Wheeler Walker Jr. on his new album, his Twitter beefs, and why he won’t clean up his act.

I’M outside Brent’s Deli in Northridge, California, waiting for the king of outlaw country music, Wheeler Walker Jr., who’s on the cusp of launching his third album, WWIII. He’s due to arrive on his own, without a posse, a lady friend, or an assistant. And though I’m aware that without comedian Ben Hoffman there would be no Wheeler Walker Jr. — the Nashville musician is Hoffman’s invented persona — I’m hoping the guy who shows up is 100 percent Walker, zero percent Hoffman.

Rolling Stone has called Wheeler Walker Jr.’s music “unfathomably obscene,” “undeniably offensive,” and “goddamn funny.” This foul-mouthed, sex-obsessed, pot-smoking hit-maker released his first record, Redneck Shit, in 2016. Following a buzz-building premiere via stream on Pornhub, the album debuted at No. 9 on the Billboard Top Country chart. You could even call Walker a crossover artist, considering that Redneck Shit also went to No. 1 on Billboard’s Top Comedy chart.

On this November day, Walker’s fresh off opening for Kid Rock on his 15-date Red Blooded Rock N Roll Redneck Extravaganza tour. He’s spent much of the last three years on the road, including during his own 20-city Eatin’ Pussy/Kickin’ Ass tour, and last summer’s Dragon Energy gigs.

Minutes after taking up my post outside Brent’s, Walker arrives. Granted, the man didn’t roar up in a lifted pickup with a joint in his mouth and a girl on his arm, but the bearded Kentuckian who climbs out of a rented SUV in boots and jeans, black shirt, shades, and a black Adidas cap is indeed Wheeler Walker Jr. No sign of Hoffman.

Walker’s made a career out of songs with titles like “Fuck You Bitch,” “Which One O’ You Queers Gonna Suck My Dick?,” and “Drunk Sluts.” Sex and getting high are central themes. His tune “Summers in Kentucky” lulls you with its beautiful melody and nostalgic, teen-love lyrics, then becomes X-rated. “Puss in Boots” is a rollicking good time, musically, while talking about blowjobs, fake breasts, and pubic hair.

WWIII picks up right where Walker’s last album, Ol’ Wheeler, left off. The record’s first two tracks are called “Save Some Titty Milk For Me” and “I Like Smoking Pot (A Lot).” Fourth on the album is ”Fuck You With the Lights On,” a tune Walker wrote for his wife Christine, a woman he loves so much he keeps the lights on when they do it.

When he’s not writing dirty, druggy songs, or delivering them onstage, Walker likes to lob Twitter bombs at big-name targets. A typical day might see him going after Kanye West or having fun with a Donald Trump tweet. But Walker reserves his greatest ire for what he calls “fake country.” Carrying a torch for George Jones-style roots music, Walker has engaged in one-sided online feuds with country duo Florida Georgia Line, Bebe Rexha (the platinum blonde singer who collaborated with FGL), and even Mason Ramsey, the kid who shot to fame when video of him yodeling a Hank Williams song in a Walmart went viral. The video propelled the then 11-year-old to a major-label record deal and an Ellen appearance.

A typical Wheeler Walker Jr. tweet? At November’s start, the musician plugged his new album by typing individual words in a very long column, one atop another, in which he also unloaded on Ramsey, whose first single had cracked the Billboard Hot 100 in May.

Walker tweeted: “Please Buy My New Album When It Is Out On November 30th And Help Kill Pop County [sic] Dead.” He added, “Fuck Yodel Kid Fuck Yodel Kid Fuck That Little Shit.”

When asked about the tweet, Walker doubles down: “People are like, ‘You’re just jealous.’ And I’m like, ‘Yeah, no shit, that’s the whole point. That little yodel kid took off. Like, fuck him. I don’t wanna be outsold by some little kid. He ain’t even that good.”

After settling into our green vinyl booth, Walker takes off his shades, revealing thoughtful brown eyes, but quickly pops the glasses back on when a photographer approaches.

“I just don’t like taking pictures without my shades,” he tells me.

Walker speaks low, so I have to lean forward to hear him, even in a quarter-full deli. In person, the musician has more shadings than the online version, a righteous Kentuckian battling for the soul of twenty-first-century country music. He’s unfiltered in his speech, with a propensity to ramble, but his manner is polite. “He’s an all right fucker,” says a guy Walker tells me is his dad, Wheeler Walker Sr., when we speak by phone.

