Wheeler Walker Jr.: The Spread Eagle Tour w/ Logan Halstead

And yet, what would ultimately inspire the man was right in front of him all along: family.

“I had to get back to the basics,” says the introspective, self-aware artist of what finally set him and his new songs free. “I decided I was going to write about my life and my family. It’s where my heart was guiding me: to be super personal and dIt’s why Wheeler now returns with Ram, his boldest effort yet— a hard charging hurricane of a rock album that’s every bit as pummeling, raunchy and riotous as his best work to date. “It’s pretty intense,” Wheeler says of the 10-track, Dave Cobb-produced LP full of ass-kicking anthems with titles including “Born to Fuck,” “Money n’ Bitches” and “Fingerblast.” To hear him tell it, making a tried-and-true Southern rock album was principally about going back to his roots. Raised on the ripping riffs of bands such as Nirvana, the Misfits, the Replacements and Guns N’ Roses, Wheeler not only adored the heavier sounds those bands offered, but he also cherished rock’s “fuck-the-man” attitude. “This was the album I wanted to make,” he explains of Ram. “I knew it was a risk, but I felt like I hadn’t really taken any big risks for a while. And when I play it too safe, I get nervous. Whereas when I say, “Who gives a fuck? Maybe I’ll go bankrupt and it’ll all fall to shit and my manager might call and say, ‘You fucked up your career,”” that’s when it gets exciting to me.”

Wheeler has never minced words. His feelings on where things stand in his career at the moment is no exception. “First of all, fuck the music industry. I don’t gotta prove shit to the industry. They’re a bunch of fucking swine and thieves and assholes. Now I gotta find new ways to piss people off,” he says with a laugh. “So now let’s fuck with rock. If my competition is Greta Van Fleet, I’m going to win that every day.”

What excites him most, he says is the thrill of living on the edge. Where he could have stuck to his successful country-leaning formula and played it safe, he was willing to fall on his face in the name of his creative pursuit. “I wanted to go back to not giving a shit,” he says. “And to not give a shit you’ve got to throw it all away. People don’t understand -- as an independent artist, what you’re doing with every album is you’re going to Vegas and you’re putting all your chips on the table every fucking time. If it tanks, you’re back at bankrupt. I wanted to risk bankruptcy again, to be blunt about it. I could see the headline: Wheeler Ruins Career. But if I do that and made the album I wanted to make, I could give two fucks.”

Following last year’s Sex, Drugs & Country Music — an album Wheeler says was purposely a party album following the dismal COVID years — he channeled his pent-up anger this go-round into Ram. “Maybe it took a while for the anger to settle in about how pissed off I am about so much shit going on right now,” he offers. “I just wanted to put that into my music. When I was a kid and I was pissed and in a bad mood, I would just crank AC/DC and Skynyrd. When I got pissed, I didn’t listen to George Jones; I cranked Appetite for Destruction.”

“Because rock is fuck-the-man music,” he continues. “Country used to be. Country has turned into I-love-the-man music. What does the man tell me to do? He tells me to play this song and use this pop producer. Yes sir. When I see Jason Aldean and I see Luke Bryan, those are corporate fucking slobs. Those motherfuckers have sold their fucking soul. It’s not music but a product. I don’t want a fucking product. I want to make the music I want to make. Even if Luke Bryan knew what a good song was, his label wouldn’t let him make it. He’s a corporate sellout. I’m not a corporate sellout. There is no corporation behind anything I do. Period. I cannot be cancelled. I don’t talk to corporate radio. I don’t talk to corporate record labels. There’s nothing you can do to me. If the fans want it, it’s out there. If Jason Aldean is country, I want to be something else.”

The Ram era kicked off in earnest with a call to the Grammy-winning Cobb, Wheeler’s trusted confidante and one of the most successful producers in recent years having helmed records for an array of celebrated artists from Chris Stapleton to Sammy Hagar and Jason Isbell. “I called Cobb up and said, “I want to do something that makes it sound like the first record. I’ve been writing these songs that are kind of rock. Would you make a rock album?” I thought he’d say, “You’re a country artist. That’s not what you do.” But he just said, “Let’s do it!”

Wheeler in turn gave a simple credo to his trusted band of top-tier Nashville musicians: “Don’t bring your pedal steel. Bring all your amps. Because we’re fucking rocking out!”

The results are undeniable: Ram’s opening track “Born to Fuck” is an ode to a man’s true-bred calling while “Dumptruck” lavishes praise upon “the beautiful large Southern asses of America.” And then there’s “Sniffer’s Row,” a salute to the front row of the strip club. Because, as Wheeler says, “if you’re a real strip club guy you want to sit in the front row.” “Money n’ Bitches” meanwhile is a take-no-prisoners tribute to the finer things in life… at least according to Wheeler.

“This isn’t Paul Simon. We’re not going too deep here. We’re not talking about poverty in South Africa. We’re talking about money and bitches. Plus, I got into music because I wanted money and bitches. Wheeler is Wheeler because he doesn’t use metaphors. I just say what it is.”

It's this attitude – take me for who I am – that has always endeared Wheeler to his legion of hardcore fans. And its why his live show is and always has been paramount to his career. There’s a certain kinship with his fans, Wheeler explains, one that goes far deeper than the music itself.

“What I love about my fans is they’re all kind of the not-cool kids,” he says. “I wasn’t a cool kid growing up at school. I got made fun of all the time. I see that in my audience and I feel like again, fingers crossed, they get that uncool kids do what they wanna do and don’t give a shit what the jocks think. When I look out at the audience, I see more people like me out there. Guys who I would hang out with and remind me of me at that age. The outcasts.”

