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Album Review: Eric Church–Desperate Man

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Rating: 9/10

At this point in his career, we all know that Eric Church isn’t really a country artist. His music is and always has been more correctly labeled as roots rock. But that’s not really the point anymore with Church, unless perhaps you’re a firm traditionalist who is only interested in music soaked with fiddle and steel. The bigger point with Eric Church is that in a mainstream full of compromise, he remains his own man, and in a world of drum machines and watered down lines, his records are organic sonically and intelligent lyrically. It may not be very country–although the songwriting on this record and even the instrumentation in a few places certainly can be argued as such–but Desperate Man is firmly and unashamedly roots music, with bluesy interludes and extended guitar solos, and radically different from the majority of major label albums, certainly different from those albums that are still somewhat radio-supported. Eric Church has not abandoned radio, or maybe it would be more accurate to say radio has not abandoned Eric Church, but you get the feeling listening to this album that airplay is a secondary concern, the primary ones being appealing to his fans, and most importantly, doing whatever he damned well pleases.

The rootsy, organic nature of this record is so refreshing. It’s not experimental to the point it loses sight of itself like much of The Outsiders, but the instruments are allowed to breathe more so than on Church’s last record, Mr. Misunderstood. Desperate Man balances the feel of those two albums well, finding and keeping the best elements from each of them. This record finds Church more sure of himself and his sound than ever before, and although there are varying influences, it feels less like the aimless wanderings of The Outsiders than just simply trying to correctly interpret each song and capture the right mood and style to fit the lyrics. He’s never in a hurry to get to the point, often meandering through various chords and guitar licks before settling into the groove of a song. The album opener, “The snake,” introduces the record with over a minute of bluesy guitar picking before any other instruments join the party. “Heart Like a Wheel” wanders through dissonant chords and arpeggios before sliding into its groove and selecting a key, and “Solid” features almost an instrumental prelude of drums and electric guitar flourishes ahead of the actual song. These are little things, but they really enhance the record, giving it a cohesive, continuing feel all the way through and further stressing the point that this isn’t your typical mainstream record full of artificial drumbeats and electronic sounds. These are actual musicians playing actual instruments and giving the album a bit of a live feel.

And you can say Eric Church isn’t country, but it’s hard to classify a song like “Jukebox and a Bar” as anything else. Sure, crying steel is replaced with electric guitar licks, but this is your classic country heartbreak song about drowning sorrows in a bottle. “Some of It” and “Hippie Radio” feature prominent acoustic guitar and country songwriting, the former detailing all the lessons life teaches you on the journey, and the latter being a story song revolving around the radio and how the different songs became the soundtrack of the narrator’s life, from driving around with his dad to starting a family of his own years later. Both of these could be accidental radio hits as well, fitting the format without compromising anything lyrically. “Solid” is another one that’s very country thematically; basically, think of a remake of Dierks Bentley’s “I Hold On.”

Vocally, Church just reaches a different level on this album. It’s like all the passion that we knew existed and which came out from time to time on his previous records finally reaches its full potential here. He slays the title track vocally, doing great justice to the songwriting of Ray Wylie Hubbard and singing with the same kind of fierceness and intensity that you can imagine Hubbard employing. This one is both better and worse in the context of the entire album–better because it fits the mood of the whole thing so well and worse because it’s not really a standout of the record. Church’s vocals are also on fine display in “Hangin’ Around,” the least country but also the most infectious tune on the album. He does a nice job building throughout “Heart Like a Wheel,” a song about opposites attracting that’s infused with some blues and soul. “Higher Wire” nearly stretches his range too far; it still works, but it admittedly may have worked better one key lower. Still, the strain goes well with the lyrics about this love that’s addicting and out of control.

