In the late 1970s and early ’80s, rising singer-songwriters Shake Russell and Michael Marcoulier were following in the footsteps of Townes Van Zandt, Guy Clark, Jerry Jeff Walker, and KT Oslin. The two played their original music around Houston’s then-fertile club scene.
The folky, acoustic sound that resonated loudly inside institutions such as Anderson Fair and Sand Mountain and new rooms like Corky’s, Theodore’s, and Houlihans during the late 1970s and early ’80s had spawned a new generation of Texas songsters, including John Vandiver, Lyle Lovett, Vince Bell, Lucinda Williams, Blaze Foley, and Nanci Griffith, the dulcet-voiced sweetheart of the clubs, who often paired up with future husband Eric Taylor.
Russell came to Houston at the suggestion of fellow singer-songwriter John Vandiver after trying Chicago and New York. Marcoulier had devoted himself to music full-time as soon as he graduated from Rice University’s architecture school. For a moment, the two joined forces and created The Full Moon Band—but their experiment didn’t last long.
Marcoulier realized he was seeking wider musical horizons than the Americana vein Russell was mining. When Russell’s old friend Dana Cooper moved to Houston from California, the pair became a duo. The Full Moon Band became Marcoulier, along with fellow Rice graduate Jim Alderman on drums, Pete Gorisch on bass, and Steven Beasley on lead guitar and backing vocals. That version of The Full Moon Band lasted a couple years until Adelman and Gorisch left to play with Russell and Cooper.
Russell went on to record 32 albums. Marcoulier fathered a child and became a home builder in Sugarland before retiring in 2018.
But John Moss, their old manager, couldn’t get them out of his head.
Moss first heard all the above musicians at Theodore’s, the club that he managed, which inspired him to start a production company to guide the careers of Full Moon, Marcoulier, Russell, and John Vandiver. The Full Moon Band recorded demos, “but I couldn’t get a major label to bite,” Moss says.
About five years ago, Moss started conversations with the musicians about finishing the album. Last year he booked a condo and a week of time at La Mafia’s recording studio in northeast Houston, bringing Russell back into the fold to record 12 new songs. The vintage demo tracks “Four O’Clock Monday Morning” and Marcoulier’s tribute to Gram Parsons, “The Coming of His Darkness,” provide the bookends opening and closing Montrose Diner, which is being released independently.
“I’m still buzzing this actually happened,” the 72-year-old Marcoulier says. The group recorded basic rhythm tracks for the songs for a week. After that, they spent another six months doing the final vocals and overdubs, adding harmonies and guest artists. “It took a long time, but the whole process was a lot of fun. It was really cool seeing everybody and getting together again.”
The band really never ended as far as Marcoulier and Russell are concerned. Even after the band split up originally, the musicians still jammed together from time to time. But the new album validates what Marcoulier had to set aside a long time ago. He says that time in the ’70s and ’80s was an amazing period of his life and the songs on the album encompasses that era of music in Houston.
“The past 40 years, music has been a part time-thing, but I’ve never totally let loose of that dream,” he says. “Whatever I’ve been doing, I’ve always been playing. It’s neat to have a band with the sound you envision when you’re writing a song. I believe we really did make some good music.”
Russell, the guy who never stopped, thinks the look back was worth it. “It’s a great sounding record with a lot of great songs,” he says. “Everybody’s still got their chops.”
