Columbia Nashville recording artist Trent Willmon is a study in contrasts so vivid that you can't help but fall under his spell. He has the moral values of a Boy Scout, yet he can raise rowdy hell on a Saturday night. He can kill a rattlesnake and tan its hide, but can also write a poem to touch the heart. This is a gentleman who uses “Sir” and “Ma'am” as a natural part of his speech. But on stage he can whip a honky-tonk crowd into a frenzy with a lusty howl. Trent has engagingly shy humility as a conversationalist, yet he has awards for public speaking.
He could repair your car in the morning, and then cater your barbeque tailgate party in the afternoon. He can ride the roughest bronco and sing the sweetest love song. He handles a welding torch as well as he does a guitar. He loves both cattle roping and literature.
Is it any wonder that Trent Willmon's self-titled debut Columbia Records album has so many emotional dimensions, subtle shadings and colorful textures?
The infectious fun of his hit single “Beer Man” shows one side of this singer-songwriter's personality. But then there's the soaring, aching chorus of “Every Now and Then,” an exquisitely painful ballad of loss and regret. Trent sings of romantic joy in “The Good Life” and of dreams that turn to dust in “Population 81.” The rocker of small-town life “Dixie Rose Deluxe” contrasts markedly with the waltzing, wistful nostalgia of “Medina Daydreaming.”
The album features such diverse delights as the bluesy, swinging “All Day Long” and the dark-sounding stomper “She Don't Love Me.” The lead character in “Here” is a loving ghost. The heart-breaking “Home Sweet Holiday Inn” finds Trent pining for his daughter. And there's a room full of stories and portraits in the seering “Wishing Well.”
How do you explain such a thoroughly rich collection coming from a debut artist? “I guess I'm a kind of complex hick,” Trent suggests. “In a lot of ways, I'm not your average West Texan. I've never really fit in anywhere.”
“My dad was very conservative. But my mom was a liberal-minded hippie type. Thanks to growing up without TV, we had lots of literature around the house. I learned to read at a very young age, because that was the only form of entertainment. And there were also tons of records, of all kinds. I think growing up like that helps develop your artistic creativity.”
His parents, now divorced, were completely different influences on him. Mother Billie was an urban, highly educated and artistic native of Houston. Trent describes his father Dean as a hard-nosed and almost “anti-social” retired cattle rancher from remote, rural West Texas.
The closest dot on the map was the town of Afton, consisting of a post of.ce, an abandoned cotton gin and a school that contained 100 students from kindergarten through 12th grade. There were seven in his high-school graduating class. “The social gathering was the dance. They have dances in West Texas just like they had 100 years ago. They just look for an excuse to have one. They also have these great cowboy poets and storytellers. Combine that with the great musical heritage I grew up with, and what I do is kind of just a natural thing.”
That heritage includes such West Texas talents as Buddy Holly, Joe Ely, Waylon Jennings, George Strait and Don Williams. Trent could two-step by the time he was 10. His mother gave him a guitar when he was 16. He won blue ribbons in the 4H and FFA for his livestock judging, cooking skills and speech-making abilities.
The land was hard and unforgiving. The Willmon ranch went bankrupt twice. When equipment broke, you fixed it yourself. As a boy, Trent saw cowboys crippled and made old before their time. His mother dreamed of getting him out of there.
His 4H and FFA honors won him a scholarship to South Plains College in Levelland, TX. As his father expected, Trent majored in Animal Science to get an Agriculture degree. But the in.uence of his artistic mother did not go away.
Like many youngsters, Trent ran wild once he was away from home. His grades plummeted. He lost his scholarship. Determined to continue at school, he sold his cattle to make tuition money. And when he returned, it was to the school's music department.