You know the days when you could turn on the radio and hear all sorts of interesting female voices? That’s been true throughout country’s history, from Loretta and Dolly on down to Martina and Faith. Nowadays, it’s Miranda and Carrie–well, no, not even Miranda, as her latest single struggles mightily to chart despite its sales and critical acclaim. Better to say Carrie and Kelsea. Anyway, to all the young girls out there who might be pursuing a career in country music and are wondering just how to shatter the glass ceiling on country radio, here’s some tried-and-true advice.
1. Don’t, under any circumstance, release something traditional. Fiddle, steel, mandolin, throw them all out. Even if they might make an appearance on your album–which is also discouraged–at least do what Maddie & Tae did with “Girl in a Country Song” and release a single with electronic beats and pop elements. Keep all the traditional fans guessing at your intent, wondering if the beats are serious or sarcastic, because it’s better to hold them at arm’s length or even to alienate them altogether if you want to get a #1 at radio.
2. Ignore all the misogynistic bullshit thrown at you by radio programmers, record executives, and in many of the male songs on country radio. Katie Armiger spoke up about that a couple years ago, and look what happened to her career.
3. Don’t date anyone in the industry, or better yet, don’t attempt to have a personal life on any level. Lindsay Ell taught us that.
4. Trivialize the female problem on country radio and in the industry. Kelsea Ballerini’s got success, and she barely admits to the problem. Meanwhile, the ones who speak up about such things struggle for recognition. Just worry about breaking in yourself, and don’t try to help other women along the way.
5. Forget just ignoring the misogyny, try writing lyrics about being these types of women. Throw all your dreams and hard-hitting lyrics to the side and sing about tailgates and tight jeans. If at all possible, try accepting the objectification and embracing this role.
6. Try not to veer too far from singing songs about love or getting noticed by men. Under no circumstances should you speak up about the type of songs that women are often stereotyped as singing.
7. Don’t be sexual or have sexual desires, and if you do suffer from these afflictions, don’t leak them into your music, for God’s sake.
8. Talk about your outfits more than your music. It’s not okay to be sexual in your songs, but it is important to be viewed as desirable at all times.
9. If all this fails, sing one or two lines on a male song, and you’ll soon have a #1 hit. It doesn’t matter if you sound like a glorified backup singer, take it from Maren Morris.
10. Finally, remember that your awards, sales, and most importantly, your perspective, do not matter in this industry and on the radio. Let go of these archaic notions, and you might soon be one of the only four females in the top fifty. Here’s to being one of the fortunate 8%, and I look forward to your #1 hit!
Yeah, this has to be the most challenging review I’ve ever done, but it’s also one of the most fascinating albums I’ve ever covered in my time here, and I enjoy a challenge. I’ll go ahead and say right up front, this album isn’t going to be for everyone; in some respects, it’s not quite even for me as a fan, given the darkness which permeates this record, but that’s exactly the reason it deserves discussing–because it’s so far from anything I’d typically listen to, and yet the writing and the stories and the general feeling evoked by this record still hold my attention. In many respects, it reminds me of Robyn Ludwick’s latest album, This Tall to Ride, because both projects are dark and sometimes downright disturbing, but for listeners who can get past those features, there’s a lot to appreciate in each of these albums.
The difference? Robyn sings with frankness about hookers and cocaine and paints pictures of life on the streets; you come away from that record intrigued by her ability to take the commonly accepted definition of country music that “it’s about real people” and use it to tell the stories of people often ignored by society as a whole and certainly by country music. Rod Melancon takes that definition to a much darker conclusion even than Robyn, telling us in the opening song, “With the Devil,” the story and thoughts of a serial killer. And that’s ultimately the most intriguing and arguably disturbing thing about this song and much of the album; real people do think like this, and Rod Melancon is indeed telling the stories of real thoughts experienced by real characters, even if the specifics are false. Now, I’m not saying this is a country record sonically–it’s got country touches, and a couple of country songs, but it’s mostly a rock record–but lyrically, this is what the genre was made for, to explore real stories and real emotions and perhaps evoke sympathy, or at least understanding, in the listener for the ones portrayed.
