BLUE CACTUS
Saturday, Feb. 25, 9 p.m., $10โ€“$12
Catโ€™s Cradle Back Room, Carrboro
www.catscradle.com

How the West Was Worn sits among the books on the coffee table of Steph Stewartโ€™s small, mid-century Chapel Hill apartment. The place has aged to a state of well-worn comfort, and Stewartโ€™s additions, such as the vintage guitars that hang on one wall, add to its character.

Inside the book, the relationship of age to glitz is inverted. How the West Was Worn demonstrates how western wear has gone from practical and hand-hewn trail garb to the flashy cowboy chic of the Nudie suits popularized by country singer Porter Wagoner. If they had their way, Stewart and her partner, Mario Arnez, would own half the outfits in this book.

โ€œThereโ€™s not enough money on Earth, I think,โ€ Arnez laments.

With their duo, Blue Cactus, Mario Arnez and Steph Stewart have found a place of comfort in the pomp and fashion of mid-century country music. The band name derives from an unlikely colored saguaro on one of Arnezโ€™s western shirts, and the duoโ€™s blissful embracing Nashville kitsch has become a hallmark.

โ€œItโ€™s so aware of its flamboyancy, and it just doesnโ€™t have a problem with that,โ€ Stewart says.

Previously, Arnez and Stewart were half of Steph Stewart and the Boyfriends. After releasing its second LP, 2015โ€™s Nobodyโ€™s Darlin, the string band began to wind down, yet the two continued writing songs together. Stewartโ€™s marriage deteriorated and she moved out on her own. She and Arnez are now more than just songwriting partners, and theyโ€™ll release their debut as Blue Cactus Saturday night in Carrboro.

After two string-band records with the Boyfriends, the switch to classic country and exploration of new sonic frontiers felt natural. Arnez and Stewart have became a nimble creative unit, adept at exploring heartbreak and hope with time-tested honky-tonk humor.

โ€œWith this record, there was no preconception necessarily or limitation we felt we had to deal with,โ€ Arnez says. โ€œWe didnโ€™t have to put a ceiling on any of these arrangements.โ€

He and Stewart love acoustic music, but as they moved past the string-band format they realized Blue Cactus could sound like anything: there could be electric instruments, such as Arnezโ€™s electric guitar intro on โ€œOpening,โ€ which briefly invokes Neil Youngโ€™s Dead Man soundtrack; there could be protracted sprawls, such as the orchestrated, seven-minute โ€œYears Are the Minutesโ€ which closes the record. Stately horn sections, as on โ€œPearl,โ€ and Opry-esque choral backing, as on โ€œI Never Knew Heartache (Then I Knew You),โ€ also had a place.

Arnez and Stewart remain good friends with the other two members of the Boyfriends, both of whom contributed to the record. Omar Ruiz-Lopez played violin, while Nick Vandenberg coproduced, played a half-dozen instruments, and wrote the down-and-out barroom ballad โ€œFrom the Bottle to the Floor.โ€ Stewart makes certain to point out that her former band isnโ€™t necessarily finished, even if it isnโ€™t gigging or recording.

โ€œThat might happen again,โ€ she says. โ€œNick moved to Boston recently and that was part of the reason we started to create a new project.โ€

The sessions for Blue Cactus, recorded in Vandenbergโ€™s Chapel Hill house before he moved, were organic and personal. Mandolin Orange fiddler Emily Frantz, who lives down the street, would just walk over to make her contributions. The players packed into a 12-by-12-foot bedroom that had been converted to a sound room. It was the heart of summer, and the air conditioner was turned off to aid the vocalists. That bothered Stewart less than one might expect.

โ€œI think itโ€™s nice to have a little bit of discomfort,โ€ she says.

Considering the heavy emotion in these songs, it made sense to record them live so the music could ebb and flow naturally. And Stewart knows that country music purveyors translating physical pain into powerful music amount to a historical precedent.

โ€œWith Patsy Cline, she had just broken her ribs, which is forcing her to kind of be present,โ€ Stewart says, referring to the storied recording session where Cline sang Willie Nelsonโ€™s โ€œCrazyโ€ with fractured bones. โ€œSheโ€™s feeling literally every painful thing she sings.โ€

For Stewart, the pain is just as real. โ€œMy marriage fell apart in the past two years,โ€ she says. โ€œI donโ€™t think I could write anything else.โ€

For all that upheaval, Stewart says her songwriting dynamic with Arnez hasnโ€™t changed, now that theyโ€™re a couple. Theyโ€™ve tried new approacheswriting songs title-first, say, which led to cuts like โ€œSo Right (You Got Left)โ€but the way these two talk about songwriting has remained consistent. In a 2015 interview ahead of the second Boyfriends release, they were reading books by songwriting coaches and trying to start a meet-up group for songwriters.

Two years later, theyโ€™re still reading songwriting books, and their sights are set on a few retreats this summer, where theyโ€™ll hone their craft and get started on the second batch of Blue Cactus tunes. If these cuts are anything like the ones theyโ€™ve just completed, theyโ€™ll be lonesome and sad overall, a little hopeful, and laced with silly wordplay and gallows humor. Even in the toughest times, Stewart points out, itโ€™s important to remember how to laugh somehow. Spangled garb certainly helps.

โ€œItโ€™s like moths to the flame, I guess,โ€ Arnez says. โ€œItโ€™s just so bright and beautiful.โ€

This article appeared in print with the headline โ€œPrickly Pairโ€

Bio: Corbie Hill lives on three wooded acres in Pittsboro, where he is a writer, musician, dad of two and community college English instructor. He is a regular contributor to INDY Week's music section.Twitter: http://twitter.com/afraidofthebear