Keith Stegall is emerging as the Babyface of country music. Both are handsome, easygoing men. And they’re both successful songwriters, producers, and record executives who also happen to be recording artists. The only difference is that Stegall, Mercury Records’ vice president of A&R, isn’t yet a household name.
Even so, his work frequently hits the charts. He produced and cowrote ”Love of My Life,“ the recent No. 1 hit that revived Sammy Kershaw’s career, and he produced Alan Jackson’s ”Between the Devil and Me.“ The songwriter of eight chart-topping singles, Stegall has produced all of Jackson’s albums, as well as projects for Randy Travis, Tracy Byrd, Aaron Neville, Terri Clark, and Shenandoah.
Of late, he’s a busy man. He recently added Billy Ray Cyrus and John Anderson to his producing roster, and this fall, he’ll release his second Mercury album. ”I can’t do more than one thing at a time,“ says Stegall, 43. ”I’m not a producer who can turn things loose and let an artist go in with an engineer.
”I space a month between projects, then I’ll write during that time. I wish I could tell you there’s some concrete schedule, but it’s more like damage control, and I make sure the staff informs me of what’s going on. It’s not crazy for me because I’ve been doing it for so long; it’s just on a bigger scale now.“
The Texas native played in rock and folk bands in high school and college. In 1975, he played some of his songs for Kris Kristofferson, who suggested that he move to Nashville. Stegall did just that in 1978 and had his first No. 1 three months later with Dr. Hook’s ”Sexy Eyes.“ He followed with cuts by Helen Reddy, The Commodores, Johnny Mathis, and the Al Jarreau smash ”We’re in This Love Together.“ By 1985, he had scored country hits with Mickey Gilley’s ”Lonely Nights“ and Glen Campbell’s ”A Lady Like You.“
Stegall signed a solo deal with Capitol Records in 1980, followed by a deal with Epic Records in 1984. But he soon became disillusioned with the vicious cycle of life on the road. ”I had the bus and all that stuff; I killed myself on the road and watched my career spiral to the point where I was just breaking even,“ he says. ”I started thinking, åI’m a songwriter, and I’m out here losing money. This ain’t right.’ So I quit performing.
”Then my career really went into a slump. The songwriting dried up. Everything went away. It was a real tough time...but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It forced me to get my nose back on the grindstone instead of sitting around and feeling sorry for myself.“
Around this time, Randy Travis, then a local nightclub singer going by the name Randy Ray, asked Stegall to produce an independent LP release for him. The project led to a gig producing two songs on Travis’ first Warner Bros. album. Travis bought Stegall’s bus for $35,000, and things soon started picking up for Stegall, who began producing Alan Jackson, Shenandoah, and other acts while writing hits for Clay Walker and Travis Tritt.
When Stegall approached his 40s, he hit a new phase in his life. He got a divorce, which in part prompted him to return to performing. It was also around this time that he wrote the songs that eventually ended up on Passages, his first record. In 1993, when Mercury president Luke Lewis heard Passages, he wanted to sign Stegall not only as an artist, but also as an A&R executive. ”I wasn’t the first to do it,“ Stegall notes of his double hiring. ”Herb Alpert did it, Chet Atkins did it.“
When he broke the news to Jackson, the superstar was thrilled, responding, ”Half the reason I wanted to work with you is that you are an artist, and you understand.“ And so Jackson gave Stegall his blessing to go out and make a record of his own.
Some of the acts on Mercury’s roster didn’t initially share Jackson’s enthusiasm, however. Many wondered how someone trying to break his own career would have time for them. While Stegall was looking for songs for their projects, would he keep the best ones for himself? Sammy Kershaw was perhaps the most vocal about his concerns—ironic, considering that Stegall ended up cowriting the song that turned Kershaw’s career around.
But the producer understands Kershaw’s reservations. ”His fears were well-grounded because he had been over here, and all of a sudden he hears the guy running the A&R department is an artist too,“ Stegall explains. ”Until you get to know somebody, you can’t allay those fears. Yes, I’m an artist, and I’m not going to stop being an artist, [but] I’m not going to shortchange you. I’m not here to compete with him, but to support him.“
Fitting tribute
Billy Ray Cyrus recently delivered one of his most difficult performances ever, in perhaps the smallest venue he has seen since he first became a star. Cyrus sang a song in honor of Carl Perkins at the legendary rockabilly guitarist’s funeral on Jan. 23 in Jackson, Tenn. Wearing a dark, pinstriped suit in honor of his hero, the singer was emotional as he delivered lyrics he had written less than 48 hours earlier: ”You were a legend in everyone’s mind/You made the rock ’n’ roll rain and sunshine/Goodbye, goodbye.“
Cyrus met Perkins when the two were guests on TNN’s Prime Time Country. The younger singer was nervous about meeting his hero, but Perkins put him at ease with nudges and wisecracks during commercial breaks. ”It was during that period when people were saying a lot of different things about me, some not so positive,“ Cyrus remembers. ”Carl Perkins said to me, åHey man, listen. A lot of those people who are saying stuff about you are just jealous. You’ve just got to keep on doing it and being who you are.’ He explained things that went on in his career and how his career paralleled mine. His greatest advice was, åBe who you are and make your music the way you make your music, and don’t worry about what people say.’ “
As family and friends such as George Harrison, Wynonna, and Ricky Skaggs chatted in the basement before the funeral, Cyrus used the time to polish his song. ”I’m left-handed, and George Harrison looked over from across the room and said, åAhh, a lefty. I haven’t seen one of those for awhile.’ [Paul McCartney played guitar left-handed.] I said, åOh yes,’ stood up, walked across the room and handed him my guitar. He turned it upside down and started playing it. He said, åI haven’t played one of these in years.’
”In a way, I felt like that was a gift from Carl Perkins to me. There I was in the basement of this chapel, there for a funeral...[and] there was me with a Beatle playing my guitar. Only Carl Perkins could make that happen.“
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