Jeremy McComb

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There’s No Plan B

He’s worked briefly in radio and for his buddy Larry the Cable Guy, but music’s always been the only career option for Jeremy McComb.

Idaho native Jeremy McComb recently spent some time with CW to talk about his excellent “This Town Needs a Bar” current single, his early days in radio and working for Larry the Cable Guy and the love of his life—his daughter. Here’s part of what he had to say.

CW

Talk about splitting firewood as a kid.

JM

My dad told me, “If you want to stay warm, you’ve got all summer to cut all this wood.” We would go up in the mountains in Idaho and get five, six, seven cords of wood, ’cause that’s all we had—wood heat. So there’d be a huge pile of it out by the barn. My dad was like, “If you just did a little bit every day, you’d be done by the end of the summer.” And I’d always spent the last three weeks of the summer out there bustin’ logs for 8 or 9 hours a day, hands bleedin’—put a stump on top of another stump and hit it with a maul. My dad was like, “You had all summer to do it.”

CW

Where in Idaho was this?

JM

The closest town was Post Falls, Idaho, but we lived out on the prairie in a farmhouse that my great-grandfather built. It was kind of a weird house. There was the main house, then you could see where it was built on over the years. A long hallway, where the bunkhouse used to be, and that was where my parents’ room was. And I was upstairs.

Yeah, my great-grandfather built it and then it just kinda got built on by family members. He started with a ton of property and by the time we lived on it, it was down to 15 or 20 acres. So I spent my summers splittin’ wood and movin’ irrigation pipe. Ten cents a sprinkler and I’m like, “Uhhhh, give me a break!”

CW

Did you appreciate the Kristofferson music and Croce music and other stuff you might have heard your parents playing when you were a kid . . . or was it more background noise then?

JM

No, I remember as early as listening to the Irish Rovers record, and just the stories . . . the stories always grabbed me. I remember listening to Eddie Raven doin’ “I Got Mexico” and that story, and I fell in love with that. And then hearin’ Kristofferson and then Jim Croce and I was like, “Wow . . . this is like movies.” Whereas “I Got Mexico” is kind of an idea to where you could make up your own story line to it. Harry Chapin was a great story teller, too.

Then I remember gettin’ a Shawn Mullins record, his Soul’s Core record, and it just blowin’ my mind. Then Ingram and Eddie and Troy . . . all these guys with great stories.

CW

Sounds like you never considered a Plan B for your life.

JM

No, no. Never. And it’s actually funny that you phrase it like that. ’Cause every relationship I’ve ever had, that’s always the first talk. “Look, I’m never gonna be a fireman. I’m never gonna go work at the Post Office.” There’s nothin’ wrong with those jobs. I just can’t do it. I don’t know anything else, other than this. There’s no Plan B.

You know, Willie said one time. “There’s somethin’ that comes out of bein’ desperate.” Putting your back against the wall and saying, “it’s either this, or you don’t eat.” So for me it’s always been, throw it out there and see if it works. And for one reason or another, doors close and a window will open. I’ve been lucky enough to go from honky-tonks to radio to the Larry the Cable Guy tour . . . I don’t even know how that happened.

CW

How’d you begin working with Larry the Cable Guy?

JM

It was one of those things where I heard the Blue Collar Comedy Tour as a single when I was a music director [at a radio station]. So I called his agent and said, “Man, I really think this Cable Guy character could do really well up in this honky-tonk.” And he was like, “Well, he’s goin’ for like $4,500.” So I go to my radio station and said “for 4,500 bucks we can get the cable guy up here.” And they’re like, “You’re not even gettin’ a roller banner this year. You’re not gettin’ money for any concert.”

So I went to Kelly Hughes who owns Kelly’s, this huge honky tonk, and he said he would give us the club and I could take a personal loan for $4500 to be paid back to him. But it was all owed back. (chuckles)

So I took out that loan, and Larry came up and did the show. Everybody could see what Cable Guy was and what he was gonna be. When it comes to comedy, he’s a genius. My band played after he got done. He was like, “Man, I love your music.” So I gave him a bunch of CDs I had of my band. We exchanged numbers and he called me throughout the year. “Man, we’re down here in South Florida and everybody is listenin’ to your record.”

Next time he came through town, we ended up writing a goofy parody song together. And he said, “Come to Montana and do that with me.” So I went to Montana and sang it on stage with him. And he kind of in passing said, “If you ever want to come out for a weekend or whatever, let me know.” So I went back home, and I don’t know why, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. So I called him and said “You’re gonna be in Bloomington, Illinois, in five days. So I’m gonna come out and see you.” It was just him on a bus with a bus driver—that was it. And he said, “Come on, dude.”

I was so broke. I borrowed $175 from my dad to get a sleeper car to Bloomington, Illinois, on Amtrack. It took me four days to get there. So I got there and hung out with him for the weekend. And he really didn’t have anybody out there tuning guitars and runnin’ and getting’ spit cups [laughs] and stuff like that. So, a weekend turned into just about three years on the road . . . of an amazing time.

For more on Jeremy McComb, check out the July 28 issue of Country Weekly.

• July 14, 2008
• story by David Scarlett
• photo courtesy SPLASH PR

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