story by Benjamin Smithson

I don't trust people who don't drink, who have never been to prison, and whose first name is a city - which is precisely why after my interview with Earl's lead singer/songwriter, Jimmy Kennedy, I gave him my credit card number because he desperately needed to pay his cable bill. (Okay, I'm tugging on your leg.) But I do trust and like him because the man has shacked up in the hoosegow and, as many of his lyrics reflect, there have been times in Kennedy's life when whiskey was his only right hand fella.

Kennedy first got into publicly playing music in Texas, but the young man was drawn back to his native area of St. Louis by what other than a striking vixen, striking enough to make a man pack up and shift his life hundreds of miles. But how do these tales always unfold, ladies and gentlemen? Sourly. Very sourly. And that sour period is what led Jimmy back to one of his old good time buddies to form the band Earl. Chicago Innerview asked Jimmy how the heartbreak affected him and his day-to-day life.

"I would hole myself up in a single room for days on end with nothing but whiskey and cocaine to hold me over," Kennedy said.

KENNEDY'S INNER VIEW "I would hole myself up in a single room for days on end with nothing but whiskey and cocaine to hold me over."

Don't let me paint an incorrect picture of this Midwestern Johnny Cash fan. Yes he went to jail, but it was because the "man" had long been after him and when he found out Jimmy Jr. was on the way, he knew he had no choice but to give himself to Johnny Law and do his time before his child was born. And yes, Jimmy's old man went to the joint, but he gave Jimmy a harmonica before going in and that is where Jimmy's interest in music was planted. But Jimmy is a family man. There is even a song on their record about Jimmy's niece, Abigail, who accidentally bathed in a can of Skoal dippin' tobacco, and almost got Kennedy's ass strung up by the fam. But that family is what has kept him together and able to pursue music.

"There's always someone in this family standing in line to watch my kid," said Kennedy. "They've been more than supportive and have freed me up for this music gig."

As interesting and quite God-damned noble as Jimmy Kennedy's story is, his band also piques the ear's attention. The lineup of Earl is very diverse but meshes perfectly. The bass player, Sean Barnes, is a metal-head. The drummer, Dave Harris, is more of a jammer in the likes of the Allman Brothers and The Grateful Dead, and Jimmy is pure country. When asked who he would be most honored to play with on stage, Jimmy replied, "Johnny Cash or Willie Nelson. They're both in that icon status with me." Score, Kennedy. See, in this Kentucky writer's homeland, Johnny Cash is Jesus Black Wearin' Christ - schools, banks, and CHURCHES closed the day of his funeral (and churches don't just close in the South). Mix it with a little time-ignoring jam and some metal and you have Earl, a band with a swaggering country tinge, a white-knuckle boogie, and the ability to slow down and illustrate what us real people feel and deal with in this life.

After asking Jimmy who he would want to be on stage with, I asked him whose head he'd be most honored to smash a guitar over. In nothing but good fun, Kennedy answered, "our guitarist, Dan Niewoehner, he needs it." Well, I was hoping the answer would be John Mayer or Hall & Oates, but Dan (Kennedy's creative second, integral half in the bands songwriting process) will have to do.

So if you like honest lyrics (no rainbows, unicorns, or dancing with women in the rain before making love), you like a little drive in your guitar, and you can slap your knee to the swing of a country hoedown, then be like me and fulfill your 2005 New Year's resolution: Go see Earl compete for the title during the Twangoff battle of the bands final match at Martyrs' this month.

Earl :: with Outlaw Family Band and The Steepwater Band :: Martyrs' :: February 17.