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Album Review: Dierks Bentley–The Mountain

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Rating: 8/10

A little over a year ago, after Brad Paisley returned to his natural self on Love and War, I wrote a piece detailing which artists I’d like to see follow his lead and just get back to being themselves. Dierks Bentley was first on that list–right up until Black, he was a beacon of hope in the mainstream, managing to blend the traditional and contemporary sounds and themes in a great way to make him one of the best in mainstream country…then we got “Somewhere on a Beach,” and it all went downhill from there. It seemed that Bentley was selling out, and he didn’t even need to do so–he had carved out his own niche perfectly and was seeing airplay and mainstream success without venturing down this road. He was making an album for the wrong reasons, and that was especially disheartening when he’d been such a strong mainstream artist previously.

With The Mountain, we have seen him return to form in fine fashion. “I don’t care how you buy it, or listen to it. I’m making the record for me,” he said of this project, and that’s not only the right way to approach an album, it’s the way Bentley has always been, and the part of him that took charge when he decided to do something different with Up on the Ridge a few years ago. It’s just a recipe for good, heartfelt music, and that’s what Bentley delivers on this record.

He knew he needed to get out of Nashville in order to make an album like this, and the mountains of Colorado were the perfect backdrop. You’ll hear references to Colorado often, even if the song isn’t about that state at all, as well as to the landscape, and the title track here is all about climbing through the mountains of life one small step at a time. But the thing that captures this album’s mood the most is the production. Just as Marty Stuart set the desert to music last year with Way out West, and Brothers Osborne made Port Saint Joe an album that literally sounded like a weathered, forgotten coastal town, Bentley’s album captures that wildness and beauty of Colorado in a really special way. It’s the way the solos only seem to intensify during the outros of songs; instead of fading out, many times we hear the instruments gain in strength as the songs come to an often abrupt end, running free and uninhibited. “The Mountain” goes out on a wave of fiddles and rock guitars, and the otherwise softer, more sedated “You can’t bring me Down” features some mandolin at the end that just comes alive and takes over the whole thing. It’s all so vibrant and fresh, and it takes you to that place in your mind, where you can imagine the snowcapped mountains in “Gooddbye in Telluride” and picture the stars shining through the window in the record’s one characteristic sex song that has become a mark of Bentley’s career, “Nothing on but the Stars.”

The production, though often this album’s greatest asset, can bring it down at times. “Living,” a song featuring lines about finally noticing the birds on the branches and the sunrise, and celebrating those special days when we feel especially alive, would have been better without the drum loops. “You Can’t Bring me Down” feels too pop-leaning as well, particularly with its themes of ignoring Nashville gossip–you’d think it’d also ignore the more mainstream sounds. And “Goodbye in Telluride” is a really cool song lyrically, as the narrator is begging his girlfriend to wait until they leave that magical place before she leaves him, so that his favorite place won’t be ruined by that memory, but the poppier production just really doesn’t go with this song at all. Sometimes, these songs just needed a wilder feel, like the excellent opener, “Burning Man.” That song just explodes and grows more intense as it goes along, and Bentley and Brothers Osborne, who are featured here, do a fantastic job capturing the theme of the record right away. Incidentally, this song is one of the standouts of the whole album.

In addition to the country rock selections and the more mainstream-sounding tracks, Dierks also provides two ridiculously country songs to close the album in “Travelin’ Light” and “How I’m Going Out.” First of all, thank you, Dierks, for showing everyone in the mainstream what exactly “featuring” means and what exactly it means to feature an actual country woman instead of another pop star. Brandi Carlile absolutely soars on “Travelin’ Light,” a track about laying down your past and burdens, and I know it’s a revolutionary concept, but she’s actually got a whole solo verse! Dierks Bentley should be commended here for doing the right thing and picking Carlile to sing on this song; also, they sound outstanding together. “How I’m Going Out” is a reflection on his time on Music Row and an acknowledgement that one day, his star will burn out. He vows to take this gracefully, unlike many who haven’t–Keith Urban, anyone? These two songs are straight-up, three-chord country, and “Travelin’ Light” even displays some bluegrass influence. Together, they form a nice “f off” to the whole establishment and prove that there is still room left in mainstream country for these types of songs.

