Legendary Joe Ely Influced, Defined Generations By Being as Wild as West Texas

Joe Ely, a titan of Texas music who influenced multiple generations of artists with his insurgent roots rock that helped usher in the Americana and Texas Country boom of the ‘90s, died at his home in New Mexico on Monday, at the age of 78.

A statement released by the singer’s family said he died “from complications of Lewy Body Dementia, Parkinson’s and pneumonia.” Ely’s family announced he was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia, a progressive brain disorder, as well as Parkinson’s disease, in September. 

Born in Amarillo in 1947 and raised in Lubbock, Ely would spend the 1970s and ‘80s defining West Texas cool through his solo albums, and perhaps most notably, his work with The Flatlanders, a trio that included Lubbock natives Butch Hancock and Jimmie Dale Gilmore, who all contributed vocals, guitar, and songwriting. 

It was the Flatlanders’ song “Dallas,” written by Gilmore and originally recorded in 1972, that inspired the Observer to name its first music blog DC-9 At Night nearly 20 years ago. The iconic line “Did you ever see Dallas from a DC-9 at night? Dallas is a jewel, yeah, Dallas is a beautiful sight,” has been memorized and quoted by likely millions of Texas country fans for decades now. 

Although it was written by his bandmate and appeared on a Flatlanders album, the rockabilly-tinged, galloping ode to Big D would never leave Ely’s solo concert setlists. Videos showcasing Ely’s rollicking solo version of the song are thankfully easy to find and well worth the moment it takes to pull one up. 

Austin City Limits, the trailblazing music program that Ely appeared on several times over the years, paid tribute to him on Facebook, writing that “Ely was recognized as an icon – a maverick, genre-agnostic songwriter who gave performances that alternated between touching our hearts and melting down our cameras.” 

Legendary music photographer Danny Clinch remembered Ely on X. 

“What a lovely man,” Clinch wrote. “A bunch of us had the pleasure of hanging with Joe and Sharon a few years back. It’ll always be in our hearts. Thanks for the music and kindness.”

Bigger Than Texas

Similar to contemporaries Townes Van Zandt and Willie Nelson, slotting Ely into the pantheon of Texas musical greats is both easy and sensible, but falls short of the impact he had across not only geographic borders but musical boundaries. Global icons ranging from Bruce Springsteen to Joe Strummer and the Clash counted themselves as fans first, followed by friends, then collaborators of Ely’s. 

Springsteen sang on a pair of songs on Ely’s acclaimed 1995 album Letter to Laredo, with the duo absolutely nailing the album’s signature song, “All Just to Get To You.” It’s not often that someone sharing a microphone with The Boss can match or even exceed his potency, but Ely could. 

Ely’s friendship with and influence over Strummer and his band of British punk giants, The Clash, is the most storied of all of Ely’s collaborations. Ely and Strummer reportedly met in London in 1978 and bonded over their love of poetry and the old country ballads of Marty Robbins. 

From there, Ely would go on to tour with the band, and according to many accounts, the Texan’s versatility and multicultural influences put an unmistakable stamp on the band during the years when the band became international stars. As influential as the Clash were and remain, the group didn’t have tons of commercial hit songs, but on one of their only No. 1 U.K. songs, the instantly recognizable “Should I Stay or Should I Go,” you can hear Ely singing in the background if you listen closely enough. 

As the ‘90s gave way to the new millennium, Ely became a godfather of sorts to younger generations of country-rock songwriters, including Austin band Reckless Kelly and Grammy-winning superstar Kacey Musgraves. Such a progression shouldn’t be confused with going quietly into any sort of good night, however. Ely’s poetic swagger, both on stage and in the studio, not only remained intact but also intensified as Americana music gained a national foothold through increased commercial interest, including radio stations, venues and award shows dedicated to the burgeoning roots-infused alternative to polished, mainstream country music. 

His range, vision and vigor could be felt and heard on his stream of stellar solo records and again as he continued recording with the Flatlanders. Refusing to be stuck in one space, Ely would win a Grammy award in 1999 with the rest of Los Super Seven, a Tejano-influenced supergroup that featured legends like Freddy Fender, Flaco Jimenez and David Hidalgo of Los Lobos fame. 

In late 1995, this reporter and his brother trudged out into the frigid early morning air to see Ely perform a single song inside of Billy Bob’s Texas in Fort Worth when the CBS Morning Show with Paula Zahn filmed an episode inside the honky tonk. As a rule-following 20-year-old, it was my first time inside the legendary venue, and it didn’t matter that it was only for one song at an ungodly hour, because we got to see Ely and his band tear through a ferocious version of “All Just To Get To You.”

Ely was no stranger to North Texas, of course. He would become a regular, marquee attraction of the now-dearly departed Bedford Blues Festival. That same brother and I dragged a group of our less-than-enthusiastic friends to see Ely headline the Bedford mainstage in 1997. As we were walking away after the show, word started filtering out that Diana, Princess of Wales, had died in a car crash. A couple of years later, at another Bedford Blues Fest performance, I had a few too many in the hours leading up to Ely’s set but managed to rally in time to embarrass my date as I shouted the words to “Me and Billy the Kid,” or what I am sure I thought the words to that song were in that moment. 

In 2007, my wife and I were expecting our first child, and, frankly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to go to another concert ever again after our bundle of joy arrived. I suppose that’s why I had little problem dragging my extremely pregnant wife to the Granada Theater in Dallas to see Ely perform with Reckless Kelly. We left a bit early that night because I eventually developed a guilty conscience, as my wife was clearly nicer to me than I deserved. 

I don’t mind saying that each of my Joe Ely concert memories has been memorable for reasons other than the concert itself, but I also don’t mind saying the memories wouldn’t have been nearly as powerful had Ely’s music not been connected to them. 

Fittingly, when Ely announced his grim diagnosis in September, new music soon followed. True to form, “Raining in My Heart,” the final song released before his death, isn’t what many might expect. Instead of a hard-charging ball of tumbleweed, the gorgeous ballad originally recorded by another iconic West Texan, Buddy Holly, in 1958, shortly before his own death, is a somber, serene bit of orchestral bliss, made Ely’s own with his unmistakably raw and weathered voice. 

It’s not a hopeful farewell, and the lonesome tune is bound to cause more tears than it dries, but again, Ely’s genius and greatness have never had anything to do with making us feel good; rather, Ely’s music has always been about making us simply feel by taking us places we didn’t know how to get to on our own.