Listening to this album, you keep waiting for that one obvious commercial single, but it doesn’t come. There’s no drop in quality lyrically and no compromise in the sound. Not every song is fantastic, but every song is good, and each belongs on the album. Desperate Man is eleven tracks and thirty-seven minutes long, with no filler and avoiding the mainstream trend to cram in as many songs as possible. Not only did Eric Church make the record he wanted to make, but the record he wanted to make was a damn good one. We should be both shocked and thrilled that this came out of the mainstream in 2018 and recognize it as a victory for artistic freedom and growth as well as one for organic roots music and quality songwriting. As for Church himself, this album signifies him finding his place vocally and sonically, releasing a record that not only stretches boundaries but also knows what it wants to be and carries out that vision well. This may not be for everyone, but again, that’s not really the point. It’s the album you want from Eric Church, the best of his career and certainly the strongest to come out of the mainstream this year.

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Reviews

Single Review: Eric Church’s “Desperate Man”

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Rating: 7/10

Eric Church and Ray Wylie Hubbard may be the most genius musical pairing I’ve seen since George Strait and Dean Dillon. Why? Because Ray Wylie Hubbard is a master storyteller, especially when it comes to God and the devil and using biblical and paranormal references in his songs. However, the problem I had with his last album was that all those insanely good and interesting lyrics were brought down by samey, bland melodies that plagued the whole record. But take lyrics like Hubbard’s, and give them to Eric Church–here’s a vocalist who sings with fire and passion and understands the value in the sheer delivery of a song and interpretation of a lyric. Now it becomes something only a co-write like this one could have produced, a song with darkness and substance that appeals to independent music fans while also being pretty accessible to the mainstream.

That mainstream sensibility does lead to the strange, almost disco arrangement, and the “boo boos” in the background can be more distracting than catchy. The production style isn’t a problem within itself, but you do feel like it could have cut loose a little more, in the vein of “Chattanooga Lucy,” a song which this one calls to mind rhythmically. That song did a better job of letting the instrumentation take over than this one does, but the organic nature of an Eric Church song is always refreshing to hear in a world of drum loops and electronic sounds.

Ray Wylie Hubbard’s hand is all over this, as this tune was borne of his story about going to a fortune-teller and being told he had no future to read. It’s weird and quirky in the way a Ray Wylie song always is, but Eric Church makes it lively and fun, and before you know it, you’re singing along to lyrics about nailing crucifixes to walls. And Church slays this vocally; when he comes in at the bridge belting the lyrics with only percussion behind him, just like in “Lucy,” it’s one of those magical moments that you can’t forget as a music listener.

It’s an interesting song; the first time you listen, it’s kind of strange, and the production can get in the way. But a few listens in, and it hooks you. The very lines that made it weird are the ones that make it stand out in mainstream country, and the very aspects of the production that can be annoying at first are the ones that hold this together and render it a really catchy, fun song. More collaborating from these two, please.

Written by: Eric Church, Ray Wylie Hubbard

Reviews

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: Palo Duro by Shotgun Rider

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Rating: 7/10

With so many great and important albums coming out last Friday and things happening behind the scenes for me personally, it was going to take serious motivation for me to actually add another record to my list, at least not to a list of stuff I’d actually get to anytime soon. Maybe the debut album by Texas country group Shotgun Rider would go on the never-ending back burner, ready to be pulled out on a slow release week in the future. I had no intention of actually getting to it quickly–and then motivation came swiftly for me when I heard that the lead singer sounded vocally like a more polished Gary Allan. For one, that’s a really specific comparison, and for another, Gary Allan has one of the most distinctive voices in modern country music, and imagining a more polished, less gritty version of his unique tone was intriguing. I put on Palo Duro, and indeed, it’s as if the lead singer, Logan Sanford, were the love child of Gary Allan and Mike Eli of the Eli Young Band. Fans of either of these vocalists should check this out. Since I am a fan of both, this immediately had my attention, and it turned out to be a really solid Texas country debut from Shotgun rider.

