Truant turned good ole boy from Old Town to Texas

“WELL she’s nasty and she’s mean, but she’s a willing and I’m keen, she’s my kinda redneck girl; yeah, she doesn’t give two hoots in that short skirt and them cowboy boots, boy she puts my head in a whirl,” goes this infectious slice of rootsy Americana, with its rollicking honkytonk piano, tightly slapped upright bass and silver-gilt pedal steel guitar.

“I play Texas music with a little bit of Swindon in there,” explains Pete Devlin, the singer and composer of My Kinda Redneck Girl, a track from his recent CD Nashville Ain’t No Fun, recorded at the Cowpatty Studios, Lytton Springs, Caldwell County, Texas.

Listening to the album with its dobroes, fiddles and mandolins, along with tunes like Hundred Dollar Bill and Hill Country Bound, it would be easy to assume Pete was raised amidst deserts and pine forests of the Lone Star State, maybe within riding distance of the Rio Grande, or perhaps a few hours along some dusty highway from the Alamo.

But he’s a good ole Swindon boy and, indeed, a former trainee reporter on this very newspaper. So how come Pete, son of long time Adver sports editor the late Norman Butcher, ended-up a country singer in the home of Western Swing, Buddy Holly and, err, George W Bush?

Blame it, if you will, on his parents’ Bakerlite valve radio set at the family home in Downsview Road, off Marlborough Road, where the likes of Hank Williams, Lefty Frizzell and Jimmy Rogers crackled magically over the airwaves.

Born at the old Victoria Hospital in 1942, Pete got his kicks in post-war Swindon from radio stations such as American Forces Network which revealed a dizzying world of big band music, Dixieland jazz, country and western and other elements that evolved into rockabilly and rock‘n’roll.

An enthusiastic truant from a “bad” Bath Road private school, his first band was skiffle group The Vampires (three guitars, tea chest bass and drums) which he formed with some pals from Sanford Street School.

“Lots of groups had a washboard but we were flash and had a real drummer. We wore button down collar maroon shirts and played at Sanford Street, the gymnasium at my school, fetes and the church hall in Devizes Road,” he remembers.

The Vampires also braved the Saturday morning flicks, playing during the intermissions in front of “what seemed like a thousand screaming kids” in the cinema that is now the Savoy pub.

Swindon in the Fifties and early Sixties was conveniently surrounded by American military bases, with the USAF hospital at Burderop Park near Chiseldon tantalisingly close.

“I hung out there a lot,” recalls Pete. “The officers’ bar was on a slowly moving, circular platform. I remember bluegrass and rockabilly bands there, and seeing (the now legendary) Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys, which definitely left an impression.

“The commanding officer lived near us and would give me a ride there in his jeep. Can you imagine? Under age kids on a US base drinking Pabst and Schlitz in the officers’ mess and smoking Lucky Strike cigarettes. I learned a lot of bad habits in those days.”

With greased-up DA style hair, 501 Levis with the cuffs turned up, and a pack of “Luckies” in his rolled up t-shirt sleeve, Pete cut a distinctive figure moseying around Swindon back in the day.

And then he upped the ante by acquiring ‘56 Oldsmobile convertible (for £15) that had belonged to a departing serviceman. “It was terrible on gas – sorry, petrol – but oh so cool.”

He caught Gene Vincent at McIlroys, became well-known in Swindon folk circles, playing The Castle and running a club in Fleet Street booking the likes of Ralph McTell and Roy Harper (the going rate was a fiver.) One venue he especially enjoyed was the ornate bar-cum-waiting room – “hissing gas lights” and all – at Old Town railway station, which sadly hit the buffers in 1961. “About one train a day was running by then.”

After a string of local jobs – including an ill-fated stint at the Adver – Pete packed his young family into a 1939 Buick and headed for London with its burgeoning folk, blues and rock scene, and was soon playing assorted bars, pubs and clubs, both solo and with bands.

A teenage obsession with motorbikes led him to become one of the country’s first builders of customised Harley Davidsons, forming a business with a partner constructing and selling the Easy Rider-like conveyances Excursions to the States ensued as he imported used choppers and bike parts for customers back home in Europe and the UK.

“Harley Pete,” as he became known, made further US connections as a road manager for various American touring bands… including one of the biggest and greatest of them all - Grateful Dead 

For some years Swindon became a regular port of call for his band Harley Pete & The V-Twins with its ever-changing cast of musicians.

An increasing amount of time, however, was spent “in California and all over the USA buying bikes for people.”

You’ve probably guessed that these extended forays to the States eventually saw him settle there.

Heading down to Texas in search of used motorcycles landed him in Corpus Christi, where, nearly three decades later, he continues to reside.

Now a naturalised citizen and honorary Texan, he’s retired from the Harley game and spends his time writing, recording and performing honkytonk, country and bluegrass.

Swindon and the UK, however, are never far from his thoughts. “I raise my flag on St George’s Day in my yard amongst the cactus, and drink a beer to my friends who aren’t too politically correct back in England.”

 More info: http://petedevlinmusic.com

AS a road manager for touring bands Pete received a call one day in 1970 requesting that he “pick up a bunch of guys” from Heathrow who had flown in from California.

”Turns out to be the Grateful Dead along with tons of amps and equipment.” Pete swiftly jettisoned the transit for a three-ton hire truck. “Suddenly I was a Dead roadie,” assisting the band as they rehearsed at the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm.

But when the Maestros of West Coast Psychedelia played their first ever UK gig at the Hollywood Festival, Newcastle-under-Lyme, Pete almost goofed.

“Due to stupidity I set off with another Dead roadie for Newcastle upon Tyne. Mistake figured, we eventually got to the festival while Free were playing, just before the Dead were due on.

“No-one cared and the equipment was quickly hoisted on stage.”

He also accompanied The Dead on their second UK jaunt which resulted in the classic triple live album, Europe ‘72.

“I got to be friends with Jerry Garcia (the band’s charismatic/talismanic guitarist) and we really hit it off - both of us liking the same kind of acoustic music.”

One day tour boss Sam Cutler – who had managed Rolling Stones tours – wanted to take everyone on a London sight-seeing tour.

“But Jerry wanted to see an English pub. I’d been playing a Sunday session for years in a pub on Wimbledon Common, The Hand in Hand with whoever turned up… guitars, mandolins, fiddles, upright bass etc.

“Jerry just fitted in and we played together most of the evening. Someone asked me who the American was, and I said ‘Jerry Garcia.’ “They said, ‘naw, crap - that ain’t him’, so I left it at that.” The doubter did, however, concede “he’s a great guitar player, though.”

TODAY. Pete’s group goes out as Pete Devlin and the Texas Moon Band and he also plays solo gigs in smaller venues, doing shows from Austin to all along the Gulf Coast.

Currently finishing a CD, Pete says: “I have been playing here for many years and have a long time residency at a venue in Downtown Corpus Christie. I play as often as anyone wants to hire me or my band.”

The one-time Swindon folky-cum-rock’n’roller writes songs about his surroundings, life in south Texas and its ambiguities, and of the people he meets.

He describes his music as “from the sublime to the ridiculous – with obscure in between. I think of myself more as a folk singer and story teller of quirky songs.”