Wheeler got his first breaks early. Famed country A&R man Ronnie Phillips heard him playing at the Bluebird Café and signed him to Capitol Nashville. He was partying with the new "young bloods" in town: Brad Paisley, Blake Shelton, Keith Urban. I remember envying his life in those days: Stayin' up late, drinkin' beer, smokin' grass, knee deep in that sweet Tennessee muff. Wheeler had it all. 

Wheeler's debut album is already being called "the filthiest country album in history". But to merely label it as that would be a crime. It's one of the finest country albums ever put to wax (or files, or whatever). Eleven songs of the most ass-kicking, moving and heartfelt real country you'll ever hear. Produced by the great Dave Cobb (who's produced Jason Isbell, Chris Stapleton, Jamey Johnson & Wheeler's old pal Sturgill Simpson) and backed up by a crack band of Nashville's finest players, this is what country music is supposed to be.