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Album Review: Colter Wall–Songs of the Plains

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Rating: 6/10

Colter Wall could be a timeless voice of this generation, and I believe he will be. When I first heard his voice, coming straight out of the past and echoing the ghost of Johnny Cash, I got chills. And his stories match his voice; he weaves tales of hopping trains and plowing fields with a natural ease, and not dated by his language but rather enhanced by it, for his turns of phrase would seem more forced if he modernized them, a direct contrast to so many of his peers who seem to choose their words carefully and intentionally to evoke days gone by. But unlike so many of these–Joshua Hedley and Zephaniah O’Hora come to mind immediately–Colter’s not trying to revive classic country. He’s not trying to bring back the outlaw era, an exercise so worn out by now that the effort to be an outlaw has become a cliché. Rather, Colter Wall goes even beyond that, seeking to keep alive the oldest forms of country and folk music, going back to the days of Wooddy Guthrie and Roger Miller for his inspiration and preserving those primitive styles and traditions in his songwriting.

Songs of the Plains seems like a natural progression for Wall, an album made in tribute to his prairie homeland in Canada and featuring some traditional tunes from his home country as well as Colter’s originals. The idea is fresh as well, keeping Colter firmly within the parameters of what he does best while also dispelling the notion created for some by his last album that he could only sing about these things for so long and in so many ways before it became stale and uninteresting. Perhaps it is the power and magic of his voice, or perhaps it’s because people have been so starved for this sound and in some cases have never been exposed to it at all, but there’s no doubt that Colter Wall’s music is resonating with many and opening windows to the past. There was the concern that he’d be a niche performer, but that niche has made him unique and seems to be what many have been longing to hear, even if they didn’t quite know it themselves. Songs of the Plains doubles down on all of it, more sparse and primitive in numerous places than Wall’s previous efforts, and it should have been a fantastic listen.

Indeed, it could have been a fantastic listen. Certainly the opener, “Plain to See Plainsman,” stands out as a brilliant ode to the prairie and starts off the record in fine fashion. Colter Wall’s love for his homeland is on full display here, and it’s one of the highlights of the whole album. “Thinkin’ on a Woman” is an excellent moment as well, a classic country heartbreak song that should have been written fifty years ago when it would have been a mainstream hit. As for the covers, “Calgary Round-Up” was a great choice, and “Night Herding Song” fits in well after it, almost like an outro. It’s hard even to distinguish these as covers given how naturally they work on this album. And then there’s “Manitoba Man,” an original which comes out of nowhere near the end of the record to remind us all that Colter Wall’s voice is not just special for its timbre but also for its ability to capture raw emotion. I think this one may be overlooked among the other songs, and that would be a shame, for it’s definitely a standout here and in Wall’s young discography.

But too often, this album is just a scattershot, frustrating listen. “Wild Dogs” is the worst misstep, and although not Colter’s original work, it was a terrible choice for a cover and just makes for a very weird, unnecessary moment. The song itself is just awful and strange, but it’s not fair to dwell on the writing as much as the choice by Wall to cover it here. AS for Colter’s own writing, the lyrics are mostly strong, although some songs feel underdeveloped. “The Trains are Gone” is just boring and forgettable, and “John Beyers (Camaro Song”) just feels too short, as if Colter stopped writing in the middle of the story. Also, you can find the same melodic line in “saskatchewan in 1881” that was present in “Bald Butte” on his debut record. I enjoy both these songs, and this might be more easily excused if the same melodic line didn’t come up again in “The Trains are Gone.” It just seems like such a lazy songwriting decision and one which Colter Wall is better than making.

There are some lazy production decisions as well. On the surface, the production seems perhaps more interesting than that of his first full album, with harmonica and steel adding color to some of these tracks. Many criticized the production of Wall’s self-titled record as being too plain, too sparse, and even boring. Personally, I felt Dave Cobb did well by getting out of the way and letting the songs speak for themselves, and I enjoy the fact that Colter often needs nothing more than his voice and a guitar to bring those songs to life. But when you’re relying so heavily on a voice and guitar, the guitar work needs to be better. There is noticeable, constant buzzing of the strings in several of these songs, most obviously in “John Beyers (Camaro Song.”) This song, as mentioned, also seems too short, and the whole thing just comes across as unfinished and rushed. The buzzing guitar strings return in “Wild dogs” and in “Thinkin’ on a Woman” and really, in places all over this record. This is something you hear inevitably with acoustic guitars, and hearing it on occasion can even add to the live feel of a song, as the imperfection brings the human touch to the recording. But it is so constant in some of these songs that it becomes distracting, and the obvious question is why did Colter wall accept these recordings as the final versions he wanted to send out to the public? Once again, he is just better than this.

