Reviews

Album Review: Brent Cobb–Providence Canyon

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Rating: 10/10

It may seem like a strange way to begin a review which flaunts the above rating, but I want to say first that I was absolutely, unequivocally not a fan of Brent Cobb’s 2016 record Shine on Rainy Day. Why is this important? It’s that 2016 wasn’t a year where I was reviewing regularly, and that album was something I heard but never commented on–I want you all to know how I felt about it and understand that this love is not some extension of blind Brent Cobb fandom, that it’s in fact basically the opposite, a testament to how ridiculously good Providence Canyon is as an album and to how much it marks an improvement for Cobb and a distinct defining of his sound.

The problem with Shine on Rainy Day for me personally was that it felt sleepy; Brent Cobb’s talent, especially as a songwriter, was there in spades, but the sound didn’t resonate or really feel like it fit Cobb as an artist. Whether it’s just the experience of being on tour regularly in general, or the fact that that touring has been with Chris Stapleton, it’s definitely inspired Brent Cobb and breathed life and grooves into the Georgia country soul blend he’s perfected on this album. This fun, energetic sound was waiting there inside Cobb all along. Massive credit to Dave Cobb as well, for inasmuch as I’ve criticized him lately for overproducing Ashley Monroe and underproducing John Prine, he’s brought his cousin’s sound and vision to life here expertly. You can hear it in songs like the infectious “Sucker for a Good Time,” a track wherein Brent admits to “kinda stretch out a lie” as he tells of stealing everyone’s girlfriends back in Alabama. The song fades out in the end as well, actually allowing the instruments to breathe and the solos to ride out. “If I Don’t See Ya” is similar in this way, going from an upbeat number to a mid-tempo, funky affair as the organs and guitars stay around for the extended outro.

Once again, 2018 really seems to have gotten the memo that a lot of 2017 Americana and country albums were boring us all, or else were good records held back from being great by a frustrating lack of energy. Like Blackberry Smoke and Old crow Medicine Show already this year, Brent Cobb has given us a fun, accessible record. You can’t listen to the aforementioned “Sucker for a Good Time” or “Mornin’s Gonna Come” and not sing along. The same goes for “.30-06,” and the fact he even released this at all given the mixed reception it could have with certain Americana audiences is just a breath of fresh air.

Also, like the other bands I’ve mentioned, he’s given us a record that is distinctly Southern, though where Blackberry Smoke’s album is primarily Southern rock and Old Crow’s leans on bluegrass and country, this one is flavored with the soul and swamp that is so much a part of Brent Cobb’s home state of Georgia. The title track is a steel guitar-soaked ode to a landmark in Georgia and one of the best songs on the whole thing. There’s also some love for Alabama and late country artist Wayne Mills, who was killed by his friend in a bar, on “King of Alabama.”

Where this one elevates itself above those other 2018 records is in the songwriting, Brent Cobb’s ace in the hole from the beginning. It’s a fun record, yes, filled with themes of life on the road and good nights you might not remember later. But there’s also a track like “Come Home Soon,” coming along to deftly and swiftly put it all into perspective. This is Brent Cobb absolutely opening up his soul to us, telling us of the price it costs to be on the road and struggle with addictions and the homesickness and the general changes that come with the business. There’s a line here that should just stop any listener in their tracks–“music used to be my way to escape the good, the bad, and everything between. Now it’s become what defines my name. OH, I wonder who it was I used to be.” What a depressing way to feel about something you once loved, and what a way Cobb has with words to capture that feeling. The melody here is really special as well.

The conclusion, though, seems to be that chasing your dreams is worth whatever hell and pain come with it. There’s a little track called “Lorene” here to illustrate that, saying their small town will always be the same, and this character should get out and see the rest of the world before she dies. This one is short and sweet and going to be underrated because of the gems on the rest of this album, but it’s important to the overall message of the record. It won’t stand out for listeners as much as the one that follows, “When the dust settles,” since that’s sort of a middle finger to the establishment and makes reference to the dirt road songs all over Nashville, but both tracks are important in the grand scheme of things.

