If Texas guitar playing had a definitive DNA strand, it would look a lot like the collective resume of Ian Moore, Johnny Moeller and Jesse Dayton. For the past three decades, these virtuosic titans have operated on the cutting edge of roots music, each carving out a distinct, fiercely loyal empire. Moore brought soaring, soulful psychedelia back to the blues; Moeller infused the Austin scene with an uncompromising, razor-sharp funk and string-bending ferocity; and Dayton injected punk-rock adrenaline into the heart of classic outlaw country.

Last year, these three incandescent talents had the bright idea to form an alliance – Texas Headhunters – and record a knockout self-titled debut album that can already be called a modern classic. In an era where roots music has become painfully manicured and defanged for mass consumption, Moore, Moeller and Dayton just plug in and blast through the screen.

The beauty of the band is this: They aren't trying to sell you a mythologized, pristine version of the Lone Star State; they’re giving you the unfiltered grease, the high volume and the sweat of that legendary Austin nightclub Antone’s, where all three made their bones. They play with the kind of dangerous, competitive fire that only old friends who have nothing left to prove can cook up. On Texas Headhunters, they dished it out with feral energy that made you realize just how bloodless everything else has become.

“The response to the first album was very gratifying,” Dayton says. “A lot of people were like, ‘Finally, here’s some Texas guitar slingers doing their own thing.’ Let’s be honest, in the blues world you can’t swing a cat without hitting somebody who’s doing an impression of the Vaughan brothers. We’re doing our own take on the whole Texas thing, and I think it’s fresh for a lot of listeners.”

The band knocked out Texas Headhunters during a raucous “no smoke and mirrors” five-day studio blast, and that’s exactly how long it took them to lay down Rise and Shine, a tight, tuneful and tumultuous 10-song set that gets the job done from start to finish. Not surprisingly, the guitar playing is off the chain (these guys could conduct six-string masterclasses in a hammock), but their singing is stronger, and not only that – their songwriting has grown remarkably in the last year. The material is smart and sophisticated (terms they would bristle at), but there’s a tough naturalness to it, and many songs contain vivid cinematic narratives.

For Moeller, a member of the Fabulous Thunderbirds since 2007 and admittedly a late bloomer when it comes to songwriting, the process of working with Moore and Dayton has been revelatory. “I’ve never thought of myself as a real songwriter before, but being in this band has taught me a lot – and quickly,” he says. “We seem to work on deadlines – ‘We’re going in the studio!’ – and that lights a fire under my ass.”

As they did on their first album, the band self-produced Rise and Shine with an eye toward capturing their live chemistry (they tracked all the songs with an ace rhythm section composed of bassist Michael Archer and Jay Moeller – Johnny’s brother – on drums). “This is the first band I’ve been in that’s free of anxiety,” Dayton says. “We vamp through three or four songs, and pretty soon we sound like us. You just can’t force that. It’s either there, or it’s not.” 

Dayton comes out loaded for bear on the epic album opener, “Cut N Run,” a gutsy, hair-raising blast of high-octane shuffle business on which the guitarist pays homage to two major Lone Star influences: Freddie King and Billy Gibbons. “We all love Freddie King. In fact, we walk on stage to his recording of ‘Palace of the King,’ Dayton says. “I thought, ‘What could be better than a funky blues rock song with Freddie King licks over it?’ Of course, we all pray to the altar of Reverend Willie G. Billy would probably say this is me doing an impression of him doing an impression of Freddie.”

Speaking of tributes, there’s the aptly named “Drive You Crazy.” Over a ripping groove, Moeller prances and struts, summoning the braggadocio spirit of Johnny “Guitar” Watson as he tips his hat to his bandmates: “Have you heard about Jesse D., he’s an instigator; let me tell ya about Mr. Moore, he’s the Lone Ranger.”

“You can never go wrong with Bo Diddley,” Moore says about “Bigshot,” his explosive, off-beat stunner that comes at you like a driving tribal chant. Weaving masterfully in and out of his own white-hot licks, he roars, “I grew up wild and I grew up quick, running with my partners through the thick of it, I may bend but I will not break, they call me bigshot – that’s my name.”

