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Songs like the Telecaster-laden, pun-intensive "Frank," and "Already Forgotten," a zydeco-flavored tune sure to be heard at crawfish boils, are perhaps the best examples of the album's vintage-chic appeal. Both songs recall a time when a tune could draw a laugh without being hokey. It wasn't too long ago that Kipp's album might have easily found its way onto Top 40 radio. While the album boasts the genuineness of some of the mid-'90s hits by fellow Texans such as Tracy Byrd, Rick Trevino and Mark Chestnutt, Kipp just hears an album that represents him, regardless of what era the album may inadvertently resemble.
"The overall feel just comes from the way that the songs translated from pen to CD," he says. "Whether it's through the production, the personality, the players, or West Texas, or even the writing, that's just how the album developed."
As he continues to look toward the future, Kipp feels good about getting the word out and people into his shows. "The market will fluctuate many different ways, but if you have a few happy fans that leave your show and can't wait to come back, I think that's good honest growth," he says.
Kipp describes what fate could befall both him and Robson should the fun-time climate of Texas change anytime soon. "If two-stepping around the dance floor and feeling that old-school human connection ever goes out of style, then I'm in trouble."