Just like Red Shahan’s album, this record is named for a landmark in West Texas, in this case the majestic Palo Duro canyon stretching for miles across the Texas panhandle. However, unlike Shahan’s record, this album is a more polished blend of country and rock; rather than rugged grit, this album goes for a smoother, cleaner sound. Also, where Culberson County is a record for thinking, this one’s a record for drinking, representing the lighter, Aaron Watson/Josh Abbott side of Texas country. This relies on strong hooks and catchy melodies more than hard-hitting lyrics. That’s not to say there aren’t some smart lyrics here, but they’re not really the biggest focus with this music.

But there’s nothing wrong whatsoever with solid, hook-driven music; in fact, Americana could use more of it. It provides a nice balance between deeper albums whenever it’s done right, and this record is most certainly done right. It’s a hard album to write about because there are only so many ways to say this is solid, and you can’t really analyze the lyrics all that much. But these songs, though not especially outstanding lyrically, are enhanced by Sanford’s vocal delivery, by hooks that quickly stick in your head, and by melodies which just make much of this album infectious.

The production goes a long way to separate this from other similar albums as well. It does a great job blending the classic sounds of Texas country, with equal parts crying steel and screaming electric guitar. Most of these tracks are also built around minor chords and/or darker keys, so there’s an element of seriousness to songs that might otherwise be lightweight. “Texas Rain,” probably the strongest selection here, does an excellent job building throughout the song to convey the storm of emotions this narrator is facing, as he can’t help but love a woman who comes and goes just like the West Texas rain, never staying long enough to actually provide relief. And sometimes, it’s just the passion and sincerity of Sanford’s delivery that makes a song work, like on “Lucky Him,” as the main character laments the fact that his ex is finding everything she ever dreamed of with another man. George Strait is cited as one of this band’s main influences, and that is evident here in this track, which sounds like a modern version of “You Look so Good in Love.”

As mentioned, the lyrics are secondary, but for the most part, they are solid. This is a debut, and it’s a strong one, but Shotgun Rider can certainly improve their songwriting on future releases since most of this doesn’t really go deeper than the surface. Still, except for the last three tracks, the writing works well enough. It’s on these last three, and particularly on the closer, “The Night Don’t Love You,” that the writing really becomes a liability, and this serves to end a really promising album on a bit of a whimper.

This is not a record that’s going to blow you away or give you some profound new revelation about life. But it works well for what it is, a hook-driven slice of modern Texas country music. We need more albums like this providing energy and stepping up to balance out the great songwriting efforts by other artists. We need more music like this to prove you can make a good album without being especially deep or artsy or making some grand statement. In a perfect world, this is the kind of music we’d be championing in the mainstream, and in that fantasy world, it would do well. Really strong debut, and I’m excited to see where Shotgun Rider will go from here.

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Album Review: Red Shahan–Culberson County

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Rating: 8/10

As was ironically just mentioned on this platform a few days ago, I was blessed with the opportunity in college to sing in a traveling band. This came up in a recent post because the director was Vince Gill’s guitar teacher–but he was also the youngest member of Bob Wills’ Texas Playboys, and if you talked to the man for more than five minutes, he’d surely tell you about it. He considered it his finest accomplishment, and we all had to learn some Bob Wills songs in our time because he used his connections to take us out to the Texas panhandle every year to a little town called Turkey, the hometown of Wills where we performed in a dance hall with a crumbling old stage that the Texas Playboys had played on in their day.

The Turkey, Texas, trip was one we all dreaded. For a weekend, we would be cut off from society, seemingly suspended in 1927. We were isolated from everything, and the stillness was jarring. You didn’t even here cars on the street in that town, just coyotes and church bells. Cell reception was nonexistent; you told your family where you were going and didn’t contact them again for 48 hours, until you got back across the Oklahoma border to civilization. I can still remember the horrified reaction of a friend from Rhode Island, already having enough of a culture shock from her move to our little college town of Chickasha, Oklahoma, when she realized her phone wouldn’t work in West Texas at all. It seemed like an ugly, desolate place hopelessly trapped inside the past, and with nothing to do one afternoon, either in the town or on our devices, we all sat on the porch of the dilapidated Turkey Hotel and bonded, making up a horror story we dubbed the “Turkey Texas Tragedy,” detailing how and in which order each of us would be murdered out here in this godforsaken wilderness.

