Bud Gambrell & Zach Taylor
Sep 13, 2026
Making Music, Making Art, and Making Sandwiches
It was a September day in North Alabama, but not a crisp one. Although it was September, the summer heat still lingered, with a heat index between 105 and 109 degrees. The Alabama Heathens kept going despite the heat—there was a video to shoot for a new single called “Better Off Gone”.
My other half on the Alabama "dream team," Zach Taylor reminded me to visit the gin for the video shoot that day. By gin, he meant the 1910 Gin and Moonpie John's. By video, he referred to The Alabama Heathens shoot for "Better Off Gone". Naturally, I eagerly accepted.
I grabbed my camera and headed out on that strenuous one-mile trek down the road to 1910 Gin. I drive by there nearly every day on my way home. This day combines two things I dearly enjoy. It’s no secret that I thoroughly enjoy taking pictures of The Alabama Heathens. I also very much enjoy going to Moonpie John’s. It’s time for a shameless plug. If you’re ever in the area, be sure to stop by and see Jeff and Corey at Moonpie John’s. It’s a wonderful place to grab a bite to eat and a cold drink on Saturday and Sunday.
For now, I will step aside and let Zach do what he does best: write. Well, he talks too, but for the sake of this article, he excels at writing. Zach writes, and I take pictures. That combo works really well. Did I mention it was hot that day? It almost felt like we were shooting the video on the surface of the sun. The best part was that everyone was having such a good time that the heat didn't deter us. So, be on the lookout for the new video for “Better Off Gone” coming soon!
And now, some words from Zach.
A few weeks ago, Dylan Johnson, lead singer for The Alabama Heathens, texted me looking for locations for the music video for their new single, “Better Off Gone.” He wanted to use the 1910 Gin, but he needed a few other locations too. Specifically, a house. I’m not going to spoil the how or why.
Early last week, the two of us went for a drive around Hump, Alabama, home of the Quick Airplane and a good portion of my family. First, a little background on my relatively short history with The Heathens. I started working with Bud Gambrell after meeting him this spring as a fellow indie author. Somewhere along the way, Bud hatched a plan for me to start writing for Mixed Alternative Magazine. Sure. Apparently, I needed another hobby.
My first interview was with The Alabama Heathens at Moonpie John’s, named after my great-grandfather, J.H. “Moonpie John” Taylor. My uncle, Jeff Taylor, owns the store and the 1910 Gin. Before that interview, I’d only listened to The Heathens on Spotify. Looking back, I don’t think the interview was particularly good. Not because of them, but because I didn’t know how to interview yet. I was asking questions, but I wasn’t really getting to know them or their sound. That changed a few weeks later when I saw them play at Mars Music Hall. My wife and I were invited backstage to hang out, and the show was incredible. That was the night I realized: These guys really have something.
Over the last few months, I’ve gotten to know them and many of the other artists in their orbit. I’ve seen them play several times. When Dylan asked if I could help with the video, I was delighted to do whatever I could. Some of that help was artistic. I showed him the Hump Creek swimming hole. We talked about shooting with the JH Taylor Bridge in the background. We talked through the opening, where Dylan’s fictional woman throws his suitcase and guitar out of the house before he runs away with the band in a getaway car. That created another problem. They needed a getaway car. I graciously offered either my 2004 Pontiac GTO or my 2013 ZL1 Camaro convertible. A few days later, Dylan told me he’d found something else. I remember thinking: What could be cooler than a 580-plus-horsepower, blacked-out convertible?
Well...
The answer eventually showed up as a fully restored 1971 Mach 1 Mustang connected to the James Bond film Diamonds Are Forever. That’ll do it. The Gin is exactly what its name suggests. A gin. Big. Steel. Tin. And very much without central HVAC. It quickly became clear we needed cold water. I asked if they needed anything else. “Smokes.” “Beer.” I raised an eyebrow. None of them smoke. And it was a little early for beer. Even for me. They laughed. Props. Right.
I ran up to Dollar General and, while I was there, realized nobody had considered another fairly important part of spending an entire day filming: lunch. So, I bought sandwich meat, bread, chips, water, and whatever else looked useful. As I told them, nobody goes hungry around me. It’s just one of my quirks.
Tye Brown directed the shoot, while Uncle Jeff and I helped wherever we were needed, from load-in through sound. Mostly Jeff handled sound. My responsibility was much more prestigious. I was in charge of starting and stopping “Better Off Gone.” I took this responsibility very seriously. Over the next several hours, we shot around the Gin, including a really cool getaway sequence from Uncle Jeff’s front porch, before heading to the swimming hole. I drove my truck while Tye filmed from the bed. SUPER COOL. That’s where one of my favorite moments happened. When we pulled up, people were already swimming. The band looked at me. Apparently, this was my problem. So, I walked over, explained that we were shooting a music video, and asked if they wanted to be part of it or would mind clearing out for a few minutes. Then I told them who the band was. They went crazy.
They already knew The Alabama Heathens. That was pretty damn cool. But the most interesting part of the day had almost nothing to do with the video. I’ve spent a fair amount of time around Dylan, Jude, Tim, and Will over the last few months, but most of it has been at shows, interviews, or events. We haven’t had many chances to really sit down and talk.
Dylan is naturally reserved. I think back to that first interview when I met him. As a novice, I expected the frontman to dominate the conversation. He didn’t. I’d ask a question. He’d give me a short answer. So, I was a little surprised when he started asking me about being an author. You should have seen the shock on my face. Naturally, I started with my mistakes. That’s who I am. You’ve heard most of them already, so I won’t torture you with them again. But eventually the conversation turned to growth. Suddenly, Dylan opened up to me as if we’d known each other for years. It felt incredibly natural, and I don’t think the conversation’s significance really hit me until hours later, when I was telling my wife how much fun I’d had being everybody’s gopher. I started telling her about my conversation with Dylan, then stopped. “Wow. I didn’t realize how in-depth and personal that conversation got.”