And then there’s the closer, “Ain’t a Road Too Long,” which seems to be the more autobiographical answer to “Come Home soon.” Yes, this one starts out with some rapping, and yes, some of you will hate it. The majority of it is a fitting closer, a Southern rock meets country soul anthem that sums up the whole album. This rapping in the beginning is weird, and I could tell you all I hate it, but that would be a superior, stuck-up critic’s lie. I think it works despite itself, and the words fit excellently, as despite the challenges of the road and being in the spotlight, Brent Cobb knows that he’s incredibly blessed and tries to stay focused on all of the good, simple things in his life.

Fantastic, fun, distinctly Southern record. Strong songwriting, infectious music, and most importantly, an album I believe will have considerable mileage and staying power. In the end, music is only good if you want to play it, and only great if you want to keep playing it over and over as the months pass. This is what Providence Canyon promises. This will be the first 10/10 album of 2018–in fact, it’s the first 10/10 rating I’ve given in over a year–and it is very well-deserved.

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Random Reflections

Reflecting on: Keith Whitley–Don’t Close Your Eyes

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Today, (5/9), marks the twenty-ninth anniversary of the loss of one of country music’s greatest voices in Keith Whitley. I wrote a piece in 2017 specifically to make the case that Whitley deserves to be in the Country Music Hall of Fame despite his untimely and tragic death, and his music has meant a lot to me over the years. But even though Whitley’s music has been important to me, I’ve somehow not discussed any of it here, and this seems like a good opportunity to honor him in that way.

Release Date: 1988

Style: traditional country

People Who Might Like This Album: fans of Randy Travis, fans of William Michael Morgan, those who like their country to mix the more traditional and modern

Standout Tracks: “I’m no Stranger to the Rain,” “Don’t Close Your Eyes,” “Some Old Side Road,” “Would These Arms Be in Your Way,” “When You Say Nothing at All”

Reflections: Well, we should all listen to some Keith Whitley today in honor of the one who gave us all of his pain in his music and then succumbed to it himself before he could reap the rewards of his career. There has been no one before or since Keith Whitley who has expressed that kind of pain in their songs, and not many who have left such a mark in so short a time. Because he released so little music before his death, much of it was released posthumously, and much of it was packaged into various compilations. I chose this because it’s the only original album of Whitley’s in wide circulation, the one he chose to take control of and turn toward a more traditional sound, and the one that would become his most successful. It was also the last album released before he was taken from this world in 1989.

I mentioned that Whitley took control of the creative direction for this record, and that makes Don’t Close Your Eyes the best representation of Keith himself, and what he might have become if he had lived longer. He represents part of the tide that included Randy Travis in the late 80’s, the tide that turned country back toward its traditional roots and ushered in the class of ’89. Alan Jackson, Garth Brooks, Travis Tritt, Clint Black…all of them were influenced and affected by Keith Whitley and this album.

Whitley is known for the singular way he inflicted emotion into his every syllable. That’s best reflected in his pain, like on the timeless title track, as well as “I’m no Stranger to the Rain,” a song written for Keith about the public battle he was known to be facing with alcoholism, a battle he would lose just months later. But he could also express that emotion with incredibly moving love songs; he’s probably best known for “When You Say Nothing at All,” but “Would These Arms be in Your Way” is just as achingly beautiful. He could also lighten the mood for songs like “Flying Colors” and “Some Old Side road.” “Some Old Side Road” was one of his more modern-leaning songs, foreshadowing the class of ’89’s marriage of traditional and contemporary sensibilities.

I could talk all day about what a fan I am of Keith Whitley and what he did for our beloved country music in such a short time. He is still influencing artists twenty-nine years later, and I’d be hard-pressed to name a current artist in any genre who could make that kind of an impression with the same amount of time and material. Time will tell on that, of course, but the point is, Keith Whitley is a special artist. Honored to have this opportunity to write about someone who has so directly and personally influenced my love for country music.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mw89r3UzFY4

Reviews

Album Review: Kasey Chambers & the Fireside Disciples–Campfire

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Rating: 7/10

While America’s mainstream is constantly stuck puzzling over the tomato issue and can’t seem to figure out how to launch women into the format at all, much less how to actually sustain their careers for longer than one hit single, Kasey Chambers is calmly churning out platinum records in Australia. While we give our country awards and airplay to pop stars, she’s become an icon by releasing music often more primitive and rootsy than much of our independent scene. She’s done it all on a major label as well. All are things from which America, the birthplace of the country genre where you’d think we’d have it all figured out, could take a lesson.

