I remember when Keith Urban actually tried. Now, there are a lot of traditionalists who have probably hated or at least dismissed Keith Urban from the start. His music always had pop and rock influence, and I can see how many strict traditionalists wouldn’t enjoy it. But there’s no denying his talent as a musician, singer, and songwriter. There was a time when he wrote many of his songs and sang with passion. As a reviewer, I can say without bias that he produced a lot of good pop country throughout his career, and as a music fan, I can say with absolute bias that I owned every Urban album right up through Get Closer. He’s recorded some great music in his time, and if you have any doubt of this, go listen to “Stupid Boy” and “The Luxury of Knowing.”
And then, somewhere around Keith’s American Idol stint, and the single “Little Bit of Everything,” all that talent started going to waste, and Urban’s passion and musicianship was lost in the wake of cringe-worthy pop music and the chasing of money and continued mainstream relevancy at all costs. It’s one thing when Kane Brown or Thomas Rhett gives us bad music, but Keith Urban knows better, and his self-awareness leaves me much more disgusted by “John Cougar, John deere, John 3:16” than by some arguably worse singles from these artists. All of this brings me to his latest effort, “The Fighter,” which may be his biggest insult to the genre and former Keith fans yet.
“The Fighter” has no semblance of country anywhere. It is generic pop music with electronic beats and some of the least impassioned vocals I’ve ever heard from either Keith or Carrie Underwood. Yes, that’s right, I forgot to mention Underwood’s part in this, but that is understandable, since mostly she just repeats the same three lines in the chorus like a bored backup singer. The song itself is about Keith Urban being a fighter for Underwood, who presumably got out of a bad relationship and needs to feel protected. The premise of Keith Urban being this type of guy is unintentionally hilarious, and Carrie Underwood doesn’t work as the character who needs to lean on him either. “What if I fall? What if I cry?” she keeps asking. It’s just annoying and doesn’t seem like her at all. There are some other obnoxious lyrics in the verses; Keith sings, “He never knew what he had, thank God.” So he is glad that she went through the hell of the previous relationship so that she would end up with him. Also, the line “he didn’t deserve you ’cause your precious heart is a precious heart” is just downright lazy ssongwriting. This song should be laughed off country radio, but it’s not even much better as a pop song and would probably be laughed off pop radio, so country is where it will stay. Reiterating why country radio will play it would be beating a dead horse, so I’ll spare you all that. But it’s artists like Keith Urban, who know better than this, can do better than this, and have done better than this, but choose instead to resort to absolute laziness because it will sell, that say more about the state of the genre and the fans who will buy this than anything else. The real tragedy is not that Urban recorded “The Fighter,” but that in 2017, he can get away with recording songs like this because that’s all he needs to do to sell records. This is one of the worst songs of his career, and without a doubt the worst song to which carrie Underwood has lent her voice.
Rating: 9/10
What a great day in the lives of Zac Brown Band fans, one of which I’ll unashamedly admit is me. After producing three great albums, including 2012’s excellent Uncaged, the band, or more accurately Zac Brown himself, disappointed the majority of their fan base with 2015’s Jekyll + Hyde. It was not exactly a bad album, and there were even some great songs from it, but it was all over the place in terms of style and seemed more like a Zac Brown solo project at times. Brown promised a return to their roots with their upcoming album Welcome Home, already made promising by the choice of producer Dave Cobb, and thankfully, the first single delivers.
“My Old Man” sees the narrator looking back on the life lessons his father taught him, as well as reflecting on how to be a better man and pass those lessons on to his son. It reminds me thematically of George strait’s “Love Without End, Amen.” The acoustic guitar in this song is gorgeous, and there is some great fiddle play too, a sound that was noticeably and sadly lacking on their last album. Also, this song showcases the great harmony of the band that was forsaken all too often on Jekyll + Hyde. In short, this is where they belong, and zac Brown band fans everywhere should be joyful.