Fellow fans of Dierks Bentley, this is the Dierks we’ve all come to know and love. This is him being himself, a refreshing blend of styles, from traditional country and bluegrass to modern country rock, and sprinkling in enough mainstream elements to make him accessible to those fans as well. It’s 90% Colorado and 10% Nashville, in that way that only Bentley can deliver. This is everything you want in a mainstream country record in 2018, and although not a perfect album, it’s a damn good one and one which will have staying power. I can’t stop playing this record, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that 8 looks entirely too low by December.

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Album Review: American Aquarium–Things Change

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Rating: 8.5/10

As recently as a few weeks ago, I stated on Twitter that one of my controversial musical opinions was my lack of feeling toward American Aquarium. As I noted then, it was never about the writing–that’s always been pretty excellent, and “Losing Side of Twenty-Five” is an absolutely brilliant song that I’ve loved since the first time I heard it. But after seeing them live twice, I was not convinced of them as a band, and I felt like BJ Barham, the lead singer, tended to only sing in one gear: over the top. But we must approach music with an open mind as I said just yesterday, so I took my own advice and went into the new American Aquarium release setting aside all preconceived notions.

That’s partly because so much had changed for American Aquarium prior to this album. The title is certainly appropriate. Every single member of American aquarium had left, leaving Barham to start from scratch. I knew it had taken a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to make this record, and more than that, I wanted to hear the new version of the band. After several listens with this thing, I have to say that though I am sorry Barham had to endure all this hardship, the result is a much better version of American Aquarium. It results in an album borne of struggle and resilience, and one that is a truly enjoyable listen.

The writing was always the band’s greatest strength, and this album is no exception. Barham’s songs have a way of feeling at once personal and autobiographical, and also quite relatable. He writes with clever turns of phrase, but never with the depth of some songwriters that sometimes forsakes the ability to connect with the audience. It all feels very real. There’s a track here called “One day at a Time” wherein he speaks of getting sober and trying to make up for the past and the hurt he’s caused everyone, and every word feels like it came straight from his soul. You are pretty much entitled to be impressed by a line like “you see, the man left holding the pen controls how every story ends, and truth becomes a martyr for the sake of the song.” “I Gave up the drinking (Before She Gave up on Me)” is essentially this same song, only told in a lighter fashion. “crooked+Straight,” one of the harder, rock-leaning tracks, is one time where the intensity of Barham’s vocal delivery really works to add to this excellently written autobiographical story. I could go on about the writing for almost every song here, so I’ll just say the songwriting throughout much of this record is just outstanding.

But that’s been the case for American aquarium the entire time. Where this album elevates itself above everything else they’ve ever recorded is in the way they’ve found their sound. They sound like a band more than they ever did before, and more than that, the tracks all seem to have the right production and instrumentation. There are some surprisingly and refreshingly country tunes here, like “Work Conquers All,” a nice ode to Oklahoma featuring some lovely fiddle. As an Oklahoman, I have to say I was excited to hear the little town of Durant referenced, as opposed to something like Oklahoma City or Tulsa which are often the only two cities people from other places can name. There’s accordion all over “Shadows of You,” and Jamie Lin Wilson’s harmony, as it usually does, really adds to this wistful heartbreak song. There are the standard rock songs as well, but these and other country selections provide more flavor and variety to the album. BJ Barham also seems to have found some different gears, doing a better job of holding back on softer songs so that when he belts the harder stuff, it can be more easily appreciated as a sign of emotion. The sound of American Aquarium has just improved in so many ways, and it’s interesting and unfortunate that it all had to come crashing down in order for that to happen.

