Category Archives: Reviews

Album Review: Kasey Chambers–Dragonfly

Rating: 8/10

Kasey Chambers is a household name in Australia; she’s released eleven albums, and she’s been winning awards and selling millions of records for years. Still, her name is somewhat obscure in the States, and that’s honestly probably because she wouldn’t have that type of mainstream success here–her music ranges from more traditional, rootsy material to country rock to folk rock to the occasional country pop song to some blues, all of which are represented on this record, but the commonality in all of it is that it’s quite unpolished. Even the more pop-leaning offerings aren’t pop enough for the American mainstream, and so she remains as unknown to some as many of her independent American counterparts despite her success in her home country. It wasn’t until 2015’s excellent Bittersweet that I discovered Chambers and her music, and I’ve since found a lot to enjoy throughout her discography. She’s back now with a double album, which is always a risky undertaking, but for the most part, this is a strong one, and though there’s some filler, it’s minimal.

Disc 1: “The Sing Sing Sessions”

I separate this into two discs because this isn’t just a long album, it’s two albums with completely different producers that make a consistent, cohesive record despite themselves. I almost hesitate to rate this as one project, and the only reason I do is because you must buy them together. This first disc, dubbed “The Sing Sing sessions,” is the stronger of the two and was produced by Paul Kelly, another Australian household name. ON its own, I’d give it an 8.5 at least, maybe a 9.

This disc opens in fine fashion with the banjo that backs many of Kasey’s songs on the catchy, infectious “Pompeii.” I should mention that Kasey Chambers underwent nodule surgery between Bittersweet and the recording of this album, and her voice is definitely stronger. The new depth comes out in full force on the empowering, angry “Ain’t No Little Girl,” easily one of the standouts of this whole thing. If you single out one track of twenty, make it this one, and if you can afford two, “Jonestown” is the other crown jewel. This one tells a great story of a town where people take refuge from hardship and discrimination. It’s an excellent piece of songwriting, and it’s also beautiful melodically. I mentioned the sonic variety of Chambers, and it speaks to her talent that she can deliver equally great performances on a traditional song like this and the rocking, bluesy “Ain’t NO Little Girl.” She explores faith in many of her songs as well, and this album is no different; “Golden Rails” is a fun little gospel-infused tune that may not stand out on the first listen, but you’ll keep coming back to it for its catchy production and lyrics. Kasey also has a knack for story songs, and “Behind the Eyes of Henri Young” captures perfectly the emotion in the chilling tale of a seventeen-year-old boy who went to Alcatraz for petty theft and ended up dying there after being mistreated in prison. There’s also “Romeo & Juliet” featuring Irish singer-songwriter Foy Vance, which tells this story in a new, fresh way, although the lyrics can be admittedly hard to understand at first, and I wish Vance had been given more to do than just echoing chambers in the verses. Kasey also tells her own humorous story in “Talkin’ Baby Blues,” complete with running away from home at thirteen and dating a man who was “barely old enough to vote,” all while putting everything she felt down in song. “Summer Pillow” touches the slightly more pop leanings of Chambers, delivering a nice heartbreak song–“isn’t that life, to give me that, for just a minute and then take it back. Isn’t that love, to make me see everything that never will belong to me.” “You Ain’t worth Suffering for” is also basically pop rock, and this is the only moment of filler on this first disc, although it’s grown on me a little. Mainly, it’s the production here that doesn’t do it for me, and overall, this first half–well, eleven of the twenty, so slightly more than half–is quite strong and does a good job showcasing all the different styles explored by Kasey Chambers over the years. but it’s always a risk extending things and going for quantity, so it’s with that in mind that we head into Disc 2.

Disc 2: “The Foggy Mountain Sessions”

Disc 2, produced by Kasey’s brother and longtime producer Nash Chambers, opens just as strongly as the first, if not more so, with the excellent “Shackle and Chain.” With its call-and-response style lyrics and sparse production, it’s more akin to some of the material from Bittersweet,–which production wise was quite different from other Chambers albums–so if that’s the Kasey Chambers you were looking for, you’ll find more to appreciate on this half of the record. There’s the ever-building, almost Gothic “If I Died,” which sees Chambers issuing out some last requests–“If I died on the bayou, and the sun is goin’ down, would you float me like Moses, so they don’t put me in the cold, hard ground?” It’s got some very nice production which really makes the song, and I think Nash Chambers shines brightest on this track. There are also two great collaborations on this half; one is a banjo-driven gospel song called “NO Ordinary Man” featuring great harmonies from Harry Hookey, Vika Bull, and Linda Bull, and the other is a nice duet with Keith Urban called “If we Had a Child.” The latter has the same problem as the Foy Vance collaboration, however–Keith Urban’s contributions consist of nothing more than harmony and echoing Kasey, and I’d have liked to have heard more from him. The album closer is another version of “Ain’t no Little Girl,” this one called the “FM Lounge Version,” and basically, it boils down to being a subdued version of the song. I prefer the angry version, but both are nice, and both stand out and manage to sound unique, and it’s interesting to have two versions of the same song from two different producers which still serve to unite this whole record.

