It turns out that Ball, 38, has solid credentials. Raised in South Carolina, he left home at 17 with some musician pals known as Uncle Walt’s Band, stopped in Nashville to audition for the legendary producer Owen Bradley, then wound up in Austin, Texas. Uncle Walt’s Band was an eclectic outfit that drew from bluegrass, jazz, folk and Western swing; much beloved yet terminally obscure, the group never managed to get far beyond the Austin scene. “You know, it takes forever to get out of Texas,” says Ball in a deadpan drawl. “And then when you do, you’re in Oklahoma.”
Back in Nashville in the late ’80s, Ball made an unreleased record for RCA, wrote a bunch of songs, paid some more dues and finally signed with Warner’s last year. His album has a feeling of accumulated wisdom; like neotraditionalist Alan Jackson, Ball caters to radio conventions without losing hold of his soul. “This is going to sound crazy, but there’s a certain amount of freedom involved when you’re working under a guideline,” he says. “And there’s a certain way that a hit country song is written. Once you understand that, and learn how to say what you want to say, you’re letting something come out of your heart.” Those other guys in hats better clear the runway.
