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Hayes Carll is, by his own admission, a bit of a gambler. And judging from the 28 year-old singer-songwriter’s stage presence, he must have one hell of a good poker face. Whether he’s facing an intimate listening room audience or a packed dance hall of noisy, potentially hostile patrons hungry for the headliner, it’s always the same Hayes: shambling more than walking on stage like a guy who’s just woken from a restless sleep with a horrible hangover, reaching for an acoustic guitar when a pot of black coffee seems more in order. “This guy,” you invariably think, “is a mess.” That’s when he shows his hand, and you find you’ve been hustled. “I like to watch him,” offers Hayes’ friend Ray Wylie Hubbard, a rumpled hustler of a troubadour in his own right, “because it’s kind of like watching two trains heading full speed toward each other on the same track: it’s just a matter of time. But he’s always very in control, even though sometimes he doesn’t give that appearance. He walks on that stage, and he just owns it — like it’s his time, his stage, and he has total control and keeps your attention his whole set. And I admire that.”

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