Disc 2, however, does have some filler. I would say that this second disc is a more consistent record production wise, and therefore, when you do hear the more country pop songs, they stick out on this half of the album. The lyrics in the title track and “satellite” are also pretty weak, and so for multiple reasons, these two just seem like filler on a twenty-track project. I love the production of “Annabelle,” but the lyrics here leave me wanting more too. I feel like it’s trying to tell a great story, but I’m just not getting it somehow. If I’m rating disc 2 by itself, it’s still a solid album, and it probably gets a 7.5.

Overall

People say that double albums always have too much filler, and I’d have to say this one does have a little. However, I wouldn’t say that Kasey Chambers made a mistake in releasing two separate discs because each disc represents a distinct style in production. I do think the first is stronger, but if you trim this down to traditional album length, ten to twelve songs, you leave out some good stuff, as well as possibly making the songs not flow as easily into each other being from two different producers. If you trim this down to fifteen songs, you have an excellent album, so maybe it’s a bit long at twenty, but again, it’s not your traditional double album with the different producers and styles, so I’m not sure that would flow as well either. As it is, we have a two-disc, twenty-track offering from Chambers, and for the most part, it’s very strong. It showcases a wide range of sounds, so there’s something here for everyone. The songwriting is solid throughout, and overall, I really enjoyed this record. Definitely recommend this both as a nice place to begin with Kasey Chambers and as a solid addition to her discography.

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Collaborative Review: The Steel Woods–Straw in the Wind

Well, you all really seemed to enjoy our collaborative review style on Chris Stapleton’s album, and several of you suggested we keep doing it. We enjoyed it as well, so we’re back with a conversation about the debut album from Southern rock band The steel woods, Straw in the Wind. This one’s a little different in style and will reflect the style of most of these if we continue; Stapleton’s was track-by-track simply because it was so short–and also because we didn’t really know how well we could pull off such a thing. Any feedback on our style would be appreciated, as we’re still perfecting it, but we’re having fun with it, and we hope you enjoy it as much as we do. With all of that said, let’s get to Straw in the Wind.

