With so many great and important albums coming out last Friday and things happening behind the scenes for me personally, it was going to take serious motivation for me to actually add another record to my list, at least not to a list of stuff I’d actually get to anytime soon. Maybe the debut album by Texas country group Shotgun Rider would go on the never-ending back burner, ready to be pulled out on a slow release week in the future. I had no intention of actually getting to it quickly–and then motivation came swiftly for me when I heard that the lead singer sounded vocally like a more polished Gary Allan. For one, that’s a really specific comparison, and for another, Gary Allan has one of the most distinctive voices in modern country music, and imagining a more polished, less gritty version of his unique tone was intriguing. I put on Palo Duro, and indeed, it’s as if the lead singer, Logan Sanford, were the love child of Gary Allan and Mike Eli of the Eli Young Band. Fans of either of these vocalists should check this out. Since I am a fan of both, this immediately had my attention, and it turned out to be a really solid Texas country debut from Shotgun rider.
Just like Red Shahan’s album, this record is named for a landmark in West Texas, in this case the majestic Palo Duro canyon stretching for miles across the Texas panhandle. However, unlike Shahan’s record, this album is a more polished blend of country and rock; rather than rugged grit, this album goes for a smoother, cleaner sound. Also, where Culberson County is a record for thinking, this one’s a record for drinking, representing the lighter, Aaron Watson/Josh Abbott side of Texas country. This relies on strong hooks and catchy melodies more than hard-hitting lyrics. That’s not to say there aren’t some smart lyrics here, but they’re not really the biggest focus with this music.
But there’s nothing wrong whatsoever with solid, hook-driven music; in fact, Americana could use more of it. It provides a nice balance between deeper albums whenever it’s done right, and this record is most certainly done right. It’s a hard album to write about because there are only so many ways to say this is solid, and you can’t really analyze the lyrics all that much. But these songs, though not especially outstanding lyrically, are enhanced by Sanford’s vocal delivery, by hooks that quickly stick in your head, and by melodies which just make much of this album infectious.
The production goes a long way to separate this from other similar albums as well. It does a great job blending the classic sounds of Texas country, with equal parts crying steel and screaming electric guitar. Most of these tracks are also built around minor chords and/or darker keys, so there’s an element of seriousness to songs that might otherwise be lightweight. “Texas Rain,” probably the strongest selection here, does an excellent job building throughout the song to convey the storm of emotions this narrator is facing, as he can’t help but love a woman who comes and goes just like the West Texas rain, never staying long enough to actually provide relief. And sometimes, it’s just the passion and sincerity of Sanford’s delivery that makes a song work, like on “Lucky Him,” as the main character laments the fact that his ex is finding everything she ever dreamed of with another man. George Strait is cited as one of this band’s main influences, and that is evident here in this track, which sounds like a modern version of “You Look so Good in Love.”
As mentioned, the lyrics are secondary, but for the most part, they are solid. This is a debut, and it’s a strong one, but Shotgun Rider can certainly improve their songwriting on future releases since most of this doesn’t really go deeper than the surface. Still, except for the last three tracks, the writing works well enough. It’s on these last three, and particularly on the closer, “The Night Don’t Love You,” that the writing really becomes a liability, and this serves to end a really promising album on a bit of a whimper.
This is not a record that’s going to blow you away or give you some profound new revelation about life. But it works well for what it is, a hook-driven slice of modern Texas country music. We need more albums like this providing energy and stepping up to balance out the great songwriting efforts by other artists. We need more music like this to prove you can make a good album without being especially deep or artsy or making some grand statement. In a perfect world, this is the kind of music we’d be championing in the mainstream, and in that fantasy world, it would do well. Really strong debut, and I’m excited to see where Shotgun Rider will go from here.
Well, Kacey Musgrave’s new album has certainly caused a stir.
At this point, I’m sure many of you are tired of the rash of strong, divisive opinions surrounding this project. Was she uniting fans through genre-defying music, or selling out and forsaking sound and substance? Is the album even country, and what is “real country” these days anyway? I’ve already given my thoughts on her album, as well as discussed the entire genre debate in detail with Zack of The Musical divide, and after this, I promise I’ll just shut up and let you all come to your own conclusions about it all. But this portrayal of Golden Hour by mainstream media who are largely ignorant of the country genre as the album of the year, or some forward-thinking opus that’s “so gutsy it’s not even country” has got to be addressed.
