In the realm of Outlaw Country, Unknown Hinson is surely its Ghoulish Monarch or, in his words, “the King of Country Western Troubadours.” A former ex-con who did 30 years in prison for crimes ranging from murder and 19 paternity suits to vampirism and grave-robbing, since his release from the big house in ’93, Hinson has been playing a style of country-and-western rock mixing spot-on parody with ass-kickin’ music. Songs like “I Cleaned Out a Room (In My Trailer for You),” “Alkyhol Withdrawal” and “I Make Faces (When I Make Love)” have carved a niche for Hinson in the pantheon of twisted, fierce honky-tonk artists.
Born a bastard, Hinson’s first name refers to his wayfaring daddy, “Unknown,” while his mother, “Miss Hinson,” vanished when he was 10. His youth was spent with a traveling carnival sideshow before he was convicted of the aforementioned, in his words, “trumped-up” charges.
A widely recognized ladies’ man, Hinson’s darkly debonair fashion sense is pulled together by the color black: from his pompadour and matching mutton chop sideburns to his always-pressed suit and blacked-out teeth. His speech is peppered with a signature hillbilly patois, with his favorite subject, “womerns,” followed a close second by his love of “party likker.”
The alleged alter ego of one Stuart Daniel Baker of North Carolina, Hinson first came to prominence on the Charlotte cable access TV show, The Wild Wild South. Since then, he’s released seven albums, garnered fans including Matt Groening and Hank III, was invited to jam with The Rolling Stones, and is the voice of the character Early Cuyler on the popular Adult Swim animated series, Squidbillies.
In concert, Hinson is as likely to fire off a few rounds from his .38 as he is to peel off some boss guitar licks, while backed by a tough-as-nails band. At this week’s appearance at Jack Rabbits, devotees and newbies alike are certain to get a night of hillbilly stomp, booze-soaked country and rock, and always clever banter by this one-of-a-kind performer.
Folio Weekly spoke to Hinson while he rested up between gigs. We talked about his mysterious life on the road, his unique songwriting style, and how to woo the “womerns.”
Folio Weekly: You just played some gigs this past weekend and are going back on tour in a few days. What is a day on the road like for Unknown Hinson?
Unknown Hinson: Mostly for me, I’m asleep. I don’t fool around in the daytime hours too much. I just sleep in the van and don’t get out too much in the sunlight. I don’t like the sunlight; I’m allergic to it.
Is that right? Is that a medical condition or more of a philosophical thing?
Nah, it’s definitely medical. When I get out in the sunlight my skin catches on fire. You know what I mean?
I think I do and I’ll respect your privacy by moving on. Your music is sometimes labeled as “psychobilly.” Do you think that’s an apt description?
Psychobilly? Nah. I don’t get the psycho thing. If people want to use that term it’s alright. I don’t know how you can compare what I do to anybody else and vice versa. If for any one reason it might be because the words is different. People always say, “What is your music like?” It’s just what I do. I write songs about things I know about. And when I play, people just need to take it for what it is. It’s just me playing and singing my songs. People always have to coin a phrase for somebody or some group. But it’s kind of like a cross between Drive-By Truckers, Hank III, and a little bit of bluegrass throwed in there. But I don’t see any comparisons between what I do and what anybody else does. You know what I mean?
Yeah, and I agree. Some folks call it “politically incorrect.” What do you think those killjoys are yammering on about?
Well, I think that’s the truth. Politickin’ and all, that’s up to them; I just write about what I know. You’re a journalist and if you write about something you don’t know about, your readers are going to see through that. A writer writes what he or she knows about; otherwise people will see through it. What I try to do is write about the days of Unknown Hinson and the things I’ve witnessed. If I ain’t experienced ’em, at least I’ve witnessed ’em. I mean, I try to be a little diverse with my songs. I don’t want them to all sound the same. Sometimes I do knock-down, drag-out honky-tonk and then I might do some acid rock. But if I play rock, it’s country and western rock, because I wrote it and I sang it so it ain’t really rock; to me it’s just country and western metal.
Some artists sing about nature or politics, and you write about fish camps, like “Fish Camp Woman,” and trailer park life. What do you think is so inspiring about those particular places?
Well, “Fish Camp Woman” was inspired by real life. I was en route to a show and we stopped into a fish camp and the “womern” who waited on my table was pretty. And she smelled good, you know? “Well, is it flounder, hushpuppies or slaw you smell like? I’ll be damned if I can tell” — but I liked it, you know? I think that’s a good smell. It ain’t a bad smell.
No, it’s not a bad smell. I’m with you on that. So it’s almost like you’re a journalist yourself, just documenting what’s happening.
I’m just an observer, you know? You retain things — in your brain — that happened 50 years ago but sometimes we can’t remember what happened a minute-and-a-half ago. So the things I write about, if I write some lines, and wake up the next evening and can’t remember what I wrote, then it ain’t worth finishing. But if it sticks in my head, it’s worth pursuing. But I might get up from a deep sleep and have something in my head and I don’t know where it comes from. I just get my voice recorder and say the words and sing the melodies in my head and there it is: the nucleus of a chart-topper.
Unlike other country singers today, you’re not afraid to address taboo topics. Like “Unlock This Bathroom Door,” about the power struggle over trying to relieve yourself when your partner is claiming domain over the bathroom.
You know what it’s like to have to go to the bathroom: You got a splitting headache, you’re tired, sick, gotta go to the bathroom somethin’ awful, and your “womern” won’t let you in. Everybody’s been there. “Womern” been through it; there’s men been kicking ladies out of the bathroom when they’ve needed to go. It ain’t a sex thing, like a sexism thing at all. It’s just the human condition. If you’re fortunate enough to have a house with two bathrooms, that helps a lot, but a lot of people don’t. Did you know that in most houses in this country, there’s only one bathroom at the most? If you got young ’uns, sometimes you got a line of people waiting. It looks like a gas station on the interstate.
You have a really loyal fanbase and you’ve been quick to acknowledge their support. Are there any things about Unknown Hinson that your fans would be surprised to know?
Well, I ain’t political. I don’t vote because I can’t vote because I’m an ex-con. I can’t get my driver’s license. I ain’t got a checking account ’cause imagine trying to cash a check that’s made out to “Unknown.”
You’re known for your stylish fashion sense as much as for your music. Since so many young men these days have beards and hairstyles that make them look like 19th-century cobblers, do you have any style tips for today’s youth?
Well, “womern” like a well-dressed man. That’s why I always wear a jet-black tuxedo that’s always pressed, clean white shirt with a bolero tie — kind of like Ricky Ricardo on I Love Lucy. “Womern” like that. If you show up in dirty tennis shoes and dirty jeans with the knees knocked out of ’em, a sloppy, dirty T-shirt, ain’t shaved in four or five days, ain’t combed your hair in a week or so … I mean, what in the hell’s sexy about that? “Womern” like a well-dressed man. Dracula was a well-dressed man. You never saw him in jeans and a dirty T-shirt. Look at all the “womern” he got.
So what’s up next for Unknown Hinson?
We’re working on the 10th season of Squidbillies right now so we’re all excited about that. I mean, Leave it to Beaver didn’t last that long.
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