The song that initially sparked my recent Twitter comments, and the unapologetic album opener, is “The world is on Fire.” the political nature of this may make it polarizing for some listeners, and I do question the idea of making this the opener when the rest of the record, even the political commentary, is more understanding. None of it backs down from its stance, but a track like “Tough Folks” captures the mood of this album better, with the line “Last November I saw firsthand what desperation makes good people do.” There’s an empathy with people who hold different political viewpoints, as well as enough self-awareness of Barham’s own failings, to make songs like this one more likely to connect with listeners than “The world is on Fire.” It’s also really similar to “White Man’s World” from Jason Isbell in that both songs reference their daughters and the anxiety about the world the girls will inherit, but that fosters comparisons to Isbell’s song, which did a better job of being self-aware rather than preachy.

Other than this song, though, I’m really enjoying this record. Much of the songwriting is stellar, and each track gets the instrumentation and production exactly right. Perhaps most refreshing is that out of the hardship and upheaval this band went through, American Aquarium became worlds better. This album is the best of American Aquarium’s career, and it’s all the more special that it’s a product of desperation and turmoil and incredible determination. I hate that BJ Barham went through hell to get here, but it’s often the case that going through hell produces the best and most enduring art. That’s certainly the case here, and indeed, this is one of the strongest albums of 2018 so far.

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Review: Florida Georgia Line’s “Simple” and “Colorado”

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Lots of pleasant surprises came for me on Friday, not least the release of two new Florida Georgia Line songs into the atmosphere that are actually pretty decent. Before we go any further, I can see how both of these songs, especially “Simple,” will be polarizing, and I am in no way suggesting these will be universally liked, but I will say that to refuse to listen because of the artist is not the right way. As a reviewer, I am excited when artists I have previously hated or openly criticized give us something better–there’s no place in the critical realm for hatred of artists specifically on principle, and if FGL or anyone else releases better music, it’s only an improvement for the genre we all love. Like what you like, but always keep an open mind.

“Simple”

This one is the official single, and basically, Florida Georgia Line decided to go full-on Lumineers with this. You can see immediately why I said it will be polarizing; this sound breeds conflict as much as anything FGL have previously recorded. It’s like pop country with a bluegrass influence, with a banjo driving the song instead of being buried in the mix and thrown in just as a token country instrument.

Lyrically, it’s about as simple as the title suggests, painting a picture of a love that’s easy and doesn’t need anything complicating it. They talk of once living on social media, obsessed with “who all gives a damn,” until they realized life’s about the little things. It’s a message many will be able to relate to and which should be expressed more often in a time where people live on their phones and the Internet, and many are more comfortable behind their screens than actually communicating with others face-to-face. There’s also the fact that people don’t go outside and absorb nature because they’re glued to technology–in the end, the sunsets you saw will matter more than the Twitter likes you received, and so many people have lost sight of that. This song isn’t deep at all lyrically, and the spelling out of “simple” in the chorus is pretty annoying, but the message is strong and timely.

The spelling can be pretty obnoxious, though, especially at the end of the song. Tyler Hubbard is still an underwhelming and frankly annoying vocalist, and as stated, the lyrics aren’t earth-shattering by any means. But it’s a catchy, solid song from the duo nonetheless. Not amazing, but a pretty good song and certainly one of their best singles in a good long while.

Rating: 6/10

“Colorado”

Now we come to the one I’m most excited about, “Colorado.” I wish they’d have waited and released this one as a single as well instead of including it in with “Simple” like some modern-day version of a B-side on a record.

From the opening lines, “I got friends from Colorado, I got friends from Tennessee, so I got something in a bottle, and i got something from a seed,” I was a fan of this song. That’s just a really clever hook, and “Colorado” goes on to be about the narrator using whiskey and weed to help him get through a breakup after being engaged. Whiskey and weed are never mentioned, though, except in the outro where they’re called “Jack and Jane.” The metaphor there is that Jill, his fiancée, “ran away,” but “Jill’s got nothing on Jack and Jane.”

There’s an ironic resemblance to “Simple” in this song, although the subjects are basically the opposite. In this one, the narrator is “drunk up in the Smokies on a Rocky Mountain high,” with “no cars, no bars on my phone.” I don’t think it was intentional, but it’s interesting that both of these songs forsake technology.