This record is ultimately just not up to the standards Colter Wall has set for himself. The idea behind it was fantastic, and there are some excellent songs on this album. “Plain to See Plainsman,” “Manitoba Man,” and “Thinkin’ on a Woman” particularly stand out as being timeless additions to Wall’s discography. But the album as a whole just feels rushed and underdeveloped. It’s a collection of little things, but all those small decisions add up to a finished product that seems unfinished. Clean this record up a bit, and it improves significantly. Just a little more care was needed to make this album what it could have been. The potential and talent in Colter Wall remain endless, but unfortunately this album as a whole falls short of that potential.

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Album Review: Amanda Shires–To the Sunset

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Rating: 9/10

Wow, what a fascinating and captivating album! From the opening notes of “Parking Lot Pirouette,” with its spacey, atmospheric production and poetic lyrics about the constellations and Aquarius, I knew this was something different and special. I have worn out this album in the past week since it became an NPR First Listen, especially in the past two days since it became available to buy, and it’s one of those records where not only could I not wait to write about it, but I also had to force myself to sit down and write about it rather than continue to listen to it over and over instead. It’s one of those albums that is exactly the reason I do this, the reason that any of us do, because when music hits you like this, you just want to share it, and thank God for this outlet where I get to do that with you all. For the record, I haven’t been an Amanda shires apologist previously, and also for the record, this isn’t like any other album she’s yet given us. It’s not country or even Americana; this is a rock album, despite its apple Music label of “singer-songwriter.” But damn, is it a good rock album, and it reminds you just how much rock and country are similar in that both are beloved genres of American music marginalized and endangered in 2018.

I mentioned that opener, “Parking Lot Pirouette,” and it may be one of the best opening tracks of the year in terms of hooking me on an album and establishing the mood of the record. desire and sensuality run heavily through the songs of To the Sunset, especially in these first three. In this opening song, the narrator is seducing her lover in a parking lot, turning around and telling him, in response to his comment that she won’t get far, “you’re right, I’m not done with you yet.” “Swimmer,” recorded on a previous Shires album in a more country fashion, deals with the daydreams of a past love, but the echoes of desire are here too, as she sings of wishing he’d “come hover over me and speak something close to me.” And then there’s “Leave it Alone,” a highlight on a stellar album, where the vocal effects work to perfection as Amanda sings of finding new places on her lover’s body, and the desire that she can’t, well, leave alone. Shires’ MFA in poetry is on full display here; it is on much of this album, but it’s especially impressive and beautiful here because there are only so many ways you can write about sex, and she does so both elegantly and sensually.

And Dave Cobb deserves a world of credit for this effort in production; this almost seems outside the confines of his Dave Cobb ways, and yet in terms of making Amanda shires and her songs come alive in the best way possible, he absolutely excels here. This may be his best production I’ve ever heard as far as bringing out the best in an artist. The distortion works excellently on the hardest rocking track here, an instantly re-playable number called “Eve’s daughter.” The shakes and tremors in Amanda’s voice would come off as frail on certain songs, or if left too bare by the arrangements, but they work instead to enhance songs like “Break out the Champagne” and the aforementioned “Parking Lot Pirouette.” It is a great case of taking one’s vocal tone and using it as an advantage; I know Amanda Shires has been self-conscious of this vocal characteristic in the past, but it only serves to add character to these songs, and that’s both a credit to her finding the right style for her voice and to Cobb’s dedication to her vision.

I could go into more detail about these songs, but I’d be here until this time tomorrow night and miss my flight tomorrow morning. Also, I have something else planned, and I don’t want to defeat the purpose of that. But I can’t say enough about this record. If you are at all into rock music, particularly 80’s rock, or if you are at all into poetic, thoughtful songwriting, please check this out. What a masterpiece, and something truly unique and fresh. Yes, this album will definitely be there in the conversation when those December lists come around. Amanda shires should be extremely proud of this.

