It's a gas, gas, gas: Rolling Stones fan and billionaire Kelcy Warren (center) set up Music Road Records with Jimmy LaFave (left) and Fred Remmert.

Kelcy Warren was listening to the radio in his olderbrother's milk truck at age 12 when he first heard the Rolling Stones' "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction." "The song moved my soul," says Warren, with a Texas twang.

That's quite a statement from a guy who had gospel music constantly playing like a background score during his childhood. To Warren the Stones were a revelation, and he soon found himself fantasizing about becoming a musician.

In his East Texas town of White Oak, however, boys who preferred the stage over a sports field were likely to get beaten up; Warren chose to play linebacker instead of guitar. A year after his "Satisfaction" moment, he began his career in energy sweeping out warehouses for Sun Oil, where his father was a supply clerk.

Fast-forward four decades and Warren, 55, has built his pipeline company, Dallas-based Energy Transfer, into a master limited partnership (see p. 154) that operates the largest network of natural gas pipelines in Texas.

That operation is valued at more than $18 billion, and Warren, a member of FORBES' list of the 400 wealthiest Americans, is himself worth $1.8 billion. Now his wealth is providing Warren the means to fulfill his boyhood dream. In 2007 he cofounded Music Road Records to produce and market lyrics-driven folk music. More than Mick Jagger, his model is singer-songwriter Jackson Browne, whose original first name, Clyde, helped inspire Warren to name his own son Klyde.

Many a mogul has tossed cash at vanity music projects, ephemeral Broadway productions and Hollywood bombs. Warren--boisterous, barrel-chested and intensely competitive--got burned in a previous musical venture when his partner proved more committed to partying than to making music.

This time Warren plans to leverage the connections and experience of partners Jimmy LaFave, an Austin music scene institution, and Fred Remmert, a recording engineer, to turn a profit as well as to turn out influential folk music. Music Road operates out of two studios: Cedar Creek Recording on 9 acres south of Austin and the second on Warren's Cherokee, Tex. estate. Remmert has used the stone-and-wood ranch house near Austin to make records for more than 25 years, most famously the Dixie Chicks' Grammy-winning Home.

On a Monday afternoon in October, Warren carries a red cooler of Coors Light into the control room and opens bottles with the inside of his black T-shirt. An ensemble has rented studio time to record a song for a Guy Clark tribute album.

Guitar, bass and piano fill the room. Remmert goes to work on his Neve control console, the same relic that recorded Elvis Presley's final three albums. Warren retreats to a corner and peers at the band through the control room window. His face is taut, eyes far away, like a boy hearing "Satisfaction" for the first time.

The idea for Music Road was born at a time when Warren was losing money in the music business and LaFave offered advice. Warren compares the venture to drilling for gas: A geologist finds promising plots, an engineer drills, and, if they're successful, years of royalties gush forth.

At Music Road LaFave acts like the geologist, spotting talent. Remmert puts his 200-plus recording credits to work producing albums. Warren provides cash and Dallas business smarts amid Austin's bohemian-cowboy culture.

By Warren's standards, the stakes are tiny. He's pitched in roughly $300,000, plus some real estate and equipment, for about 70% of the label. He doesn't expect to throw in more than $500,000 total before it begins to earn its keep. To Warren, who himself writes songs and plays guitar, it's about the music as much as the money.

"The best part about Kelcy is you can talk music with him, and he's a big part of the creative end of what we're doing, although he'll never admit it," says LaFave.

When it comes to signing talent, LaFave's reputation attracts some of the best musicians on the Austin scene. With Remmert then providing the recording gear and sweat equity, Music Road can produce albums for about $30,000, versus the half-million or so it often costs with conventional music execs and their casts of dozens. Music Road's real challenge: coming out with enough quality albums to crank up its revenues; artists just don't surge with output like gas wells.

"You have a great artist, at best he'll make a record every three years," says Warren.

Over the last two years the label has released a total of seven records from five artists, including Sam Baker, Slaid Cleaves and LaFave himself. They've generated about 30,000 CD sales and brought in $320,000 in revenues. Warren would like to produce eight albums a year.

To get there he may launch an Internet radio station that will whet listeners' appetites for album and single-track purchases online. That's where U.S. fans bought 40% of their music last year, or a total of 1.1 billion legally downloaded tracks, according to Nielsen.

To lure top talent Music Road splits proceeds 50-50 after breaking even on the cost of production, art, CDs and promotion. The artists provide the content and the tour. The goal is to make music that will be remembered for decades.

"To me it's like owning 15 great bottles of wine," says LaFave. "We're not a label of Coca-Cola ( KO - news - people )."

To provide the label with an additional boost, Warren doubles as its leading patron by hiring its acts to play gigs at his Dallas home, at an annual charity festival that recently drew 1,000 fans and even at Energy Transfer's analyst meetings.

Musicians are also invited to use Warren's two Texas ranches, a Colorado compound and an island off Honduras to write and relax.

"I'm blessed to have some really nice things," Warren says. "What a jerk I'd be if I didn't share them."

He's performed his own songs in his recording studios, but don't expect a debut album released on Music Road anytime soon. "I'm so shy and insecure about it," Warren says, "I don't think I could ever let anyone hear the recordings."