Vocally, this one does suit Tyler Hubbard better, and surprisingly, Brian Kelley actually gets solo lines in the bridge. Like “Simple,” this song also features country instrumentation and fits nicely in the pop country realm.

“Colorado” is a catchy, lyrically smart offering from fGL with a clever hook and some actual organic instrumentation. I wish this had been chosen instead of “Simple,” or at least that they’d saved its release and made it another single, but it’s still a really good song from this group and for this listener, my favorite FGL song since “Dirt.”

Rating: 8/10

Reviews

Album Review: Kayla Ray–Yesterday & Me

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Rating: 7/10

I was recently prompted by a discussion on Twitter to think about how many listens it takes me with an album before I can make a decision on it. Some people said they only need a few listens, and others contended that they have to absorb an album continuously for a few days in order to have anything to write. As for me, I said it depends on the albums, and I think as music listeners, sometimes we can forget that, both because of streaming allowing us to hear literally everything and because we get caught up in this cycle of never-ending releases. There are albums I’ve heard that have clicked with me instantly, and I’m sure it’s like that with all of us. You shouldn’t force yourself to like something or try to understand where others’ appeal comes from if that appeal isn’t there for you–after all, with the aforementioned streaming, if you don’t like something, you can move on and find something you do enjoy. There’s too much music, and life’s too short. That said, some records take time to grow; that’s the case for me, and probably for many of us; before streaming, you bought an album from an artist based on a couple songs, and if you didn’t love it at first, you still listened to it past that first time because hell, you paid for it. And magically, on the fourth or fifth take, you might have started loving other parts of that record. I’ve mentioned Ashley Monroe’s Like a Rose before on this platform as being one of my three favorite albums of all time–the whole truth is that I bought the songs from that record on iTunes literally one at a time, as each grew on me. The only song I liked on first listen was “The Morning After.” It just continued to grow on me, and I kept coming back to Ashley’s songs one by one. That process took months, and that album has grown to be one of my favorites ever. All that to say, writers and fellow music listeners, don’t force yourself to like anything, but at the same time, give music its fair time to impact you. Treat it like the art that it is instead of the commodity which streaming has made it.

Kayla Ray’s Yesterday & Me is an album where this caution feels especially warranted because on first listen, it may not capture everyone and did not fully capture me. So much of its beauty reveals itself over time. True, with her extremely traditional leanings, there are some people that will enjoy this in about two seconds flat, the same people who shut off the new Sam Hunt song that quickly simply on principle. In sound, the only record that’s been this traditional thus far in 2018, aside from Joshua Hedley’s almost painfully rigorous exercise in making a traditional record earlier this year, has been Vivian Lev’as Time is Everything, and though not quite as minimalist as that project, it is definitely a sparse affair. Jason Eady had a hand in producing it, which will almost make too much sense to anyone even remotely familiar with his work when they listen to the minimalist production utilized here on this project. And that’s also why you can’t give it one or two listens and be done, and precisely why some will–because on that first casual exploration, it can come off a bit sleepy.

The two songs that did stand out to me that first time, and the reason I kept coming back to this, are the only two on the record that Kayla Ray didn’t write. I would certainly say she’s further along as an interpreter than as a songwriter, but her subtle style of writing contributes to this, and the beauty in her own songs comes through with subsequent listens…but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. The two she didn’t write are the opener, “Rockport,” a simple little song detailing the demons that follow us around no matter how far we run, and a previously unreleased Keith Whitley tune called “Once a Week Cheaters.” This one is a duet with her friend and fellow songwriter Colton Hawkins. Although she didn’t pen these songs, Kayla ray showed great instinct to select them, as they both fit the album and her vocal delivery quite well. The next resemblance to Vivian Leva comes vocally, as Kayla Ray can come off slightly frail as a singer, but she does a fine job selecting songs and stories that suit her and make that a feature rather than a flaw. “Rockport” remains the highlight of the whole thing for me and the one I recommend if you only listen to one song here.

