The Ozark Mountain Daredevils will perform at The Cotillion Ballroom on Friday, Nov. 10.
Formed in the early 1970s in Springfield, Missouri, the multi-genre outfit enjoyed hits such as “If You Wanna Get to Heaven” and “Jackie Blue” as well as a string of acclaimed albums, including its 1973 self-titled debut and 1974’s “The Car Over the Lake Album.”
Although chart success didn’t follow the band into subsequent decades, the Ozark Mountain Daredevils continued to tour, write and record. In 2019, the band issued the “Heaven 20/20” EP featuring a group of new songs, and 2023 has seen the release of the single, “More Cowbell.”
Founding member Michael “Supe” Granda chronicled the band’s history from 1971 to 2004 in the book, “It Shined: The Saga of The Ozark Mountain Daredevils,” one of two books to date written about the group.
Granda recently spoke with KMUW about the unique place the Ozark Mountain Daredevils hold in American music, an ongoing desire to write and record new music, and more.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
The band has been together for over 50 years; you’ve been there the whole time. Did you ever, in your wildest imaginations, see yourself being part of this band for half a century?
Yes and no. In 1971, when we got together, I couldn’t tell if it was going to last until 1972. [But] the only thing I ever wanted to do with my life and the thing I knew I would be doing all my life [was making music]. We are very proud of the fact that, as we’re heading into our 52nd year, we still have fans that will support us.
You have this distinct sound. It’s not country but it can appeal to fans of country music. It’s not bluegrass but it can appeal to fans of bluegrass. And then there’s the rock influences.
We came together more as a group of songwriters. Each person brought their own influence. One person brought country music, one person brought bluegrass, one person brought pop music, one person brought rock ‘n’ roll. When we first started out, instead of homogenizing it into one sound, we decided to pay respect to each individual song and each individual songwriter by treating each song with the respect it deserved. That’s why there are no banjos on “Jackie Blue.”
We decided to compartmentalize that into each individual song and each individual lead singer. We thought that was our calling card. We enjoyed that as do our fans. There are fans out there who love “Chicken Train” and there are fans out there that love “Jackie Blue.” What is the genre of a band that plays those two songs in the same set? We don’t know. It confused our record company, but we stuck to our guns because our fans liked it, and it kept it interesting for us.
I was listening back to the records and trying to figure out who your peers were. The closest thing I could come up with was NRBQ because there were different writers, different voices and different styles.
That’s correct. By the way, NRBQ is one of my favorite bands on the planet. We got comparisons to The Band because of our multi-lead singer approach. But there aren’t many bands out there like us. When Don Henley and Glenn Frey sings, it could be the same guy. But when Steve Cash sings and John Dillon sings, it’s really apparent that those are two different voices. As for peers? We didn’t really have any.
We were listening to Hank Williams, and we were listening to the Rolling Stones, and we were listening to Sonny Boy Williamson, and we were listening to Bob Dylan, and we were listening to everything. We listened to everything and tried to play everything.
You could kind of get away with that at that time. Today, I sometimes wonder if bands determine their genre before they start writing music.
They determine their genre at their business meeting before the first rehearsal. [Laughs.] Man, we were just a bunch of stoned-out hippies. We had no idea what we were doing. We had no business playing. We were making [it] up as we were going along. We took a road that was very much less traveled.
You’ve made new music in recent years. Some acts come to a point and say, “That’s it. We’re not writing anything more. No one buys records. What’s the point?” Why have you continued?
Because it’s what we do. If you’re a writer, you never stop writing. If you’re a carpenter, you can stop being a carpenter. I’m not going to retire from anything. We still have song ideas coming in. It’s what we like to do. I just love going into the recording studio and sitting there with my friends and my cohorts and my partners and making stuff up and playing songs and working on the songs and enjoying the songs and getting them ready for public consumption because I know that I like my song, and I know that my friends like my songs, so let [everyone] hear the songs. There’s no reason to stop being a writer.
There’s a reason to stop being a professional football player. When you’re walking around with a broken elbow and a broken foot. These guys who say, “I’m done writing. People don’t buy records.” I find that to be a little blah. Don’t stop writing.
I think that’s interesting because I hear these interviews where a songwriter is asked, “What’s your best song?” and they’ll say, “The next one.” Maybe the next thing that you write will be the best thing you’ve ever done. Why give up on that?
That’s exactly right. We’ll never stop writing.
You have the recent single “More Cowbell,” which spotlights the sense of humor that has run throughout all your music.
That’s an important element. If you can’t laugh? Good lord, what kind of existence is it? We’ve always had a sense of humor woven into our music, be it a funky song or a clever lyric. There’s always humor. I consider myself lucky that I’m able to think up [stuff] like that.
I imagine that you have fans that have been with you almost from the beginning but there are always new ones. What has it been like as you’ve seen younger generations embrace the band?
It’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I just love it when a young person comes up and says, “I used to go fishing with my grandpa, and he played your records all the time. He played your music all the time. When I was a little kid, I loved it. I still love it. Now I’m out here buying a ticket to your concert and all I can say is thank you.” I think it’s wonderful.
We’re now into our, oh, lord, I would say third generation. Yeah, but it may be heading into a fourth generation. That’s a sign of legitimate music. I don’t think anybody’s walking up to Vanilla Ice and going, “My grandpa used to listen to your music and now I listen to it.” There are a lot of artists out there who don’t have any depth to their work, it’s all flash in the pan, flash and dash, flashy lights and posing. We never went for any of that because we put all of our energy into the writing and the thought processes that go into the creative process.
One of my favorite records of yours is the “Men from Earth” (1976) album. What memories do you have of making that record?
It was our first record that we made in Colorado at the Caribou Ranch recording studios. It was this idyllic studio up in the Rocky Mountains. It was complete isolation. I remember going in and really, really being relaxed when we made that record. We didn’t have record executives leaning over our shoulders and whispering into our ears, “C’mon we need some hit records! C’mon we need some hit records!” We went in saying, “This is our music, this is our art. This is how we’re going to do it.”
There were no hit records off of that album. But as an album itself, as a complete entity, it’s very, very strong. For you to say that about [that album] validates all that hard work that we put in on an album that had no hits. The work was legitimate. I wasn’t able to buy a yacht on the earnings from that album, but that wasn’t important. What was important was the art and making the art as good as it could be.
We’ll see you soon at The Cotillion. You’ve played there a few times over the years.
The band is still based out of Springfield, Missouri. Wichita is only a handful of hours away. We used to come play The Cotillion [a lot]. I bet I’ve played The Cotillion half a dozen times. But we haven’t played it in 30 years.
Too long.
[Laughs.] Exactly right! Too long.
