Estes Shane Whalen standing in an open field at dusk

Estes Shane
Whalen

I’d rather tell a story than listen to one

Five records. Twenty-five years. Ten forwarding addresses.

Born on an army base in Colorado, raised in Texas, schooled in Tennessee, with stops in Georgia, California, and back in Texas before Nashville became home. Now I spend my days getting other artists the recognition their work deserves.

A young boy watching a bearded man play a twelve-string guitar
01

Me and my uncle Tim. He was the music man of his generation in our family, and he bought me my first guitar. He is almost certainly playing “California Dreamin’,” a favorite of his. I think of him every time I pick up a guitar.

02

My dad and me. Whalens doing Whalen things. Playing the guitar my uncle bought me while my dad gives his best Jagger impression. Not really a singer, but he did paint the watercolor on the cover of The Elsby Shore, a work that hung on the wall for years uncredited.

A man singing with his leg propped on a piano bench while a younger man plays electric guitar beside him
Seated behind an open grand piano, framed by the raised lid and the strings
03

My grandmother’s piano. My grandfather bought it for Azaleigh at a music store in Houston for five hundred dollars. She taught piano for decades. It sits in my studio now and it has played on every record since The Elsby Shore.

Onstage at the 5 Spot, someone in the crowd filming on a phone in the foreground
04

The 5 Spot, Nashville. The night we put out Battle Lines. Shot by my sister, Shawn Shinn.

05

My 1960 Neumann. Every vocal I have recorded since Goodbye Mr. Redfish has gone through this microphone. Four records, one mic.

A vintage Neumann microphone in a home studio, guitars and a Texas flag behind it
Five album covers laid out together on a couch

All five, still in the house.

Sitting with a guitar in a home studio, gig posters and instruments on the wall behind

Recording Miss Independence.

Singing into a microphone with headphones on, playing acoustic guitar in the studio

Tracking Goodbye Mr. Redfish.

Songs

The most recent one out in the world.

  1. Mason Caviness, The Universe Inside, 2026
    Something to Say
    written with Mason

Records

One song from each, if you only have time for five.

  1. Battle Lines, 2018
    Hair Down
    When heartache lives across the street from Battle Avenue.
    produced by Nate Wedan
  2. Liquor Store, 2013
    Liquor Store
    Snapshot vignettes from behind the counter of a store I managed.
    produced by Estes Shane Whalen
  3. The Elsby Shore, 2010
    Brothers in Arms
    Inspired by a watercolor that hung on my bedroom wall. I only learned later that my dad painted it.
    produced by Brian Wright
  4. Goodbye Mr. Redfish, 2008
    Women & Beer
    Every song on it was written, recorded, mixed and mastered under a full moon.
    produced by Brian Wright
  5. If Timing Is Everything, 2002
    Radiate
    Five years of cassette demos and a seasoned producer willing to take on a green client.
    produced by Michael James

Elsewhere

Looking down at a worn pair of brown cowboy boots on weathered porch boards

The boots did the traveling.

  1. Fort CarsonColorado
  2. MemphisTennessee
  3. DallasTexas
  4. NashvilleTennessee
  5. AtlantaGeorgia
  6. San FranciscoCalifornia
  7. Los AngelesCalifornia
  8. DallasTexas
  9. Los AngelesCalifornia
  10. DallasTexas
  11. NashvilleTennessee
Singing onstage in the hand-drawn shirt, WAYLON crossed out and Whalen written beneath Bare feet on the stage floor with a pair of flip flops kicked off to the side
06

The first official merch I ever made. I got invited to play the Deep Ellum Arts Festival in Dallas. I showed up and every other act had a table full of shirts and records for sale. I had the shirt on my back. So I took it off, borrowed a Sharpie, and drew an idea I had been carrying around. I played without my boots.

Growing up in Texas, any time I gave my last name I would watch somebody write down Waylon Jennings, and I would have to spell the Irish version back to them.

Looking out across a field toward the last of the evening light

Every time I make a new home,
it doesn’t seem to take.

Open Road