Monthly Archives: May 2018

Commentary

Walking the Line Between Being a Critic and a Music Fan

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This is something I’ve been thinking about for awhile, but which was most recently inspired by Zack, of about a thousand outlets but currently of The Singing Wilderness, as one of his main focuses there, after being more of a “critic” with The Musical Divide, is now to step back and be a “music fan.” It’s a question I’ve thought about at different times and once felt it was a difficult line to walk, and it’s probably different for each reviewer/critic/blogger/etc., but for me, I think the key is to be both. I don’t think they have to be separate, and indeed, separating them results in dishonest, unhelpful criticism.

There is a statement on our About page specifically saying I am not a critic with ideas of what country “should” sound like, but rather a music fan disheartened by the lack of substance and country sound in the country genre. Although that was written in 2015, and my thoughts about the genre thing have changed quite a bit, the point is still the same. I am a music fan, and that’s what prompted me to begin this journey. I was a disenchanted country fan, and I was discovering all these cool underground/independent artists that needed more attention, that needed to be exposed to people like me who felt they were losing the music they loved. It’s as a fan that I was disheartened by Zac Brown’s change of direction on Jekyll + Hyde, and as a fan that I was comforted by the sound of him returning the band to their roots on Welcome Home but was ultimately underwhelmed by it. It’s as an unapologetic Ashley Monroe fan that I can say Sparrow is a disappointing album because the problems can be summed up in the fact that the style doesn’t flatter the Ashley Monroe we’ve all come to love.

It’s also as a music fan that I wrote about the latest Brothers Osborne album–I can see the criticisms with it in a technical sense, and I could have written a review like that, but it wouldn’t have been an honest assessment of my thoughts on the music. I love that record, and even now, I’m wondering why I gave it an 8.5 only when I can see nothing wrong with it as a listener. It will be one of my most played albums of the year, and if I’d been totally honest with myself, I would have rated it even higher. Honesty is the bedrock upon which Country Exclusive was founded–because traditional country, pop country, Texas country, Americana, all of them lack a shocking amount of honesty right now–and that was one time I didn’t follow my own advice completely. But ratings are nothing more than a helpful tool anyway, and my review reflects how I felt; I love that album despite the technical flaws that exist. We should all strive to write as music fans first because it makes us more honest, it reflects a true diversity in opinions about music, and it’s boring to live in an echo chamber. It makes a “critical consensus” more impressive if we seek to write and review this way because if we all end up agreeing, we know the music has to be incredible, rather than knowing we all agree because of some ill-conceived mindset where we feel like we have to do so and share the exact opinions of everyone else.

That said, why does writing or talking about music as a fan need to be different from being a critic? Whether we write a lengthy review or record a YouTube reaction, or whether we just sit down and listen to an album as a fan of good music, we’re all critics in a sense. Yes, we’re all critics, you read that right. When you put in the aforementioned Ashley Monroe record and think, “I don’t like this polish,” whether you write down a thousand-word review on it or not, you’ve made a critical assessment about that album. This goes back to the recent article about reviews and artist’s mental health, and the ultimate reason that article is ridiculous is that everyone listens to music with a critical ear. We all gravitate toward certain sounds and styles, and none of us think everything is good or enjoyable. If we eliminate critical reviews, all we’re doing is lying to ourselves because music fans are making critical decisions on their own just by listening. Not everyone is ever going to like everything you record, and music criticism by reviewers is simply a more in-depth opinion given by one listener. The value of criticism itself is something I could write a whole other piece on, but the tag line of this blog best illustrates it–“the most destructive criticism is indifference.” The worst criticism you can give art is to ignore it, especially in today’s cluttered marketplace, and moreover, calling everything good and giving participation trophies only creates an echo chamber where nothing is praised and rewarded for its quality–the other half of this quote, originally from RC Edwards, was, “that’s a recipe for bad art” in response to a tweet that condemned negativity in reviews. Again, that’s a different tangent entirely, but the truth is that we’re all critical of music if we’re listening to it beyond meaningless, disposable background noise and treating it like the wonderful art form that it is, and to deny that reality is a lie and cheapens the value of music.

