Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys have lit up numerous stages and turntables worldwide, but which platters inspired the man himself?
Forming Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys in Southern California in 1988, Sandy and his band have since become stalwarts of the rockin’ scene. Inductees of the Rockabilly Hall Of Fame, this highly acclaimed group has covered all bases in the roots and Americana vein from rockabilly, western swing and country to bluegrass, folk and mariachi-influenced sounds. Beginning his musical life amidst the neo‑rockabilly scene, Sandy cut two albums as a trio, before expanding the group for 1994’s formidable Jumping From 6 To 6.
Now, with almost four decades under their belts, and with over two dozen killer releases, the band have reached giant status around the globe and continue to charm both on record and on the live stage. Sandy spoke to us from the tour bus to deliver us his life-changing tunes. See the band on tour throughout 2026!
Elvis Presley – That’s All Right
I grew up surrounded by 50s records and rock’n’roll radio, and I was a devoted fan of Elvis at an early age. His cool-cat image and vocal swagger hooked me as a kid, and I wore out records like Don’t Be Cruel, Heartbreak Hotel and Hound Dog. Then in 1976, RCA released Elvis: The Sun Sessions, opening with That’s All Right, and it instantly blew my 12-year-old mind. His hit records felt like echoes of a distant era, but these recordings sounded otherworldly, as if beamed in from another planet. This song ignited my lifelong obsession with Elvis and the music that inspired him.
The Johnny Burnette Trio – Honey Hush
I spent most of my early teen years hunting for old records with my father. On weekends we roamed Southern California, digging through thrift stores and record shops in search of forgotten vinyl. One summer afternoon in Indio, near Palm Springs, a charity shop yielded a curious 45: The Johnny Burnette Trio’s The Train Kept A-Rollin’ backed with Honey Hush. I knew Johnny’s You’re Sixteen, so for 25 cents, I took the chance. Back home, Honey Hush exploded from the speakers – savage guitar, unhinged vocals. It sounded like punk rock from the 50s, shattering my Happy Days vision of that era.
The Moonglows – Sincerely
Both of my parents brought their record collections into their marriage, so I grew up surrounded by hundreds of 45s. I spent hours alone in my bedroom listening, returning again and again to Sincerely by The Moonglows. The passion in Bobby Lester’s lead vocal stirred feelings I didn’t yet understand, but the record moved me deeply. It was one of my father’s favourites, too. He would always lean in and point out the song’s “wait-for-it” moment in the bridge, when Lester sings “never, never, never, never…” with absolute conviction. That moment, in that song, is what made me want to be a singer.
Bobby Roberts – Big Sandy
The 80s were an exciting time of musical discovery for me. One record in particular hit like a lightning bolt: Crypt Records’ 1986 release Sin Alley, a compilation packed with sleazy, greasy, rockin’ gems. The first track on Side One was Big Sandy by Bobby Roberts, one of the most untamed examples of rockabilly ever committed to wax. The song didn’t just leave a musical mark on me – it gave me my future stage name. Soon after the release of Sin Alley, Robert Williams became Big Sandy. As fate would have it, I eventually became friends with Bobby Roberts and remained in touch until he passed away.
The Sharps – Six Months, Three Weeks (Two Days And An Hour)
As a kid, my uncles handed many old records down to me, including a doo-wop compilation featuring a haunting song called Six Months, Three Weeks (Two Days And An Hour). Its strange fade-in and muddy recording made it sound ghostly. The song was credited to The Sharks. For years – long before the internet – I searched in vain for an original 45. Nearly three decades later, a computer revealed the truth: it was by The Sharps, not The Sharks, a simple misprint. Today, that 45 sits proudly in my collection, a hard-won victory.
Joe Clay – Sixteen Chicks
Throughout the 1980s, my friends and I would gather at our pal Jason Goodman’s house to listen to each other’s latest vinyl discoveries. I’ll never forget the night that Jason turned us all on to a cat named Joe Clay. He had found a 45 on Vik Records with Duck Tail on the A-side and Sixteen Chicks on the B-side. We listened to Sixteen Chicks first. The manic vocals and echo-drenched guitar stopped me cold in my tracks. It was perfect! It was the sound that I’d heard in my head but never knew existed. Pure rockabilly genius.
The Calvanes – Don’t Take Your Love
This song has been with me from the very beginning. Originally the B-side of The Calvanes’ 1955 Dootone release, this romantic doo-wop ballad captured my young heart even more than the swingin’ A-side, Crazy Over You. As a kid, I sang it in my room, daydreaming of standing in the spotlight. I couldn’t have known then that I’d one day live that dream – or that, 25 years later, I’d record with The Calvanes themselves. Working with the original group on my Dedicated To You album remains a defining career highlight and a memory forever tied to this song.
James Intveld & the Rockin’ Shadows – My Heart Is Aching For You
One night when I was 16, a local radio station played My Heart Is Aching For You, a song I’d never heard but instantly loved. When the DJ announced it was by James Intveld, I scrambled for a pencil. I was shocked to learn he wasn’t some forgotten artist from 1957, but a young musician gigging around town. As a fan of the Stray Cats and other modern-sounding rockabilly bands, it was a revelation: new music could be made with a purely traditional sound. That realisation left a lasting mark on how I eventually made my own records.
Ken Boothe – I Don’t Want To See You Cry
Throughout the 90s, my band and I travelled back and forth across the USA in a 1949 tour bus. Many hours and miles were spent driving overnight to the next city, and those journeys were filled with music of all kinds. My drummer was a big fan of Jamaican music and this song on one of his mix tapes captured my heart one long midnight ride. There was something about Ken Boothe’s plaintive vocals of leaving and longing floating over the incessant horn lines that sparked in me a deep passion for ska and rocksteady music and led me to seek out more.
Blind Boy Fuller – She’s A Truckin’ Little Baby
This 1938 recording by Piedmont-style guitarist and North Carolina blues singer Blind Boy Fuller is a romping country rag that has been a longtime favourite in my collection. It may not be the rarest or most valuable disc in my record room, but it’s easily one of the most cherished. I discovered it in my mid-teens, right at the height of my rockabilly awakening, and it became both a lesson and a reminder: music was rocking, stomping, and swinging hard long before the birth of rock’n’roll. As a bonus, the track features manic washboard accompaniment by the uncredited Bull City Red.
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