April 16, 2015 12:01 PM

I’m not worried about Drew Landry. Not at all. Seriously? Yeah, so he got hit head-on by an 18-wheeler in the early morning hours of April 13-14 in Houma and is now convalescing in the Interim LSU Hospital (University Hospital) in New Orleans.

So what if he was in ICU for a bit. He’s got a pin in his hip after it was fractured in three places, radial nerve palsy because of a fracture in his arm, a broken leg in traction, surgeries on the horizon and it hurts when he laughs because of his broken ribs. Big. Whoop. I mean, this is Drew Landry we are talking about. Why should I be worried?

Drew Landry: the guy who pretty much decided to be a musician one day (at the age that musicians start settling down) and – poof – was one. The guy who roadied for Scott H. Biram (after his own head-on collision in 2003) and wound up – with only a handful of gigs under his belt – opening for Hank Williams 3 at the end of the tour. The big hearted brother who found time to call me every week from that roadie gig to see how I was doing in the wake of my father’s death and as my professional career began to unravel. The stick-with-it and stand-by-you guy whom I asked to stand with me at my wedding (a testament to the type of person he is). The never-let-you-down friend who, despite hating moving, helped my wife and I move into our first house. The bard whom I have personally seen write a song while walking down the street and have it stage ready in a matter of days. The against-the-grain entrepreneur who booked the most awesome shows in the most unlikely places – Rudy Ray Moore, Bushwick Bill, Hank 3, the Weary Boys at the Rinky-Dink and the Angola Prison Band at Bourque’s Social Club in Scott (not to mention bringing Pabst Blue Ribbon to local night life before it was hipster chic). The genius who released a DIY record sandwiched in between two chunks of cardboard and had it chart in Europe. The stubborn, I-will-do-it-my-way-and-tell-you-why-it’s-the-right-way hardhead who emblazoned “Support your local Koonass” across the back of his first merch T-shirts. The Basin crawfisher-man who went on CSPAN and sang “BP Blues” to the president’s commission on the Deepwater Horizon disaster offshore drilling and cut it as a single on Warner Brothers. The force of nature whose tenacious determination (not to mention natural wit and talent) had him rubbing elbows and gigging with his heroes and stars like Billy Joe Shaver, Lazy Lester, Charlie Louvin, Dwight Yoakam, Doug Kershaw, Johnny Winter ridiculously close to the onset of his career. The non-stop worker who will gig anywhere that will let him at just about any time and ask anyone who will or won’t listen to let him do so. The performer who never yields and is always in search of a way to bring his music to wherever his next fan maybe. The diehard who already got a song in his head about this whole thing and is ordering people to his room to record it.

An stoppable force of nature, who devours creativity like it was a plate lunch (and plate lunches like they were creativity), Drew and I talked a couple weeks ago about the three projects he is readying to release, one of which was The Restoration, a documentary about the long-term effects of the Deepwater Horizon Disaster (a topic he chose as his first entry into filmmaking). The show-must-go-on performer who – from his hospital bed – is now demanding this Sunday’s 5 p.m. screening of the film at Vermilionville be held without him.

Drew is tenacious. Drew doesn’t give up. Drew tears through anything that tries to limit him.

Drew is going to be there for you. Drew is unstoppable. It’s the truck I’m worried about.
Seriously, though: #pullthroughDrew.

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