As for Kayla’s writing, it’s very subtle and something it took a few listens for this listener to appreciate. Then it clicked with me–she’d rather paint a sparse picture with less words and let the listener imagine the rest than spell it out with descriptions. That’s not to say that her writing is vague, but we often hold up incredibly descriptive, detailed songwriters as the best, and this style is different to that, telling a story in often few words and letting the listener draw their own conclusions. It makes a song like “Fair Warning,” which deals delicately with domestic abuse, all the more touching because she talks of the hell she endured but doesn’t really tell us what that entailed. It leaves the track more relatable to different people because it’s somewhat open for interpretation. Other self-written songs that stand out here include “Camel Blues,” “Things Only Years Can Teach a Woman,” and the autobiographical “1963.”

I’ve mentioned that it’s traditional and minimal, but it’s not without its variety. “1963” features some nice piano before dissolving into a pretty upbeat, cheerful song to close the album. “Hell of a Day to Drink All Night” provides some energy earlier on the record, and the unexpected tempo change in this one is just cool. As for instrumentation itself, there are times when it’s too minimal, particularly on “Red River Valley’s Run Dry,” but within these parameters, there’s variety as well, from fiddle to steel to dobro. Jason Eady’s fingerprints can be seen all over this because he’s one of the only people who can make a record this quiet and pull it off. It could have had perhaps one more upbeat moment to inject some more life, though.

Fans of really traditional country will probably like this on principle just because of its sound. For people who enjoyed Vivian Lev’as album, there are a ton of similarities to that one–both are sparse and traditional, and both grow on you over time. If you liked that record, I would suggest checking this out. It will no doubt be too sleepy for some listeners, but for the right audience, Yesterday & Me is a solid slice of really traditional-sounding country music.

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Collaborative Review: Jason Boland & the Stragglers–Hard Times Are Relative

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Since we’re both fans of Jason Boland & the Stragglers and have each written about them here before, it seemed only natural that we should come together to discuss their newest album, Hard Times are Relative.

Conversation

Megan: First off, and we haven’t talked about this actually, but I want to bring it up since I actually reviewed Squelch here when it came out…I actually really liked Squelch, in fact I like it overall better than this one, but there’s no doubt that it was very political, it had something to say, and the audience for it was limited. There were those like me that loved it, but that’s probably a minority opinion. That was also in 2015, and we’ve become a lot more politically divided even since then, and I don’t know how you felt about that album, but I think for Jason Boland fans in general, this record will be like a breath of fresh air after that one, more a return to his roots and what made him popular in the first place.

Brianna: I love Jason Boland & the Stragglers, so it’d be hard for them to put out something I don’t like. In regards to Squelch, I really liked it, and I believe that album has some of their best songs. Still, I agree with you that this album is a much-needed break from the more political topics covered on their previous album. I like this one for its variety in subjects and tempos.

Megan: Yeah, like a lot of albums this year and unlike in 2017, it does have variety in the tempos. This one has really gone back to their traditional side that they went away from slightly on Squelch, and instrumentally, it’s probably my favorite 2018 album so far. And not just because it’s traditional, but because of the variety. The more traditional albums I’ve heard this year have almost been too minimalist. This one has variety, from fiddle to dobro to steel to some rock guitars.

Brianna: Yes, exactly! It’s both traditional and energetic.

Megan: Right, and that’s such a hard thing to come by these days. It doesn’t have to be sleepy just because it leans traditional.
We disagree pretty strongly on our favorites lyrically with this record, but let’s first talk about the title track, which you pointed out to me on your first listen–honestly, this has become my favorite song of the year and without any serious competition.

Brianna: Oh yeah. It’s my favorite song of the year, too. It’ll be hard to beat it, I think. The story revolves around a seventeen-year-old boy and his sister, taking care of their parents’ homestead, because said parents died in a mill fire. All they have is each other, a dog, and some land. The boy goes out hunting, and on his way back home, he falls into a cavern. The great part of this song is when he’s saved by his sister and the dog, and on the way home, they stop to dress the buck she shot along the way. Though I’ve just told everyone the whole story, it’s something that should be listened to. Really, it’s incredible. A song about family sticking together, saving each other. I love it!