It’s not that these non-country writers shouldn’t cover country music; in fact, the country genre gets ignored too much by the mainstream media and is often given only a cursory glance. And it’s not even that media members who are crowning Kacey Musgraves as some sort of queen of country are necessarily writing a false narrative; maybe they believe the things they write, and probably they do, given the lack of knowledge of other artists who are pushing the genre forward right along with Musgraves. And notice I said “right along with,” as opposed to “better than,” because Courtney Marie Andrews and Lindi Ortega and others aren’t doing more for the genre than Kacey Musgraves; rather, they’re all doing it in different ways, and all of it’s working very well. So even though I have a serious problem with the way the mainstream media is praising this album, I don’t think the answer is to pit other artists against each other.
The problem, though, is the underlying message conveyed by these headlines and by these narratives. Kacey’s country album is “so gutsy it’s not even country,” held up as a record that’s so forward-thinking that it’s left the restrictive, claustrophobic nature of country music behind. Musgraves meant to unite with this album and not to divide; she meant to expand her sound and bring country music to listeners who might not otherwise know the genre. She didn’t make this album to cast the bonds of country away, and that’s how it’s being portrayed by some of the media.
This is disrespectful to country as a genre, and this isn’t about traditional versus contemporary, it’s about the fact that it’s considered brave and risk-taking to abandon country altogether. It’s viewed as an inferior art form sonically, and more than that, it’s held up by many as the sound track to backward rural American life. It’s looked down on as the music of rednecks, of racists, of a backward and simple people who need to be brought into the modern world. Obviously, politics drive some of that narrative, and country purists sometimes don’t help the perceptions by putting their own restrictive limits on things, as we discussed in the collaboration, but these are both topics that can wait for another day. The point is, that putting words like “gutsy” and “country” in opposition to one another, as if country can’t earn this distinction on its own merit, is dangerous and derisive to the music we all love.
Does that mean these writers should stop covering country music? absolutely not; rather, it means they should broaden their perspectives and consider other artists. It’s fine to start with big names like Musgraves, and it’s fine if you don’t care for Lindi Ortega’s or Courtney Marie Andrews’ albums as much, but covering them only adds more context and knowledge of the genre. I can write a piece about a pop album; I can even recommend it and say I enjoyed it. But I can’t write with the same expertise and authority of a pop critic, and it’s disrespectful to the art to pretend that I know what I’m talking about if I’ve only listened to three pop records that year. This is the problem with mainstream critics, not that they shouldn’t write about or cover country, but that it should be considered an equal with the other genres of music, an art form to be explored and loved right beside pop or rock or rap. And yet it gets overlooked, except when projects like this come out. And then, instead of letting it be a window to the sounds and stories of country music, they craft narratives around it framing it a some sort of chain-breaking moment for Kacey Musgraves. Let them embrace country music right along with the rest of us, and then if they want to assign all these achievements to Kacey, I will respect their opinions and understand that their views come from a knowledge of the genre and a passion for the music.
That said, it’s not the ignorance of country music which ultimately makes their narrative a problem, it’s that their narrative comes from a place of condescension, a place where the music we love is meant to be cast aside in favor of progressive ideals and sounds. And in framing their opinions this way, they’ve only done a disservice to Kacey Musgraves and Golden Hour, because this is a personal album, meant to bridge gaps, to unite rather than divide, and to open herself up to the world rather than point fingers at judgmental people. Regardless of how you feel about it, it’s meant to bring more people to country music, not to turn them away, and it’s a shame that the media circus surrounding this may ultimately have that effect.
As was ironically just mentioned on this platform a few days ago, I was blessed with the opportunity in college to sing in a traveling band. This came up in a recent post because the director was Vince Gill’s guitar teacher–but he was also the youngest member of Bob Wills’ Texas Playboys, and if you talked to the man for more than five minutes, he’d surely tell you about it. He considered it his finest accomplishment, and we all had to learn some Bob Wills songs in our time because he used his connections to take us out to the Texas panhandle every year to a little town called Turkey, the hometown of Wills where we performed in a dance hall with a crumbling old stage that the Texas Playboys had played on in their day.
