Ronnie Dunn’s name doesn’t always get to shine on its own. It’s usually trailing that of his longtime bandmate Kix Brooks. As Brooks & Dunn, the two men make up one of country music’s most iconic duos. They’ve sold tens of millions of records, released twenty number one singles, and racked up dozens of Grammy, Country Music Association, and Academy of Country Music awards since they joined forces in the early nineties. Their 1992 single “Neon Moon,” which Dunn penned on his own, is often cited as one of the best country songs of all time.
Dunn was born in Coleman, a small town about an hour southeast of Abilene, and moved around frequently as a kid before graduating from high school in Port Isabel. His music career kicked off in West Texas, where he spent many of his undergraduate hours at Abilene Christian University playing at local clubs and the town’s VFW hall. He charted a couple of minor singles as a solo artist in the early eighties, but his big break came in 1988, when he won a Marlboro-sponsored talent contest.
That got him in front of an Arista Records executive who thought Dunn would make a good songwriting pair with another up-and-comer, Louisianan Kix Brooks. He was right, and the duo stuck together for twenty years, then took a decade-long hiatus—not counting a Vegas residency with Reba McEntire—before returning to the Top Country Albums chart with 2019’s Reboot, an album that featured remixes of their numerous hits, including a Kacey Musgraves cover of “Neon Moon.”
That album’s looser and more experimental follow-up, Reboot II, comes out November 15, but it’s hardly the only thing on Ronnie Dunn’s calendar. He’s got numerous tours on the horizon, and he and his fellow Nashville singer and songwriter Ira Dean recently released an homage to the telecaster guitar: “Tele-Man,” on which they joined forces with Vince Gill, Brent Mason, and John Osborne—the country version of the Traveling Wilburys, according to Dean.
The 71-year-old Dunn sat down with us to talk about reboots, cowboys, and the state he still feels tied to, no matter how long he’s lived in Nashville.
Texas Monthly: Thank you for talking with me today.
Ronnie Dunn: Thank you. Is the other guy going to be in on it?
TM: No, it’s just you. You’re the Texan!
RD: Good, good. Now we’re talking business.
TM: On that subject, I know you moved around a ton as a kid, but what’s your relationship with Texas today?
RD: It’s home turf for me, obviously. I was born in Coleman, and then we lived all over the place. Dad was chasing pipeline work all my life, but he was born in Sherman, and he had that cowboy thing all over him. I never saw him wear shoes. It was always cowboy boots, always wore a hat, and that was just him. There was always an old broken-down horse in the backyard that he was trying to do something with. He was always doing something about half cowboy. And I think most pipeliners and guys in the oil business are pretty much cowboys anyway.
TM: A ton of Texas artists have done their own versions of “Neon Moon,” including Cigarettes After Sex, Fat Tony, and Leon Bridges. What’s it like to have a song that appeals to artists in all kinds of genres?
RD: It feels great having Texas guys do it. For me, country music didn’t start in Nashville. It comes from Texas.
TM: When did country music start getting a hold on you?
RD: I was born in the fifties, so I don’t remember country music not ever being around. It was always going. If you get in the car, we wouldn’t talk, we’d be listening to country radio. God forbid you get caught on vacation with my dad driving, smoking Marlboros with the frickin’ windows up, listening to Loretta Lynn. I grew up on country, but I was listening to rock. Willie, that’s what turned me on to country music. When Willie came out with Red Headed Stranger and the Austin scene took off with Jerry Jeff Walker and the Armadillo World Headquarters, that’s when I really started listening. That’s the ideal kind of country music for me. It’s just a perfect combination of rock and that rebellious stuff—and the Texas sensibility.
TM: What’s the Texas sensibility?
RD: It’s just that attitude. It’s kind of a no-nonsense, I don’t know—braggadocious, is that a word?
TM: Yep.
RD: I dunno. There’s a swagger to it. You’ve got to walk differently if you’re wearing cowboy boots.
TM: So tell me about this new record. How did y’all come up with the artists you wanted to include?
RD: We tried to bring artists in that maybe weren’t that familiar with the music. A lot of these kids are coming in from the internet and haven’t even found their voices yet. We did one particular song, I’m not going to name the artist, but he said, “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I just started posting songs on TikTok, and next thing you know, I’ve got a record deal.” So in the studio he really couldn’t find the vibe he wanted to get with the song. And I was just fishing to see where his head was, and I said, “When we hit the chorus, let’s just take it to Nirvana.” And he’s like, “Yeah, let’s go there.” That kind of set the tone for everything that went on with the Reboot II project.
TM: This album is looser than the last one. What was that like, giving your songs over to completely different interpretations?
RD: It wasn’t as traumatic to me as it’s going to be to people who hear it. Country music fans traditionally don’t like change. The mandate for Reboot I was to keep it between the lines, to honor the original stuff. This one was just the opposite. Every artist, it was up to them how they approached the song. There are a couple of cuts that scare me. And I don’t scare easily.
TM: Scary can be good.
RD: You’re not living until you’re outside your comfort zone, and we’re definitely doing that on a bunch of cuts. I always admired guys like Willie for taking different stances, different slants. Johnny Cash was the same way.
TM: Is everybody on this record pretty green?
RD: Some of them are new, and others are just coming into their own. You’ve got Jelly Roll. Lainey Wilson was right on the cusp [of stardom] when we started recording. Of course, Morgan Wallen, who did “Neon Moon”—he’s been up and rocking. We’re going on tour with him in a little bit. I got a text from him not two hours ago, and he says, “Hey, man, I’m so glad that you guys are coming out and doing this stuff with us.” I said, “Dude, you’re making us look cool to a younger audience.” And he goes, “Yeah, and you guys are getting all the ‘He ain’t country’ people off our back.” The tour’s starting in Lubbock, of all places. I don’t remember ever playing in Lubbock. Maybe we did years ago, but we’ll go up and set up there and then we’ll come to Austin. I think that’s the second show. Texas has always been home turf.
TM: Y’all are finishing up a tour right now. You’re doing the Neon Moon Tour next year. You’ve got this album coming out. You’ve got your solo work. That “Tele-Man” single dropped recently. Do you ever sit down?
RD: If I’m not creating, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be self-destructing or tearing something up. It’s just a drive. I love it. You got to love it. To be able to tough out what it takes to do it. It’s unbelievable. I think about, today, all those bars and beer joints I played at. I have a friend, we went to school together in Abilene, and he called recently and goes, “How’d you do it, man? How’d you do it?” I said, “No plan B, brother, no plan B.”
This interview was edited for clarity and length.
This article originally appeared in the December 2024 issue of Texas Monthly with the title “Ronnie Dunn Had No Plan B.” Subscribe today.
