Crystal Wise
William Clark Green
Texas singer-songwriter — and Fort Worth transplant — William Clark Green has spent more than a decade fine-tuning his particular brand of music — a virtuosic gallop through Texas country, Southern rock, sawdusty balladry, and party-on anthems. Over the course of five studio albums — his fourth, Ringling Road, peaked at No. 18 on the Billboard Top Country Albums chart — he’s made a name for himself in Texas music circles as a likely heir to the Texas music throne once sat upon by Jerry Jeff Walker, Robert Earl Keen, and his similarly named but completely unrelated buddy Pat Green.
But the day he was to have his photo taken for this story, Green had a bigger matter at hand that had zero to do with music: he had to catch a cow.
Green owns a ranch in the tiny town of Eastland, Texas. He jettisoned our photo shoot to round up a cow that broke loose — something he easily could have gotten someone else to tend to. But getting out of work isn’t Green’s style. Ever since he picked up a guitar when he was a kid, he’s been a nonstop workaholic — writing, singing, performing, and repeating until he all but drops. And that, he says, is the secret to his success.
The singer took a break from a spate of shows to talk about a new album, his life during the pandemic, and, yep, tending to cows.
FW: I gotta be honest with you. I’ve never had a photographer call me and say, “Well, the photo shoot got postponed because his cows got out.”
WCG: (laughs) Seriously, I did have a cow get out that day. I’ve got seven mama cows, and one of them escaped, so I had to go out there and fix the fence that she got through.
FW: Do you consider yourself a rancher?
WCG: Not by any means. I’m just keeping this farm alive. It was my grandfather’s. I’m the only one in the family who has interest in keeping it going. I’ve got a couple donkeys out there, too. My grandfather grew up there, so there’s a lot of family history connected to it. Plus, it’s a blessing to have a place outside the city, a place to go and just completely disconnect.
FW: Speaking of disconnecting, what was your pandemic year like?
WCG: We had just come off the heaviest touring year we’d ever had, so it was a nice breather. I feel like we’ve been on the road constantly for the past 12 years. The break was nice, but it was still because of a pandemic. Let’s just say it was an opportunity I hope we’ll never get again.
FW: You grew up in Flint, Texas. What were you like as a kid?
WCG: I had the greatest childhood ever. We played paintball and rode bikes and four-wheelers and didn’t wear helmets. We were always outside — building forts, messing around with hatchets and knives, just doing boy stuff. I lived on a little country road and grew up with friends who I still know and talk to, to this day. We played video games, like any kids — Nintendo 64 was our jam. But it wasn’t a priority. We wanted to be outside, riding go-karts and dirt bikes. Such a different time.
FW: I grew up in a small Texas town, too. In high school, we were in social cliques, like the jocks and the freaks. What about you?
WCG: I belonged to what we called the kickers — they were sort of the rural country clique. I was a member of the FFA — Future Farmers of America, so I guess I really was a kicker. But you know what, I was at every high school party attended by every social group because I had a fake ID. I was invited to every party because I could buy beer.
FW: What’s your first memory of hearing music that left an impression on you?
WCG: When we moved to College Station, right before I started seventh grade, I heard a record that my dad had. Keep in mind that my dad and I didn’t get along when it came to music — I liked everything that wasn’t country. But when I heard my dad’s copy of Willis Alan Ramsey’s record, I was blown away. That was the first time my dad and I were on the same page musically. That record really inspired me. After I heard it, I started taking guitar lessons, and that’s where everything started.
FW: When did you start writing songs?
WCG: As soon as I learned how to play guitar. I’d come home from school and watch TRL [“Total Request Live,” an MTV show] and say to myself, “That song doesn’t seem that hard to play. Wonder if I could make one?” At that point, I had no idea how songs were written. I thought someone would write a song and then give it to someone good-looking to sing it. That’s what I saw on TRL — good-looking people singing songs. Then when I started playing guitar and writing my own songs, some of my friends heard about it and next thing I know, I’m opening up for them. We weren’t Garth Brooks or anything, but there was a big underground scene in College Station, all these people just doing it themselves, like we were. If you busted your ass, you could build yourself a career.
FW: Who became your musical heroes?
WCG: More than anyone, Pat Green. It’s kinda weird being buddies with him now; I admired him — and still do — so much. He was as big as they come back then. Watching his shows, seeing how many people knew every single word to every single one of his songs — I was awestruck. He was really the first one to blow up in such a huge way. I’m not saying he created our scene, but he amplified it. Jerry Jeff, Lyle, and even guys like Willie — they’ve been doing it for a long time. But Pat was doing it independently, without, at the time, any mainstream radio support. Once radio started playing Texas music, he pretty much owned the whole state. His journey, his career, they’ve been such a big influence not only on me but on the Texas music scene as a whole.
FW: You’ve been working on a new record.
WCG: It’s called “Baker Hotel.” It’s named after the famous hotel in Mineral Wells. We’re recording it at Larry Joe Taylor’s studio in Stephenville. We recorded our last three records in Nashville. The guys [in the band] were like, “Let’s do something different,” so we decided to record it in Texas. It has sort of a different vibe to it, more laid-back and relaxed. The songs are coming to me when they come to me. There’s no real rush to get it done because who knows when to release a record these days? The way things seem to be going, maybe it’ll come out this fall. It’s such a weird time right now, especially for working musicians. It is what it is. We’ll get it out, and we’ll get on the road eventually.
FW: Billy Bob’s means so much to Fort Worth and Texas. What was it like headlining there the first time?
WCG: It was a big f—ing deal. We had played on the small stage two or three times, and that was cool. But when we made it to the big stage — man, I’m getting goosebumps just talking about it — we all began to reflect on how hard it’s been and how hard we worked our asses off to do this. I remember walking on stage and hearing the crowd and seeing the lights, and we all just looked at each other and said, “This is why we do this. This is what we’ve been working toward. Let’s knock ‘em dead.”
FW: And then you move to Fort Worth.
WCG: I’ve been here for about three years. Fort Worth reminds me a lot of Lubbock. It has a lot of West Texas attitude in it, which is one of the things I love about it.