For Kasey Chambers, the obvious question is how would she follow 2017’s Dragonfly, an impressive double album that isn’t even twelve months old to American ears. It was an album that explored all of her many influences and styles, from the more traditional and rootsy to rock to country pop to gospel. The answer for Chambers was to strip everything down and record Campfire, an album she says she has wanted to make all her life.

I grew up in the remote outback of Australia living a unique lifestyle isolated from civilisation. The campfire was the heart of our existence: for survival, creativity, inspiration. We hunted all our own food and then cooked it on the campfire. My brother and I did all our schooling via correspondence around the campfire. We used the campfire for warmth and light. We gathered around the campfire at night to play songs together as a family. Our connection to music and the land has developed through and around the campfire since I was born, so it has always stayed with me as a special part of my life.

She enlisted some fellow musicians and longtime collaborators because well, you don’t sing around the campfire alone traditionally; they are dubbed the Fireside Disciples, and they consist of her father, Bill Chambers, guitarist and tour mate Brandon Dodd, and Yawuru elder Alan Pigram. The result is a really unique-sounding and special album.

As you would expect, this is an acoustic affair; it’s not like you’re going to have a full band just waiting to pop out of the shadows and join you at your campfire. Acoustic guitar, banjo, and dobro are mostly what this record offers in terms of instrumentation, making it definitely very rootsy and giving it that warm feeling of sitting around the fire while someone absently picks a guitar. The Fireside Disciples are a great addition as well, as the harmonies really add to the mood of this whole thing. It’s fitting that the record opens with “Campfire Song” where you can hear the fire crackling in the background and they’re literally singing about dancing in the moonlight. “Go on Your Way” doesn’t even have instruments, it just forsakes that notion altogether and relies on their excellent harmony to tell the story. That adds to what they’re going for here, as you can imagine the atmosphere, sitting around a fire and someone spontaneously starting to sing, with the others joining in. “Orphan Heart” is the opposite, opting for instrumentation to back them throughout the song, but then fading out until it’s just Kasey and the Disciples echoing the refrain, “let me walk beside you” out into the night. Someone breaks out a harmonic on “Goliath is Dead,” as they sing in call-and-response style about that well-known biblical moment.

You can imagine as you listen to this that they’re all just sitting around having a really great time with each other. They talk and laugh openly between tracks, and in the nature of many Kasey Chambers albums, record some pretty ridiculous songs. “This Little Chicken” features Bill Chambers going on about having fried chicken for breakfast before breaking into a bluegrass tune about how this woman, or “chicken” won’t be back home again. “Big Fish” is literally a song about just that, catching fish. And “Junkyard Man” is like some old folk song you can imagine your grandmother singing that you’ve known all your life and think of with fondness but don’t really have any idea what it means. It’s like your family and friends were all just having a good time singing dumb songs together, but you could all actually carry a tune and play instruments, so it got made into a record.

Just when you think it’s all fun and not to be taken too seriously, though, they hit you with a song like “Abraham.” This one grieves for all the hurt and hopelessness in our world, and the fact that it’s stripped back so we can hear their harmonies and their emotion makes it all the more poignant. The same goes for “Now That You’ve Gone,” one of several tracks here where Kasey sings solo without the Disciples.

That said, therein lies my biggest critique with this album; aside from “Now That You’ve Gone,” the tracks without the Fireside Disciples participating vocally don’t feel like they belong. They are still acoustic and stripped back, but without the harmonies, the campfire atmosphere that this album was built on is lost. There’s a solo Kasey song here called “Fox & the Bird” which is about nothing–I mean, it’s about a bird who meets a fox, and he carries her home. It’s boring, and it doesn’t fit when the Disciples aren’t singing with her. Also, there’s a track featuring Emmylou Harris, and this is really cool since this is Chambers’ idol, but it doesn’t fit with the theme either. Also, and unfortunately, Emmylou Harris just sounds terrible vocally, and that’s upsetting on many levels. It’s like she’s out of breath or something. But even if she sounded excellent like she normally does, it’s still weird to have her here on a track with Chambers with no vocals by the Fireside Disciples. When the campfire theme is played out, it works very well, but it needed to be more consistent throughout the record.

