Well, after a hiatus that wasn’t really meant to happen at all, much less to become so extended, I am happy to return to writing. Thanks to everyone who reached out to me either here or on Twitter; I was humbled by the love shown for CE and for me personally. It is a long and unnecessary and somewhat ongoing story that has kept me from writing for so long, and I’ll try to prevent it from suspending my writing again, certainly for this length of time.
I hope to catch up with 2019 albums, but I would like to wrap up 2018 a little. The year was never meant to end like that, and everything feels a bit unfinished. There were so many great albums last year, including a few I did not get the chance to write about; Jamie Lin Wilson’s was one of the best of the year, and I regret not getting to review it. I can’t tell you exactly how the rankings would have gone at the end of the year. Even at the midyear mark, I refused to rank albums because so many were so close and so good. I can tell you, however, that Country Exclusive’s 2018 Album of the Year is The Tree by Lori McKenna, and if any of you have failed to give that record a proper listen, you’ll only be helping yourself by rectifying that. I cannot even begin to narrow down the many great songs that would have been in contention, so there is no definite Song of the Year.
At the beginning of 2018, I set a goal to attend twelve live shows and write about them for CE. The end result was that I went to eleven, not counting a second Colter Wall show in November and a Jason Eady show in July because I had already written about Eady in 2017. The last two artists I saw were Tyler Childers and Steve Earle, both in December. I fully intended to write about those two shows, Steve Earle’s being one of the best I have seen in 2018 and really ever. Along with the year-end lists, I had considered writing a recap/conclusion of my experiences with live music in 2018. I may still do that if you guys are interested, but maybe it’s too far after the fact to be relevant.
I am trying to catch up with early 2019 releases, but if there is anything you think I may be overlooking, please let me know. As always, I look forward to sharing and discovering more great music with you all!
Yes, the playlists are back! June had all the midyear lists, so I decided to just include some June songs in July’s playlist. Here’s where you can catch up on the latest stuff from artists such as Cody Jinks and Lori McKenna, the second artist to receive a 10/10 review in 2018, as well as check out some underrated names like Wes Youssi & the County Champs, Rhyan Sinclair, and El Coyote. Really strong playlist for the mainstream, including songs from Kenny chesney’s latest, songs from Dierks Bentley’s excellent album that came out in June, and new singles from Eric Church and cam. And speaking of new tracks, we have two strong ones from Jason Eady and Colter Wall off each of their upcoming records; any day either of these guys decides to release music into the atmosphere is a good one. As always, tremendous thanks to Zack for supplying this playlist to the Spotify people.
Apple Music users, you can follow me there @countryexclusive for this and all of our playlists, as well as for updates to the Saving Country Music Top 25. For July’s playlist, Click Here
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.
Yes, Carrie Underwood has new music. I think we all knew that if we were living anywhere on the planet this week, so let’s get right to the point.
This song so blatantly flaunts established country radio convention that it becomes necessary to make a list of things it does to fly in the face of that institution.
it’s a mid-tempo ballad, not some upbeat summer anthem
it contains actual steel guitar
it features four female songwriters which must be some sort of unspoken crime in Nashville
it actually speaks to the female perspective instead of whatever “Female” thought it was doing
there’s actual emotion, but it’s nothing to do with love or anything else stereotypical
And yet, Carrie Underwood has the gall to release this to country radio–not only that, to choose to release it despite the pressure to release her Super Bowl anthem “The Champion” which featured Ludacris instead. That song, despite not being country in the slightest and not being very good in whatever genre it landed beyond its original purpose, probably would have done well in today’s radio environment. Yet she chose this decidedly country pop song and exercised leadership with that decision, more than we can say for many other mainstream country artists.
The song itself starts off with just Carrie and some very faint electric guitar, and credit to her for being very restrained at the beginning and slowly building throughout the song to reflect emotions getting out of hand and becoming uncontrollable. She’s singing about those times when our emotions get the best of us; we can fake it with a”pretty lie” or brush it off with a “pretty smile,” but it’s impossible to “cry pretty.” She asserts that crying is human and all part of being a person and a woman–it could be in response to the way she removed herself from the public to heal after injuring her face, but the details are vague. The vagueness is both a drawback to the song and a thing that will keep it more relatable to a wider audience. This is Carrie Underwood, famous singer, always in the spotlight, actually being vulnerable and making herself an equal with all of us. It’s why this song will work–it shows that she’s really not that different to any of us, and it will speak to people because of that.
