For every bang, there is an equal and opposite whimper. If that’s true,
considering the whopper of a show Ed Hamell aka Hamell on Trial put on
last Friday at the Electric Lounge, his actual drive back to the wilds of New
York should be a quiet one indeed. The flyers for the performance screamed of
urgency; splashed over a photo of bald, grinning Ed, the words “Last Show
Ever!” called out like a carnival barker. And people came. The packed house saw
Hamell, the man who threw a wrench into the definition of singer-songwriter,
completely in his environment, belting out songs, cracking jokes, and bidding a
feverishly paced farewell to friends and fans as his Austin residency wound to
a close. Hamell was in fine form, bubbling with confidence (in one new song, he
boasts, “I’m bad as Nine Inch Nails/But I don’t need the machinery!”) and good
humor (he says that to “fuck with the press” a laPrince, he’s going to
change his name to a physical gesture – two quick shakes of the head. Okay, so
you had to be there.) A bang of an ending to two years in Austin? Well, when’s
the last time you saw an acoustic solo act manage to blow the club’s
fuse?
Hamell and his wife moved to Austin in 1993 as part of a plan. Ed was tired
of
playing in New York clubs for the same “15 drunk friends” and having people ask
him when he was going to get a real job. He figured he needed to go somewhere
with a healthier attitude toward musicians if he ever intended to make
performing his “real job.” In 1992, Hamell came to Austin, to open for
Alejandro Escovedo, ended up playing a NAIRD convention, and found the music
scene here to be beyond his wildest dreams. Later, he purchased Escovedo’s
Gravity album and decided that he had found a guru, a Teacher of Musical
Wisdom – and one that lived in fabled Austin, no less! “I didn’t have access to
Dylan or Lou Reed,” says Hamell, “so I figured, `let’s go with Al!'” It was
that same Al that opened his door one day and found Hamell there, wife in tow,
explaining that they had sold all their stuff and moved from New York so he
could study at Escovedo’s feet. “Come on in,” Hamell recalls Escovedo saying,
while Al’s wife Dana stood there with a “who the fuck is this?” look on her
face.
Although playing the part of the Old Man on the Mountain just wasn’t
Escovedo’s style, the two kindred spirits found themselves becoming fast
friends, and Hamell got to work on honing his craft. His plan: to earn a
“steady gig at a cool place, get an indie deal, and promote it into media
attention,” while delivering pizzas to pay the rent. He was up to a weekly
regimen of six open mikes in four days before his big break came at the
Electric Lounge. There, his unorthodox approach to the one-man, one-guitar
method found a dedicated audience – Hamell plays blistering loud rock music on
his beat-up old acoustic and would rather make a point than coin a new
clich�. Eventually, he got a regular Thursday, then Friday, slot at the
Lounge, with resultant press attention, followed by a deal with local Doolittle
Records. His popularity continued to rise (yes, he has been asked for
autographs by pizza recipients), and during SXSW in March 1995, he began
negotiating a major label record deal with Mercury Records. Everything had gone
just right, mirroring the two-year plan he had set up without a hitch. It was
time to head back to New York.
Of course, nothing evergoes off completely without a hitch. In
Hamell’s case, he’s found that “the goin’ is cool. It’s the leavin’ behind that
blows.” He had planned his stay here well, and dedicated himself to his goals,
but “what I didn’t anticipate was making the best friends of my life and
falling in love with the town.” He had never left a place before that he wasn’t
glad to get away from. Still, the time had come to return to New York. For one
thing, his wife’s career depends on contacts that are easier to make in the Big
Apple (she’s taken a teacher’s assistantship at Brooklyn College), and now his
does as well. Since he’s not a huge, overbearing metal band like most of
Mercury’s well-known acts, Hamell wants to be able to show up on the N.Y.-based
label’s doorstep on a regular basis (“with cookies!” he adds).
Ironically, though, the one thing he thought he couldn’t learn about music in
Austin was the business end. Instead, though, he says he’s learned a great deal
of it from Escovedo, Doolittle owner Jeff Cole, and Electric Lounge co-owner
Mark Shuman, so he’s more ready than ever to deal with the guys in the suits.
And as far as his next set of goals, those would be to work with the record
company to get him a good agent, get out on the road, and as a result – despite
what any flyers might say – get himself back to Austin to perform and visit
friends as often as every three or four months. But the next time you see Ed
Hamell, don’t expect him to be bringing a pizza. n
This article appears in May 26 • 1995 and May 26 • 1995 (Cover).