It’s a solid album and certainly a unique one, and it was definitely a cool direction for Kasey Chambers after Dragonfly. The idea itself is a good one, and when Kasey and the Fireside Disciples stick to it, it works well. The warm, intimate vibe you get when listening to this is really special. The solo Kasey Chambers material sort of distracts from the thesis here and keeps a good album from being a great one, but Chambers is on a roll here. She’s released three good records just since I started Country Exclusive, and that hasn’t even been three years ago. I said recently on Twitter that if you’re not a Kasey Chambers fan, you’re doing it all wrong, and this album is just another exhibit for that argument.

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Reviews

Album Review: Keith Urban–Graffiti U

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Rating: 0/10

Keith Urban, you are so much better than this, and it gives me no pleasure whatsoever to write this review.

Honestly, this is insanely, shockingly bad. It’s an album where I was actually repeatedly taken aback by how awful each song turned out to be, a record where I kept hoping for some sort of saving grace, any glimpse of the talented, passionate artist Keith Urban can be and indeed used to be. If you asked me to name one modern country artist who has been criminally underrated or misrepresented by their current output, I’d direct you to Urban in a heartbeat–his first six solo records were solid, and I’ll stand by that. His last several have each at least carried hints of that talent. I expected this to be a disappointing album overall, but I did not imagine it would actually be one of the worst things I’ve ever heard, on the level of Walker Hayes and Sam Hunt. And you know what? In some ways, it’s worse when I have to say this about Keith Urban because I can’t say something like: Well, some of Sam Hunt’s music would be okay in pop, or Florida Georgia Line make some mindless music, but at least they’re being “authentic” to who they are and enjoying themselves. The thing is, this is not Urban, he knows better, he’s done better, and this is a pathetic attempt to stay relevant while losing many of his former core fans. It’s not even about whether this sounds like “real country”–it doesn’t by those terms, but Keith Urban was not particularly “real-country” sounding to begin with–it’s about the fact that it clearly doesn’t sound like Keith himself. I won’t even waste your time and mine debating the country qualities of it because there are too many other, and better, reasons why this album is terrible than how country it sounds.

The worst problem? The God-awful production that permeates this whole thing. There are some songs here, like “Same Heart” and “Way Too Long,” that actually don’t start out awful. There’s some decent writing here, and then it just gets buried in senseless, overproduced layers of crap until you can only pay attention to that element. Overproduced is not even the right word for this really. The production changes are so sporadic and pointless that it’s as if an eight-year-old broke into the recording studio and pressed every single button at random, and Keith thought it would be funny to send it out like that for human consumption. It’s not as if they layered too much pop sound or electronic beats or vocal effects–it’s not one thing, it’s all of them, and others, at different times, creating such a cacophony of distraction that it renders even the decent songs on paper unlistenable. “Same heart” actually sounds like two different songs from the verse to the chorus. “My Wave” probably wouldn’t have been a bad song if Keith had actually played it on his guitar, but instead it’s some sort of horrendously overproduced collaboration with Shy Carter. And we actually have beatboxing in “Never Comin’ Down,” which, in an album of horrifying material, may be the worst.

I said I didn’t hate “Female,” and actually, it’s one of the only songs here that doesn’t make me cringe. Its presence here is both made better by the fact it’s the only thing with some actual intelligence and maturity and good intentions in the verses and worse by the fact its chorus becomes somehow more stupid and the song itself so obviously opportunistic alongside the rest of this train wreck. As for actual female representation, we do have some; there’s Lindsay Ell in “Horses,” contributing about half a line…hey, Urban’s team, here’s a novel idea–release this to radio, so we can pretend that women are actually making progress when it goes to #1 automatically. You think that “half a line” is hyperbole? She literally only says, “run, run, run” a few times by herself…yes, that’s it. Any backup singer could have done that, and the women in “Female” who are not credited actually can be heard more, but if we feature Lindsay Ell on the track and then manipulate it up the charts, we can pretend we don’t have a tomato issue. Not to be unfair, Keith also has Kassi Ashton on “Drop Top,” and she actually gets a whole damn chorus. I mean, the song is like some 80’s pop tune about some girl at Coachella, but whatever. Ashton at least sings her part with some passion and energy. And of course he also has pop artist Julia Michaels participating for her obligatory four lines in the embarrassing Merle Haggard “Mama Tried” rip-off song known as “Coming Home,” so there’s that.