Conversation

Megan: One of the highest points on this whole record for me was the instrumentation. That’s what drew me in right away on the opener, “Axe.” On that song, it’s a nice mix of country and rock. You get hints of country, bluegrass, Southern rock, and blues throughout the album, but it’s always just fantastic.
Brianna: I completely agree on the instrumentation. They blend all these different genres seemingly without effort.
Megan: If you had to put this into one genre, what would you call it? I keep seeing them labeled Southern rock, but I’m not sure that explains all of it.
Brianna: I honestly don’t know if that’s possible to do. I mean, I do agree that Southern rock is the main thing. But they just take so many different styles and mix them up.
Megan: Yeah, and they do it so well, like you say, without effort. I think sonically, lots of people could find something to love about this album. What songs stood out most lyrically?
Brianna: Oh, “Straw in the Wind” is my favorite song here. It tells a dark story, and that was the one that hooked me on this album. Aside from that, I like the lyrics of “Better in the Fall,” which I took to be about a man loving the act of falling in love but being unable to keep the relationship alive after that. The imagery here was great. I also liked “Della Jane’s Heart,” although that one really reminded me of Turnpike Troubadours’ “Doreen.” I loved “Uncle Lloyd,” and how it talked about finding family to whom you aren’t related by blood. I also quite liked “If we Never Go.” It was a really simple song about two young people in a relationship needing to roam and be on their own away from family.
Megan: I completely agree on “Straw in the Wind,” which tells the story of a small town where travelers aren’t welcome, and what a line this is: “strangers ’round here disappear like straw in the wind.” also agree on “Della Jane’s Heart,” and that stylistically reminds me of Turnpike Troubadours as well–actually, it’s like bluegrass meets Red dirt. I think these two together make the strongest moment of the record. I’d also add “The Secret,” which has grown on me after a couple listens. It tells the secret that Satan was really a woman and not the serpent. The imagery here of a man, I presume Adam, “staring at a half-eaten apple” is on the cover, which adds to the darkness of this whole thing.
Brianna: That line from “Straw in the Wind” just sticks out above all the other lyrics on this album. I like the idea behind “The Secret” more than I do the actual song.
Megan: That’s true for me on quite a few of these songs, although not “The Secret.” There’s a vagueness in a lot of them, especially on the back half, that starts to drag the album down a little.
Brianna: Yes, and that’s the thing that really brings this album down for me. I like a song to be able to be whatever the listener makes of it, but when there are multiple instances of this, it grows tiresome. I believe the song “Whatever it Means to You” could have been a little nudge to say to the listener that the songs could mean whatever you think they do. Granted, I could be completely wrong about this, but putting in a song where you say “all that means is whatever it means to you” on a pretty vague album does tend to send that message.
Megan: Glad you mentioned that because that song really gets on my nerves. Basically, it lists a bunch of superstitions as well as signs of faith and says they mean nothing except what people make of them, and then says “all these songs” also mean only what you make of them. Lowest point on the album for me, along with “Hole in the Sky” and “Wild and Blue,” which are just forgettable filler. It doesn’t help that these three are right in a row either. actually, the song you mentioned, “If we Never Go,” is by far the best moment on the back half.
Brianna: Same for me, although I do have to mention the really cool harmonica play on “Wild and Blue.” It’s a classic song, but their version just didn’t stand out for me beyond the instrumentation. But yes, I definitely think “If we Never Go” was the best moment on that part of the album.
Megan: I didn’t know “Wild and Blue” was a cover, and I’ve literally just looked up the original, which is by John Anderson…difference: I actually like this song. You’re right, their version doesn’t stand out at all.
Brianna: Alan Jackson has a pretty good version on his bluegrass record, and that’s where I first heard the song. Compared to that, the version on this album is disappointing except in the instrumentation. That’s pretty much the way I feel about the remainder of the album too–disappointing and sometimes vague subject matter, but stellar instrumentation and good vocals.
Megan: Yep, I’d agree. NO other standouts besides the ones we’ve mentioned, but the vocals are incredible, glad you brought that up. Wes Bayliss is a fine vocalist. Instrumentation is very strong throughout. Some really great lyrical moments in here too, sprinkled among the vagueness. Overall, some filler on a 13-song album, but a really strong, promising debut from The steel woods. Nice, solid 8 from me.
Brianna: I would give this album an 8 as well. It has some filler moments as we’ve said, but also quite a few amazing ones. I can’t get the title track or “If we Never Go” out of my head. I am extremely impressed with the caliber of talent this band possesses, and despite the vagueness in some of these songs, I can’t give this album any less.

Collective Rating: 8/10

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Album Review: Liz Rose–Swimming Alone

Rating: 6/10

If you listened to the first two Taylor Swift albums–you know, back when she did sound rather country–you’ve heard a Liz Rose song. Liz Rose is most famous for having co-written most of the songs on Swift’s first two albums and helping to make her career, lending the skill of a professional songwriter to stories from a girl over thirty years younger and somehow making the partnership work to perfection. Liz Rose also has a songwriting credit on Little Big Town’s “Girl crush,” as well as many other mainstream hits, always seeming to find that balance between commercial success and critical acclaim. So when news came that she was releasing an album, that couldn’t be taken lightly; rather, it was like hearing about Natalie Hemby, Lori McKenna, and Brandy Clark before her, definitely something to be excited and intrigued about.

The difference? Liz Rose didn’t want to make this record “pitchable.” She didn’t come into it looking for subsequent records or tour dates–in fact, she said that after she wrote the album closer, “My Apology,” she felt like the story had ended, and this might be the only Liz rose record to ever grace our presence. Also, she’s not a performer, though her vocal talent here would counter that notion. Still, you have to come into this record knowing what it is to fully get it; it’s just a little story of Rose’s life told in song, and she just happened to have Nashville connections and a publishing company, so you stumbled upon a copy.

