Redemption Song

"A lot of the pain and the bullshit I put myself through led to a lot of those songs. They weren't particularly meant for anybody to hear them -- they were just kind of self-therapy," says this son of a respected psychologist. "It's pretty weird, because Abilene is a complete shit hole, devoid of anything reasonable ... but I think there's enough boredom and enough trouble you can get yourself into that some songwriting skills could come about."

Hinson's knack for music has enabled him to begin a career in spite of never finishing college, but it took more than a few good songs to win back the respect of his family. To accomplish that, Hinson had to make the hardest move of all -- he had to come back home.

Now, Hinson says, things have never been better. "They know I do questionable things, like I might drink too much or I might smoke too much grass or live with my girlfriend, and they don't like those things, but there's so much respect and love for me that they can put that aside," he says. "I don't think a lot of parents of that whole group of kids that we grew up with would be able to do that, to step aside and let their kids live their own life if it wasn't good in their eyes."

Now, Hinson's father buys all of his son's rare, overpriced records from overseas dealers, and Mrs. H often can be found singing one of her son's tunes -- except, of course, the ones with cussing in them.

In Hinson's own gospel of progress, there's a clear note of redemption. His music doesn't make use of the capital-g Gospel found in many country-music songbooks, but I have to ask whether his childhood spent on a church pew was lurking somewhere in his inspirational machinery.

"There's not really a lot of God in there or spiritual things," he answers. "It's really just human relationships -- that's all I can sing about, to be honest."

And for the kid whose friends once couldn't trust him with so much as a spare microphone cable, that's just enough.