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Album Review: Lori McKenna–The Tree

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Rating: 10/10

We can debate all day long about the styles and sounds of country music, whether it needs fiddle and steel to fit in the genre, and which modern artists are carrying the sound forward in progressive ways rather than just killing it on the vine. But one thing we can probably all agree on, and the thing that I’ve heard most from people on all sides of the genre debate, is that country music is real. It’s about life, and life is not always happy. IN fact, life is incredibly hard, and country music is important to so many because it embodies that spirit, telling the stories of real people and situations, and providing an empathy in the midst of our own struggles that works far better to heal the soul than songs of escape. That is not to discourage those songs either–in fact, brothers Osborne made a great record this year that works despite its lightweight lyrics and party themes because it provides a moment of peace and levity in the broken world in which we live. But there are also times when we need to know someone else has been through the same things and can understand our pain, and country music has a way unlike any other genre of capturing that truth and empathy and providing comfort to its listeners.

Lori McKenna is desperate to find that truth, stating in the opening lines of “Like Patsy would,” the closer to this album, “If it comes from the whiskey, then pour me a drink. If it comes from the heartache, let me feel the sting. If it comes from the spirits, set ’em loose in this room.” These words are the thesis of this whole project, as she sets out to carry on the traditions of country music by immortalizing the stories of real people. She’s an expert at this familiarity, taking the most mundane topics on the surface and then adding her unique, vivid details to make timeless stories that can relate to us all. Because of that, it’s imperative to give this album a few listens because every time, you will find new words and phrases that make these songs come alive. McKenna’s subtlety reminds me of the writing style of Jason Eady, for his turns of phrase are sneaky, and there’s always something hidden, waiting to be discovered and treasured. “A Mother Never Rests,” the simple opener and ode to motherhood, is elevated by the little details Lori throws in, like the nightlight being left on so that even the sun can set; the mother rarely sits down, but since she provided the light, even the sun can rest awhile. “The fixer” might not be a standout on your first couple listens because if you miss a phrase or two, the whole thing isn’t as poignant, but when you catch the lines about the “fixer” leaving ginger ale on the nightstand for his sick wife and then busying himself with some household project that he can control because he can’t fix her, and she’s too tired to even sip the drink, you can feel that pain. She’s referred to as “the fighter,” doing battle just to sit in her chair in the yard and praying for a miracle despite believing she can’t be fixed. And “The lot Behind St. Mary’s” becomes an incredibly special song of nostalgia and lost love when McKenna utters lines like, “I know you wonder why we can’t get back to When September was our only adversary.” On an album full of excellent songs, this one is definitely a highlight.

There’s the perfect amount of levity and hope sprinkled in as well, making this able to be replayed and keeping it from being a depressing listen despite the serious nature of most of these tracks. “Young and Angry Again” fits with the themes of nostalgia on the record, but it’s upbeat and catchy, and told in such a way that younger people can relate as well, not just people looking back on the good old days. As a 26-year-old, I appreciate when I can relate to a song like this because it shows Lori McKenna’s talent as a writer and an interpreter. “Happy People” was one of my least favorite songs on Little Big town’s last record, but Lori’s own version is more heartfelt and serves as a much-needed lighter moment on this project. “The Way Back Home” admittedly comes off as “Humble and Kind Part 2,” and I wanted to dislike it, but again, her details win out; when she sings about keeping a Bible by your bed like “headlights coming up the road” and getting back to whichever backyard you came from when you’re feeling lost, it’s impossible not to appreciate this song.

Dave Cobb did another fine job with this as well, neither overproducing McKenna and losing her lyrics in unnecessary arrangements like on Ashley Monroe’s album nor leaving Lori alone to hold our attention on her own. The lyrics are the main focus, and most of these songs are driven by acoustic guitar, but there’s always enough instrumentation to keep anything from being bare or minimalist. A producer shines when he or she enhances the artist and at the same time doesn’t draw attention to the production in lieu of that artist, and Cobb succeeds very well here.

As I said on Twitter, this album gets better and better like a fine wine. The Tree wasn’t a 10/10 for me on first listen, and I encourage you to give this several spins. The writing of Lori McKenna is subtle, and it’s absolutely full of hidden little details. But it’s those details which set her apart as a writer and emotive interpreter, and the more you uncover, the more there is to love about this record. It’s simple and relatable, taking real life and turning it into something magical and poetic. It’s everything that country music stands for, and a mark of the best songwriters.