Anyone who has read this blog for any length of time knows it is one of my personal favorite things to highlight the Red Dirt music coming out of Texas and Oklahoma. Growing up, I heard it all the time on my local Oklahoma stations, and when it began to virtually disappear from the airwaves a few years ago, I marked it as just another instance of quality country music being forsaken for the sake of commercial success. It wasn’t really until I started this blog that I realized many country fans all across the nation and the world had never heard the Red Dirt music which was a part of my heritage. One of my proudest moments running this site was last year when I reviewed the self-titled album by the Turnpike Troubadours, helping to introduce people for the first time to a band I’ve known since the beginning of their existence. It’s true that Texas country/Red Dirt can claim its fair share of bad music and radio-friendly singles, but highlighting the tremendous amount of quality music it produces has become of special importance to me. With that in mind, I come to my thoughts on the third studio album from Saints Eleven, a Texas-based band who have been making a name for themselves within this scene for several years. Lead singer Jeff Grossman promised a return to their roots with this record, and I came in eager to hear it.
The album opens with “My Heart,” and right away, I have to point out the fiddle. Turnpike Troubadours fans, this might satisfy your need for fiddle until they release their next album. The actual song is a nice love song about a man proposing to a woman and telling her that nothing will ever keep them apart. The title track, “Coming Back Around,” brings the signature blend of fiddles and rock guitars so familiar in Texas music. The narrator here is seeking redemption and apologizing to God and everyone for everything he’s done in the past. He knows he’s done a lot of things wrong, but now he is changing and “coming back around.” “Heartbreak Songs” is an ode to the classic country songs about cheating and drinking that seem to have disappeared. There are lots of songs lamenting this, but this one stands out because the man needs the songs to help him through his loneliness; Bring back those old lonesome heartbreak songs, they make me feel better, and not so alone.”
“Shelter Me” is a contradiction; it’s an upbeat, fun song about hard times and pain, and needing a shelter through life’s struggles. It reminds me of “Seven Oaks” by Turnpike Troubadours in the fact that both songs make you smile about otherwise depressing things. An album highlight is “For Those Who Came,” a song in which a dead man is addressing his family and friends, all those that came to his funeral. He seems more upset for them than for himself because he knows he is going to a better place. The piano and acoustic guitar blend really well in this song, and I almost wish drums hadn’t come in in the middle. “Sunday drive” is the antithesis of “Shelter Me,” the former lamented all of life’s hardships while this one embraces the little things in life like Sunday drives, spending time with family, and making a difference in the lives of others. It’s interesting that they are separated by a song about death because they represent vastly different ways of going through life. Track placement is important, and I think these three tell a bigger story together than individually.
The only song not written by Grossman is a cover of “Crying Time” by Buck Owens. This is vastly different to the original, and I much prefer this lighthearted version of a heartbreak song. “Strange Round Here” tells the story of a married man who leaves town to find work and has an affair with a waitress, who mysteriously goes missing after telling him she’s pregnant. I am a fan of story songs in general, although this one ends a bit abruptly and could have been slightly more developed. “Almost Home” seems to be autobiographical; it’s a song about a man on the road trying to console his wife and children. “Let Them Go” features Courtney Patton, a name that immediately gave it promise. The man turns to alcohol for comfort while his wife prays to God and wonders why her husband can’t reach out to her instead. He never quits drinking and eventually dies. It’s definitely another high point of the album, and Courtney Patton’s voice certainly adds to it. The album closes with “The Same,” a nice love song that ends the record on much the same note as it began. This one features some excellent steel guitar and tells of a couple who enjoy spending time together regardless of what they are doing.
This is a really solid album and a nice introduction to Saints Eleven. It’s definitely country throughout, and the instrumentation is certainly the record’s greatest strength. The songwriting is solid, and the music seems to come from an honest place. The strongest tracks are “My Heart,” the title track, “For Those Who Came,” and “Let Them Go.” There’s nothing really groundbreaking about this release, but it’s a good album from start to finish and a nice place to begin with Saints Eleven.
Music can and does touch all of us in different ways. Whether we’re playing it or singing it, or just simply listening to a great song, it connects with all of us in a way that nothing else can. For those of us who get to make music, that connection is even deeper. But few of us get the joy of what husband and wife Jason Eady and Courtney Patton have found, the gift of making music with someone we love. It is why duets can be uniquely powerful forms of expression, and it’s why fans of the two Texas artists have been anxious for a duets album from them for years. It would bring two incredibly talented artists and regular touring partners together, but more than that, it would be a timeless and personal display of the love and the music they share.