Speaking of which, while we’ve all been focused on how awful it is that he ripped off Merle, why don’t we take a second to point out that the rip-off is not even correct, or even on guitar? I mean, for God’s sake, Keith Urban is a phenomenal guitar player, and he couldn’t even play the damn riff on a guitar? Whether or not you think this album is country-sounding–it isn’t, let’s be fair–but regardless of semantics or genre or “real country” or whatever the hell you want to call it, can’t we all agree that Keith Urban is known more than anything for his guitar playing? He’s a great musician, and yet his guitar licks are nonexistent on this record. This is not just about what he’s doing to the country genre, it’s about the fact that this is an affront and an embarrassment to Keith Urban fans who fell in love with him for that sound. Not only that, but surely he enjoys that part of his career. Can he really be content with beatboxing instead of shredding, not even playing his guitar in a significant capacity once in awhile? Really?

As for the rip-offs and the mockery he actually is making of the country genre, “Coming Home” isn’t even the only instance of this. “Texas Time” is a less offensive but still obvious rip-off, this one of Don Williams’ “Tulsa Time.” Even despite that, this song is actually somewhat catchy and a decent pop track, except the eight-year-old hit the dying cow/vomiting guitar buttons simultaneously towards the end of this and managed to ruin it. Seriously, it sounds nothing short of piercing on headphones, and once again, it’s not a case of overproduction so much as a case of random, unnecessary, cacophonous production. I promise you, not every song on this is terrible by any means lyrically, but once they ran this through the blender of random sounds and cluttered beats, not one track here is actually listenable all the way through.

I tried to find some redeeming quality in this album. I tried to find some resemblance, some last vestiges of hope that the Keith Urban who gave us “But for the Grace of God” and “Making Memories of Us” is still in there somewhere. I tried to reconcile the man who sang “Raining on Sunday” with the one singing “Drop Top,” the one who made a career out of heartfelt songwriting and long guitar solos with the one now beatboxing and singing about Coachella. I wanted to find one good thing to say about this, and truthfully, I can’t. It’s not about country versus pop, and it’s not even completely about the legends whose music he’s defacing. It’s about the fact that Keith Urban has sold himself out completely and fantastically, has traded all shreds of dignity for fading relevancy, and has forsaken his talent and the things that make him unique as an artist in favor of pumping out the same generic crap as everyone else. If nothing else, Urban fans should be up in arms about the glaring and disgusting lack of Keith’s guitar on a fifteen-track album. Keith Urban fans, you deserve better. Country music, you deserve better. Keith Urban, you’re capable of delivering better, much better.

The Bad

The Horrifying

Playlists

April Playlist on Spotify and Apple Music

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April has by far been the busiest month in terms of releases that this site has seen since it began–well, March 30th really began it all with one of the best release days in this site’s history, and then nothing has slowed down since. It’s no surprise that April was also by far our most viewed month ever, and if you’ve first found us in April, I thank you. If you couldn’t keep up with releases, I don’t blame you, and this list is for you. Whereas past months have seen me wondering if we’d have enough good music to fill the playlist, this was the first time I’ve actually cut songs from one because so much good music came out. We’ve got Southern rock from Blackberry Smoke, classic country from Joshua Hedley, Willie Nelson and John Prine proving age is irrelevant when making good music, and some solid mainstream cuts from Jason Aldean and Brothers Osborne. Three of my favorite songs of the year so far are on this list in “Look Away” from Old Crow Medicine Show, “Orphan” from Ashley Monroe, and “New Ways to Fail” from Sarah Shook & the Disarmers. What a great time to be alive and be a music fan! As always, and probably more so currently, thank you to Zack for supplying this to the Spotify people.

Apple Music users, you can follow me there via the user name @countryexclusive for this and all our playlists, as well as updates to Saving Country Music’s top 25. For April’s,
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Spotify users, click below.

The Most Destructive Criticism is Indifference