Writing and talking about music, though, does tend to make you a more open-minded listener and a better critic, or at least it should. It broadens your perspective and allows you to see what others see in things, even if you can’t see those things yourself. It allows you to go from, “I don’t like this polish” on Ashley Monroe’s record to really understanding why you don’t; it’s as a fan that I can say it doesn’t suit Ashley Monroe, and as a critic that I can understand the appeal for some–the songwriting on that record is superb, and if you’re a fan of the style, you might really enjoy it. It’s as a fan that Brandi Carlile’s latest hasn’t held up for me, but as an open-minded critic/reviewer that I can see its appeal. As a music fan, Gretchen Peters’ latest album is too depressing for me, but there’s not much inherently “wrong” with it. It will end up being featured in Memorable Songs because I have nothing to say as a reviewer other than, “this album depresses the ever-loving hell out of me,” but I can understand how many would love it, especially if they’re in the right mindset. Critic and music fan are really just two sides of the same coin–if I write a glowing review about Peters because I feel like I have to, it’s not honest and erodes my integrity, but if I write a scathing indictment about how it’s bad because it depresses me, this is unfair to the quality of the art, as well as to the people who may really enjoy this. I said I wanted to use this outlet to promote deserving artists, and if I exclude Brandi Carlile and Gretchen Peters from this because of a matter of taste, that makes me nothing more than a fan promoting my favorite artists.

At the end of the day, we all became reviewers/critics because we were music fans. We’d have to be in order to have any desire to listen to all this music, much less to write about it or talk about it at length. If you lose sight of that as a critic, you need to step back and think about who you are as a listener and why you’re doing this in the first place. At the same time, as fans, we are all automatically critics, and this is displayed in our tastes in vocals, instrumentation, lyrics, or which of those elements matters to us most when we listen to a piece of music. We cannot be one without the other, and this is how we should talk about music. If you can’t admit to liking something despite its flaws or what the rest of the echo chamber thinks, you’ve lost sight of the love for music and the unique perspective your opinions bring to the table. If you’re so close-minded that you can’t see past your own perspective and can only view music through the narrow lens of your personal tastes, then you’ve lost sight of the value of music and its ability to touch different people in so many different ways. I used to think that being a critic and being a music fan were different, that you could choose to write or talk about music in one way or the other, and that it could be a hard line to walk. But the truth is that they go hand in hand, and only when you realize that can you be both completely honest and open-minded as a listener, and really, that’s the ultimate goal with all of this, to become better music listeners. It’s not about being a critic versus being a music fan, it’s about being yourself, which is ultimately both, and doing this for the love of the music.

Reviews

Album Review: Kayla Ray–Yesterday & Me

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Rating: 7/10

I was recently prompted by a discussion on Twitter to think about how many listens it takes me with an album before I can make a decision on it. Some people said they only need a few listens, and others contended that they have to absorb an album continuously for a few days in order to have anything to write. As for me, I said it depends on the albums, and I think as music listeners, sometimes we can forget that, both because of streaming allowing us to hear literally everything and because we get caught up in this cycle of never-ending releases. There are albums I’ve heard that have clicked with me instantly, and I’m sure it’s like that with all of us. You shouldn’t force yourself to like something or try to understand where others’ appeal comes from if that appeal isn’t there for you–after all, with the aforementioned streaming, if you don’t like something, you can move on and find something you do enjoy. There’s too much music, and life’s too short. That said, some records take time to grow; that’s the case for me, and probably for many of us; before streaming, you bought an album from an artist based on a couple songs, and if you didn’t love it at first, you still listened to it past that first time because hell, you paid for it. And magically, on the fourth or fifth take, you might have started loving other parts of that record. I’ve mentioned Ashley Monroe’s Like a Rose before on this platform as being one of my three favorite albums of all time–the whole truth is that I bought the songs from that record on iTunes literally one at a time, as each grew on me. The only song I liked on first listen was “The Morning After.” It just continued to grow on me, and I kept coming back to Ashley’s songs one by one. That process took months, and that album has grown to be one of my favorites ever. All that to say, writers and fellow music listeners, don’t force yourself to like anything, but at the same time, give music its fair time to impact you. Treat it like the art that it is instead of the commodity which streaming has made it.