I’M a little surprised when Walker orders matzo ball soup, bagel chips, and seltzer water, but then again, we’re in a deli. Walker tells me he was sober for a while, but now he drinks on occasion, along with smoking lots of pot. As he sips his seltzer, I ask him about the title to WWIII, an 11-song release which has him making slick music videos, doing press, and getting ready to go out on the road again, solo this time.

“It’s called that ’cause my son’s Wheeler Walker the third,” Walker tells me. “Everyone thinks it’s about World War III, but it’s not, ’cause World War III ain’t happened yet. Then again, with the country community so pissed at me, when this album comes out, it’s gonna be World War III probably.”

Walker explains that many of his fellow country professionals are upset with him because of the crude language in his songs. He points out that his records do better than a lot of the musicians who are pissed at him. And that’s despite the fact that radio stations can’t or won’t play his songs, given their raunchy, drug-celebrating content. I ask Walker if he’d ever clean up his lyrics to get more airplay. No sir, Walker responds.

“I’d rather do what I want to do and see if it hits or not,” he tells me. “When I listen to other people’s music, I can hear them trying to sell records. Selling records ain’t my goal. I got something to say. And music, country music, is the best way I know how to express what I want to say.”

As Walker turns to his soup, I entertain the idea of asking him about Ben Hoffman, who just sold an animated series to Netflix, but before I get a chance, Walker gets on a roll about authenticity and self-expression, his voice charged with a quiet fire.

“People used to call country music three chords and a truth,” Walker says. “And I used to love it, but I didn’t hear anything close to the truth on the radio. I came to realize that for a musician to tell the truth… I mean, these are vulgar times, man. You gotta use vulgar words to get your truth across. And people aren’t telling the truth ’cause they’re scared that the truth’s gonna get ’em in trouble. Nowadays with politics, all these big country guys — I know ’em and they’re all liberal dudes — but they won’t talk about it, ’cause it’s gonna hurt record sales. I’m not saying you have to write political songs, but they’re trying to be someone they’re not to sell records. It’s like, be who you are. These people, they’re made-up personas. They’re just not real. People are looking for real stuff.”

The list of country bands and artists that offend Walker’s sensibilities is long.

“Christine will say, ‘honey, could you do the dishes?’ and I’ll say, ‘I’ll do ’em for anal.’ and I just go to my office and write a song called ‘anal & the dishes.”

“Florida Georgia Line,” he begins. “When you listen to country radio, it’s just a big blur of all this shit. I don’t know all their names. There’s this duo, Dan and Shay, that’s horrible. There’s this guy, Chase Rice, he’s fucking shit. Luke Bryan is really bad. Just everyone. Keith Urban is horrible. He used to play something closer to country music, but he’s from Australia, so what’s that mean? I don’t know how brain-dead you have to be to put a Keith Urban album on and have any kind of enjoyment from that. It’s just dog shit. Maybe everyone in the audience has brain damage, I don’t know. Or CTE. What the football players have.”

When prompted, however, Walker does name some country musicians he likes.

“Chris Stapleton’s really good. I like him. This guy, Tyler Childers — he’s great. Sturgill Simpson. He’s the guy who introduced me to my producer. He’s amazing. There’s not a lot, really. Jason Isbell. I don’t know if he’s country or not, but he’s great. He’s a Nashville artist, certainly. I call him country ’cause I like to claim him as country. John Prine is still around, doing great stuff. Billy Joe Shaver. He’s still alive and kicking ass. Getting to meet him, that was a highlight. Billy Joe being a fan meant a lot to me.”

Walker’s love of country music began during his Kentucky childhood. Wheeler Walker Sr. says his son started writing songs as a kid. “There was one about the neighbor’s maid,” his dad tells me by phone. “Nice lady, too. Thank God her grasp of language wasn’t incredible. She would have been completely offended. All this stuff’s now a gray area in light of our current… you know, how things are today. But yeah, Walker sang a bunch of real dirty songs from the get-go.”

Three decades after penning that song about the neighbor’s maid, Wheeler Walker Jr. found himself in a Nashville studio, recording Redneck Shit, an effort destined for surprise success.

