The Drunk Uncles

The Drunk Uncles

"The mournful moan of a pedal steel guitar carries on the thick night air billowing out of Barb Hollow, off of Rocky Branch Road near Blount County’s Walland foothills, muted only by the patter of recently fallen raindrops from the surrounding trees. Up a pitted gravel drive, goats trot toward the sound of approaching cars. Inside Gordy Gilbertson’s workshop, Brock Henderson sits at the pedal steel methodically working his way down the frets while his bandmates in The Drunk Uncles crack open fresh beers, debate the merits of an in-the-works new song and trade good-natured insults. A pool table sits nearby, covered with a film of sawdust blown in lazy circles by a couple of industrial fans that stir the air. A mutt the size of a hog is sprawled out on the cool concrete floor, oblivious to the conversation or the music; cut lengths of lumber are stacked into piles and stuffed into empty horse feed bags; a chicken named Bode struts in through the back door and cocks an eye at the five men who, after a few minutes, launch into a new tune.

It’s a scene that seems tailor-made for a country song by the Uncles — all that’s missing is the girl, although Sarah Pirkle, wife of Uncle Jeff Barbra, briefly puts in an appearance. If nothing else, it’s proof that the Uncles aren’t just singing country music — they’re living it. Whether it’s an obscure cover by George Jones or Vern Gosdin or an original written by Barbra and/or Uncle Mike McGill (the band’s songwriting team), the Uncles pour their hearts into every note. They do it for love of the song. Not for money or fame (or even infamy, although a small measure of that has been achieved locally) — but for the song...”
- Steve Wildsmith of The Maryville Daily Times