The Turkey, Texas, trip was one we all dreaded. For a weekend, we would be cut off from society, seemingly suspended in 1927. We were isolated from everything, and the stillness was jarring. You didn’t even here cars on the street in that town, just coyotes and church bells. Cell reception was nonexistent; you told your family where you were going and didn’t contact them again for 48 hours, until you got back across the Oklahoma border to civilization. I can still remember the horrified reaction of a friend from Rhode Island, already having enough of a culture shock from her move to our little college town of Chickasha, Oklahoma, when she realized her phone wouldn’t work in West Texas at all. It seemed like an ugly, desolate place hopelessly trapped inside the past, and with nothing to do one afternoon, either in the town or on our devices, we all sat on the porch of the dilapidated Turkey Hotel and bonded, making up a horror story we dubbed the “Turkey Texas Tragedy,” detailing how and in which order each of us would be murdered out here in this godforsaken wilderness.
Who would be inspired by such a place to make a record? And yet, it’s the desolation and emptiness of West Texas that Red Shahan chooses to bring to life here on this album, and not only that, he manages to capture the beauty in the place as well. You hear a song like the title track, named for a county in West Texas with a population barely over 2,000, and you understand why Shahan calls for us to “keep the lonely places lonely” and away from “anyone who doesn’t understand.” Even if you’re not from West Texas, it’s a relatable sentiment, as highways replace back roads, and rural communities grow into towns. The wide open spaces in our country and the world are becoming extinct, and Red Shahan laments this with a heartbreak that comes to life with the grit in his voice and will be relatable to many. “How They Lie” also captures this, as he sings of people losing their land to the government, being lied to about their intentions to take everything for which these people have worked so hard.
But more than the lyrics, it’s the sound that paints a picture of the isolated corners of West Texas and beyond. It’s the reverb that’s used to wonderful effect throughout this album to create an ever-present echo, as if this whole record were made in a canyon under the endless Texas sky. It’s the reverb throughout it all which sets the mood and serves as the backdrop, but the sonic influences are varied. We have rockers like the excellent openers “Waterbill” and “Enemy,” serving to kick off this album in fine fashion. “Waterbill” is the best opener I’ve heard so far this year, and with a line like “you ain’t livin’ unless you’re livin’ life broke,” it’s impossible not to enjoy this. “Enemy” goes for a darker, heavier atmosphere, an appropriate choice since this song deals with the dark side of small-town life–interesting to note that both red shahan and Ashley McBryde have just released songs referencing meth, an occurrence which has been surprisingly rare in the country genre given its prevalence in rural communities like this. And speaking of country, if you thought this album was purely a rock effort, take a listen to “Roses” and “How They Lie,” each blending country elements with that spacey rock production to create something exciting and forward-thinking. The title track does an excellent job of blending acoustic and electric guitar in a way that is becoming a signature sound for Red Shahan. I’d also argue that even when the sound leans heavily toward the rock end of the spectrum, much of this is more concerned with its lyrical content than most rock music, a characteristic certainly common to the country genre. Then, when you thought you had Red Shahan completely figured out sonically, he throws “Try” in at the end and displays a bluesy, soulful influence. Meanwhile, through all this, there’s that desolate, empty, West Texas backdrop behind everything to perfectly encapsulate the sound of that region.
While my criticisms for this album are few and far between, I will say that the lyrics are certainly weak in places. “6 Feet” sounds very cool, but it’s just not developed enough lyrically to really stand out. And “Revolution” is admittedly a really fun track, one you probably shouldn’t try to decipher beyond the surface anyway, but it’s hard not to point out it ultimately says nothing lyrically, especially when you understand that Red Shahan gave us songs like “Waterbill” and “Someone Someday,” both of which are lively and upbeat but which contain smart, substantive songwriting as well. Shahan can also sound a bit flat vocally at times, but after hearing the raw power with which he navigates and slays “Try,” I think that’s more of a style thing than a vocal issue. For example, the chorus of “Culberson County” is really flat in places, but this also serves to add dissonance and speak to the harsh beauty of the land.
This album just gets better and better with every listen. There’s something here for everyone, from the more country-sounding stuff like “Roses” to the intense rock of “Enemy” and everything in between. It’s raw and gritty in its sound and sometimes harsh in its message, a reflection of the place and people which inspired this record. Maybe we can’t agree on whether Kacey Musgraves or Ashley McBryde gave us the better mainstream album Friday, but we should all be able to come together in agreement of the fact that Red Shahan is a badass, and that this is a great, genre-bending, forward-thinking record. Don’t let it be one you overlook.