Kayla Ray’s Yesterday & Me is an album where this caution feels especially warranted because on first listen, it may not capture everyone and did not fully capture me. So much of its beauty reveals itself over time. True, with her extremely traditional leanings, there are some people that will enjoy this in about two seconds flat, the same people who shut off the new Sam Hunt song that quickly simply on principle. In sound, the only record that’s been this traditional thus far in 2018, aside from Joshua Hedley’s almost painfully rigorous exercise in making a traditional record earlier this year, has been Vivian Lev’as Time is Everything, and though not quite as minimalist as that project, it is definitely a sparse affair. Jason Eady had a hand in producing it, which will almost make too much sense to anyone even remotely familiar with his work when they listen to the minimalist production utilized here on this project. And that’s also why you can’t give it one or two listens and be done, and precisely why some will–because on that first casual exploration, it can come off a bit sleepy.

The two songs that did stand out to me that first time, and the reason I kept coming back to this, are the only two on the record that Kayla Ray didn’t write. I would certainly say she’s further along as an interpreter than as a songwriter, but her subtle style of writing contributes to this, and the beauty in her own songs comes through with subsequent listens…but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. The two she didn’t write are the opener, “Rockport,” a simple little song detailing the demons that follow us around no matter how far we run, and a previously unreleased Keith Whitley tune called “Once a Week Cheaters.” This one is a duet with her friend and fellow songwriter Colton Hawkins. Although she didn’t pen these songs, Kayla ray showed great instinct to select them, as they both fit the album and her vocal delivery quite well. The next resemblance to Vivian Leva comes vocally, as Kayla Ray can come off slightly frail as a singer, but she does a fine job selecting songs and stories that suit her and make that a feature rather than a flaw. “Rockport” remains the highlight of the whole thing for me and the one I recommend if you only listen to one song here.

As for Kayla’s writing, it’s very subtle and something it took a few listens for this listener to appreciate. Then it clicked with me–she’d rather paint a sparse picture with less words and let the listener imagine the rest than spell it out with descriptions. That’s not to say that her writing is vague, but we often hold up incredibly descriptive, detailed songwriters as the best, and this style is different to that, telling a story in often few words and letting the listener draw their own conclusions. It makes a song like “Fair Warning,” which deals delicately with domestic abuse, all the more touching because she talks of the hell she endured but doesn’t really tell us what that entailed. It leaves the track more relatable to different people because it’s somewhat open for interpretation. Other self-written songs that stand out here include “Camel Blues,” “Things Only Years Can Teach a Woman,” and the autobiographical “1963.”

I’ve mentioned that it’s traditional and minimal, but it’s not without its variety. “1963” features some nice piano before dissolving into a pretty upbeat, cheerful song to close the album. “Hell of a Day to Drink All Night” provides some energy earlier on the record, and the unexpected tempo change in this one is just cool. As for instrumentation itself, there are times when it’s too minimal, particularly on “Red River Valley’s Run Dry,” but within these parameters, there’s variety as well, from fiddle to steel to dobro. Jason Eady’s fingerprints can be seen all over this because he’s one of the only people who can make a record this quiet and pull it off. It could have had perhaps one more upbeat moment to inject some more life, though.

Fans of really traditional country will probably like this on principle just because of its sound. For people who enjoyed Vivian Lev’as album, there are a ton of similarities to that one–both are sparse and traditional, and both grow on you over time. If you liked that record, I would suggest checking this out. It will no doubt be too sleepy for some listeners, but for the right audience, Yesterday & Me is a solid slice of really traditional-sounding country music.

