Rex “Wrecks” Bell of “Rex’s Blues” and the Old Quarter Has Died

There are numerous gifts, contributions, and accomplishments one must enumerate when properly eulogizing Rex “Wrecks” Bell. After all, he did so much for Texas music and the Houston scene specifically, and in a host of important capacities. But there might not be a better way of conveying the deep, resounding impact Wrecks had on the music than citing the the song “Rex’s Blues,” written by his good friend, and a man some consider the greatest songwriter of all time, Townes Van Zandt.

If Townes Van Zandt wrote a song about you, you’ve got a pretty big reason to gloat. But that’s just one of the bullet points on Wreck’s résumé. Rex Bell’s story in music really starts with the opening of a venue called the Old Quarter in Houston near the Harris County Courthouse in 1965. Houston was no Austin, especially in the mid ’60s. And the fraternizing that could happen in a placed that housed music was generally frowned upon by the people who were sworn and deputized to keep law and order.

The Old Quarter’s mere existence was a revolutionary act, let alone the songs that might be shared on the stage, or the funny-smelling incense that might waft through the air upon occasion. But Rex Bell and the Old Quarter persevered despite the incessant harassment of law enforcement, fostering a burgeoning songwriter scene in the Bayou City. Rex was no saint himself; you couldn’t be to keep up with the likes of Townes Van Zandt. He spelled his own name “Wrecks” to make fun of his own reckless behavior, and the accidents that often ensued because of it.

The Old Quarter ultimately became a critically-important listening room/haven/proving ground/stepping stone to so much of the talent that emerged from Houston and Texas, including Guy Clark, Steve Earle, Jerry Jeff Walker, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Houston natives Lyle Lovett and Rodney Crowell, and most notably, Townes Van Zandt. Wrecks sold his stake in the venue in 1973, but never really left. He was a singer and songwriter himself, and performed there regularly.

1973 is also the year that Townes Van Zandt famously recorded his album Live at the Old Quarter, Houston, Texas in the house that Wrecks built. One of the reasons Wrecks sold his stake is because he wanted to go on the road as a musician.

Most notably, Wrecks spent years playing bass in Towns Van Zandt’s backing band, known affectionately as the Hemmer Ridge Mountain Boys—a duo that also performed on their own, and for many years after Van Zandt’s passing in 1997. Wrecks also toured with Lightnin’ Hopkins and others. He also did some studio work, including playing bass on the second album from Lucinda Williams, Happy Woman Blues (1980). Wrecks also spent a spell living in Nashville after so many of his songwriter buddies like Townes, Guy, and Steve Earle moved there.

Wrecks even played guitar with two dudes named Frank Beard and Dusty Hill early on in their career. He also performed regularly with his wife Janet.

The original Old Quarter in Houston would eventually close, but Bell would revive the concept with the Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe that opened in 1996 in the historic downtown of Houston’s nearby island neighbor, Galveston. Over the last 30 years, it has been a hub for songwriters both young and promising, and old and legendary, making for a beloved and regular stop on many tours, an a treasured place for local residents.

Originally from nearby Texas City, Rex Bell served in the Army before being discharged and becoming part of the Houston chapter of the ’60s folk revival, performing at the few locations that would allow such music before opening the Old Quarter. When he turned 81 on August 23rd, Wrecks greeted the milestone with his signature irreverent humor. “If I would have known I would live this long, I wouldn’t have taken such good care of myself,” he said.

That might make a good epitaph for Rex “Wrecks” Bell itself, who passed away last weekend. But there are some passages from Townes Van Zandt’s “Rex’s Blues” that also feel appropriate for this moment.

“I’m chained upon the face of time. Feeling full of foolish rhyme. There ain’t no dark ’till something shines. I’m bound to leave the dark behind.”

“So tell my baby I said so long. Tell my mother I did no wrong. Tell my brother to watch his own. And tell my friends to mourn me none.”

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