JAMES HAND Tokyo, Texas; 1953 - "Folks, like I said before and it's STILL true, James Hand is the real deal!" - Willie Nelson Though he's been making powerful original music for nearly four decades, James Hand has unjustly remained one of American music's secret treasures - a local legend, modestly plying his craft in countless smoky dives and dancehalls to a slowly widening circle of admirers. What he does, he does straight from his heart, taking the hard-won lessons that life and love have taught him and pouring them into his songwriting and performing. "I don't sing like anybody," he admits with a shy, sly smile, "and I don't look like Kenny Chesney." He's right: he sings like nobody but himself, his phrasing drawing out the pain and humor of his lyrics with an unpredictable yet soulful series of tiny inflections. His songs are equally mysterious and unclassifiable. While they are noticeably rich with the influences of his heroes - classic country architects like Hank, Lefty, and Ernest - Hand's songs are uniquely his, imbued with equal parts gallows humor and the ability to stare unflinchingly into life's darkest corners. When he's not onstage, Hand has carved out a niche for himself as a horse trainer. "When it comes to horses," he says, "people act like it's some big deal - like this whole horse whispering thing. But I'll tell you something: you can whisper to 'em, you can get down on your knees and act like 'em, but the horse knows you ain't a horse." That offhand remark says a lot about James Hand - he knows who he is, and onstage and off he's the same man: soft-spoken, achingly polite, and genuine.