It doesn’t lighten up at all after the opener. “Perry” tells the tale of someone equally sinister, saying darkly, “ain’t nobody mess with Perry, and come out alive.” And then we are treated to the most intense moment on the whole album with “Lights of Carencro.” From the spoken word to Rod Melancon’s delivery to the production that can only be described as ominous, this song has to be the most disturbing tale I’ve heard all year. Here, the narrator tells us in sharp detail how his brother was killed in a motorcycle accident after being hit by an eighteen-wheeler. The driver carried on with his life unaffected, and the plan to exact revenge by the narrator’s dad failed. But many years later, the narrator’s brother would take his own revenge, as the driver died in a trucking accident. This is only made more intense by the fact that Melancon speaks the whole tale, and you can imagine your relative sitting across the table from you relaying the whole incident.
It does lighten up in a way after these three, in the sense that we go from sinister to melancholy. There’s “Dwayne and Me,” the story of two cousins who became friends and looked out for each other until Dwayne went off to war and never came back. There’s “Praying For Light,” where the narrator sings about watching the storm clouds build and hoping his land will still be there in the morning because he can’t afford to rebuild. There’s “Promises,” where the main character is stuck in his hometown after a knee injury in football and wishing he’d gotten to leave. It’s all very wistful, and Rod Melancon really has the right voice to pull out the desperation in these characters and make you feel what they’re experiencing. It’s a great example of a singer without a technically great voice using their tone and vocal ability to their advantage to convey emotion.
There’s one more disturbing moment on the album as well in “Different Man,” where we learn about Jimmy, a soldier who has returned home with PTSD. We hear, through the words and ever-building production, all the things going on in his head till finally it just explodes in the end. I’ll go back to the Jason Isbell song “Anxiety” here because Isbell used the angry production there to help the song, and I didn’t think it enhanced the story. I even found the outro somewhat distracting. This, however, is a good example of using the production to help tell the story, as it really adds a sense of frustration to the track, while also illustrating the lack of control Jimmy has over his own mind.
But Rod Melancon is not always dark or even depressed. WE get a nice break in the middle of the album with the fun, energetic “Redhead” that offers some balance to the project and serves to make the darker material stand out even more. “Redhead” also appears to show off more of Melancon’s personality; the other songs seem to be stories about other people, but this one seems to have more of Rod himself in it. The song also stands out because he’s singing about a hot single mom instead of your typical young girl. “Mary Lou” also adds a little variety to the record–it’s still a wistful heartbreak song, but it’s upbeat and stands out as a lighter moment on the album. Both of these songs, though not the best ones here on their own, were crucial to making Southern Gothic stand out and not just be one dark, depressing affair where the songs ran together.
So, overall, this is quite a good album. It’s going to come down to taste, I think, on your mileage with the record, but it shouldn’t be overlooked because there are some great stories here, not to mention many of them are enhanced by cool and interesting production. Rod Melancon does a fantastic job bringing life to these characters and telling the tales of people who no doubt have real-life counterparts but are nonetheless often ignored in music. If you like dark albums, you’re obviously going to enjoy this more, but I’m not someone who gravitates toward them, and this record still managed to stand out to me. I think that’s a testament to the kind of storyteller that Rod Melancon is, as well as to the fascinating listen that is Southern Gothic.
I had a hard time settling on what to write for this week’s Random Reflections article. Nothing was really sticking out to me. However, from reviewing the latest Gretchen Wilson album, I’ve been in the mood to listen to straight-up country music sung by a woman. I finally chose Sarah Gayle Meech’s album, One Good Thing after much deliberation.
