Max Williams

Max Williams

BandFolkSinger/Songwriter

Biography


They say Robert Johnson sold his soul for his skill at the guitar. Max Williams was too pragmatic for such a sacrifice, from an early age he realized that his particular formula for success was practice and perseverance. It was at the age of ten that he picked up his first guitar and the siren song of a single-coil Fender Stratocaster proved impossible to deny. With vast intensity, he studied the instrument, as well as singing and music theory. He became fluent in the language of his nightmares, until one day his nightmares took shape on the page and became songs.

From early on Max got a lot of work playing in bands and with different artists. One thing that was consistent through the years was that he continued performing as a solo artist. His bluesy, easy tempered, yet edgy acoustic melodies and up-tempo steel string folk tunes, coupled with the smoky power vocals and soft undertones of his voice raised many eyebrows and aroused the aural desires of his listeners. Max found his musical home as a singer/songwrter. After all, you know you’re doing something right when you get up on stage with just the bare essentials a guitar, a voice and something to say and your audience loves it, loudly stomping their feet and screaming to your lyrics.

Max put a lot of effort into fine-tuning his solo performances, as well as recording his debut solo EP. He also became a key figure in benefit performances for Junkiri Schooling, for underprivileged children in Nepal. He has done several recording sessions with composer Tom Bernath as well as doing a cue for a score under composer Peter Gerard for the film “Breathing Room.”

Whether it’s his soft-tone melodically sparse Space Cadet (a song of the trials and tribulations of addiction and recovery), the steel riffing progressive twelve bar blues of 38 Caliber (a traditional folk formatted story of a serial killer traveling the country) , or the politically motivating folk rock anthem Rape and Pillage (where Max expresses the personal struggle in correlation with the national struggle), Max Williams has a point to drive across and an eclectic range utilizing such styles as traditional twelve bar blues, gospel, pop, alternative, blue grass, rock ‘n roll ect. But no matter what musical road Max Williams takes, one constant is his grass roots, bare essentials folk.

Catch Max Williams this Fall on his U.S. Tour, spreading song into the cities of America and taking his passionate political folk rock on the road.

Performance Highlights:

•The Ventura Theatre
•The Whisky A Go Go
•The Roxy
•The Grand Ave. Club
•The Knitting Factory
•California Institute of Abnormal Arts
•Studio S.
•Dr. Music
•The Tiki Room
•The Un-Urban Cafe

Lyrics

One Last Fling

Written By: Max Williams

Had the time for one last fling.
Mustered up one lick to sing.
With crank remains, and salted pine
all stocked up raspberry wine.

I'm on 7th and Montgomery, hands tied behind my back. Mr. Barleycorn calls all the shots.

I'm the devil's spitting image with my sapphire diamond ring. Whimpered my last breath just to sing... One last fling

As quaint remorse proceeds my spine I rub elbows with the swine. Grandiose commodity, suburban off-white novelty.

I'm the cosmopolitan derelict, laying down my spurs. To Grand central station, I'll beat the clock. I'm the devil's carbon copy with my sapphire diamond ring. Whimpered my last breath just to sing... One last fling

I lay my cards on the table, though no question I was able to let those sleeping dogs lie. In that solitary moment while I'm gunning my opponent I aint letting that shit fly. Through the jaws of the gator and the natural born player's gonna turn you into dollars and cents. shortly there after I fired shots through the pasture and my troubles they remain on the fence

My daily bread's been gaffeled take the road less traveled, I'm gonna steak it out for money well spent. To the line up drop a dime, present company inclined. I cop a column, not paying no rent.

Lights out, a busted fender, Father Curtis who would render me useless since the day I was born. So I spin my revolver and I'm headed to the alter, I'll take aim at my enemy sworn.

Blessed be through times of hail. I hold in tact my pint of ale. Roaring stones rest in my fate. Unto my knees lest thou awake.

I'm on 7th and Montgomery, hands tied behind my back, Mr Barleycorn calls all the shots. I'm the devil's lord and savior with my sapphire diamond ring. Whimpered my last breath just to sing... One last fling

.38 Caliber

Written By: Max Williams

Well I’m the 38 caliber killer
I stand taller than 12 men.
I’m the 38 caliber killer
I stand taller than 12 men.
Fired shots from here to Mississippi,
cast all my bloodshed with a grin.

I got creative in Reno,
took a chance and ditched my gun.
I got creative in Reno,
took a chance and ditched my gun.
Sometimes just cutting throats w/ a scalpel,
can be a hell of a lot more fun.

I took shots from the left
shots from the right
shots from above
and shots all night
because I’m the 38 caliber killer
I stand taller than 12 men
made shots from here to Staten Island
in a New York Minute I’d do it again.

I offed 28 cities in a single bound.
Blood for sustenance and making my rounds.
Shots open fire, and I’ll tour your town

Well the Sheriff tagged me in Houston,
fried the eyeballs out of my head.
The sheriff tagged me in Houston,
fried the eyeballs out of my head.
It’s time to strap me into that chair.
Well, you can all rest now that I’m dead.

Rape and Pillage

Written By: Max Williams

Through the woodwork of existence impaired, from the hollow sense our distance aware of longing children disillusioned prayers of nightmares, second comings drawn us in. Snake and locust alas growing fond. Smiles and winks of napalm, naked comradery in isolated corners shedding bloodlust from the creases of our past. Depth of downward spiral trying conflict, from the morbid pictures you can depict with angels nonexistent, channel zero reaching you when you were face to face.

And in passing with my self –awareness, I leave a clean corpse. With mindless antics steal the sun through shutting idle doors. In the eyes of realizations from the wind of time, the dis-embalming visions of forgotten saviors just leave us blind.

For your war, and for your views, and for your Jesus Christ,
rape and pillage pick the last of central battered eyes
For your war, and for your views, and for your Jesus Christ,
rape and pillage pick the last of central battered eyes

Through conditions of the nameless elite, our chance for living here will tend to decrease,
so try consumption, fear and absent morals. See to the debacle of our time. Plagues of open fire matching the tears, monkeys on the spectrum working the gears, through deviant’s screams and scratches. The idiosyncrasies of spoken word are all we have.
Generalizations that the masses meet fit, with objective blood thirst little conflict with open book oppression catering to the needs of little men beyond the top.

Indiscretion of our loss of prey and victory gone. Marked philosophy of father beheaded and the new bastard son. Ravage red spilled drop by drop unmasked decrepit, this land.
Wrath, calamity and inhalation sit hand in hand.

For your war, and for your views, and for your Jesus Christ,
rape and pillage pick the last of central battered eyes
For your war, and for your views, and for your Jesus Christ,
rape and pillage pick the last of central battered eyes

Discography

Max Williams E.P. 2007
Regular radio play at Takilma F.M.

Set List

One Last Fling
The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down (cover)
Masculine Economy
The Junction City Heist
Space Cadet
Virtue at the Sword
Rape and Pillage
Soap Box
.38 Caliber
Cog Eyes
No Blood For Oil
The Dying Days of Admiral Shaky Wilson

A typical set is about a half hour to forty-five minutes, but I have over two hours of material.