Mike Cooley in Manitou

Mike Cooley might be the first artist I have seen note the thin air for its impact on his guitar. 

During his set in Manitou Springs – altitude 6,430 feet - Cooley showed no ill effects in his singing. But he made light of the tuning troubles rather than complaining. 

“Altitude is a permanent part of my condition. You’d think this piece of wood would be used to it by now,” he said. 

In the audience sat the man who made Cooley's guitar - Scott Baxendale, a guitar maker whose has had shops in Denver, Athens, Georgia, and now in Santa Fe - sat in the audience, having played with opener, whose name already escapes me. 

When Mike Cooley and Patterson Hood of the Drive-by Truckers embarked on their annual winter solo acoustic tours, I hoped one might book a nearby gig. At first I expected a drive to Denver. Cooley played there Friday, after mountain town shows in Durango and Steamboat Springs. 

Then I noticed a fourth show – Manitou Springs, the hippy resort town wedged between Colorado Springs and the mountains. I had a 12-minute drive to the show at Lulu’s Downstairs, remodeled venue in the former lounger of a Travelodge among Manitou’s many old hotels. 

The show came at the end of Cooley’s solo tour, or at least what he considered the end. “I’m going to do a few things when I get home but that doesn’t count,” he said, rattling off Nashville and Oxford, Mississippi as other shows to come. 

For 90 minutes alone onstage, Cooley traced the entire history of the Drive-by Truckers in his songs. Cooley might be less prolific than bandmate Hood, but he tends to be less timely and more universal in his songwriting. 

Most Cooley songs would not sound out of place if sung by country greats. Take Zip City from Southern Rock Opera – who else pens lyrics like, “I get 10 miles per gallon and got no good intentions.” 

Imagine Johnny Cash ripping through Perfect Timing – “I used to hate the fool in me, but only in the morning/Now I tolerate him all day long.” It fits. I only had to wait three songs for the one I needed to hear, Cartoon Gold, a song of vignettes that even Cooley confessed confusion about its meaning. 

“If I knew what this song was about, I’d tell you, but I’m going to go ahead and play it anyway.” It might be the only song I like to mention dog shit, but Cooley makes it work. 

Brighter than Creation’s Dark received the most attention, with show opener Self-Destructive Zones, then Perfect Timing, Check-out Time in Vegas (a lyric from the latter giving the album its title), and the always stellar Ghost to Most. 

 The bruising Where the Devil Don’t Stay was almost unrecognizable. The Dirty South staple came off as an entirely different song. Made-up English Oceans also got a folk makeover, its punk speed retained even as its gallop slowed considerably. Cooley often traded fingerpicking for power chords, adding an unseen beauty to songs that can feel rough-hewn when performed in full DBT band mode. He still bashed out a few tracks, but it 

A Blessing and a Curse might be DBT’s least-lauded album (Jason Isbell was so drunk he doesn’t remember recording and got fired afterward), but Cooley’s tunes hold up well. He performed both Gravity’s Gone and Space City. When moving through Gravity’s Gone, he wryly parodied the lyrics after that the song that “Sometimes you fall so fast, you forget the words.” 

At his best, I always thought Cooley could write songs from Southern perspectives that didn’t insult the dignity of the subjects but also felt authentic. He has a homespun quality that you can’t fake, and it embeds that character in every song he crafts. 

On the small stage in Manitou, he put on a clinic in country-rock songwriting, always humble ever-thoughtful.