Save Our Houston Songs

Beebe believes that Houston's music legacy is hamstrung by the vagaries of the music business. "The legacy is kinda fractured," he says by phone from his new home in Marfa. "And a lot of the really successful music from here wasn't publicized as being from here in the first place. Or it came out on labels that are now defunct and are just distributed by conglomerates.

"Take Duke-Peacock," Beebe continues. "You can get the recordings, but MCA owns that stuff, and it's just another tiny part of their back catalog. The same with the Huey Meaux stuff; I want to get a copy of the early Ronnie Milsap stuff he did. I'm sure I can order it online, but I just haven't seen it. In a lot of cases, the labels are gone and a lot of the people are dead."

In Beebe's view, Houston's ephemeral, fickle nightlife scene shares some of the blame. "Even during the Super Bowl, there was no one club where you knew Beyoncé was gonna be hanging out," he says. "She would be at a private party or something like that. We don't have a Viper Room here or a CBGBs."

Hill thinks Houston is a prime example of nobody-is-a-hero-in-their-hometown syndrome. "Local is good in everything except talent," he says. "When you say, 'local talent,' people are like, 'Ah, ­whatever.'"

But does that notion hold true everywhere? What about in arrogant cities like San Francisco and New York? Hill thinks so, to a certain degree. "I know in Asbury Park they love 'em some Spring­steen, but did they love him when he was just another Dylan knock-off? I doubt it. I think there is always a bias against local stuff, an idea of 'Well, they came all the way from Austin so they must be good.'"

Hill thinks sprawl also plays a part in bands not knowing their local history. "This is a hard town to get to know," he says. "You can do anything in the world here, but it's overwhelming. And as people feel more and more overwhelmed, they decide to quit looking for shit. It's easier to knock Houston than to get off your ass and go find something cool."

"People are kinda ignorant to their history," Hill continues. "Because of how history is taught, most people think of it as like flash cards of names and dates, not a story. They miss stuff like how kick-ass it was that the Mecca of Texas singer-­songwriting in the '70s was in Montrose and not Austin."

Nevertheless, Austin has jacked that movement for its own — ask a typical music fan from somewhere like Chicago about the provenance of Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, Steve Earle and Rodney Crowell, and they'll probably say Austin.

"Austin is pretty shameless about it," Hill says. "David Beebe has started pronouncing [Austin radio station] KGSR as K-Geezer, and we were making up promo spots for them the other day. Stuff like 'Austin's own Bob Dylan,' and 'Austin's own Yoko Ono.'"

The opposite ethic prevails here, Hill believes. "We don't know how to toot our horns," he says. "We wear this badge of 'We're the third coolest,' and that means we might as well be in Waller County. There's a complex to Houston shit."

It's a shame. There's so much great music this city has come up with. The city should take note of some of it, and more bands should show our city's historic songs some love. This is not to say more bands should devote themselves to covers like the El Orbits and Allen Oldies, or even play retro styles like blues and old-school country. Our "Houston 100" can and should be adapted to contemporary styles. Imagine indie-rock covers of Houston rap classics like "Southside" and "Purple Stuff," a punk "Lookin' for Love," rappers sampling ZZ Top, country versions of Destiny's Child, metal covers of U.G.K. and so on.

There's been a lot of hoopla about saving the River Oaks Theatre and other local landmarks, and justifiably so. I would say that Houston's music is just as worthy of preservation. And if we don't do it, then who will?

john.lomax@houstonpress.com