Though he takes his stage name from two of the state's most notorious prisons, South Florida roots singer/songwriter Raiford Starke's reputation as an outlaw doesn't actually stem from spending time in either institution."I've driven by 'em, but that's about it," says the guitarist with a laugh. "I don't know, it just sounded good. Two great names that sound great together, you know?"
His antisocial status isn't based on a criminal record, or even some contrived, image-conscious throwback to faded Wild West posters offering rewards for the bodies of cattle rustlers. Well, maybe the latter, a little — Starke's trademark cowboy hat and untamed facial hair echo Willie and Waylon's wilder days — but more than anything, it's his refusal to be neatly pigeonholed, in music and in life, that fosters the distinction.
Listening to Starke's music is a bit like wandering through a thrift store packed with all things Americana. Growing up in the Washington DC area, he came of age witnessing the explosion of the region's amazing chicken pickin'/rockabilly players like Jimmy Thackery and Danny Gatton. When he was a St. Pete resident back in the early '80s, the man was known primarily as a hot electric-blues player, but he also dabbled in bluegrass, playing in a band with now-WMNF DJ/Weekly Planet contributor/songwriter Pete Gallagher. Since then, as he and his tastes have wandered, he's gradually incorporated elements of everything from zydeco to insurgent country into a sound that's adventurous, yet reverent and heartfelt.
"I've always liked different stuff, I was never really a purist," says Starke. "I just can't stay in one bag, as far as musical style."
It's exactly the kind of thing that, while supremely fulfilling for the artist, can severely hamper his chances for the big-league record deal or standout national profile. Starke knows this well, as a trip to Nashville in search of work several years ago shortly found him living out of his car.
"In that way, a lot of people just can't grasp the concept of somebody being able to do different things, jump around," he says. "Sometimes when you're looking at the commercial thing, there seems to be a tendency to stay in one little genre, keep the focus on one thing."
The desire to make music his way eventually prevailed, and Starke relocated to South Florida. His subsequent release, 2000's Speak Me, showcases a songwriter at home with more pure roots styles than could ever make a pop-country music publisher comfortable, and a knack for successfully mixing them up on a whim. The disc (dedicated to Starke's late, longtime songwriting partner, Dicky Wilson) was roundly praised by the East Coast weeklies, but Starke admits to harboring a bit of uncertainty about its eclecticism even during its production.
"When I made that CD, I thought, 'maybe this goes all over the place too much,' and I had to ask the guy who produced it what he thought, and he said 'no man, this is fine, just the way it is,'" Starke said. "That really kind of sealed it for me."
A Starke live set is an unpredictable event, and may careen from stomping versions of blues standards to swamp-rock to Cajun in the space of a couple of minutes. He's made a second home of the Pinellas bar circuit, where he's joined on stage by the ex-Deloris Telescope rhythm section of bassist Stevie Grandmaison and drummer Ricky Wilcox. Collectively, they are one of the few three-sets-a-night "working bands" out of whom showcase-caliber energy can be expected.
For the upcoming Outlaws of Florida Folk Mini-Fest at Skipper's, however, Starke will be performing a stripped-down, semi-acoustic set of mostly original material. He says he's as at home with the sparse, intimate porch vibe as he is with the full-volume Telecaster, and would be hard pressed to say which one he enjoyed more.
"You know what? I love playing with the band … but I also like just doing the acoustic guitar thing. The acoustic guitar has another dynamic to it. It's nice to be able to do an acoustic thing after doing so many band gigs," he says. "I wouldn't want to exclude either one.
"Maybe [I like] the electric thing a little more, because of the power of it. But acoustic can be powerful too, when you're by yourself. See what you can do, what you can create with just the guitar and a harmonica. I don't know, man, it's hard to say."
Due to the Outlaws of Florida show's laid-back format, and the fact that Starke, Gallagher, Bobby Hicks and former Seminole Chief Jim Billie are all old peers who've collaborated and shared the stage in the past, Starke can't say for sure exactly who's going to be backing whom. But his long history with the colorful Billie, for whom he's worked both musically and otherwise, suggests the two will almost certainly play together. Starke's association with the Seminole tribe is a long and storied one — the songwriter has written regularly for the Seminole Tribune and received an award from the Native American Journalists' Association for reporting he did under his given name, Colin Kenny.
"To this day, I don't even know what story I wrote did it," he laughs. "I just fell into that, man. I was playing music for the chief, and whenever Pete would come down to Hollywood, we would get together, and I'd come up to the newspaper office, sort of hang out. I was shooting off my mouth, and Pete goes, 'why don't you write something?' I was kind of well known around the tribe because of the music, so I did it. It was just fun.
"I even went into regular reporting for the paper. Somebody got bit by a snake or something, I'd go out there. I was the guy that actually covered all of the accidents with reptiles. That became my specialty."
Scott Harrell can be reached at 813-248-8888, ext. 109, or by e-mail at scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Apr 23-29, 2003.