Rating: 10/10

We can debate all day long about the styles and sounds of country music, whether it needs fiddle and steel to fit in the genre, and which modern artists are carrying the sound forward in progressive ways rather than just killing it on the vine. But one thing we can probably all agree on, and the thing that I’ve heard most from people on all sides of the genre debate, is that country music is real. It’s about life, and life is not always happy. IN fact, life is incredibly hard, and country music is important to so many because it embodies that spirit, telling the stories of real people and situations, and providing an empathy in the midst of our own struggles that works far better to heal the soul than songs of escape. That is not to discourage those songs either–in fact, brothers Osborne made a great record this year that works despite its lightweight lyrics and party themes because it provides a moment of peace and levity in the broken world in which we live. But there are also times when we need to know someone else has been through the same things and can understand our pain, and country music has a way unlike any other genre of capturing that truth and empathy and providing comfort to its listeners.

Lori McKenna is desperate to find that truth, stating in the opening lines of “Like Patsy would,” the closer to this album, “If it comes from the whiskey, then pour me a drink. If it comes from the heartache, let me feel the sting. If it comes from the spirits, set ’em loose in this room.” These words are the thesis of this whole project, as she sets out to carry on the traditions of country music by immortalizing the stories of real people. She’s an expert at this familiarity, taking the most mundane topics on the surface and then adding her unique, vivid details to make timeless stories that can relate to us all. Because of that, it’s imperative to give this album a few listens because every time, you will find new words and phrases that make these songs come alive. McKenna’s subtlety reminds me of the writing style of Jason Eady, for his turns of phrase are sneaky, and there’s always something hidden, waiting to be discovered and treasured. “A Mother Never Rests,” the simple opener and ode to motherhood, is elevated by the little details Lori throws in, like the nightlight being left on so that even the sun can set; the mother rarely sits down, but since she provided the light, even the sun can rest awhile. “The fixer” might not be a standout on your first couple listens because if you miss a phrase or two, the whole thing isn’t as poignant, but when you catch the lines about the “fixer” leaving ginger ale on the nightstand for his sick wife and then busying himself with some household project that he can control because he can’t fix her, and she’s too tired to even sip the drink, you can feel that pain. She’s referred to as “the fighter,” doing battle just to sit in her chair in the yard and praying for a miracle despite believing she can’t be fixed. And “The lot Behind St. Mary’s” becomes an incredibly special song of nostalgia and lost love when McKenna utters lines like, “I know you wonder why we can’t get back to When September was our only adversary.” On an album full of excellent songs, this one is definitely a highlight.

There’s the perfect amount of levity and hope sprinkled in as well, making this able to be replayed and keeping it from being a depressing listen despite the serious nature of most of these tracks. “Young and Angry Again” fits with the themes of nostalgia on the record, but it’s upbeat and catchy, and told in such a way that younger people can relate as well, not just people looking back on the good old days. As a 26-year-old, I appreciate when I can relate to a song like this because it shows Lori McKenna’s talent as a writer and an interpreter. “Happy People” was one of my least favorite songs on Little Big town’s last record, but Lori’s own version is more heartfelt and serves as a much-needed lighter moment on this project. “The Way Back Home” admittedly comes off as “Humble and Kind Part 2,” and I wanted to dislike it, but again, her details win out; when she sings about keeping a Bible by your bed like “headlights coming up the road” and getting back to whichever backyard you came from when you’re feeling lost, it’s impossible not to appreciate this song.

Dave Cobb did another fine job with this as well, neither overproducing McKenna and losing her lyrics in unnecessary arrangements like on Ashley Monroe’s album nor leaving Lori alone to hold our attention on her own. The lyrics are the main focus, and most of these songs are driven by acoustic guitar, but there’s always enough instrumentation to keep anything from being bare or minimalist. A producer shines when he or she enhances the artist and at the same time doesn’t draw attention to the production in lieu of that artist, and Cobb succeeds very well here.

As I said on Twitter, this album gets better and better like a fine wine. The Tree wasn’t a 10/10 for me on first listen, and I encourage you to give this several spins. The writing of Lori McKenna is subtle, and it’s absolutely full of hidden little details. But it’s those details which set her apart as a writer and emotive interpreter, and the more you uncover, the more there is to love about this record. It’s simple and relatable, taking real life and turning it into something magical and poetic. It’s everything that country music stands for, and a mark of the best songwriters.

Three chords and the truth. Fantastic record.

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