Today we’d like to introduce you to Kevin Fox
Hi Kevin, we’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
“I was born on an island but raised around the ATX.” That’s the first line from a song off my third record, and it sums up where it all began. I was born in northern Luzon, in the Philippines, and adopted at five months old. My brother and sister were adopted too, and we were raised by a military family. Both of my parents were from Missouri, and like many military families, we moved around. My earliest memories are from Japan, where we were stationed before settling in Austin, Texas, when I was four. My dad had orders to Bergstrom Air Force Base, which is now the international airport.
Music wasn’t a huge part of our home—my parents didn’t play records or talk about music much. But my dad loved listening to oldies in the car, and my mom was all about Elvis. Even though music wasn’t a constant presence, my first true interest in it came at a church function. I was still very young, but I remember hearing a four-piece a cappella group and being mesmerized by how they created these harmonies. It felt like magic. I had to know how they did it, and that curiosity sparked my lifelong passion for music.
Back home, I started gathering neighborhood friends to sing with me. We’d stand in my parents’ driveway, and I’d play songs on my little radio. We’d figure out the parts and give it a shot. I’m not sure how great we sounded, but it’s how I spent most of my free time. The song I remember most from those days was Fred Parris’s “In the Still of the Night.”
When I was five, my parents got me a piano, but everything changed when they gave me a guitar for Christmas. It was a black electric guitar from Toys ‘R’ Us, with a battery-powered amp built right into it. That guitar became the catalyst for everything that followed. By ninth grade, I’d started my first band, a punk group. I was a skateboarder back then, so I’d spend my days skating and my nights playing music. I even wrote a song called “Up All Night,” inspired by those energy-filled days of making a racket in my parents’ garage. Looking back, I realize how patient my parents were—especially my dad, who loved Johnny Cash. We’d listen to Cash’s music while working on my car in the garage.
When I was 15, I took my college savings and bought a 1961 bubble-top Impala. It’s the same car I sing about in the song that opens my story. That car marked the beginning of a lifelong passion for classic and antique car restoration. I still restore cars to this day. I have a “Mad Max”-looking 2002 Disco 2 we call Thunderdome and a 1980 Firebird Formula we call Thunderchicken. Around the same time, I started entering local skate competitions, and the older brothers of my friends would rent out civic centers for bands and skating contests. I won my first competition, and later, our band competed in the infamous high school battle of the bands—a moment I cringe at now, but it’s part of the journey. I finished high school in Copperas Cove after my dad retired, but by that time, Austin had already become a huge part of my life.
When I turned 18, I moved into my first apartment and began making a name for myself in the local music scene. Even in high school, I’d drive to Austin to spin records at parties and raves, keeping one foot in the music world as much as I could. At 19, I landed a dream job at Collings Guitars, where I started working with upright bass and had the opportunity to build some of the finest guitars in the world. It was one of my top five dream jobs, and through it, I met some incredible musicians and got an inside look at the industry.
In 2009, I took the leap and became a full-time musician, playing over 30 shows a month. I was all in—writing, recording, touring, and doing session work for other artists. As my career grew, I began touring internationally, spending a lot of time in Belgium and the Netherlands. My favorite thing about touring, aside from the music, was the food! I continued restoring cars on the side to earn extra money, from early 20th-century classics to modern luxury cars. Despite never having formal music lessons, I learned everything I know by playing live, honing my skills on stage. I worked hard to create my own unique sound, and to this day, singing remains my favorite form of musical expression. The greatest compliment I ever receive is, “We were walking by and heard your voice and guitar and knew exactly who it was.” That means everything to me.
Over the last two decades, I’ve had residencies at some of Austin’s most iconic venues: The Broken Spoke, The White Horse, Sagebrush, C Boys, Ginny’s Little Longhorn and Poodies Hilltop, to name a few. And of course, there’s The Continental Club, my favorite venue—the hallowed ground where I play every Saturday with my friend Earl Poole Ball, who used to play with Johnny Cash. My dad thought that was the coolest thing ever, and honestly, it’s pretty cool. I’ve also had the honor of playing with Linda Gail Lewis, Jerry Lee Lewis’s sister. She’s as much of a force as her brother ever was.
There are too many stories to tell, but many of them find their way into my songs because my music is all based on real-life experiences. A standout moment of my career was when I worked on a Terrence Malick film with Ryan Gosling and Rooney Mara. In one scene, Ryan’s character was actually jealous of me—it was surreal! That experience was my first glimpse of Hollywood’s spotlight, and though I was grateful for it, my heart has always been on stage, playing live.