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Reviews

Collaborative Review: Jason Boland & the Stragglers–Hard Times Are Relative

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Since we’re both fans of Jason Boland & the Stragglers and have each written about them here before, it seemed only natural that we should come together to discuss their newest album, Hard Times are Relative.

Conversation

Megan: First off, and we haven’t talked about this actually, but I want to bring it up since I actually reviewed Squelch here when it came out…I actually really liked Squelch, in fact I like it overall better than this one, but there’s no doubt that it was very political, it had something to say, and the audience for it was limited. There were those like me that loved it, but that’s probably a minority opinion. That was also in 2015, and we’ve become a lot more politically divided even since then, and I don’t know how you felt about that album, but I think for Jason Boland fans in general, this record will be like a breath of fresh air after that one, more a return to his roots and what made him popular in the first place.

Brianna: I love Jason Boland & the Stragglers, so it’d be hard for them to put out something I don’t like. In regards to Squelch, I really liked it, and I believe that album has some of their best songs. Still, I agree with you that this album is a much-needed break from the more political topics covered on their previous album. I like this one for its variety in subjects and tempos.

Megan: Yeah, like a lot of albums this year and unlike in 2017, it does have variety in the tempos. This one has really gone back to their traditional side that they went away from slightly on Squelch, and instrumentally, it’s probably my favorite 2018 album so far. And not just because it’s traditional, but because of the variety. The more traditional albums I’ve heard this year have almost been too minimalist. This one has variety, from fiddle to dobro to steel to some rock guitars.

Brianna: Yes, exactly! It’s both traditional and energetic.

Megan: Right, and that’s such a hard thing to come by these days. It doesn’t have to be sleepy just because it leans traditional.
We disagree pretty strongly on our favorites lyrically with this record, but let’s first talk about the title track, which you pointed out to me on your first listen–honestly, this has become my favorite song of the year and without any serious competition.

Brianna: Oh yeah. It’s my favorite song of the year, too. It’ll be hard to beat it, I think. The story revolves around a seventeen-year-old boy and his sister, taking care of their parents’ homestead, because said parents died in a mill fire. All they have is each other, a dog, and some land. The boy goes out hunting, and on his way back home, he falls into a cavern. The great part of this song is when he’s saved by his sister and the dog, and on the way home, they stop to dress the buck she shot along the way. Though I’ve just told everyone the whole story, it’s something that should be listened to. Really, it’s incredible. A song about family sticking together, saving each other. I love it!

Megan: Well, and then there’s the fact his sister who saves him is only ten. Yeah, that’s basically the whole story, but still. There’s more to it than that, as the title suggests. Hard times are relative…when you think your life sucks, it could always be worse. But Jason Boland is not that kind of songwriter. Instead, he’d rather give you a six-minute dissertation on people who had it far worse than you.

Brianna: Yep, and that’s why Jason Boland is one of the best writers in country today. I mean, I know I said I love the energy here, but Jason Boland and a slow, lyric-driven story song like this is pretty much perfection, from my point of view.
I guess that’s why “Do You Remember When” is my second-favorite track. It’s slower, super traditional in its instrumentation, and the lyrics are all about the past. Starting with how the outskirts of town have become the city. Definitely makes this a song I was into right away.

Megan: He’s definitely one of the most interesting songwriters around, if not one of the best.
To that end, “Do You Remember When” is actually one of my least favorites because it’s too direct for me. I feel like he pulls off this theme of looking back on the past better in “Grandfather’s Theme,” wherein he’s lamenting the fact that the progress since his grandfather’s time hasn’t all been forward and questioning what advice he’d even have to give his own grandson. I get the appeal for “Do You Remember When,” but I feel like Jason Boland tells a story better this way, where he’s putting a fresh spin on it. The song is really moody and dissonant as well, which is a really cool reflection of his state of mind. We’ve had lots of songs like “Do You Remember When,” but not many like this, that actually look back on the past while also speculating about the future, like saying he’ll tell his grandson about the days of the automobile and such. Anyway, that was kind of a tangent, I really like this song, lol.