And it will most likely get played on country radio as well because it’s Carrie Underwood we’re talking about, and she’s pretty much one of the only women guaranteed to have success in the format. Credit to her for taking advantage of that position and releasing this song, adding her name to the growing number of artists channeling good singles out into the mainstream.
Written by: Carrie Underwood, Lori McKenna, Liz Rose, Hillary Lindsey
If you listened to the first two Taylor Swift albums–you know, back when she did sound rather country–you’ve heard a Liz Rose song. Liz Rose is most famous for having co-written most of the songs on Swift’s first two albums and helping to make her career, lending the skill of a professional songwriter to stories from a girl over thirty years younger and somehow making the partnership work to perfection. Liz Rose also has a songwriting credit on Little Big Town’s “Girl crush,” as well as many other mainstream hits, always seeming to find that balance between commercial success and critical acclaim. So when news came that she was releasing an album, that couldn’t be taken lightly; rather, it was like hearing about Natalie Hemby, Lori McKenna, and Brandy Clark before her, definitely something to be excited and intrigued about.
The difference? Liz Rose didn’t want to make this record “pitchable.” She didn’t come into it looking for subsequent records or tour dates–in fact, she said that after she wrote the album closer, “My Apology,” she felt like the story had ended, and this might be the only Liz rose record to ever grace our presence. Also, she’s not a performer, though her vocal talent here would counter that notion. Still, you have to come into this record knowing what it is to fully get it; it’s just a little story of Rose’s life told in song, and she just happened to have Nashville connections and a publishing company, so you stumbled upon a copy.
That’s the cool thing about this record. It’s dated, but not in the timeless, throwback way of Colter wall, more like in the way of your mom or aunt or grandma telling their stories about growing up in the 50’s and 60’s. It’s trapped there in that time period, and that’s why it’s crucial to understand where Liz Rose is coming from lest it just be an out-of-date, old-fashioned affair. One of the best songs here is the opener, “Grocery Money,” where Rose tells of her mother’s sacrifice and shares the details about growing up with little but somehow always having enough to get by. You’ll hear in “Five ‘n’ Dime” how she worked with her family at one of these stores, in “Woodstock” that she was pissed off to be too young in 1969 to go, and in “Tulsa” about an adventure with her best friend when she was thirteen and ran away from home to “God knows where, Oklahoma.” You’ll get a sense of her fearlessness and motivation to carve out a career for herself in the songwriting industry, an industry she entered at the age of thirty-seven, when you hear “Swimming Alone” and learn that she’s used to finding her own way. You’ll get a glimpse into her love life with “Letters From Prison,” telling the story of a teenage boyfriend who later sent letters to her office and wanted autographs of country stars to distract him from his “personal hell,” and “Ex-Husbands,” the humorous tale of her marriage history that is the highlight of this record and has the potential to get cut despite Rose writing the album to be “unpitchable.” There are also more touching moments, like the aforementioned “My Apology,” where Liz Rose apologizes to her parents, old lovers, and even herself for her mistakes, and “Yellow Room,” where she’s missing and saying goodbye to her father. all in all, it’s a very personal, very unique reflection of her life, much like a snapshot into the life of a relative or a friend, only told in musical form.
AT the same time, that’s also the thing that holds this record back. It’s very personal and cool, but in many places so much so that it won’t be relatable to many. That’s not what Liz rose was going for here, though; she just wanted to make a record for herself. I think people who grew up in these same times will find much to relate to and to love about this album anyway, and this is why I featured it. Personally, although it’s a really cool album and idea, and although the production makes it much more catchy and less boring than these types of singer-songwriter albums generally are, it doesn’t hold up for me beyond the initial interesting glimpse into the life of Liz Rose. The songs “Grocery Money,” “ex-Husbands,” and “Woodstock” stand out above the others, and as a fan, I would pick them off the record; indeed, that’s almost what I did in order to feature Liz rose and this album. I wanted to enjoy this more, particularly as someone who respects the songwriting of Rose, but at the end of the day, a lot of it just isn’t for me, and that directly speaks to the fact that I can’t really relate to these stories and times. But it’s a record that will be for a lot of people despite, or perhaps even because of, its personal nature. People from Rose’s generation especially will connect to this album, and in light of Liz Rose’s intent with this project, the result was a cool listen if nothing else.
