AUSTIN – Jack Ingram sits in a swanky conference room at Capital Sports & Entertainment, the offices of his manager, George Couri. Every few minutes, the tall, brooding blond Texan takes sips from a can of Red Bull.
It's not like Mr. Ingram needs it, though. This is the most intense, focused and mature he's appeared in 12 years of interviews. There's a fire raging inside of him, the same one that's been there since the Southern Methodist University graduate played his original songs at Adair's Saloon in Deep Ellum during an open-mike night in the early '90s.
Erich Schlegel / DMN
Jack Ingram at Jo's Hot Coffee on South Congress Avenue in Austin
That fire is now a different shade of burnt orange, and his career is on the verge of turning red-hot.
This Is It, Mr. Ingram's prophetically titled new CD in stores Friday, gives him the national audience he's craved for more than a decade. The CD includes his No. 1 breakthrough single, the ultra-catchy "Wherever You Are," the sarcastic follow-up hit, "Love You," and the current Top 20 staple, a cover of Hinder's "Lips of An Angel."
He's the flagship artist on Nashville's new Big Machine Records, a label founded by industry heavy hitter Scott Borchetta. He is the label's precedence, the guy they're banking on for success and quick industry acceptance.
That's a dramatic change of scenery considering Mr. Ingram spent years languishing at imprints that were either short-lived (Rising Tide Records in the late '90s) or that didn't care to promote him (Sony's defunct boutique Lucky Dog Records).
"I'm now with a management company that daily comes to work for me," says the 36-year-old former Dallas resident who now lives in Austin's Lakeway area. "When the people at my record label go to work, I'm a priority.
"They have to sell my records or else they will not be in business, to some extent. There are people's jobs on the line if they don't get my song played at their stations. It's the difference between being a priority at a label and not."
The popular music pendulum finally swings in Mr. Ingram's direction. It took an epiphany to alter its course, one that came to him shortly after the release of 2002's sharp, searing Electric, his final studio album for Sony and the record he thought would catapult him to the masses.
"I got a lot of acclaim, and I got dropped from the label immediately. I mean within a month of the release of that record. And then a month after that, I split ways with my management company. They fired themselves.
"So I'm sitting there with a record that I thought I'd finally broken through to something artistically, and the results of that record were I had no record deal and no management contract and a baby on the way."
Mr. Ingram, now the father of three kids – Ava Adele, 4; Eli, 2; and Hudson, 10 months – with Amy, his wife of 10 years, began rebuilding the broken pieces of his sagging career. The man who played almost every honky-tonk dive in Texas, released a couple of independent CDs and sold them from the trunk of his infamous beat-up Ford, finally found the maturity to be honest with himself about where he wanted to steer his career.
"I figured out why I kept running into the same walls," he says. "One of the epiphanies that I had was that I wasn't clear with people. I wasn't clear with the people that I was working with about what I wanted out of this career. They thought that I just wanted to make a cool record. ... Yeah, I do want to make cool records. I want to make great records.
"But the second part of which I never really spoke up and told anybody until we were releasing records was, 'Hey, man, I want to sell a lot of these, too.' "
With Mr. Couri's help and a crystallized game plan, Mr. Ingram began searching for the label that would jump onboard his promise train. They found Mr. Borchetta, an industry honcho responsible for more than 100 radio hits.
"I want to make records that I can care about and I would sell on my own out of the truck like I did at Adair's all those years," Mr. Ingram says. "I also want to make singles and make a record that we can go sell a ton of. I want to make you money and me money."
It was Mr. Borchetta who sent Mr. Ingram "Wherever You Are" among a batch of some 75 songs, most of which Mr. Ingram rejected. As the chief songwriter of the bulk of his oeuvre, Mr. Ingram knew he might have to record an outside tune that had that right amount of radio sheen. It was his only way in the door. It was his way to play the game he spent so long watching from the stadium's parking lot.
"It's a matter of trust," he says. "If I can find something that he thinks is a hit that works for me that I believe in, then we're off to the races. We're starting at a point where we're both going to be getting what we need out of the deal. I found 'Wherever You Are.' I can do that song, and I like it; it fits me."
By Christmas 2005, two months after its release and four months after Mr. Ingram had circled the country during a radio promotion tour, "Wherever You Are" reached the pinnacle, and the stage was set.
"That song has changed the landscape of my career," he says with a steely stare, "and pointed me in the direction that I desperately wanted and needed."
Still, the overdue success comes at a time when his personal calendar is mighty full. He's a family man now, no longer the college graduate, burgeoning Texas country singer-songwriter who could roam the Lone Star highways in his dilapidated blue Ford. Today he still has a Ford truck, but it's a much shinier F-150 model. On the floor by the passenger seat is a glittery red paper heart, a handmade gift from daughter Ava Adele.
But his artistic livelihood demands much of his time. This week he'll jet through Las Vegas and Los Angeles before returning to Texas for in-store appearances and concert performances. It's all part of the big push from Big Machine.
Does being married with three kids change the panoramic view?
"The only thing it changes is my schedule," he admits. "My desire to be with those kids and my family, that's the only thing I would drop everything for. I told my family that. I have two jobs. One is that I go to work and the other is that I get back home immediately and hang with my family. But that juxtaposition has nothing to do with my desire to be an artist."
Yet he's already made adjustments. The reason for moving from Dallas to Austin almost two years ago is twofold. On the one hand, his wife has a sister who lives in the Texas capital. So there's a support system there. But it's also logical from a business sense.
"And my manager is out here," he says. "It's the fourth music city in the country. Logistically it worked best. I miss Dallas, I really do. I didn't know I'd miss it so much. But it makes more sense to be here."
Everything gels purposefully for Mr. Ingram these days. He's mature enough to nurture his marriage and be a loving father to his children. He's also grownup enough to be honest with himself about the prospects of his career.
That 2002 epiphany solidified much more than his chances for mainstream country success.
"I just became very confident with my own identity. That I could try to do some things outside of myself, outside of my control, and it would still sound like me. My music would still be me because at the heart it's still the same person ... my heart, my identity, my soul."
Plan your life
Catch Mr. Ingram's acoustic performance and CD signing Thursday at noon at Borders Books & Music, 3600 McKinney Ave. 214-219-0512. He performs with his full band during a CD-release show Thursday at 8 p.m. at Billy Bob's Texas, 2520 Rodeo Plaza, Fort Worth. $10, $18 includes CD. Ticketmaster.
