Ben Kweller

It’s the year 1990. Friday night in a small east Texas town called Greenville. Boys are cruising Wesley Street in their S10 pickup trucks, searching for action. They pull into Sonic, order cheese tater-tots and begin to socialize. Everyone’s dressed up in cowboy hats. The cool kids are wearing Justin Lace-R’s and competing to see who can lace them the fastest. A Ford F-250 sits at a red light. The driver rolls down the windows as a DJ says, “That was the latest hit from Travis Tritt and you’re listening to 93.5 KIKT FM!” Over at the roller rink, couple-skaters float to the pattering “November Rain” and sway to “The Dance”, by Garth Brooks. Up front, youngsters eat rectangular pizzas and drink Crystal Pepsi. There’s a middle-school girl with hair-sprayed bangs and red Wrangler jeans on, tucked in the corner making out with a boy named Ben Kweller. Tomorrow Ben will be walking down the Sabine River with his pal Wade, fishing for bass and smoking Camel Wides near the dilapidated moonshine still. In town, country music is inescapable and follows Ben wherever he goes, but when he comes home, he hears The Hollies’ harmonies from his dad’s turntable. And in six... more...