Will Sexton – That Certain Kind of Something

Anyone familiar with the Austin music scene knows the name Will Sexton. If you grew up in the Austin area, you heard his name in the 80’s and early 90’s as he navigated almost every aspect of the profession – guitar player, singer, songwriter. As a teenager and twentysomething, maybe you caught his acts around town. Maybe you knew someone who had babysat for someone whose kids played with his kids. He was the Kevin Bacon of the Austin music scene, never more than four degrees away from practically everyone in town.

After that, Will might have fallen off your radar… until December 2009. That’s when we all heard that this seasoned but still young musician had suffered a mild stroke. It was shocking to everyone, but since I am exactly 3 days older than Will, I found it especially jarring. I read the article… oh, he had some clotting disorder called the Prothrombin gene mutation, that’s why it happened, whew… and then missed the Antone’s benefit for him the following February… and then let myself forget.

Last fall I happened to be at the House of Blues in Houston to catch Raul Malo. His opening act, Sahara Smith had a familiar face in her band - Will Sexton was playing bass for her. He looked great, he sounded even better. From that moment forward, Will lingered in the back of my mind. I kept reading the upcoming Austin show lists, subconsciously hoping to see his name.

And then, in March, my own life took an unexpected detour. On a routine visit to my doctor, my blood pressure was strange and my pulse was too high. As we sat discussing it, my doctor looked at my sandaled feet and said, “The veins on your left foot are raised, the veins on are right foot are flat. Have you ever noticed?” That led to a series of questions and tests, which revealed that I had developed a blood clot behind my knee and small pulmonary emboli in every area of my lungs. A referral to a hematologist and many blood draws later, I learned that I too had the Prothrombin gene mutation.

I’d been walking across a mine field, oblivious to the danger… until I got to the other side. Anyone of those clots, slightly bigger, could have ended me. Instead, each one was just small enough to pass through my heart, but not quite large enough to pass through the small vessels in my lungs. Now I am safe: as long as I stay with the rat poison, my body will heal itself and I shouldn’t develop any new clots. Still, I wrestle with big questions and curse this damn detour.

In May, as I mindlessly checked my local music venue calendars, I saw it: Will Sexton, at The Saxon Pub, May 12, 8PM.

The show got underway with a stage full of colorful characters. He had a drummer, a bass player, a lead guitar player, a piano player, and his girlfriend - Charlie Faye – playing acoustic. They surrounded him like a semi-circle of supportive talent. He looked just the same. That night, his guitar work was facile and technically unimpaired. His voice was somewhere between an early Tom Petty and a George Harrison, circa The Traveling Wilburys – melodic, and with incredible range. As the set progressed, I found myself entranced in Will’s amazing musicality, but a little distracted by so much band. If he was insecure in the wake of his malady, the only clues were the number of musicians on stage with him, and the little book he used to keep up with the lyrics. I enjoyed the experience immensely, and wondered what he would sound like without all that back-up.

I caught him again the following Monday, when he played a few songs in between Jess Klein’s sets at the Whip-In. This time it was just him and Mike Thompson on keys, all acoustic. In this setting, Will’s bluesy acoustic style and beautiful vocals were the stars, lightly punctuated by an old upright piano. I was easily lost for those few songs, and left craving more.

I keep searching for meaning, as if age and music and rat poison form some kind of cosmic trinity linking people together.  So far, the only cosmic truth I've found is this: sometimes life takes a detour, and maybe the alternate journey is meaningful. Or maybe not. 

I'm still working on it.

It looks like Will's going on the road for a while; I hope he finds his way home to Austin soon. Until then, we’ll just survive with a Certain Kind of Something.