In the week prior to the contentious 2004 presidential election, singer/songwriter/guitarist James McMurtry delivered “We Can’t Make it Here” to the Internet. The song was his first-ever foray into delivering free new music via the Web. 
The seven-plus-minute, six-string-driven rant marked another debut for the songwriter — his first stab at overtly political material. Examining the failure of trickle-down economics and the loss of the nation’s manufacturing base to atrophy and outsourcing, the song greatly boosted McMurtry’s presence on the Web, and helped him capture the best radio exposure he’d seen in years. 

“We Can’t Make it Here,” and Childish Things, the album that included the song, took best song and best album, respectively, at the Americana Music Awards in 2006.
McMurtry followed that album with the song “God Bless America,” another pointedly political song posted as a downloadable single in conjunction with the midterm elections of 2006.
Brassier than its predecessor, “God Bless America” stars a fat-cat narrator crowing that America’s ever-growing thirst for oil is the real engine of violence in the Middle East.
“My analogy about these two songs is that ‘We Can’t Make it Here’ is like a newspaper editorial, and ‘God Bless America’ is the editorial cartoon at the top of the page,” said McMurtry. “It’s a little bit more of a parody, an exaggeration made to make the point.”
“God Bless America” and 11 other McMurtry originals grace Just Us Kids, his ninth full-length record and first studio effort in almost three years. It’s due in stores from Lightning Rod Records on April 15.
“A little something to look forward to come Tax Day,” McMurtry quipped.

Imposing presence
A hunting and fishing enthusiast, McMurtry often arrives on stage looking like he’s just come from a day rustling around in the brush. His hats, worn over a Medusan mess of curls, are something of a trademark. They range in style from fine fedoras and safari chapeaux to big-box-store camo hunting caps.
While he looks the part of one of the boys in the crowd, and is sometimes known to wander into the front house post-show, McMurtry isn’t particularly approachable. His imposing gaze alone can deflate the zeal of even the most ardent fan-boy.
“You know, I’m a misanthrope. I don’t like people all that damn much,” McMurtry has admitted.
On stage, he definitely lets the music do the talking. Banter infrequently passes between crowd and band — or gets tossed about among the men on stage, for that matter.
But McMurtry’s band, the Heartless Bastards, don’t seem to need much talking to, playing seamlessly alongside him. The rhythm section is comprised of bassist Ronnie Johnson and drummer Daren Hess, who’ve been alongside McMurtry for better than a decade. Recently, second sets have also included another guitarist, most often Tim Holt, who’s put in years with McMurtry as his road manager.
Though lauded primarily for song-craftsmanship, McMurtry is an inventive guitarist in his own right, incorporating imaginative tunings and a fluid style that can range from tender ballads to roof-ripping rockers, as the material calls for it. 
To get the right tool for the job, he is known to tote a good half-dozen axes along on the road.
“It’s about not getting bored, about not having that same tone all they way through a set,” McMurtry has said of his cache of guitars.
As for his bandmates, he notes, “We’ve worked together for long enough that we sound pretty good now, I think. ...When I am working on a record, I go in (the studio) with Daren and Ronnie first, usually. We get the bones of it down. Then we bring in other players and parts later. It’s pretty much how we always get this done.”

Author: Linda East Brady