Megan: Well, and then there’s the fact his sister who saves him is only ten. Yeah, that’s basically the whole story, but still. There’s more to it than that, as the title suggests. Hard times are relative…when you think your life sucks, it could always be worse. But Jason Boland is not that kind of songwriter. Instead, he’d rather give you a six-minute dissertation on people who had it far worse than you.

Brianna: Yep, and that’s why Jason Boland is one of the best writers in country today. I mean, I know I said I love the energy here, but Jason Boland and a slow, lyric-driven story song like this is pretty much perfection, from my point of view.
I guess that’s why “Do You Remember When” is my second-favorite track. It’s slower, super traditional in its instrumentation, and the lyrics are all about the past. Starting with how the outskirts of town have become the city. Definitely makes this a song I was into right away.

Megan: He’s definitely one of the most interesting songwriters around, if not one of the best.
To that end, “Do You Remember When” is actually one of my least favorites because it’s too direct for me. I feel like he pulls off this theme of looking back on the past better in “Grandfather’s Theme,” wherein he’s lamenting the fact that the progress since his grandfather’s time hasn’t all been forward and questioning what advice he’d even have to give his own grandson. I get the appeal for “Do You Remember When,” but I feel like Jason Boland tells a story better this way, where he’s putting a fresh spin on it. The song is really moody and dissonant as well, which is a really cool reflection of his state of mind. We’ve had lots of songs like “Do You Remember When,” but not many like this, that actually look back on the past while also speculating about the future, like saying he’ll tell his grandson about the days of the automobile and such. Anyway, that was kind of a tangent, I really like this song, lol.

Brianna: I don’t think it was a tangent, because the songs really are similar. To my way of thinking, the songs are from two different people’s point of view. One’s very traditional, just looking back on the past. The other is legitimately worried about the future. At least, that’s my interpretation.

Megan: This is what makes the collaborations cool, though, because I could honestly do without “Do You Remember When” and love “Grandfather’s Theme,” while for you, it’s pretty much the opposite.

Brianna: Oh yeah, “Grandfather’s Theme,” while insightful, is definitely not one of my favorites. I get what they’re trying to do with all the production on that song, but…it just doesn’t quite work for me. And yes. I love how with these collaborations, you get different opinions like this.

Megan: “Bulbs” is another one I really enjoy that I remember you didn’t. As for other standouts, “Right Where I Began” is really infectious and my favorite of the more lighthearted stuff. And “Going, Going, Gone” is a really interesting song wherein he uses baseball metaphors to explain that on a full count pitch, he finally overcomes the struggle in his life and hits a home run. The rest is all pleasant and enjoyable, and I absolutely love the instrumentation all over this, but none of it stands out especially. I thought “I Don’t Deserve You” with Sunny Sweeney would be an early favorite, but it hasn’t been. But “Do You Remember When” is really the only one I dislike.

Brianna: Oh yes. I’m not a fan of “Bulbs.” It’s probably my least favorite lyrically. Instrumentally, I like “Grandfather’s Theme” the least. As for “I Don’t Deserve You,” it’s not one of my favorites, either. Like you, the faster song I enjoy the most is “Right Where I Began.” It’s just so upbeat and fun! The rest of the album isn’t bad by any means, it just doesn’t stand out like the other songs do.

Brianna: For a rating, I’d give it a 7.5. It’s not my favorite album by these guys, but it’s fun, real country. Everyone knows I’m always into that by now. What about you?

Megan: I’d give it a light 7. I do think it will grow on me, though, because it’s an album I just want to play for the sound. I love how country it is without being one, extremely minimalist or two, too trapped in the past for its own good. It’s country because of course it is, it’s Jason freaking Boland, as opposed to being country because it tried its hardest to be. The title track is fantastic, definitely listen to that if you only pick one. Solid, fun, refreshingly country album. 7 with a chance of growth.

Ratings

Megan: 7/10
Brianna: 7.5/10

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