As for what the future holds, Wheeler is doing what he’s long done: betting on himself. “I think people will love Ram but I’m also perfectly willing for it to be the end of my career,” Wheeler says with a smile. “If I’m going to go down, I’m gonna go down fucking swinging.”

ig right into t“Overall, it feels more grownup,” observes Rory. “It’s less like we’re scene kids trying to be a rock band, and we’re actually a group of guys making rock music on our terms. We realized we were happier creating this way.”

Grinding on a series of independent releases, DAYSEEKER reached critical mass with 2019’s Sleeptalk. The title track “Sleeptalk” impressively gathered 25 million Spotify streams and over 4 million YouTube views on the music video. Meanwhile, “Burial Plot” surpassed 12 million Spotify streams, contributing to over 125 million streams total for the LP. Inciting rave reviews, Alternative Press applauded, “DAYSEEKER are doing more than following along with the trend of blending genres. They’ve paved the way to something new and exciting that music has been craving for some time now.” Beyond touring with The Devil Wears Prada and We Came As Romans, they sold out headline dates and even performed Sleeptalk in its entirety on the road. Along the way, the band recorded what would become Dark Sun with regular collaborator and producer Daniel Braunstein. During this time, Rory experienced trials and tribulations with the passing of his father, yet felt the utmost joy in the birth of his daughter. This cycle of life permeated the process.

“My dad was a musician, and we bonded a lot,” he says. “I lived with him up until three years before he died. When I took a natural interest in music as a kid, he was really excited. He had Parkinson’s on top of cancer, so his quality of life wasn’t great. I’m happy he’s at peace, because he was really struggling towards the end. My daughter was a big surprise, and it was nice he got to meet her. I think he’d be excited to know we made an album about my experience with him. Hopefully, it helps other people dealing with the same situation.”

he weeds of my life.” The resulting LP, Family Ties —Godwin’s forthcoming third album, set for release on September 22 via Big Loud Records — is a truly stunning achievement, and the culmination of years of hard work to arrive at this point.

Demo’ed on a Tascam 4-track (thanks to his love for Springsteen’s seminal Nebraska) and then recorded with his bandmate and longtime producer, Al Torrence, at one of his dream studios, Echo Mountain in Asheville, North Carolina, Family Ties is a portrait of home, of relationships, of lessons learned and lived. Perhaps most excitingly, the 19-track release showcases a tunesmith at the peak of his powers — melding melody with memories, workmanship with wisdom.

“All it was was just a matter of time and continued grinding,” Godwin says without hesitation of what he believes has now allowed him to meet this moment — ready to unveil his most intensely personal and accomplished material yet, all while continually playing to some of the biggest crowds of his career.

The songs that comprise Family Ties are themselves portals into Godwin’s life — tuneful tales of the native West Virginian’s friends, family and foundation. Yes, Family Ties is an intensely intimate affair — images set to tune, so many of them specifically created for his own family members. There’s the unflinching “Miner Imperfections,” penned for his father; the mournful and contemplative “The Flood” for his mother; the beatific “Gabriel” for his son (“I guess what I am saying/is I am here to stick with you/if I could I’d never utter a single word that isn’t true”); the mournful yet hopeful “Dance in Rain” for his daughter; and the love letter that is the slow-rolling “Willing and Able” for his wife.

“It feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” Godwin declares of the fortunate place he and his musical journey have taken him. There’s confidence behind this statement, to be sure, but Godwin can readily admit it was hardly a given he’d ever make it here. Having not taken up the guitar until roughly age 20, and only performing for others when his friends encouraged him one night to do so while studying abroad in Estonia, building his career has been a steady — albeit highly fruitful — climb. He started gigging intensely in the mid-2010s and independently released his stunning debut album, Seneca, in 2019. Like so many musicians however, the

pandemic would put a wrinkle in his plans: Godwin explains how he was unable to properly tour behind Seneca and, in turn, couldn’t build up the momentum and fanbase he’d hoped for.

Thankfully, hard work and dedication rarely go unnoticed: when musicians were able to return to the stage, Godwin and his longtime band, the Allegheny High, hit the road behind his second album, 2021’s How The Mighty Fall, and pounded the pavement in a major way. They rarely took breaks from the road, performing every night “as if we were at Madison Square Garden” even when the crowds weren’t always massive. It helped that he had the support of his bandmates: Godwin’s affection for Allegheny High is palpable. “They’re my ride-or-dies,” he says of the Allegheny High. “They believed in me enough to go out on the road with me even when I couldn’t afford to pay a band. Other people aren’t willing to do that.”

“To me, the live show has been the great equalizer,” Godwin continues. “After COVID, we went out there and just played our asses off everywhere all the time, every week. The tour never stopped. And we just built it ear by ear. We were just making this thing grow organically by putting on such a good show with so much heart. Eventually, I got momentum back on my side and just kept on going.”

This trend — building up his fanbase in a grassroots manner and letting the music and live show speak for itself —continues to this day: whether he’s headlining his own rowdy, raucous gigs, or opening for close friend and musical comrade, Zach Bryan, Godwin says his live performances have never been more rewarding. Or lively, for that matter. Perhaps it’s because, as he proudly says, the brand of music he traffics in — namely story songs with a head full of heart and history — seems to be having a true moment. “My shows will range from like 18-year-olds to 80-year-olds,” Godwin notes with a smile of his diverse, highly-enthusiastic and ever-growing fanbase. “That’s a pretty unique thing.”

As for how his life has changed in recent times? Godwin says if anything it’s just become ever even more fulfilling. “There’s a lot more people at my shows and they’re a lot more excited than ever before,” he says with a sense of satisfaction. “I don’t feel like a fish out of water anymore. I had fun when it was just 100 people back in 2021. Now that it’s 10 or 20 times that, it’s just even better.”