I feel incredibly lucky to still be playing music and to see people connecting with my work, no matter their age. I’m constantly meeting amazing musicians from all over the world and doing my part to keep Austin’s legacy as the Live Music Capital of the World alive. Right now, I’m in the early stages of launching my Spotify Video Podcast, *LMC (Live Music Capital): Your Backstage Pass to Austin’s Music Scene*. We’ve already locked in the musicians for the first season and are casting for the second. I can’t wait to share the stories of this incredible city through music, just as I’ve shared my own.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
It would be nice to say everything fell into place easily, but every journey comes with its share of challenges. One of the hardest lessons I learned early on was how to manage my finances as a young musician. It sounds simple—book shows, track your money, pay your bills—but in reality, it was far less predictable. Shows would fall through for any number of reasons—bad weather, illness, booking errors—and sometimes, people just didn’t want to see you succeed. I learned quickly not to count on money before I played the show.
There were tough times. I lived in my van for two years, scraping by, doing whatever I could to keep going. The “starving artist” cliché? It’s real, and while some say it’s a choice, I’d argue it’s more complicated than that. I enjoy nice things as much as anyone, but I don’t need them to feel fulfilled. What I *do* need is music. Performing, recording, writing—it’s what keeps me grounded. Without it, I feel like something’s missing.
One of the biggest lifelines for me was HAAM (Health Alliance for Austin Musicians). They’ve supported so many musicians, including me. Whether it was helping with dental work, providing basic healthcare, or even something as simple as a new pair of glasses each year, HAAM has played a crucial role in keeping me healthy and on stage. They also provided me with an affordable apartment in central Austin, specifically designated for musicians. I’m grateful for organizations like that because they allow artists like me to keep creating.
One of the most unexpected moments in my life happened while I was living in that apartment. I’d just returned from a European tour, and I was carrying my upright bass inside when a woman stopped me and asked what I was playing. I told her I’d been into jazz recently, specifically Duke Ellington’s *Money Jungle*—a trio album featuring Charles Mingus and Max Roach. She smiled and said, “Charles Mingus was my father.” I was taken aback, not quite sure if she was serious. But we talked for a while, and she mentioned her son lived in Amsterdam, where I’d just been. A few days later, I found a package at my door filled with incredible jazz memorabilia—old flyers, stamps, and keepsakes from legends like Mingus, Billie Holiday, Coltrane, and Louis Armstrong. That’s when I knew her story was real, and it was one of those serendipitous moments that only seems to happen in Austin.
Being a Filipino musician in a genre dominated by country, rockabilly, and roots music hasn’t always been easy. I still get the looks and the comments—sometimes people don’t expect someone like me to be playing this kind of music. But once they hear me, the music usually breaks down those barriers. Growing up, I was often the odd one out, especially during summers in Missouri, where I spent time with family—fishing, feeding livestock, going to auctions, riding three-wheelers and learning how to handle a pistol. Walking around the our families lands had a number of dangerous snakes and animals. I didn’t even realize I was different until I was around five or six. I remember sitting in church one day and noticing my skin color didn’t match the people around me. It didn’t make me feel bad, just curious.
I’ve faced racism and prejudice throughout my life, but my parents always taught me to be true to who I am and treat others with kindness. My dad had a saying: “Twerk ‘em.” I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but now I see he was teaching me to persevere, no matter what. When I was 12, I lost my brother to a reckless driver. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. I wrote a song for him, though I haven’t recorded it yet. Maybe someday I will.
Growing up, I was teased for being adopted, and I even had a friend tell me he couldn’t play with me anymore because I was “brown.” That kind of thing hurts, but I always knew I had to follow my own path. I was going to play the music I loved and sing the songs that spoke to me, no matter what anyone else thought. And if my dad were still here, I know he’d say the same thing: “Twerk ‘em.”
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
If there’s one thing people know me for, it’s my voice. Whether it’s the way I sing or how I connect with an audience on stage, that’s what seems to stand out. But deep down, I’ve always been an artist in the truest sense of the word. Even before music took over my life, I was drawn to creative outlets—photography, painting, sculpture, and poetry. These early passions still influence my approach to music. Even when they’re not front and center, they add layers to everything I create.
Though my voice gets the most attention, my musicianship is often what brings me into new projects. I’ve been hired for my guitar and bass playing as much as my singing, and I’ve been lucky to contribute to a variety of recordings. I was recently brought in to sing both bass and baritone on a record produced by Danny B. Harvey for Dale Watson, adding a rich, deep layer to the arrangement. I’ve recorded with instruments including the cello and added unique percussion to tracks—anything to serve the music in a creative way. One live album I worked on was nominated for a Grammy, which was a surreal moment in my career. But for me, it’s not about the awards. What I’m most proud of is my ability to read a room and give the audience exactly what they need. We play so many different genres that I can pull together a band of musicians—even if we’ve never played together before—and orchestrate a show that feels spontaneous and alive.
