Somewhat (Okay, Definitely) the Richer
As a freshman in college, I was introduced to a band from Texas that had taken their name from C.S. Lewis’s 1952 classic Mere Christianity. Fronted by Leigh Bingham and Matt Slocum, Sixpence None the Richer’s debut album, “The Fatherless and the Widow,” released in April 1994 on the independent label R.E.X. Records. I vividly remember riding around Mobile, Alabama, with housemates listening to every track again and again. The following year, Sixpence followed up with “This Beautiful Mess.” (which I recently secured in a vinyl re-release). In 1996, they released “Tickets for a Prayer Wheel.” Then, in 1997, they released their first studio album with Squint Entertainment, the eponymous “Sixpence None the Richer.” With that album, the band started getting some of the wider recognition they so richly deserved—especially because of songs like “Kiss Me” and “There She Goes.” After another album in 2002, “Divine Discontent,” the band went their separate ways in early 2004. They have come back for reunion efforts and new albums a couple times since then, including their recent We are Love Tour, a remastered Christmas album, “The Dawn of Grace,” and the “Rosemary Hill” EP in late 2024.
As I returned rather recently to Sixpence’s earliest albums, I must admit how much I still enjoy them. And not only because they brought up so many great memories of my times with my friends of House 12 at the University of Mobile . What Matt and Leigh offered for about a decade beginning in the mid-1990s was so very good. And, to be fair, their “Rosemary Hill” captures so much of all the good they can still give us.
But that is not to imply that members of Sixpence (and Sixpence-adjacent people) haven’t continued giving us some good things. Several years ago, in fact, I came across the Instagram account on one Leigh Bingham Nash and I immediately began following her, looking forward to her sharing bits and pieces of her new music, news about Sixpence, and especially several hilarious characters (for example, Thomas Dominick and Tammy Alabammy) who would somewhat regularly show up thanks to the magic of Snapchat and Instagram filters. While their appearances (which nearly always brought tears to my eyes) have been less frequent lately, through Leigh’s Instagram, I also became aware of her husband (known affectionately as “Tiger” when Tammy Alabammy was involved), Stephen Wilson Jr. Back in 2021, the couple released the single “Made for This.” Following that release, which Leigh shared on her Instagram, I started trying to pay more attention to “Tiger’s” work.
Something of a notice: If you have stayed with me thus far, things are about to take a bit of a turn.
A year ago today, 4 February 2024, I sat with my dad for the last time. I knew when I left him that Sunday that I most likely would never see him alive again. He died two days later.
A few short weeks before his passing, I had encountered Stephen Wilson Jr.’s album “Son of Dad.” I had really enjoyed it. But it wasn’t until after my dad’s death that some of the themes of his album really hit home with me. You see, Wilson’s own father’s death plays no small part in his album—most especially over a three-song run about halfway through the albums twenty-four tracks. As I spent time with those three songs, he helped my think about the grief I was facing—a grief he had faced and I’d guess still faces.
Then, this past fall, I started seeing Stephen Wilson Jr. showing up everywhere. Podcasts. Music websites. The Dan Patrick Show. His upcoming tour sold out nearly immediately in most venues. Heck, I was hoping to see him when he plays here in Buffalo in a month or so, but I seem to have missed the boat. So, in lieu of trying to catch him after the show and express some thanks, I’ll do so here as I am definitely the richer for his words.
As I sat in Nashville last week with one of those friends who listened to Sixpence with me in Mobile, I decided that one way I wanted to express that thanks is to share those words in that three-song run from “Son of Dad” here over the next few days (though I will likely share them in reverse order). So, here we go.
Let’s start with his song “Hang in There.” I didn’t get too many things from my dad, but I do have the 20-gauge Ithaca Gun he used to hunt quail (one of his favorite things). Dad also loved Case knives and had who knows how many of them, because one should always carry a pocketknife—a lesson I have taken to heart. Much like the necklace Wilson mentions in this song, one of his Case knives (I don’t know that I’ll ever think of it as mine) rides with me in my Jeep, reminding me that Dad would nearly certainly think I was driving too fast or doing more things with the clutch than I ought.
ADDED 5 February 2025
Today I share the second Stephen Wilson Jr. song in a pointed triad of tracks from his album “Son of Dad” that specifically addresses some of the feelings and emotions he wrestled with as he deals with the loss of his father. As I mentioned yesterday, I have found this three songs especially therapeutic over the last nearly twelve months since losing Dad. The name of this song is “Grief Is Only Love.” I am sharing an acoustic version of the song (though the official music video version is well worth your time should you want to view it, as well).
ADDED 6 February 2025
One year ago today at 3:05 p.m., Dad passed from death into life. I find it hard to believe a year has gone by already. Like most fathers and sons, he and I didn’t always see eye to eye. I think of him at the most random moments. We had many of the same characteristics (maybe especially the ones that got on each other’s nerves). I miss him fiercely.
Today, I share the video followed by the lyrics of the final (and the first in album order) of the three-track run of songs on Stephen Wilson Jr.’s “Son of Dad.” This song, titled “Fathers Son,” captures many of the ways I feel about, remember, and miss William E. Bailey. I am glad “the tree don’t grow very far from the apple.”
Father’s Son
He was named by my Grandma
She got it from the Bible
And he passed it on to me
Like my grandaddy's rifle
Raised me up like sweet corn
Created a disciple
Yeah, I fought it like hell
Hell he became a rivalYeah, I tried to be different
Tryin' to go against the grain
Didn't make no difference
I just ended up the sameI've never known better, yeah
'Cause every bone's tethered
You wanna change my name
Gotta drain my blood
God damn, I am my father's son, yeahYeah, I left town
Just to get out of his shadow
And he'd send me a twenty
Just to get back on the saddle
I put up a good fight
But I didn't win a battle
I guess the tree don't grow
Very far from the appleI've never known better, yeah
'Cause every bone's tethered
You wanna change my name
Gotta drain my blood
God damn, I am my father's son
I am my father's sonI wear his blue jean jacket
And his name like a badge of honor
I used to hate being called Junior
But I don't mind any longerI've never known better, yeah
'Cause every bone's tethered
You wanna change my name
Gotta drain my blood
Everything I am's everything he was
God damn, I am my father's son
I am my father's son
I am my father's son