Vernon Trumbull and His Kinsmen bring the sounds of Houston, TX to life in a style they call Bayoubilly. You will feel the essence of that muddy water coursing through Spanish Moss laden Live Oaks as Vernon and the boys demonstrate their wide ranging repertoire of original music. The band defies easy categorization as you will hear country, blues, rock, swamp and rockabilly blending into their sets and releases.

The band consists of veteran musicians each with impressive resumes. Scott Ayers (Guitar) led the legendary Pain Teens, and has played in Anarchitex and Walking Timebombs. He is also currently in Frog Hair. Scott’s playing style has been an influence on many Texas musicians. Mark Weathers (Bass) lays down the sonic foundation as he did with Josefus, Spunk and many others and spent years working as a session player for legendary record producer AV Mittlestedt at SoundMasters Studios in Houston. Brian Scardino (Drums) is a versatile, “deep pocket” drummer, with over 20 years experience playing Texas music and touring the world with artists such as Carolyn Wonderland and The Hightailers. Vernon (Lead Vocals) led influential punk bands in Ohio before moving to Texas and finding his soul.

"You can’t find Vernon Trumbull with an algorithm,” Vernon posits as I climb into the passenger seat of his Ford Bronco II. He sits in the cockpit donning black aviators, reflecting the Houston sun at anyone bold enough to look him in the eyes. Vernon’s beard is red as the sunset now chasing us. He’s picked me up from the airport to teach me a thing or two about Real American Music over the course of the weekend.  

Trumbull drives at a leisurely pace, like a man who knows his destination will wait for him. The humid Houston air whips through the Bronco’s open windows. Vernon takes a deep breath of it and bellows a new tune, his voice accompanied by the din of the interstate: “You can’t be bad when you’re at home with me.” Vernon sings the way he drives, giving each turn of phrase the reverence one might reserve for a religious reading.

Given the size of his stage presence and physical commitment to the performance, the unseasoned observer might call him Elvis. “Elvis from Hell” is a worthier epithet, to borrow a phrase from Kid Congo Powers. Unlike the King, this rockabilly royal wouldn’t set foot in a church except to use its acoustics on a record. 

Any deity would cherish his devotion, but Vernon isn’t one to praise a god who won’t sing back.