Release Date: August 2012
Style: Traditional Country
People Who Might Like This Album: Those who appreciate the fiddle, and country songs with classic country themes
Standout Tracks: “One Good Thing,” “Old White Boots,” “No Angel”
When you first start this album, you immediately know what you’re in for. The title track is all about how heartache makes for a good song. It’s pretty hard to get more country than that. I mean, lots of classic country songs had heartbreak at their core, and the fact that Sarah Gayle Meech is acknowledging that right off the bat just tells you what kind of album this is going to be. Plus, I really love the fiddle and faster tempo in this song. It doesn’t hurt that she shouts out Hank Williams. Now, I know a lot of people do it, but somehow, it doesn’t seem cliche when Sarah Gayle Meech does it. You can believe she’d actually listen to the artists she points out.
“Old White Boots” is another faster song. They’re just the ones that really stick out to me with this album, and they have the best fiddle play. I love this song though. It’s all about how she just wants to go to a honky tonk in her old white boots. It’s a fun track about being simple, and just wanting to have a good night on the town.
“No Angel” is definitely my favorite song on the entire album. I love the instrumentation of the track, with its guitar. The song is all about how she’s not an angel. She says and does what she wants. I love how she tells the guy “You ain’t my first, and you ain’t my last. I ain’t no angel.” It’s so refreshing to have a woman speak out and say that she breaks rules, says how she feels, and drinks. Far from trying to be perfect, Sarah Gayle Meech is just being herself and she won’t change for anyone. Sure, it’s a bit shallow, but I can’t help loving the song with all its straightforwardness.
I know that from these songs I’ve picked, the album seems all fast and fun. However, there is real heartbreak and emotion on here. “Foolish” shows these feelings off the best, where Sarah Gayle Meech has let down the person she was in a relationship with. She doesn’t know how to be in a relationship and is used to being alone. Therefore, she leaves the person and later regrets it. For me, though, as much as I like this song, the three I highlighted above are what really make Sarah Gayle Meech stand out as an artist. I recommend checking out this album if you want something that’s traditional country, and if you want to find a new female artist to like.
Jake Worthington, whom many will remember from The Voice and perhaps most specifically from that wonderful 2014 performance of Keith Whitley’s “Don’t Close Your Eyes,” is probably the most promising traditional country artist to have come from that show. Sure, we’ve had success in the country world from RaeLynn recently, as well as some for Cassadee Pope and others, but if we’re just talking about straight-up, traditional country, Jake Worthington is the one with the most potential. You cheer for him when he gets success on the Texas charts and hope his name recognition and experience from the show can help him, because you know he is the real deal, and you want to see that potential realized.
His sophomore EP only strengthens that notion. You only get five songs and fifteen minutes, but Jake uses every minute to further reinforce his traditional country sound and lyrics. You get three heartbreak songs in “Big Time Lonesome,” “A Lot of Room to Talk,” and “Hell of a Highway” that, while they probably shouldn’t have been placed right in a row, still all sound unique and tell a different story. “How do You Honky Tonk” is reminiscent of a 90s radio hit and manages to be fun and upbeat without veering into the territory of cliché. “Don’t Think Twice” is probably the weakest of the five, but it’s still a nice love song, and Jake delivers a strong effort here, especially considering the length. The fact is, it’s one of three EPs I’ve enjoyed this year (the others being Whitney Rose’s South Texas Suite and Lindi Ortega’s Till the Goin’ Gets Gone.)
However, I can’t help but feel that it’s time for Jake Worthington to release an album. He’s given us two EPs now when he could have delivered one full-length project; both EPs were strong, but I think more people would be paying attention to an album. This has been debated a lot recently, but the fact is that more people pay attention to albums, for better or worse, and that’s mainly because Eps often leave you wanting more. With both Whitney Rose and Lindi Ortega, the projects were somewhat of an exception, each reflecting a time in the artist’s life that might not have been captured if they waited to release full albums. Those projects both had a cohesive theme despite their short length and therefore stood out as only few EPs manage to do. With Jake Worthington’s Hell of a Highway, there’s no overarching theme that holds this together–it feels more like a preview of Jake, and while that worked nicely for his debut EP, it doesn’t work as well this time. Still, it says something about these songs and Jake Worthington’s potential that this EP still manages to stand out despite these factors. As I mentioned, it’s one of only three that have made an impact on me in 2017, and that can’t be taken lightly. It took so long after his release to write about this because it’s harder to talk about EPs in general–but that’s also a testament to the fact that this particular EP still deserves talking about. All in all, it will leave you wanting more, but it’s still a nice place to start with Jake Worthington’s music.
