Whitey Morgan & the 78’s are set to play at The Commonwealth Room on Sunday, Jan. 25, 2026 on their Damn The Weather tour. Doors are at 7 p.m. and Leroy from the North opens.
A couple of weeks before the tour began, Morgan spoke with me on the phone from his home in Montana. Here’s a taste of our sprawling conversation.
What got you into music in the first place?
I have sisters who are three and five years older than me. They were listening to AC/DC, Ozzy, stuff like that. I got into the same kind of music when I was still young. My grandfather was a country guitar player. I spent a lot of time with him and got introduced to bluegrass and country. He taught me to play guitar, and then I forgot all about the country stuff. In my early teens, I wanted to play loud and fast, all metal and punk rock. But when I inherited his record collection in my twenties, I fell hard for country music again and never looked back.
Did you know you could sing and play early on?
It took a while for me to find my voice, and it’s ever-changing. We’re recording currently, and I listen to the rough vocal tricks, and my voice sounds different now than it did even on the last record. Years of being on the road mean you get influenced by everything you listen to without realizing it might change you.
The first time I ever sang was in church with my grandpa, singing gospel bluegrass. I sang harmonies and was never very good at that. When I picked up his guitar after he passed, I started singing along with Merle Haggard, though, and that was a big influence on me.
Tell me about recording with Shooter Jennings. Are the songs you did connected to the new album?
He had a couple of days free, and we’d talked about recording together for a while, so I shot over to LA, and we knocked out three songs in three days. He’s so busy, and I’m so busy, that we just didn’t put anything back on the books. Now I have a collection of new songs and the band and I are doing them in Texas at Sonic Ranch, the same place I recorded my last two records.
It sounds like a great place to record.
It’s in the middle of nowhere, man. If you need 100% of your concentration, it’s the place you need to be. It’s where I needed to be. It’s tough for me to record in a city like New York or L.A, If I got a whole record to create, I need to be out there for a while. I need to know I can walk out of the studio and go over to my living quarters, not getting in the car and driving through traffic to get somewhere after every session. All I think about when I’m there is the last song we recorded. My brain never leaves the task at hand.
I’d think it would help draw the music out of you faster, that kind of a setting.
It’s a good way to not get distracted with outside bullshit. Some mornings, I’d wake up with a song in my head and start chipping away at it. After dinner was over, we’d go cut drums and bass and guitar and scratch vocals, and we’d have a new track to work on the next day.
What’s got you excited about the brand new one?
It has an energy to it. It’s a little more aggressive as far as guitar tones go, more rock-leaning. But anybody who knows me knows that’s who I am. I’m not listening to the old Hank Sr. stuff anymore like I was for the last 20 years. Now I’m listening to what I was listening to in my late teens and early 20s, and that’s exciting me.
So many bands are doing the same style I’ve already been doing for 25 years. And I can only do that for so long. It’s crazy how many little Jamey Johnsones and Cody Jameses and Whitey Morgans are out there now doing the same shit we’ve already been doing forever.
It reminds me of high school, where you love this band that people didn’t give a shit about for years; once that band got popular, they started loving it too. I’m burnt out on that scene, but I still love the music. I love playing the shows and the fans.
Do you take issue with bands that sound like you?
When everybody in the world likes what I like or plays what I play, it waters it down. It turns it into a boring saltine cracker. Why would you want everyone to sound the same?
I’m just grateful I’ve been able to pay the bills and do what I do. I’m a poor kid from Flint, Michigan and I’m cool, man. I got a house and a couple of cars, and I’m doing better than I ever thought I would.
What do you think you would have done if you hadn’t become a musician?
I’d probably still be in the custom automotive industry, which I did for years. I was a painter, a body man and a fabricator. I still love that stuff, I don’t have as much time to do it as I used to.
There are so many opportunities for people who have open minds, who are interested in taking different paths in music. Because of the internet, you can get your music out there to people who might like the same stuff you like. You can like some obscure indie rock genre and find it online; nobody has to show it to you. There’s something around there for everybody.
You’ve been signed in the past but aren’t currently. What’s the biggest difference?
Being assigned a record label is meaningless. You can do all the shit a label is going to do for you. If you’re smart, you can own your own masters, and that’s what it’s about. If you’re somebody who is on a record label — and you’re at the same level I am — you’re giving away so much of your money when you could be paying your band and team. You’re giving away all that money to the label that is supposed to have your best interests in mind, but they don’t. They take care of some things, but they tack on so much of a percentage on top of it that you can never really make any money and take care of your freaking family.
I feel bad for these guys I see out on the road. I’ll have bands opening for me who are on a tour bus. And they won’t be selling any tickets, but they’re paying for this tour bus. That shit is not free; the label keeps track of all of that. Eventually, they’ll get all that money back before the bands ever make a dollar.
They’re sold on the idea of a glamorous lifestyle by the label.
Somebody’s paying for all that at the end of the day. They’re paying for it now, but they’re charging it to you. When they drop you from the label and you still owe $2 million for these tours you went on, you pay for it eventually. The best way around that is getting a good team around you. Get a streaming distributor and make sure you own your masters. Then every dollar you make comes to you.
Did you have to find that out the hard way?
Can you tell? But that’s what it takes. Back in the day, I’m sure it was fine when bands were mostly selling physical copies of CDs. It was a different world then. Now I don’t understand what the hell a record label does. They hire all the same people bands can hire themselves.
When you explain it like that, why wouldn’t you choose to do it on your own?
Your overhead is going to cost a lot more. And if you’re selling out arenas, you need to have legit people who know what the hell they’re doing. But if you’re just playing clubs of 200 or 300 people, what do you need a record label for? You don’t. And there are plenty of songs out there from bands who have learned that same lesson.
This show is sure to help you fight the Sunday scaries this weekend. Get your tickets here.
Related: REVIEW: Sō Percussion Played Libby Gardner on Tuesday
Read more of our Music coverage and get the latest on the Arts and Culture scene in and around Utah. And while you’re here, subscribe and get six issues of Salt Lake magazine, your curated guide to the best of life in Utah.
