https://www.austinchronicle.com/daily/music/2009-10-10/892892/

“Six Foot Five with Boots and Hat”

By Margaret Moser, October 10, 2009, 2:57pm, Earache!

It’s been seven years since I hung around with Rusty Wier for a story. I also saw his legendary Saxon Thanksgiving shows but those had ended in 2007 when the cancer made it too difficult for him. That was when it was clear Rusty wasn’t going to win this battle.

Rusty Wier died Friday, October 9, age 65, after a two-year battle with cancer. Even after the diagnosis and treatment, Rusty never gave up. He’d been fighting battles of one sort or another since he was a kid, playing as a pre-teen in The Centennials then notable Austin 60s bands such as The Wig and Lavender Hill Express. A rebel in the progressive country mode who wasn’t part of the cosmic cowboy elite, Wier nonetheless penned one of THE outlaw anthems.

“Don’t It Make You Wanna Dance” ultimately won him double-platinum album status when Bonnie Raitt had a hit with the song on the Urban Cowboy soundtrack, yet Wier, who moved to Austin at six days old, was a master songwriter with the soulful voice of a gospel singer and an entertainer on par with the best. His quartet of mid-1970s cosmic-cowboy-era albums – Rusty Wier, Don't It Make You Wanna Dance, Black Hat Saloon, and Stoned, Slow, Rugged – stand among his best, though his 2003 CD, Under My Hat matches them for country-rock grit while the more recent I Stood Up is pure country-gospel.

Rusty was an absolute hoot to be around in part because he was devoid of false modesty, knew where many bodies were buried, and told a story like a pro. He could be self-deprecating about his life and times (his personal history with wives, girlfriends, kids, and other women could rival Willie’s), but never expressed regret about any of it: he was married to the music. He was also very frank about his heavy cocaine use in the 70s and 80s, but refused to downplay his love of drinking and smoking. Yet Rusty Wier took such great pride in being an entertainer – and that was the word he preferred – he understood implicitly what each stage of life as a performer was about. And he might have written his own epitaph when he spoke these words in 2002.

“I’ve had a wonderful time. I feel privileged. There’s nothing else I could have possibly done in my life where I would have had as much fun and made a living. I play songs, I make music, that's what I love to do. And I don’t have to kiss nobody’s ass.”

Amen, Rusty.