Jimmy Wayne

Not too long ago, Jimmy Wayne reached a turning point.
His record label had gone under, suddenly throwing his future into doubt. “I was about to go nuts,” he admits. “I wanted to be out there doing my music.”
The Kings Mountain, N.C., native stepped back and took a long, hard look at his situation. What did he have on his side?
For a start, a musical track record that already included a Top 10 self-titled album and the hits “Stay Gone,” “I Love You This Much,” “Paper Angels” and “You Are”—all co-written by Wayne himself. He had one of music’s finest and most powerful voices, one steeped in country history but injected with a rich undercurrent of classic soul. He had the devotion of fans all over the country, who stuck by him doggedly as they waited for more music. “They’re extremely dedicated and diehard,” he marvels. “It’s a very tight family.” He had his own indomitable spirit, the same spirit that helped him survive a notoriously hardscrabble childhood to rise through the Nashville ranks to reach the top of the charts.
And, as it turns out, he had the belief of Music Row giant Scott Borchetta, the exec who had signed Wayne to the now-defunct DreamWorks Nashville and released his successful 2003 debut. Borchetta reunited this winning team by signing Wayne to his red-hot upstart The Valory Music Co.
Wayne’s second album promises effervescent, heartfelt songs that carry on the tradition of open-hearted emotionalism and upfront honesty heard on Jimmy Wayne—but with a lighter, brighter touch you might not expect from a man who has been through so much pain in his short life. By now, the details are familiar: abandoned by his father, shuffled through foster homes, Wayne wound up living on the street with, as he jokes darkly, “a bag of clothes, a bicycle and a mullet.” He was taken in by an elderly neighborhood couple, Russell and Beatrice Costner, who he credits as having thus saved his life. Their generous example has led Wayne to devote himself wholeheartedly to a variety of charities since his rise to fame, including group homes (such as Our House in Columbus, Ga., and HomeBase Youth Services in Phoenix) that help troubled youths like the one he used to be.
“That’s what I feel like I’m supposed to do,” he explains. “I come from a very poor, very humbling background. It taught me humility and passion, and a lot of respect. It taught me to care about people, and not to overlook the small things that a lot of people overlook. I was so darn lucky to be helped by this couple when I was a kid, that to be able to give back is a cool thing.”
Besides, he admits, “I get a high out of it, a bigger high than I do playing a show. I enjoy helping people.”
That high Wayne has been getting through reaching out to others in such a personal way over the past few years can be heard fully and fiercely in his new music. “It’s going to be a record to show a different side of me, one that no one’s seen,” he declares. “I’m a happy person, and I need to express that. I want to show another dimension.”
And so he does. This is a more optimistic, sunnier Jimmy Wayne, but the humanity at the heart of his music is still on vibrant display. Wayne is a fervent believer that music is too vital a conduit, too important a tool, to be taken lightly. Countless fans have responded to the songs on his debut album with impassioned letters, e-mails and face-to-face personal stories of their own tragedies and triumphs. They hear themselves in Wayne’s songs, and he’s not about to let them down now.
“I feel like I really have a reason,” he says. “I know it sounds hokey, but I feel like I’m chosen. I’ve been given an opportunity a lot of people would love to have, and I’m very thankful for it. I want to make a difference.”
He smiles, his deep, dark eyes gleaming with hope, determination and purpose. “And I’m gonna do it my way.”