“Honestly, I didn’t know if I was gonna release it,” Walker says. “Then it started getting a following around town. People were passing it around. Like, if everyone’s passing it around, why don’t I pass it around for ten bucks a pop? So I put it out myself and… I mean, we sold 125,000 of ’em.”

Listeners loved the dirty, party-loving lyrics. But Walker’s fans are quick to point out that when he goes into the studio, he comes out with an honest-to-God country music record, with songs full of great melodies and twangy hooks. “Redneck Shit is far from just an X-rated novelty record,” hailed Rolling Stone in 2016. Walker’s fans include rapper Killer Mike, of Run the Jewels, and the aforementioned country star Tyler Childers. And then there’s Kid Rock. The former Michigan senatorial hopeful asked Walker to tour with him in 2018. After working out the scheduling, Walker was all-in.

“I was like, anyone who’s got the balls to take me out on tour, put me in front of his audience, well, that said something,” Walker tells me. “It was weird. I’d look out and see little kids and stuff. I’d get nervous that they’re hearing my songs — the adult content, you know — then I’d be like, ‘Wait, they’re seeing Kid Rock. They shouldn’t be at this show anyway, so fuck ’em.’”

Joining Kid Rock’s Redneck tour was the first time Walker had opened for anyone. If you’re familiar with Walker’s work, it’s pretty obvious why. There aren’t many artists who can gracefully follow a guy singing songs like “Better Off Beatin’ Off,” “Sit On My Face,” and “Finger Up My Butt.” Not to mention the ballad “If My Dick Is Up, Why Am I Down?”

WWIII features another first. On it, Walker introduces his family, such as it is, to the wider world. In addition to his son Wheeler Walker III, there’s also his wife, a zaftig blonde who loves her husband’s music above all else (she’s played by Instagram personality Trailer Trash Tammy, who is herself played by actress and comedian Chelcie Lynn). Walker says WWIII is a love album. He also calls it his “most personal” record.

“It’s kind of an R-rated version of my home life,” the musician explains. “One song’s called ‘Anal & the Dishes.’ That’s my life now. Like, Christine will say, ‘Honey, could you do the dishes?’ And I’ll say, ‘I’ll do ’em for anal.’ And I just go to my office and write a song called ‘Anal & the Dishes.’ It’s just like a crazy version of what my home life is. Obviously mine’s different than most people’s. Or maybe it’s not that different. It’s just I’m looking at it through a different lens. Other musicians might not go and write a song about it.”

Walker says he has no plans to stop tweaking mainstream country music. One of his favorite tactics is to write about gay sex. When I ask him about the song “Which One O’ You Queers Gonna Suck My Dick?” he leans forward, conscious of the guy in the booth behind us.

“I wonder if this guy’s freaking out,” Walker says. “For some reason this stuff pisses off the country community more than anything. So I’m gonna sing about it. I ain’t gonna say whether or not I do this stuff, but I want them to think I do because it pisses ’em off. To pretend gay people don’t exist in show business is just idiotic. Like I said, this stuff pisses ’em off the most, so for that reason every album will have this material on it. It’s really my two favorite things — making music and annoying people. It’s kind of what I do.”

Walker says that dragging people on Twitter helps relieve the stress he experiences at home, as a husband and father. As he puts it, “If I get mad at this or that, when I’m off the road back in Nashville, instead of yelling at my wife or kid, I just go to my office, get on my phone, or fire up my laptop, and rip on a bunch of country artists. Stir things up. Get some attention. I’m just yelling into the void, really.”

And with that Walker rises from our booth, thanks me for my time, and heads for the exit, boot heels thumping across the floor.

By the time you read this, Wheeler Walker Jr. will have strummed his guitar and sang his licentious, rowdy songs in another dozen or so major American cities, including Nashville, in support of WWIII. He’ll have taken more flak for his lyrics, watched his latest music videos rack up clicks, and without a doubt caused more trouble on Twitter, busting on celebrities and badmouthing country peers. But really, it’s all in good fun.

Like his dad, Walker Wheeler Sr., says, “He’s an all right fucker.”

“These are vulgar times, man. You gotta use vulgar words to get your truth across. And people aren’t telling the truth ’cause they’re scared that the truth’s gonna get ’em in trouble.”