It’s no secret that traditional-sounding country has little, and female representation has even less, place in the mainstream today, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that the vintage, traditional Secret Sisters lost their major label deal and struggled to get by despite their incredible talent. It’s also been pointed out recently that the mainstream has a noticeable lack of female producers, and it’s not as if there are a ton of them in the independent/Americana world either, so it seems fitting that the Sisters’ latest record, aptly entitled You Don’t Own me Anymore and very much an album of empowerment and freedom from control, would be produced by Brandi Carlile. And for the most part, it’s a great showcase of the Sisters’ vintage sound and undeniable talent.
I use the word “vintage” more than “traditional” because this record harkens back very much to the earliest days in country, and it’s like something you can imagine your grandmother playing and loving. It’s not necessarily reflected in the themes, like the timeless Colter Wall debut, but in the sound and overall mood of the record. It’s a simple album, not relying too much on production to tell these stories but instead playing to the strengths of Laura and Lydia Rogers and allowing their vocals to be the highlight. And indeed, the sisters’ incredible harmonies shine forth as the greatest asset to this whole thing. It’s the dissonance in the beautiful “Carry Me” that adds to the raw emotion, and it’s the reimagining of “Kathy’s song” with harmony that ultimately makes it stand out here despite it being a cover. Although the opener, “Tennessee River runs Low,” is not one of my personal favorites, there’s no denying the fact that it’s a vocal masterpiece, showing off all kinds of crazy chords and harmonies and just being generally impressive.
The songwriting is another strength of this record. It’s definitely an album of empowerment, as embodied in the title track and the mournful “To All the Girls Who Cry,” featuring some nice piano and those excellent harmonies. Sometimes it seems directed at a controlling lover, like in the more upbeat “He’s Fine” or in the painfully honest “The Damage.” It’s probably also referring to their struggles in the music business, and the powerful thing is that even though the record is called You Don’t Own me Anymore, this person and/or entity that once owned them has obviously left an incredible, even irreparable mark. It’s a triumphant title, but it’s not a happy album; in fact, except for occasional fun breaks like the ode to Alabama entitled “King Cotton,” it’s a melancholy, sorrowful affair. But still, it brings comfort and healing in a way that only these types of albums, borne of struggle and filled with empathy, can. A song like “To All the Girls Who Cry” only works when you understand that they’ve done their fair share of crying themselves, and that sense of empathy permeating this record is what makes it so relatable.
It’s no secret that this album is great from a technical and critical standpoint, so why the 7.5 rating? Well, as a music fan, it honestly could have used some more energy, particularly in the back half. Sometimes the reliance on the vocal ability of the secret Sisters goes a bit too far. The vintage sound renders some of these tracks almost classical in nature; in fact, one of the best examples of that is the previously mentioned and lyrically beautiful “To All the Girls Who Cry.” As I said, it’s an album that played to the strengths of Laura and Lydia Rogers–credit to Brandi Carlile for that–and it’s quite simple. That’s both the best quality and the thing that ultimately holds it back slightly. Their talent is obvious throughout, but it’s stuff like “Carry Me,” “King Cotton,” and “He’s Fine” that will hold up better because their harmonies are simpler. Having said that, this record is one that grows on you with time, and as you start to dig further than the outstanding harmonies and really absorb the lyrics, you begin to uncover more of the underlying genius in the album. So, it’s a 7.5 for now, but that rating will probably increase with time.
Beautifully sung, painfully honest album. It may not be for everyone because of its vintage nature and a slight lack of energy, but it’s certainly worth your time, and after a few listens, you might just find it working its way into your heart like I did.