That’s the cool thing about this record. It’s dated, but not in the timeless, throwback way of Colter wall, more like in the way of your mom or aunt or grandma telling their stories about growing up in the 50’s and 60’s. It’s trapped there in that time period, and that’s why it’s crucial to understand where Liz Rose is coming from lest it just be an out-of-date, old-fashioned affair. One of the best songs here is the opener, “Grocery Money,” where Rose tells of her mother’s sacrifice and shares the details about growing up with little but somehow always having enough to get by. You’ll hear in “Five ‘n’ Dime” how she worked with her family at one of these stores, in “Woodstock” that she was pissed off to be too young in 1969 to go, and in “Tulsa” about an adventure with her best friend when she was thirteen and ran away from home to “God knows where, Oklahoma.” You’ll get a sense of her fearlessness and motivation to carve out a career for herself in the songwriting industry, an industry she entered at the age of thirty-seven, when you hear “Swimming Alone” and learn that she’s used to finding her own way. You’ll get a glimpse into her love life with “Letters From Prison,” telling the story of a teenage boyfriend who later sent letters to her office and wanted autographs of country stars to distract him from his “personal hell,” and “Ex-Husbands,” the humorous tale of her marriage history that is the highlight of this record and has the potential to get cut despite Rose writing the album to be “unpitchable.” There are also more touching moments, like the aforementioned “My Apology,” where Liz Rose apologizes to her parents, old lovers, and even herself for her mistakes, and “Yellow Room,” where she’s missing and saying goodbye to her father. all in all, it’s a very personal, very unique reflection of her life, much like a snapshot into the life of a relative or a friend, only told in musical form.

AT the same time, that’s also the thing that holds this record back. It’s very personal and cool, but in many places so much so that it won’t be relatable to many. That’s not what Liz rose was going for here, though; she just wanted to make a record for herself. I think people who grew up in these same times will find much to relate to and to love about this album anyway, and this is why I featured it. Personally, although it’s a really cool album and idea, and although the production makes it much more catchy and less boring than these types of singer-songwriter albums generally are, it doesn’t hold up for me beyond the initial interesting glimpse into the life of Liz Rose. The songs “Grocery Money,” “ex-Husbands,” and “Woodstock” stand out above the others, and as a fan, I would pick them off the record; indeed, that’s almost what I did in order to feature Liz rose and this album. I wanted to enjoy this more, particularly as someone who respects the songwriting of Rose, but at the end of the day, a lot of it just isn’t for me, and that directly speaks to the fact that I can’t really relate to these stories and times. But it’s a record that will be for a lot of people despite, or perhaps even because of, its personal nature. People from Rose’s generation especially will connect to this album, and in light of Liz Rose’s intent with this project, the result was a cool listen if nothing else.

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Single Review: Lauren Alaina’s “Doin’ Fine”

Rating: 7/10

I missed covering Lauren Alaina’s sophomore album, Road Less Traveled, back in January while I was out of the country, and it’s something I’ve regretted ever since because that album is a great example of good pop country. Lauren Alaina is someone we should all be supporting in the mainstream even if she’s more pop than country because at least she’s releasing pop songs–and sometimes actually pop-flavored country songs–that mean something. These songs actually have something to say and might also relate to a youthful mainstream audience–“Road Less traveled” may not be the best example of this, but even this pop single was trying to deliver a worthwhile message, even if the message was broad. But pop it definitely was, and even though it gave her a #1 hit, she had a lot of detractors. The thing is, though, that her album of the same name was better; much of it was personal to Lauren and, as much as that word has been run through the wringer recently, “authentic.” She spoke about her eating disorder, her father’s alcoholism, and her struggle to get onto country radio. Yes, it’s pop-flavored, but it’s the type of mainstream album we should be cheering for, and we should be happy for Lauren’s success–but it’s hard to do with a straight pop single like the title track.

So now she’s released something more pop country, and yes, more personal, to radio, and now maybe we can get behind her. Who knows if radio will play this since ON the Verge did support “Road Less Traveled,” but it’s something promising in the mainstream. Much like RaeLynn’s “Love Triangle,” this song deals with Lauren’s parents’ divorce, and though it may seem otherwise on the surface, there are some deceivingly detailed lines here too. It’s something that is so obviously Lauren Alaina’s story, with details such as her dad getting sober and her mom marrying her dad’s best friend, but at the same time, it’s broad enough to connect and relate to many people who have gone through the same thing. Basically, it sees Lauren finally fine after coming out on the other side; she always told people she was okay, but now she’s fine enough to see that people are all going through things, or that, as the song says, “everyone’s a little broken,” and these things happen. It’s a nice, reflective look on the events, and as I say, it could potentially connect with many. Time will tell if radio gives this a shot, but it’s something that would definitely improve the mainstream. Pop country being done right.

