Metro Pulse/Music/Keller Willams

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What:
Keller Williams with Chip Taylor and Carrie Rodriguez; part of the Sundown in the City series

When:
Thursday, July 24, 6 p.m.

Where:
The Old City Courtyard

Cost:
Free, but be a sport and throw a few bucks in the donation bucket

Keller Williams is a One-Man Wonder, No One-Hit Wonder

by Ellen Mallernee

People often ask Keller Williams if he gets lonely up on stage. Williams plays solo (and barefoot), but you wouldn't know it by the sounds he coaxes from his guitars. Using a stack of digital fillers and a loop generator to overlay guitar, bass, percussion and his voice, Williams sounds like a full-blown band.

But does he miss the camaraderie of a group as he rolls from coast to coast, picking up fans like a giant lint roller?

Not really. When Williams steers his trusty Winnebago into Knoxville he'll be accompanied by his wife, his sound engineer, his merchandise guy, his stage guy, and his eight guitars—all he's needed to power his life for the past nine years.

"I miss the musical language that goes on between a band, but it's not like I'm one guy traveling around by myself. There's five of us. Everyone has a job. Everyone's working. When I first started, though, it was just me in a pickup truck with a dog and some equipment driving around by myself."

He's also able to avoid the long-distance relationship scenario that many touring musicians endure. Emily, his wife of five and a half years, is usually at his side. "She tours with me 99 percent of the time," he says.

Having played guitar since the age of 13, Williams weaves lyrics with the dexterity of a hip-hop artist, produces positive grooves like a seasoned reggae man, and induces leg-jouncing much like a bluegrass wizard would. Funk, folk, jazz and techno have also elbowed their way into his musical repertoire.

His publicists are now asking the press to refrain from calling Williams a one-man jam band. "That's kind of what people have called me," he says. "I'm fine with the jam band scene. The fans are so open-minded, and they expect everything. They don't mind musicians exploring all kinds of different genres, exploring different avenues. I can play bluegrass, techno, funk, and the jam band audience is going to absorb it, and they're going to like it, and that's a beautiful thing."

Williams is known for fashioning a whimsical vibe all his own. There's a certain easy accessibility about Williams; he's engaging enough to hold attention as tight as a fist, but silly enough to make all feel at ease. Even his answering machine message is an amusing reminder of Williams' eccentricity. There is little doubt callers have dialed the correct number. The recording is clearly Williams, bellowing in long, operatic tones, "Leave a message, leave a message, leee-ve a message." Beep.

A Fredericksburg, Va., native, Williams is releasing his eighth album, Home, Aug. 26. Though he performs solo, his albums are chock full of talented peers. The LP Breathe featured The String Cheese Incident as a backing band. But on Home Williams' only bandmates are his eight guitars, fondly named The Blonde, the Brunette, the Platinum, Bari, the Bari Twelve, the Big White Electric, the Mexican Fender bass and Zilla, his eight-string number. He also mans the piano, organ and drums.

"Home is fully 100 percent representative of what my music was in the spring of 2002," Williams says. "An album is like a painting in that it captures where you are at that moment."

Many stops along Williams' tour are at music festivals, most recently Bonnaroo and the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. Bonnaroo was "a huge success," Williams says. "There were tons of people; the vibe was positive; the sound systems were good. I think it was a good thing."

Williams gets more fired up talking about last month's Telluride Festival, which is held in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. "[I was] a little bit nervous, but I look out at this beautiful area and everyone sitting back and everything's fine," he says. "There's just a super-ultra adrenaline rush that goes on before some of the bigger gigs."

Despite his vast experience participating in festivals, Williams says he's more content at smaller gigs where the pace is more relaxed. "I prefer the long, leisurely sound check, the getting used to the P.A. and the room, and coming out and feeling comfortable from the beginning. With a festival it's just set up and go. But they're great, and I love them, and I hope to be a part of them forever."

Williams professes that his own enjoyment is his number one priority. "I'm playing for myself on the stage, and people are there, and the fact that they buy the tickets and come to the shows is an added bonus. When I'm on [stage], I'm playing my own requests. Sometimes I probably should play some more fan requests," Williams admits. "I just have a problem playing songs I don't want to play."

What does Williams remember about Knoxville from previous shows? He pauses for a long while. "Knoxville is Blue Cats, right? With the purple walls? I remember the purple of Blue Cats."

One can only hope that the Sundown in the City crowd gives Williams a more profound reason to remember our city.