Brianna: I don’t think it was a tangent, because the songs really are similar. To my way of thinking, the songs are from two different people’s point of view. One’s very traditional, just looking back on the past. The other is legitimately worried about the future. At least, that’s my interpretation.

Megan: This is what makes the collaborations cool, though, because I could honestly do without “Do You Remember When” and love “Grandfather’s Theme,” while for you, it’s pretty much the opposite.

Brianna: Oh yeah, “Grandfather’s Theme,” while insightful, is definitely not one of my favorites. I get what they’re trying to do with all the production on that song, but…it just doesn’t quite work for me. And yes. I love how with these collaborations, you get different opinions like this.

Megan: “Bulbs” is another one I really enjoy that I remember you didn’t. As for other standouts, “Right Where I Began” is really infectious and my favorite of the more lighthearted stuff. And “Going, Going, Gone” is a really interesting song wherein he uses baseball metaphors to explain that on a full count pitch, he finally overcomes the struggle in his life and hits a home run. The rest is all pleasant and enjoyable, and I absolutely love the instrumentation all over this, but none of it stands out especially. I thought “I Don’t Deserve You” with Sunny Sweeney would be an early favorite, but it hasn’t been. But “Do You Remember When” is really the only one I dislike.

Brianna: Oh yes. I’m not a fan of “Bulbs.” It’s probably my least favorite lyrically. Instrumentally, I like “Grandfather’s Theme” the least. As for “I Don’t Deserve You,” it’s not one of my favorites, either. Like you, the faster song I enjoy the most is “Right Where I Began.” It’s just so upbeat and fun! The rest of the album isn’t bad by any means, it just doesn’t stand out like the other songs do.

Brianna: For a rating, I’d give it a 7.5. It’s not my favorite album by these guys, but it’s fun, real country. Everyone knows I’m always into that by now. What about you?

Megan: I’d give it a light 7. I do think it will grow on me, though, because it’s an album I just want to play for the sound. I love how country it is without being one, extremely minimalist or two, too trapped in the past for its own good. It’s country because of course it is, it’s Jason freaking Boland, as opposed to being country because it tried its hardest to be. The title track is fantastic, definitely listen to that if you only pick one. Solid, fun, refreshingly country album. 7 with a chance of growth.

Ratings

Megan: 7/10
Brianna: 7.5/10

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Random Reflections

Reflecting on: Keith Urban–Golden Road

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The only thing remotely good about the atrocity that is Keith Urban’s latest album, Graffiti U, is that it’s made me want to listen to a lot of older Urban music, mainly to cleanse myself of that horror and to prove to myself what quality output he used to provide us. I’ve recommended him more than once as a modern pop country artist whose past material has been overlooked, underrated, and forgotten in light of the recent, generally appalling turns his music has taken. I realized I have never reflected on a pop country record before, so this seems like a really worthy place to start.

Release Date: 2002

Style: pop country

People Who Might Like This Album: any fan of 00’s country, those who like more modern sounds in country but still prefer organic instrumentation and lyrics with some substance

Standout Tracks: “Raining on Sunday,” “Somebody Like You,” “Who Wouldn’t Wanna be Me,” “Whenever I Run,” “What about Me,” “You’re Not my God”

Reflections: Man, this is just a really good album, and what a case for the fact that pop country isn’t inherently bad. When I was going back and spinning multiple Keith Urban records in an effort to drown the memory of his latest, I was struck by quality songs on all his first six albums, and I debated strongly within myself on whether to feature this one or Be Here. You can’t go wrong with either, but this one is just so enjoyable all the way through.

