Peggy Sue,” which was my first rock ‘n’ roll 45 I ever bought, and then I played a Ricky Nelson song called “Travelin’ Man,” and people came up to me and said, “Man, I haven’t heard those songs in many years.” But they recognized them, and not because they were as old as I am. Good songs will always be good songs, and so when I write, I always aspire to write to the standards of the people that have set them before me.
Even when I was playing on the street in front of Ventralla’s, somebody would come up to me and say, “Could you play something by Merle Haggard?” And I would say, “Sure, what would you like to hear?” And they’d say, “Well what do I have a choice of?” And I’d say, “Well name it!”
Do you ever miss the post office?
I don’t, really. As a friend of mine put it, it’s low on the sin quotient. I didn’t particularly like the people I worked for. Despite the fact I had an exemplary work ethic, I didn’t feel it was something that was appreciated. But many jobs have that drawback. Particularly, government jobs. I don’t regret leaving because when I got the commercial, a friend of mine said, “This is why Kent retired.” I felt that you only have so many years to pursue these things. I’ve been married for a long time, but I don’t have any kids, so I don’t have to pay to put anyone through college unless it’s me.
How did you get the commercial gig?
I did a commercial back in ‘92 for a director in Chicago, Joe Sedelmaier, who did “Where’s the Beef?” and the Fed Ex commercial. And I had gotten a call because they needed somebody who could yodel, and they heard I could yodel, and I said at the time, “Well I’m not exactly your Hollywood matinee idol,” and he said, “Well this is for Joe Sedelmaier and he likes weird cats.” I thought, “Sure.” So I got that gig and I played a guy yodeling in the back of the plane.
In this case, there was an ad on Craigslist that said if you were a US Cellular customer, which I am, and you had a story to tell, you could audition for this part. So I sent them an e-mail and said what I did, and they got in touch with me the next day and said the client’s interested. And then I went down for an audition and they liked what I did. And I yodeled some for them and played them one of my songs and talked about my history, and they liked it and they filmed part of it on the CTA and part of it in my house in Cary, and that was in September and in February during the Olympics, they released it.
Have you considered writing for other singers?
Yeah, as a matter of fact, I got contacted with somebody who has an in with a producer about using some of my material. As to whether or not the producer will be interested in the material remains to be seen. I can see certain people doing my songs even now among modern country singers, it’s just a question of getting it to connect with them. It’s hard to get people to listen to your material unless you’re published and successful these days. I’m more likely to get a connection for somebody else to do my material than doing my own material.
Why do you think that is?
Among other things, age. Like one of my songs, “Women Keep Smashing Up My Cars,” I thought that would be perfect for Alan Jackson. The question of how I get it to Alan Jackson is another question. A lot of my songs could be successful for other people, but it has to have a stamp of authenticity from somebody other than me.
That’s a good point. A lot of older country singers that are popular have been around since the ’50s like Willie Nelson or Ray Price.
And they don’t get played on the radio anymore. At least not modern country radio, anyway. It’s weird, because I don’t think people my age are that much into what I do, but people that are younger and people that are older seem to like it a lot.
I’ve had people from all over the world that’ve gotten ahold of me because they’ve heard my CD. I’ve sold CDs in South Korea, I’ve sold them in Hungary, I’ve sold them Spain. I can’t sell them in Chicago, but I’m doing alright everywhere else.” Some people say I should leave the country. Some places they really do appreciate music more. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a chance to tour at some point. Maybe when I cut my next record. And I’ve got the songs ready for it.
So you’re planning on making another record?
Oh absolutely. I’ve got two dozen songs ready for another record. It’s just a question of picking out 15 or so. I think it was Clive Davis who said, “Nobody’s interested in original songs when you’re over 50.” And I said, “Oh damn, I’ll quit because Clive said this,” but it’s not like I’m Rod Stewart or something. I’m don’t have this attractive thing to look at, so I figured I’d just write songs.
What’s your big, long-term goal with music?
I’d like to be recognized for my material as well as for my singing, my performing abilities. When I was 20, I said if I could 40 and still be playing music and really digging it, I thought that would be awesome. And now that I’m 60 and I’m still digging the music, I think it’s pretty awesome that I’m still playing music. People can’t believe that I dress up for an open mic when I’m not even the star attraction. But it’s about being ready for the job. Sometimes people see what I do, they hear what I do and they like what I do and they might come to the same conclusion that it’s worth the recognition.
Was it always your dream to play music as a career?
Absolutely. I used to do my Social Studies reports in 6th grade by learning songs from that era, like the Revolutionary War, get in front of the class, sing a few songs. 7th grade, Civil War? No problem. I thought, “Maybe I’m not designed for the academic world.”
Interview by Evan Minsker
