As Hubbard explained to me while we were hunkered down for an afternoon nearly a decade ago at his home near Austin in Wimberley – when the renegade ruffian singer whipped up a meticulously prepared cappuccino for his guest – he consciously decided to shift toward the ethereal after gorging on a pile of books by the likes of Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft while also listening to old-timey gospel music, as he was getting ready to release his 2009 album A. Enlightenment, B. Endarkenment. (Hint: There is No C). That movement toward the cerebral might also have been a reaction to his goofy 2006 song "Snake Farm" that fans insist he play at every show, just like "Screw You, We're From Texas" or that other familiar cash-cow ditty he wrote decades earlier that contains the words "redneck" and "mothers."
The new record — the third in his trilogy exploring a life well lived — is indeed one of Hubbard's finest pieces of work, and not because he has assembled stellar vocalists including Patty Griffin and Lucinda Williams to join in. Though the album leads off with the in-your-face biblical track "God Looked Around," that song doesn’t even come close to several of the other, more memorable compositions that delve into Christianity's quirks and the age-old worries about mortality, part of what Hubbard described to me more recently as his spiritual awakening rather than merely finding religion.
So while it might be easy to come with a list of Hubbard's best countrified party songs, we're sticking to 10 of the best songs over the years that have featured his musings about God, the Devil and everything in between. Can we get an Amen?
10. "Ask God"
The Grifter's Hymnal, 2012
Not all of Hubbard's forays into religion have been steeped in imagery or shaded by lyrics where Hubbard might have spent hours trying to find a word that rhymed with "metaphysical." This one is a tribute to the kind of simple, gospel songs his grandmother took to heart, with a repetitive refrain that doubles as affirmation as Hubbard boosts the intensity level as each verse moves along: "When some devil knocks you down, ask God to pick you up."
Tell the Devil I'm Getting There as Fast as I Can, 2017
A song that fits comfortably in the stripped-down, acoustic arrangement Hubbard favors for his live shows these days working only with two backing musicians – and the finger-picking style he didn't learn until he was in his forties, which has since become his signature style. Here, Ray Wylie delves into his favorite theme of someone wrestling with spirituality: "When I seek to unravel the sacred I get perplexed and overwhelmed." You certainly won't find any Nashville country stars tossing in the words "ecclesiastical and "ethereal" into their songs, as Hubbard does in this track.
8. "The Way of the Fallen"
Snake Farm, 2006
Hubbard has written countless songs that tell tales of n'er-do-wells who inhabit the world that he often describes as devils, whether they're actually in the employ of Hades' headmaster or not. In this case, driven by a military beat and some subtle slide work, this song tells of one particular devil's frustration in that he seems to be losing out to the growing need by the world to find religion – or at least in Corpus Christi, where the song is set. "Perhaps I should mention," the devil says as the song reaches its zenith, "I prefer to die with a bottle of wine than the comfort of religion."
Another stripped-down blues song in which a preacher shows up at the door one day to pitch his idea of redemption and how those who find God can expect heavenly rewards. While they're talking, the protagonist is spending most of his time exactly where he wants to be: distracted by watching the woman next door hang out her washing, and asks the preacher if he's seen anything as fine. At that point, the preacher closes his Bible and leaves: "Must have been something I said."
6. "New Year's Eve at the Gates of Hell"
The Grifter's Hymnal
This rousing country-rocker features Hubbard alternating between tongue-in-cheek references and hitting stride in full snarl, as he name drops some people he'd like to settle up with. When he wonders what the stench is coming from hell, he knows right away: "It's Jimmy Perkins and all the sons of bitches who ripped off musicians and stole their riches, they're burning over yonder with the Fox News whores." Perkins is the label chief Hubbard struck up a deal with for distribution of his Snake Farm record. Didn't quite work out to Hubbard's satisfaction, apparently.