What I value most is staying true to myself. It’s easy to get caught up in what people think you should be doing or what might boost your career, but I’ve always chosen to follow my own path and never felt like I 100% fit in to any group. I’ve turned down opportunities that might have opened doors, simply because they didn’t feel right for me. Instead, I’ve focused on the work itself—on the process, the craft. There’s something deeply rewarding about setting a goal, working toward it, and knowing you’re producing something real.
I often get asked, “What if you don’t make it?” To that, I always ask—*what does making it even mean*? For some, it’s about fame or money. For others, it’s playing one big show a month. But for me, “making it” means earning the respect of the musicians and creators I look up to—the ones who shaped the music I love. It’s about being accepted by the pillars of the genre, the people who keep this music alive and pass it on to the next generation. That’s what success looks like to me.
What’s helped me along the way is how I approached learning music. I didn’t start with theory or formal lessons. What’s helped me along the way is how I approached learning music. I didn’t start with theory or formal lessons—I learned by ear, letting the music guide me first. Later on, I dove into theory, not because I had to, but because it allowed me to collaborate more easily and communicate with other musicians. Theory became a tool, not a rulebook. One of my greatest lessons came from Floyd Domino, the pianist on my first record. He passed down a lesson from Thelonious Monk that stuck with me: *A genius sounds most like themselves.* That’s been my guiding principle ever since. To me, that was a challenge—to always sound like *me* and not lose myself trying to mimic anyone else.
Another phrase I love is, *You got to dig it, to dig it.* It reminds me that you have to feel the music deeply, to understand it on a level that goes beyond technique. It’s about authenticity—something I strive for in every note I play and every song I sing. Looking back, I’ve realized that my entire journey has been about staying true to that idea—creating music that’s honest, that comes from a real place inside me.
There’s still so much to learn, but I welcome that. Music is a lifelong journey, and I’m excited about what’s still ahead. For me, it’s about the process, the growth, and the connections I make along the way. Whether I’m performing live, recording in the studio, or writing in a quiet moment, I’ll always be driven by that need to create something real—something that resonates with both me and those who listen. That’s what keeps me going, and that’s what will keep me going, wherever this road leads.
What were you like growing up?
Curiosity has always been a big part of who I am. My mom loves to tell stories about how I would take apart anything I could get my hands on, just to see how it worked. Radios, toys—you name it. I’d try to put them back together, though not always with success. One time, I took apart a radio, and my dad came in shaking his head, “What the heck are you doing, boy!” That might’ve been one of the projects that didn’t make it back together, but that curiosity stuck with me. I think I got it from him. My dad was always building things—furniture, toys for me—it’s something I admired and eventually inherited.
Sports were another big part of my life. I played just about everything—pitcher in baseball, quarterback in football, point guard in basketball. But I wasn’t just about the physical stuff. I was also into the creative side of things—photography for the school paper, writing articles, creating artwork. I’ve always needed a balance between the physical and creative. In high school, I even built my first guitar in woodshop class. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was the beginning of something special, combining my love for hands-on projects and my growing passion for music.
One thing I’ve always embraced is taking on challenges and learning new things. Just recently, I said, “If there’s one job harder than being a full-time musician, it’s probably making a living as a painter.” But that’s part of what draws me in—whether it’s creating music, building something, or learning a new craft, I do it for the love of the art itself. But music? That’s on a whole different level. It’s more than just something I enjoy—it’s something I *need*. I’ve taken breaks before—about a year and a half, to build a business—but I couldn’t stay away for long. I was still playing, just not 7 days a week. Something was missing, and I realized that without music, I’m just not complete.
I can’t predict the future, but one thing I do know is that music will always be a part of my life. It’s been a constant in every chapter so far, and I can’t imagine a year going by without it. There’s still so much I want to learn, so much room to grow, but that’s what excites me. I’m always up for the next challenge, and I’m ready for whatever comes next. Carpe Diem!
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kevinfoxbandatx/
- Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/kevinfoxmusic/
- Twitter: https://x.com/kevinfoxbandatx
- Youtube: https://m.youtube.com/@kevinfoxband
Image Credits
Seven Pillers Photography-Michael Wright (silver wing jacket)
Venue: Gruene Hall
Main Photo Photographer -Stephanie Alaniz
Keyboard Black and White
Venue- The Whitehorse
Keyboard-Earl Poole Ball
Drums- Travis Trevino
Photographer-Sean Lane
20/20 Memory Productions
Upright bass
Venue: Barrel and Amps
Piano Player-Linda Gail Lewis
Singer-Annie Marie Lewis
Photographer-Marz Carrizales
Train Picture
Photographer- Hilary McVay