Dylan talked about how much the band’s sound has changed, especially since adding Jude Roberts. I’ve been waiting for a band to use slide guitar as more than decoration. I love the way Dean DeLeo uses it in some Stone Temple Pilots songs, but it often feels like another color in the arrangement. With The Heathens, Jude’s playing has increasingly become part of the sound's backbone. And I love it.
From there, we started talking about writing. His. Mine. And about how difficult it is to create something in a vacuum. How much pressure that brings. But also, how terrifying collaboration can be, because it requires vulnerability. You have to hand somebody something that came out of your head and say: Tell me what’s wrong with it.
I told Dylan I could hear his growth from their five-song EP to “Better Off Gone.” That’s when I learned he’d started co-writing with other people some time ago, including Bay Simpson, whom I’ve interviewed as well. That led us to a really interesting question: When you collaborate, does the finished work become more you or less you? Someone reads your words. Changes one word. Moves another. Alters the cadence. Cuts something you loved. And somehow the result can become sharper and more honest than what you started with. Even when the answer is simply: Write less. Say more. Trust your audience. That’s been a huge lesson for me, too.
Eventually, we ended up talking about something every new artist seems to confront: What happens when you make something you genuinely believe is good... and almost nobody notices? For them, it was an EP and an endless string of gigs. For me, it was releasing my book and then discovering just how far you can push an award-winning novel that has still sold fewer than 500 copies. We found a lot of common ground there. Marketing. Social media. Deciding whether to spend money you don’t really have. Wondering whether the right person might eventually hear the song, read the book, or see the show and suddenly open a door. We’re both still waiting for that moment. We laughed about it.
Dylan told me that being a songwriter sometimes feels like writing a thousand songs to find one. I talked about how indie authors have to build a backlist. Persistence. Sometimes for the sake of persistence. And that’s hard because you sometimes have to write the song that doesn’t work. Sometimes you have to write the chapter you eventually delete. Sometimes you have to finish something only to realize what you should have made instead. But you have to keep making things. Then we talked about something maybe even harder: looking backward. Something you made a few years ago may have felt like the absolute best thing you were capable of creating. Then you get better. Suddenly, you’re looking at the thing you once loved and seeing your artistic infancy. Will you still be proud of it twenty years from now? Will you appreciate how much you’ve grown? Will you hate it?
Dylan is in his early twenties. I told him that’s an advantage I don’t have. He has time. We talked about Stephen King and the work that existed before anyone noticed it. How artists sharpen their craft by doing it over and over and over again. And I told him some of the best advice I’ve received since becoming an author: Accept that failure will be most of the job. What impressed me most was hearing Dylan talk about how he’s started reading specifically to become a better writer. That opened another rabbit hole. Books I’ve read. Podcasts I listen to. Research I’ve done while writing. I told him about Mark Lanegan’s Sing Backwards and Weep and some other books that helped me understand artists, bands, addiction, touring, and the music business from perspectives I simply didn’t have. Those books have made me better at writing about fictional musicians. Sometimes they’ve apparently made me a better fake band manager, too, because we somehow ended up discussing merchandise.
At The Heathens’ recent show at the Trash Pandas stadium, they ran out of larges and extra-larges even though they still had plenty of smalls and mediums. I told Dylan I’d researched and written almost this exact problem for one of my fictional band managers. He asked what she did with the leftover shirts. “Bandanas.” He loved it. We laughed. That led to another thing I’ve come to really appreciate: our local music scene, especially the younger artists. They support one another. A recent show at Voodoo Lounge made that obvious. It’s a tiny room, and at one point I realized I might have been the only person there who wasn’t another musician, somebody’s girlfriend, or somebody’s family. At this point, they pretty much treat me like family, too.
I told Dylan about the book events where I’ve sold zero copies. And the “good” events where I sell fifteen books and still don’t cover expenses. But I met people. I talked about the book. I put the product in front of someone new. He talked about playing shows where hardly anyone came. Same lesson. Keep going.
Keep putting the thing in front of people. Especially when you know the product is good. Especially when you know it’s getting better. Eventually, we started talking about recording the album and possible release dates, which somehow led both of us to realize: They need an album-release show.
Not: “That would be nice.” It HAS to happen. By the time Dylan and I finished talking, we’d probably been standing there for thirty minutes. I had the strange feeling I’d just been talking to a younger version of myself, which doesn’t make much sense. I don’t play music. He doesn’t write novels. We’re separated by roughly twenty years. But the things underneath? The fear. The ambition. The need to get better. The frustration of creating something you believe in and wondering why more people haven’t found it yet. The hope that the next song, the next book, the next show, the next conversation might move the needle. That part felt remarkably familiar.
I can’t speak for Dylan, but I walked away from that conversation feeling encouraged. Empowered, even. I hope I gave him a little of that. And if not? At least I made the sandwiches. Until next time...
ENJOY THE SHOW!
The new video for "Better Off Gone" will be out SOON!
*All photos by Bud Gambrell
To learn more about The Alabama Heathens:
Where to find Zach Taylor:
Website:
https://sites.google.com/view/zach-taylor-author/home
TikTok:
zach taylor, author (@zachtaylorbooks) | TikTok
Facebook:
Where to find Bud:
Website:
https://bgambrellphotography.com
Amazon:
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/bud.gambrell