Who would be inspired by such a place to make a record? And yet, it’s the desolation and emptiness of West Texas that Red Shahan chooses to bring to life here on this album, and not only that, he manages to capture the beauty in the place as well. You hear a song like the title track, named for a county in West Texas with a population barely over 2,000, and you understand why Shahan calls for us to “keep the lonely places lonely” and away from “anyone who doesn’t understand.” Even if you’re not from West Texas, it’s a relatable sentiment, as highways replace back roads, and rural communities grow into towns. The wide open spaces in our country and the world are becoming extinct, and Red Shahan laments this with a heartbreak that comes to life with the grit in his voice and will be relatable to many. “How They Lie” also captures this, as he sings of people losing their land to the government, being lied to about their intentions to take everything for which these people have worked so hard.

But more than the lyrics, it’s the sound that paints a picture of the isolated corners of West Texas and beyond. It’s the reverb that’s used to wonderful effect throughout this album to create an ever-present echo, as if this whole record were made in a canyon under the endless Texas sky. It’s the reverb throughout it all which sets the mood and serves as the backdrop, but the sonic influences are varied. We have rockers like the excellent openers “Waterbill” and “Enemy,” serving to kick off this album in fine fashion. “Waterbill” is the best opener I’ve heard so far this year, and with a line like “you ain’t livin’ unless you’re livin’ life broke,” it’s impossible not to enjoy this. “Enemy” goes for a darker, heavier atmosphere, an appropriate choice since this song deals with the dark side of small-town life–interesting to note that both red shahan and Ashley McBryde have just released songs referencing meth, an occurrence which has been surprisingly rare in the country genre given its prevalence in rural communities like this. And speaking of country, if you thought this album was purely a rock effort, take a listen to “Roses” and “How They Lie,” each blending country elements with that spacey rock production to create something exciting and forward-thinking. The title track does an excellent job of blending acoustic and electric guitar in a way that is becoming a signature sound for Red Shahan. I’d also argue that even when the sound leans heavily toward the rock end of the spectrum, much of this is more concerned with its lyrical content than most rock music, a characteristic certainly common to the country genre. Then, when you thought you had Red Shahan completely figured out sonically, he throws “Try” in at the end and displays a bluesy, soulful influence. Meanwhile, through all this, there’s that desolate, empty, West Texas backdrop behind everything to perfectly encapsulate the sound of that region.

While my criticisms for this album are few and far between, I will say that the lyrics are certainly weak in places. “6 Feet” sounds very cool, but it’s just not developed enough lyrically to really stand out. And “Revolution” is admittedly a really fun track, one you probably shouldn’t try to decipher beyond the surface anyway, but it’s hard not to point out it ultimately says nothing lyrically, especially when you understand that Red Shahan gave us songs like “Waterbill” and “Someone Someday,” both of which are lively and upbeat but which contain smart, substantive songwriting as well. Shahan can also sound a bit flat vocally at times, but after hearing the raw power with which he navigates and slays “Try,” I think that’s more of a style thing than a vocal issue. For example, the chorus of “Culberson County” is really flat in places, but this also serves to add dissonance and speak to the harsh beauty of the land.

This album just gets better and better with every listen. There’s something here for everyone, from the more country-sounding stuff like “Roses” to the intense rock of “Enemy” and everything in between. It’s raw and gritty in its sound and sometimes harsh in its message, a reflection of the place and people which inspired this record. Maybe we can’t agree on whether Kacey Musgraves or Ashley McBryde gave us the better mainstream album Friday, but we should all be able to come together in agreement of the fact that Red Shahan is a badass, and that this is a great, genre-bending, forward-thinking record. Don’t let it be one you overlook.

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