If Lindi Ortega has done nothing else with this record, she’s at least effectively released a case for why Bobby Bones’ idiotic philosophy that artists should only release singles and not albums is complete bullshit. She should get a 12/10 for that alone.
Lindi Ortega has one of those voices that’s made for telling darker stories, for capturing the raw emotions in characters filled with despair and desperation. She’s admitted that some of her material is personal, but she’s also just been blessed with a voice specifically tailored for songs like the haunting “Murder of Crows” or the painful, pleading “Ashes.” Most recently, she gave us an EP that came from the very depths of her soul, written after she nearly gave up on music altogether.
If Kacey Musgraves needed to show us more humanity, Lindi Ortega represents the opposite end of the spectrum, wearing her heart painfully on her sleeve for us all to hear. But just as she eventually found hope and a resolve to continue making music, she wants her listeners to find their own hope and joy in life and take something meaningful from her art. So she’s given us the concept album Liberty, the journey of a character coming out of darkness and depression and into the light of hope and life, set with a western backdrop and delivered with a cinematic feel.
And frankly, Liberty is quite a lot to take in. Those who like western themes and sounds will immediately enjoy this for its smoky, dusty atmosphere and references to horses and open skies. The production on this thing is just outstanding, and credit to Ortega for having this vision and seeing it through because country is a lyric-driven genre primarily, and telling part of the story musically is a risk within the format. It’s similar in that sense–and obviously in the sense of the themes–to Marty Stuart’s Way out West. But unlike on that album, the lyrics and underlying story are essential components of Liberty. Lindi Ortega said herself that she wanted listeners to see themselves in this character, and for that reason, the connections here can sometimes be vague–in fact, the vagueness in some of it is the biggest factor holding this album back from a perfect rating here. To that end, my interpretation of this narrator’s journey might be one of several and ultimately differ slightly from yours, but the best way to tell the album’s story and give it a proper review is to take that journey right along with the character Lindi created. The three movements are described as such by Ortega herself;, but the description of individual songs is solely my own.
Darkness and Loss
1. “Through the dust, Pt 1”–Serves as the intro for this whole journey, introducing the dusky, western vibes that permeate this whole album. Minor chords immediately establish that we’re starting this thing in quite a dark place.
2. “Afraid of the Dark”–This is just an introduction to her state of mind. She’s warning everyone around her, and possibly all us listeners as well, “Don’t come any closer to my heart if you’re afraid of the dark.” She comes across here as defiant, accepting that she spreads darkness around her and willing to stand alone, almost daring us to run away from her. The music behind this can only be described as haunting, building into the intense conclusion of the song which almost sounds like the sound track to a horror movie.
3. “You Ain’t Foolin’ Me”–I have to interject that this is just a kickass rock song and one of the standouts of the record, even on its own apart from the narrative. As for the story, this connection is one of the vaguer ones, but I think it’s referring to the people the narrator thinks she can trust but can’t. Deep down, she doesn’t really want to be alone on an island of despair, but she can’t trust anyone, especially not these backstabbing hypocrites who smile to her face and lie behind her back–“you think you’re foolin’ me, but you ain’t.”
4. “Til my Dyin’ Day”–Now we come to a softer, more country moment with lots of steel guitar crying out in the mix. Until now, we’ve seen that she’s angry and defiant and pushing people away, but we haven’t seen why. She has finally let the walls down to reveal the incredible sadness beneath the anger, the pain of the loss of her lover. This also makes the previous track make a bit more sense, as he was the one that was there for her despite everything, and now he’s gone. It also means she could have been lashing out in anger at others before instead of really dealing with this depression, a common response to the loss of a loved one.
5. “Nothing is Impossible”–IN this dreamlike track, she’s gone from resolved to crying till the end of her days to determined to bring him back. She plays his records, wears the dress that he loved, and tries to make everything the way it was before he died. She’s even resorted to bargaining with the devil–“I’d let the devil just take my soul if he’d give me back my man.” She’s reached her lowest point of darkness and despair here, ready to just stop living.
Resurrection
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fO87T44tAY4
6. “Through the Dust, Pt. 2”–We’re on to the second section of the story, but this version of the theme song is punctuated by a gunshot, the shot that is referred to in the next song as the one that metaphorically kills her.