Last October, we all got our wish when it was announced an acoustic duets album, mostly of covers of songs previously recorded by each of them, would be available in early 2017. Then, with very little fanfare, the album dropped in December on iTunes and Amazon and is now available in physical copies. This is my first experience reviewing an album mostly of covers, but I feel that this one deserves my attention.
I won’t go through each track here because most of them are songs previously recorded by Eady or patton. These were selected by their fans, and they did a nice job highlighting some of the best of each artist’s individual work. If you are unfamiliar with one or both of them, this is a great place to start. Jason Eady’s “Cry Pretty,” a heartbreaking song about a man running into his ex and remembering how she looked when she left him, is arguably even better as an acoustic song with Courtney Patton’s backing vocals. Patton’s “Twelve Days,” a song she wrote for Eady about missing him on the road, means even more here with him harmonizing. Another excellent choice was “where I’ve Been,” a song written by Jason from the point of view of a woman and recorded by Courtney on last year’s So This is Life. The woman is lonely in her current relationship and telling the man that she’ll be there physically, but she isn’t committed to trying anymore because he is ignoring her; “If you ever decide that you ever wanna try again, I’ll be here in the morning, just don’t ask me where I’ve been.” It was a great solo, but it resonates even more when you hear it sung from both sides, the lonely woman and the man she’s addressing.
There are lighthearted moments on the album too. “Man on a Mountain,” first recorded by Eady, is a fun, upbeat song about a “mountin man” and a “valley girl” who would love to be with each other, but they can’t agree on anything. IN the end, they decide, “let’s meet in the middle, let’s never meet again.” “Move it on Home,” one of the few songs that neither had performed before, is another fun moment. The man is staying out late drinking in a bar while the woman is at home heating and reheating dinner. Eventually, he decides to go home “where heaven on earth and love is at.” Easily the most infectious part of the whole album is the closer, where Courtney takes the lead on the traditional “welcome Table.”
As I mentioned, not all of these songs were revised versions of the artist’s individual material. Eady takes the lead on a great rendition of Merle Haggard’s “My favorite Memory,” followed by a Patton-led track called “The words to My favorite Memory,” where she sings about playing the Haggard song when she found out her lover had died. The album highlight, written by eady and fellow Texas songwriter Adam Hood, is “Suffering Fools.” Here, a couple are staying with each other simply because “we know it’s the right thing to do.” They sing, in chilling harmony, “Why don’t you go your way, and I will go mine, and we won’t be suffering fools.” The harmony here, and in several other places throughout the record, is something special and showcases the musical and personal chemistry between them.
Jason Eady and Courtney Patton are each great artists in their own right, and a duets album from them is truly special. I do wish there had been more original songs, and some of the songs felt a little less like duets than just an acoustic version with backing vocals. But there is no doubt that these are excellent song choices and that the two are excellent together. If you don’t know one or both of these artists, this is a great place to start for good Texas country and authentic, honest songwriting. for fans of one or both of them, this is a good addition to each of their discographies. either way, it is definitely worth checking out.
Miranda lambert’s sixth studio album has been one of the most anticipated releases of 2016. aside from simply the fact it’s Miranda Lambert, the album has received much attention and speculation because it will be the first after her very public divorce from Blake Shelton in 2015. Many are wondering what Miranda will have to say and whether she will be honest in her approach, unlike Blake’s ironically titled If I’m Honest which we were subjected to in May. We were treated to the first single, “Vice,” in July, an interesting choice that isn’t radio friendly in any sense and held promise for the album. Last month, we received the news that this would be a double album, always a tricky undertaking, and that the track list includes twenty songs co-written by Lambert, along with songwriting credits for Texas artist Adam Hood, rising Americana artists Brent Cobb and Anderson east–who also happens to be Miranda’s current boyfriend–and former Pistol Annies member Ashley Monroe. Also included on the album would be covers of Shake Russell’s “You Wouldn’t Know Me” and Danny O-Keefe’s “Covered Wagon.” With all of this intriguing news, the anticipation and speculation surrounding this record has been understandably high. So putting aside my well documented status as a Miranda Lambert fan, I came into this album eager to hear it, and to see if it would live up to its mostly promising expectations.