Three chords and the truth. Fantastic record.

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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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Album Review: Old crow Medicine Show’s Volunteer is an Excellent Portrait of Southern Culture

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Rating: 8/10

The South has her fair share of scars and stains and things her people would like to forget. It’s easy, in trying our best to forget and even eradicate that history, to also let go of her heritage and her culture and the things that make her unique. It’s easy to think of country and bluegrass music, as well as Southern culture, as marks of a backward and rural people who need to be brought into the present, and the people that perpetuate these stereotypes only complicate these issues. The South was and is not perfect, but Old Crow Medicine Show are living proof of what makes Southern music beautiful, and why its unique and rich culture is embraced by many and should be preserved.

It’s not an overarching intent with this project or with Old Crow Medicine Show, like something like Southern Family, so don’t let that mislead you—it’s just what comes naturally from listening to this record and to this string band in general. WE have “Child of the Mississippi,” one of the brightest, most fun, energetic songs here, portraying a narrator who grew up on the Mississippi River, “just a barefoot boy born in Dixieland.” The river is in his blood, even more a part of himself than his family. Immediately following that is “Dixie Avenue,” featuring some cheerful harmonica and referencing a couple who falls in love by the light of the Southern moon and eventually settles down in their sleepy little town, buying a house on Dixie Avenue. And then, after these two ridiculously infectious songs, everything slows down in the heart of the album for the premise of it all and one of its highlights, the five-minute ode to the South known appropriately as “Look Away.” Using those well-known lines from “Dixie,” this song paints a picture of a world-weary man returning to his Southern homeland “where the cotton grows” after many years away. Piano licks accentuate this song, as well as the ever-present fiddle and rich harmonies, both such integral parts of the sound of Old Crow Medicine Show.

Speaking of fiddle, there’s a track here called “Shout Mountain Music,” which is basically an “f you” to anyone that wants them to change their sound, even referencing Nashville. This features some fiddle and banjo up front in the mix, despite the advice that these instruments might not belong. They double down on this sentiment with the fiddle instrumental “Elzick’s Farewell,” which anyone who knows anything about me at all knows I love on principle. The fiddle is a rhythmic instrument often for Old Crow, but it’s also used excellently melodically here in “Old Hickory,” a song about a troubled man named Virgil Lee who found his solace in playing music. The Southern references are here as well, as we see “kindly” for “kind of” and “too big for your britches”–as I say, it’s not a specific or purposeful intent of Old Crow, but the Southern language is a unique feature of this album.

It’s nice to be able to have positive words to write about Dave Cobb as well. The man did a fantastic job here, letting the strings and the harmonies and the band’s personality shine. The fun songs, which make up the majority of the album, are vibrant, and each instrument is clearly heard in the mix. The interaction between the band members on tracks like “Flicker & Shine” adds another layer of infectiousness, and Cobb did a good job of capturing that. He didn’t overproduce the more serious songs either, allowing the harmonies and lyrics to be the main focus. The closer, “Whirlwind,” said to be inspired by a couple who were married for many years and stayed together during hard times in the rural South, concludes this album elegantly and may be one of the best songs here.

Actually, the best song is really hard to pinpoint on this album because aside from three songs here, I love all of these selections. This album is literally filled with standout songs–it’s not a solid record of good material, it’s an album of mostly excellent tracks. There’s only one I could do without completely, and that’s “The good Stuff,” as that one crosses the line from infectious to obnoxious. “Old Hickory” and “Homecoming Party” are not quite as strong as the rest, mostly in terms of the writing. “Old Hickory,” as mentioned, is definitely elevated by the instrumentation, and “Homecoming Party” carries an interesting theme of getting off the road and not really being welcomed at home, but both songs just don’t stand out as much lyrically. Still, these are really minor nitpicks on a very solid album.

Overall, this is a really fun, vibrant record that embraces and captures Southern culture in the best way. It’s mostly upbeat and infectious, but there are enough serious moments to add some variety. The production is crisp and tasteful, the writing is strong, and the instrumentation, as you’d expect from an Old Crow album, is stellar. Not that anyone should be surprised by any of this, but Volunteer is another great release from Old Crow Medicine Show and an excellent case for the preservation of Southern music and culture.

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