Drive By Truckers are a bundle of contradictions.
The two singer-songwriters that founded the band grew up lefties in deep red Alabama. They also loved both punk rock and Lynyrd Skynyrd. However, those kind of apparent dichotomies are the reason the group has amassed a cult following that still flocks to its legendary live shows nearly three decades on.
The band, which many simply refer to as DBT, plays San Antonio’s Stable Hall on Thursday, May 29. Rhode Island-based folky alt-rockers Deer Tick round out the bill.
DBT broke wide with 2001’s Southern Rock Opera, an epic double concept album about a fictional band, Betamax Guillotine, openly modeled after Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Southern Rock Opera caught on because it featured more than just amusing storytelling. Dual singer-songwriters and frontmen Mike Cooley and Patterson Hood used the record to comment on Southern history and race relations.
The songs delved into what the pair call the “duality” of the South, contrasting open racism with the reality that musicians and everyday people — Black and white — often interact positively and with genuine caring.
Look no further than DBT’s anthemic “Ronnie and Neil,” frequently played in concert, which spins a yarn about Skynyrd’s Ronnie Van Zant and legendary Canadian singer-songwriter Neil Young.
“’Southern Man’ and ‘Alabama’ certainly told some truth,” the Truckers sing. “There’s a lot of good folks down here, Neil Young just wasn’t around.”
Even though Rock Opera proved a springboard to a highly successful touring career, the group has continued to release great album after great album since.
DBT even introduced the world to singer-songwriter Jason Isbell during a turbulent-but-brilliant time in the band’s history. Though his exit was acrimonious, the members are now on good terms with Isbell, who’s gone on to an enviable solo career.
Along the way, DBT has confronted contemporary politics head on, having memorably called out U.S. Ted Cruz, a Texas Republican and frequent star of the Current’s Assclown Alert, at San Antonio-area appearances.
During those live appearances, the band’s dual frontmen and singer-songwriters, Mike Cooley and Patterson Hood, have been known to pull from any of its 14 studio LPs as they hammer out lengthy sets that keep fans guessing.
The Current checked in with Cooley, 59, on the phone as the hard-touring group prepared to launch yet another run of shows. We asked about politics, naturally, but we also found out whether it’s true that Cooley loves a certain classic hit-making duo.
Cooley also proved a well-spoken Southern gentleman. Even though the band’s songs often weave coal-black tales, he possessed an easy laugh, and one could almost hear him smiling over the phone.
The following interview has been edited for length and clarity.
You and [fellow frontman] Patterson met as roommates at the University of North Alabama. What do you think are the odds that two of the great songwriters of this generation would meet like that?
Pretty high. (Laughs.) All of those partnerships start somewhere. It could have been here, it could have been there. I could have run over him with my car.
That might not have worked out as well.
It would have made a cool sound! I’m gonna do that again, see if you can put a little more agony into it. (Laughs.)
Going back to that day when you guys met. How soon did you realize, “There’s a connection here?”
Pretty much right away. I had my guitar. They’re in the apartment with me.
Speaking of early years and influences, I read a quote a while back — I think it was from Patterson, but I couldn’t find it again — that you are a huge Hall & Oates fan. And that if there’s a cookout at your house, at some point you’re going to be busting out a Hall & Oates LP. Is this correct?
(Laughs.) I don’t know everything there is to know about Hall & Oates. I always thought they were kinda underrated, you know? I grew up in the late ’70s, ’80s, during their biggest heyday. That shit was just all over. It was pretty slick. I got tired of hearing it then, but time passed a little bit. I heard one of those songs on the radio, and I was like, “That was actually pretty fucking good.” I started going back and listening to some of the albums — the cuts that were before the heyday, that weren’t singles. This was actually really good stuff, you know?
It’s probably not fair to characterize that as an influence but—
I’m not going to even attempt to sound like that.
Right. So, you’ve got influences that you wear on your sleeve and then more offbeat stuff that you just enjoy.
I don’t want to listen to stuff that sounds like me.
Was there a time when you were growing up, maybe when you met Patterson, that you realized you wanted to be a professional musician?
I always liked the idea of it, going all the way back to childhood. I always liked the idea of being in a band then, you know, after I had a couple of jobs, I liked the idea of not having one of those any more either. I put those two realizations together, and this is where I am.
Let’s talk about set lists. It used to be that Patterson would play several songs in a row, and then you might take one. At some point, around the time you were touring for the 2014 LP English Oceans, it seemed like there was a conscious decision to do one from Patterson, one from you, and back and forth. How did that decision come about?
It wasn’t really a conscious decision. We just started doing that. It might have been a little bit before that record, but it was around that time. At some point, it started working out that way. We just gravitated to the back-and-forth thing.
Do you find that it feels different on stage when it’s like that, or are you guys just doing your thing and saying this is the next song?
It’s fun. It keeps you on your toes. It’s kind of challenging. It’s not nearly as laid-back or no-thought-required as having a set list, where everyone knows what’s coming next and not putting thought into it. We’re kind of constantly having to think about, you know, what should come next based on what the other is playing, where you are in the show. Things like that. Neither of us [is] eager to do all the singing, all night long. Going back and forth, it’s fun. You get to just play guitar for a while, then sing a song. (Laughs.)
The English Oceans tour did seem like a turning point for the live shows. Back in the day you’d all be taking turns drinking from a bottle of Jack you passed around, really having a good time. But at the show here in town on the English Oceans tour, there might only have been a couple of beers onstage. Fair to say the band has slowed down, maybe after Jason Isbell left the band? A lot of his solo material is about sobriety.
A good while after Isbell left the band. (Laughs.) There was kind of a lifetime in between those two periods. There was a whole other band, then another one and then another one. We’ve slowed down quite a bit with the booze intake since English Oceans. From Decoration Day to English Oceans, there was quite a bit of coolin’ the engines.
I assume at least some of that is aging.
Oh, God, yeah! We weren’t young enough to be behaving that way on Decoration Day. We got away with it a little longer than we should have, and I’m grateful.
You’ve said there won’t be new music in the near future, but there obviously will somewhere down the road. In the past, you’ve found a lot of inspiration in contemporary politics. Will that continue?
I don’t know. It’s neither a goal nor a blacklist. I don’t know what to say, to comment on this shit that isn’t already being said, that we aren’t already sick of saying.
True.
I guess that’s part of the point, part of the strategy. I’m as frustrated and disgusted as anybody is. I’m not planning on making a political record, but if we write a political record or a political song or two? Fine, put it out.
Do you feel like that’s a common feeling with the second Trump administration? Maybe that we just don’t want to think about it?
I think there is a burnout, and I think that’s part of the plan, part of the strategy. To just wear people down. Overload them. It’s working. A lot of people are exhausted, but maybe it’s a good kind of exhausted. Maybe when you get exhausted, you’re a little more able to focus instead of climbing on the roof and screaming like we were around 2017.
What should be done to combat that exhaustion?
I don’t know. If I were giving advice, I’d say find something to do. I haven’t done that yet, I’m sorry to say. Even just a small thing, that involves actually contributing something instead of just being mad. I think just being mad won’t hurt anybody but us. We need to put whatever energy you put into it to hurting them. Look around and see if there’s a group you can join up with and do some things a couple times a week. Anything other than just being mad.
$56.68-$126.58, 7 p.m. Thursday, May 29, Stable Hall, 307 Pearl Parkway, stablehall.com.
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This article appears in May 14-27, 2025.