7. “The Comeback Kid”–I hated this song before it was released ahead of the album, and I still hated it through several listens. I finally accepted its position here when I caught the line, “I’m still alive, so I guess I’ll try living instead.” It connects the whole thing; she couldn’t stop living physically, so if she’s going to stay around, she might as well try actually living emotionally. However, she is basically hell-bent on revenge here. She’s not at peace yet, but at least she’s got a reason to wake up in the morning.
8. “Darkness be Gone”–But revenge can only work as a motive for living for so long, and here, she’s relapsing, feeling the pull of the darkness and the devil in the verses calling her to give in. There is some great musical stuff going on here, as she’s making use of the tritone, or the “devil’s tone,” named so because it’s the harshest, most dissonant interval in music and was actually thought at one time to call up the devil, during the verses. IN the choruses, she can hear the angels helping her to resist the devil. It’s also the first time we hear the word “light” on this record, as she’s struggling to fight the darkness for the first time and make her way toward it. This one is a direct reason why you have to understand the concept of this album because on its own, it’s honestly just weird, but here, it’s a transition point for the entire thing.
9. “Forever Blue”–Now our heroine has made a conscious decision to follow the light and turn away from the darkness and past behind her. Using the western metaphors, she’s vowing to ride her horse out of the storm and focus on the light. Unlike the last one, this song works well on its own and serves as a standout here.
10. “In the Clear”–Not much to say about this track, and it’s one where the writing is rather weak, but basically, it sees her finally at peace and content, having put the past firmly behind her. She and her horse, it seems, have finally come to a place of rest.
11. “Pablo”–Even though she’s found peace of mind, however, she’s still alone. That all changes when Pablo arrives with a guitar on his back. The Latin influences and Spanish chorus really add to this track. It often takes loving yourself first in order to truly be able to love another, and that’s why she’s now ready for this kind of commitment. I had several theories on why, after the last two peaceful tracks, this one is dark again, with its minor chords and more intense production. It seems on the surface that she’d be happy now that she has him, but the song also refers to him having a “broken, tortured soul” and speaking to her past pain through his music. It makes sense, in the same way in which people who have come out of abusive relationships might be fine within themselves but then meeting someone new triggers the old memories and pain. Sometimes it takes working through this pain, or in her case, the pain of loss, to truly heal, and that’s ultimately what I think this song was going for.
12. “Lovers in Love”–Probably the most country for all you traditionalists, with some really cool harmonica. And what a happy track, describing the difference between lovers who walk away and “lovers in love,” as Lindi calls them, who stand by each other through thick and thin, no matter what the cost. One would assume our narrator has found this kind of lasting love with Pablo and is now truly happy.
Freedom
13. “Through the dust, Pt 3”–The intro again, this time coming to us in a peaceful, tranquil form with prominent piano.
14. “Liberty”–The title track, once again exploring those Latin influences, and seeing her and her lover finally free from their past. You can see why this record is so named because reaching this liberty is the ultimate end to the character’s journey.
15. “Gracias a la Vida”–Her final benediction, a song of thanks for all the little things in life, from her eyesight to her hearing to the way she can see her beloved in the crowd. It’s a cover, but a brilliant choice of one, as Ortega sings of both joy and sadness, described in the song as the two elements of her song that she shares with everyone, and both themes that run through this entire record. With this track, she concludes the story well and also adds more of that Latin influence which marked the album.
Overall
This concept is a bit vague at times, but mostly, it is played out really well over the course of the album. The different influences, from country to rock to Latin, really gave this a nice variety, and the western atmosphere in the production serves as a worthy backdrop. Occasionally, the writing in the individual songs is weak, although the connections between the tracks are often stronger in these songs. Sometimes, Lindi Ortega is a little flat vocally, and I do wish she’d had more moments where all her raw power, so common on earlier releases, could have been unleashed. These are both minor criticisms, but my biggest problem is the vagueness that occasionally exists in the underlying story. It keeps this album from being a ten because in trying to relate to more people, Ortega made the concept too broad in a couple places. Still, these are criticisms made by virtue of the standard to which I hold Lindi Ortega, as well as the high bar this album sets for her. Basically, I’m saying the only problem with this great record is that it had the potential to be even better. That said, this is the best album I’ve heard so far in 2018. Go give it a listen.