“I like telling stories,” the guitarist explains. “I was driving with my wife, and I saw an overpass that said, ‘Big Shot Cyrus James.’ It sparked something in me, and I imagined this character in New Orleans, like a Madi Gras Indian. Whenever somebody asks him his name, he’d say, “I’m a big shot.’ There’s a little Bo Diddley with Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson in there.” He laughs. “When people ask us how we know our songs are good, it’s because we all really dig each other’s taste, it gives me a confidence in the material.”

Dayton’s “I Did It Anyway” knocks you out two ways – it pulls you in as a haunting and seductive, boozy blueser, but before you can say “presto change-o” it magically transforms into deliciously raw and trashy psychobilly. “It’s a true story about guys I came up with who just didn’t give a shit,” he says. “A lot of these dudes were lowlife characters – alcoholics, philanderers, corrupt preachers. These are guys you don’t want to know, but that’s what makes them so interesting. Face it, we wouldn’t like Scorsese movies if everybody in them were nice.”

He gives it up for Moore’s wildcat lead. “He sounds like he’s strangling his guitar, but that’s what makes it so cool.”

“Favored Nation” is another monster shapeshifter. Moore seamlessly marries a jacked-up shuffle with a rousing Merseybeat reboot to wondrous effect. “Growing up in Austin, I got into mod rock and alternative,” he says. “Sure, I loved Howlin’ Wolf and Buddy Guy, but I also loved the Jam, Rockpile and X. That’s kind of what the song is about – how if you go looking for the truth, you realize you aren’t just one thing; you’re a combination of everything.”

Most bands would have emptied the tank by now, but the Texas Headhunters astonishingly – miraculously – come back for more on Side B. Dayton breaks down the doors with “Dogs of Larado,” a lethal guitar smackdown custom-built for the stage. “After our first tour, I knew I had to write something that showcased our power,” he says, adding, “It’s about ICE, all these white boys who’ve been out of work. The government comes in and says, ‘We’ve got a job for you. Here’s a gun belt, now turn your neighbors in.’” 

Moeller also takes on timely issues with the bruising shuffle rocker “Rise and Shine,” singing “This battlefield we call our home, it won’t be long, and it could all be gone.” “It’s got some heavy lyrics,” he says. “It’s like Stephen Stills playing a blues shuffle. There’s some Pops Staples influence, too.”

“Swamp pop” is how Moore describes “That’s the Kind of Fool I’ll Be,” a stinging blues doozy that will take you to church. Closing out the album, Moeller’s “Funky So N So” is indeed a funky as hell instrumental, and it’s got not one, not two, but three ace solos – first Ian, then Jesse and finally Johnny – that are far-out and flamboyant. It gives way to Moore’s fireball boogie “Long Ryder” that casts a witches’ brew spell – all in all, not a bad way to go out.

Expect to hear a lot of the new album live when the band hits the road this year. For Moore, it’ll be another chance for him to “try to figure out what the other guys are playing – I learn so much from them. Johnny’s got this deep blues thing about him, and Jesse does things that have jazz and country to them. They’re amazing.”

Moeller relishes live shows from a different perspective: “I really up my game when I play concerts with the band,” he says. “Having been more of a side man for years, I’m stepping into a new role when I sing my songs live. It’s a lot of fun.”

Dayton also sings his bandmates’ praises. “Ian’s got this style that he forged by being around the blues, but he took it to this big rock place,” he says. “It translates so well to large audiences. And when Johnny plays, he’s sending me a thousand blues licks I’ve never heard before. I mean, c’mon, how can somebody be that good?” 

Put it all together and you’ve got the Texas Headhunters. This is a rowdy, back-alley situation that feels less like a carefully rehearsed musical performance and more like a beautifully lawless throwdown you’d stumbled into at two in the morning.

Pity the band that tries to follow these guys. They’ve burned up the stage behind them.