The Nerve
The first disc, “The Nerve,” opens with “Runnin’ Just in Case.” The atmospheric production works well with this song of life on the road; Miranda sings, “It ain’t love that I’m chasin’, but I’m runnin’ just in case.” The last lyric of the song feels like a theme throughout this album and Lambert’s state of mind, “Happiness ain’t prison, but there’s freedom in a broken heart.” Rambling life will be a recurring theme on this album, but while the opener feels melancholy and desperate, “Highway Vagabond” tells the life of a drifter with carefree lyrics and upbeat production. It doesn’t really stand out on its own, but it works well in the context of the album. There is some overproduction here, as well as on the next track, “Ugly Lights,” a song about turning into the clichéd brokenhearted person sitting in a bar to drown her troubles. The overproduction is especially unfortunate here, as the lyrics are brilliant. I hope with more listens I can get past it for the sake of the writing, but so far that hasn’t happened. Next is the cover of Shake Russell’s “You Wouldn’t Know Me,” and I prefer this version. It really fits Lambert’s voice as well as the album, proving Miranda’s ability to pick smart covers, a skill which can be as important as good, honest songwriting.
Any Miranda Lambert enthusiast knows there is always one song on each album written solely by Lambert; on earlier albums there were far more, but you will still always find one that she wrote by herself. On this record, it’s the lighthearted “We Should be Friends,” advising all those with hearts as empty as diesel tanks, closets stocked with borrowed dresses, and stained white T-shirts that they should be her friend. It’s a nice upbeat moment in a mostly dark album yet still feels quite honest. Usually the solo writing credit will be found on a darker track, so this is a nice change. “Pink sunglasses” follows, and I really can’t understand the point of this, except possibly that she mentions being disguised in the sunglasses, and that they make things seem a bit better. Still, although it sort of fits the theme, it is just unnecessary. It suffers from overproduction too, and I won’t get past it on this song because this song is just not worth it lyrically. It is absolutely no coincidence that Lambert did not have a hand in writing this; in fact, the other one she did not write or choose as a cover is “Highway vagabond,” which I mentioned earlier didn’t especially stand out…but I digress. “getaway driver” introduces the moment we all knew was coming, a song co-written with Anderson East. This is the first quiet moment on the album; Lambert sings from the point of view of a man who helps his woman escape her life like a “getaway driver.” It still connects with the rambling feel of this album, but in an understated way; it’s one of the standouts of this disc. Next is the single, “Vice,” and let me take this moment to insert my status as a Miranda Lambert fan and say I wasn’t thrilled about “Vice” at first. As a reviewer, I recognized it to be an excellent single choice, but I wasn’t overly sold on the production. I’ll gladly take that back; in context, it works flawlessly, adding another dimension to the rambling theme as Lambert runs from town to town chasing whiskey, sex, and music. I wouldn’t call it country; in fact, so far I would call “The Nerve” closer to Americana, but there is a raw, unpolished feeling about it that works.
“Vice” dissolves effortlessly into the slow burning “Smoking Jacket.” Lambert sings of wanting a man with a smoking jacket whose “heart is tragic” but “he makes his magic every night on me.” She also adds, “I don’t need a diamond, I like wearing his smoke rings.” “Pushin’ Time” is the most country so far, opening with just Miranda and her guitar. The song itself is about reckless love and not being able to take it slow; “sometimes love acts out of spite, and good things happen overnight.” This is another highlight of the disc and the entire album. Lambert’s country rock cover of Danny O-Keefe’s “Covered Wagon” works well after the quiet moments, and once again, it’s a perfect cover choice; it’s another track about life on the road, this time obviously in a covered wagon. “The Nerve” closes with the quiet, introspective “Use my Heart.” This features some of the best songwriting on the album, and here we find the inspiration for the disc names; “I can write the line, but I can’t sing the song. I can call my mama, but I won’t go home. The thought of loving you just makes me sick. I don’t have the nerve to use my heart.” This is also the first songwriting appearance by Ashley Monroe, who it seems has never lent her pen to a bad song. So far, with the exception of “pink Sunglasses,” the record has flowed smoothly and seemed to lack filler. But double albums can be risky, so with that in mind, we move on to the second disc.