Written by: Lauren Alaina, Emily Shackleton, Busbee (I seriously doubt Busbee did any actual writing, but who knows?)

Album Review: Robyn Ludwick–This Tall to Ride

Rating: 7.5/10

If you want a good endorsement for Robyn Ludwick and her music, Jamie Lin Wilson recommended her to me back in September when I asked her to give us the names of some Texas country females we should be listening to. Robyn’s also the sister of Charlie and Bruce Robison which definitely counts for a lot in the Texas scene. I could go on with more of an introduction, but those two points alone should get you interested right away, even before we get into the fascinating album that is This Tall to Ride.

This Tall To Ride–yeah, that’s certainly an appropriate name because this record and the material presented here won’t be for the faint of heart. Like a height restriction on a roller coaster, the title is there to warn unsuspecting listeners, and to let you know just what kind of ride you’re embarking on, and indeed to offer you the chance to turn around at the last minute and avoid this adventure altogether. It’s a ride that takes you through life on the streets and lonely motels, and tells stories of coping with hard times by turning to vices. Yeah, that last has been done a thousand times in country–but not Robyn Ludwick’s way, where the vices are often cocaine and casual, or even solicited, sex. I counted the word “cocaine” twelve times on this record, and you don’t hear a lyric like the opening line to the excellent “Texas Jesus” in just any country project–“She says baby, I don’t jerk just anyone, but this one’s under the table, it’s gonna be loads of fun. But he don’t care, she’s like Mexican heroin, and it’s blockin’ his hurt for awhile.”

That theme of blocking hurt and pain permeates this album, and it’s what makes all the drug references somehow fit; it’s like rock lyrics, but told with a country songwriter’s care for crafting a story, almost the opposite of the way in which Texas country artists normally mix the two genres. Robyn Ludwick writes and sings in a manner that makes you feel all the sorrow of these characters and understand why they often turn to drugs and strangers for comfort. She has taken their lives and almost made them seem glamorous, and that takes as much of a talent as writing your own stories in song, if not more–it’s interesting that she can step so well into these roles and sing with such conviction. And that’s not what she’ll sing about on this whole album, but it’s where her writing shines brightest, and it’s where the unique, sort of raspy tones in her vocal quality work to perfection to add a rough edge to these songs. That rawness in her voice especially enhances “Freight Train,” one of the other standout moments on this album.

This record is a bit hard to judge because there’s some filler mixed in with some absolute gems. You have some truly excellent songs; I already mentioned “Freight Train” and “Texas Jesus,” and I can add “Bars Ain’t Closin’,” “Lie to Me,” and “Rock ‘n’ Roll Shoes” to that too. “Bars Ain’t Closin'” features some nice steel guitar as well and tells a great, desperate story of heartbreak and missing someone; it’s cool to hear more country instrumentation paired with lyrics like Robyn’s, and it makes her and these songs all the more unique within this subgenre of Texas country. “Rock ‘n’ Roll Shoes” speaks of life on the streets, and those sighs explain perfectly what the main characters were seeking when Ludwick sings, “she didn’t love him, but on the streets, you get hungry man.” But then, mixed in with these standouts, there are just some bland tracks like “Love You For It,”–which is an unfortunate opener that won’t hold your attention like an opener should–and “Junkies and Clowns.” Nothing bad on the album, just really mediocre songs, especially in comparison to some of the others–definitely what Country Perspective would have dubbed wallpaper. It was really difficult to rate this, and in that respect, it reminded me of Jaime Wyatt’s latest album because the good here is absolutely great, but there’s also some really average to balance it out. The one thing I will say for the weaker tracks, though, is that the melodies are engaging. IN fact, melody is one of the strongest points of the album all the way through, and it serves to add another element of accessibility to lyrics like these that might not otherwise be enjoyable and/or relatable.

Overall, this is just a cool, unique album. No, it’s not going to be for everyone, but that’s part of music and art, and the fact that this could be polarizing speaks both to the talent and audacity of Robyn Ludwick and to the fact that this record had something to say. Credit to Robyn for telling the stories of people so often ignored and/or misunderstood by society, and for allowing us all a glimpse into their lives and perspectives, exploring themes so seldom ventured into in country music. There’s some damn great music on here too; some of these tracks are honestly just brilliant in songwriting, and their melodies will stay with you. There’s some mediocrity and filler, and based on the outstanding parts of the album, Robyn Ludwick is capable of better, but it balances out to be a solid album, and worth your time, if indeed you’re ready for the roller coaster. Cool record, glad I went along for the ride.

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