The Heart
“The Heart” opens with decidedly more country production than “The Nerve.” It will continue to be mostly country throughout. “Tin Man” is an excellent track which sees Lambert explaining to the tin man that “if you ever felt one breaking, you’d never want a heart.” From this first track, it feels as though “The Nerve” is Lambert running from the pain, while “The Heart” sees her confronting it head on. “Good Ol’ Days,” co-written by Brent cobb and Adam Hood, is a lighthearted track on the surface, but it holds more meaning than just an ode to days gone by; Lambert asks “when will the road run out” and says she’ll go back if only she can find the truth. “Things That Break” sees Miranda lamenting the pain she causes, saying “I’m hard on things that matter, hold a heart so tight it shatters, so I stay away from things that break.” There is a vulnerability in this song that reaches out and just slaps you in the face. “For the Birds” feels like the companion of “we Should be Friends.” Both are lighthearted moments surrounded by darkness, but whereas ‘we Should be Friends” is about her personality in general, this one is more about what she stands for.
“Well Rested” is hard to explain–it’s somewhere between heartbreak and personal reflection and features some of the best vocals on the whole thing. All of you who love steel guitar should listen to this one immediately. “Tomboy” is a fun song about just that; “Daddy tried to raise a southern belle, he got a tomboy.” It doesn’t really go with the album, but at the same time, it goes deeper than just listing the characteristics of a tomboy; she’s “hard to love and hard to please,” and explaining “she’s got a soft spot you’ll never see.” Steel guitar lovers, I take my earlier comment back. Listen to “To Learn Her” first. This is a straight-up classic country song. It’s a beautifully written song telling men that “to love her is to learn her.” It is no surprise that Ashley Monroe’s pen is once again found here, as this is the shining moment of “The Heart.” This could easily have been on a Monroe record. after this traditional song, “Keeper of the Flame” feels appropriate–it’s an ode to the songwriters who came before Lambert, and her promise that she won’t let their legacies die. Because of this, I wish it would have been more traditional, but the country rock production works pretty well.
“Bad Boy” starts off interestingly, with Miranda singing half a line and then asking, “can I ask one more question, what’s the intro?” I love that this is in there–it’s the exact opposite of every polished record coming out of Nashville. This one is more similar in production to “The Nerve,” standing out as “Pushin’ Time” did on that disc. This is an ode to the bad boys and the women who want them, but once again, it’s not shallow; it feels like this disc’s companion to “Smoking Jacket.” I prefer “Smoking Jacket,” but this still doesn’t really feel like filler. There is no way to describe the production on “Six Degrees of separation” except strange. I wouldn’t call it overproduced necessarily, but it just doesn’t go with Lambert’s voice or the lyrics. It’s like someone thought it would make the song more depressing to add some sort of alternative stoner rock feel. It doesn’t come off as depressing or angry, it just comes off as annoying. The song itself is about running from heartbreak but never being able to escape the memories. Lyrically, it’s pretty good, but I can’t imagine getting past the train wreck that is the production. Then “Dear Old Sun” arrives, and we’re back to country/acoustic rock. This is simply a nice little ode to the sun and the morning light. The album concludes much as it began, with the rambling “I’ve Got Wheels.” It connects the whole record seamlessly as Lambert sings, “When I can’t fly, I start to fall, but I’ve got wheels, I’m rollin’ on.”
Overall
Double albums always run the risk of containing too much filler, and that was definitely a concern with this project. However, except for “Pink Sunglasses,” and to a much lesser extent, “Tomboy” and “Bad Boy,” all the tracks feel like they belong here. Honestly, I would have given this album a ten without the unfortunate inclusion of “Pink Sunglasses,” and perhaps even with it if the obnoxious production of “Six Degrees of separation” and some overproduced moments hadn’t been present. lyrically, it’s mostly a great effort, and I am impressed that Miranda not only co-wrote most of this, but also used the opportunity to showcase little-known songwriters outside the mainstream. I didn’t even mention Irish singer Foy Vance, who co-wrote “Pushin’ Time,” but that was one of the most impressive names found here. As I mentioned, there some production issues, but overall, that was solid as well. I don’t think there is too much material here; “The Nerve” is the edgy Americana half where Lambert runs from her pain and problems, while “The Heart” is the heartfelt country reflections that find her confronting and dealing with the heartache. As I have said many times, the best music is honest and makes you feel something, and that is what this album does. It brings you in and shows you what Miranda Lambert is going through right now, while at the same time holding you at arm’s length, reflecting Lambert’s refusal to do interviews about this release and keeping her privacy while speaking through the music. It’s an album I absolutely recommend, the best album we’ve seen come out of the mainstream in 2016.