I mentioned that it’s mostly organic in instrumentation, and that’s the huge difference from this version of Keith versus the one we have now–his trademark sound is banjos mixed with electric guitars, something he’s talked about being rejected for by a record producer back in the 90’s. It was a sound that was thought to be too modern and progressive, and God, I wish he’d regress right back to it. He seems to be enjoying himself so much when playing these instruments, and he can’t seem to stop himself from adding extra vocal flourishes as well. I never noticed how little he does that anymore until I listened to this and noted the amount of random “ohs” and “mm’s” thrown in, not in the manner of today’s pop country, where it’s the whole chorus, but just because he seems to not be able to help himself from these inflections. His charisma and enjoyment has totally been lost on his recent output, and that’s a real shame.

As for the songs themselves, it’s embarrassing how far mainstream country has slipped since this came out. Some of the singles from this include “Somebody Like You,” a smart, infectious love song, “Who Wouldn’t wanna be Me,” an actual song about driving around on back roads that isn’t completely stupid, and Keith’s version of “Raining on Sunday,” which is one, definitely one of his best songs, and two, possibly the sexiest song in country music. Listening to this now, I can’t imagine why “What About Me” was never released as a single as well since it’s just as infectious and catchy as any of them. And if you doubted me about Keith’s general charisma and enjoyment of making music that came out all over this album, just give the final track, “You’re not my God,” a listen. And if you’ve heard this song and that last sentence makes no sense in light of it, you’re not listening hard enough…

I wish we could have this version of Keith Urban back. If we did, the state of modern pop country would be noticeably improved. As I say, his first six records are solid, and if you are someone who doesn’t mind modern sensibilities when the instrumentation is organic and the lyrics substantive, Urban’s discography is a good one to check out.

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Reviews

Album Review: Darci Carlson (self-titled)

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Rating: 8/10

As you all know, I refuse to write about something unless it gives me a passion for it. Often, that passion comes because an album is fantastic. Occasionally, it’s because an album is horrendous. The most special time is when it’s unexpected and fresh and new, something that’s truly being underappreciated and deserves more recognition. These instances are when I’m the most thankful for this outlet, when artists like Darci Carlson come along and blow me away. It’s one thing to enjoy music–hell, I absolutely love Brent Cobb’s album from yesterday–but it’s quite another when an artist makes me excited to talk about them and shine a spotlight on their work for people who might not otherwise know about them. I’ve actually attempted to talk about Darci several times, but every time I sit down to write, I end up listening to her new self-titled album again instead.

This is most certainly not going to be for everyone like it is for me. As Carlson says on her excellent cover of “Outlaw Women,” she definitely doesn’t give a damn about society. She’s going to take hits in high heels on “Daddy’s Girl,” flirt with men for a free tank of gas because she’s “far too pretty to be left alone in this dirty old city” on “Wild Reckless and Crazy,” and run from a man while high on cocaine in the opener, “Rat City Bound.” You’d almost think “Outlaw women” was her own song since it fits in here so effortlessly. The point is, this is not the album to show to your grandma, or your priest, or anyone who might be appalled by such scandalous behavior.

It’s all normal stuff you see in outlaw country, sometimes done by certain artists to the point that it becomes a parody of itself, but it’s fair to say that it holds more power and originality when delivered in the female perspective, similar to Robyn Ludwick’s latest album. Unlike Ludwick’s songs, however, you get the distinct feeling listening to Darci Carlson that these accounts are personal, or at least altered versions of things that really happened to her. Robyn Ludwick is a storyteller, interpreting the hard side of life and humanizing characters who don’t get a fair shake in society or in country music; Darci Carlson comes off more as a participant in that side of life, simply giving voice to her own stories and experiences.

She’s got absolutely the perfect voice for that endeavor as well, a voice unlike anything I’ve heard in current country music except for possibly a very slight resemblance in certain songs to the aforementioned Ludwick. She’s more like Melissa Etheridge meets Bonnie Tyler, with a rasp that fits these stories excellently. It’s perfect because these are lyrics reminiscent more of classic rock than country, only delivered with twang and backed by country instruments. The production is gritty as well. There’s a rock edge to most of these tracks, and the piano in the spirited “Don’t Call me Baby” sounds like it came straight out of some saloon in Lonesome Dove. It’s all very worn and familiar, dated but in a charming, comforting way. She says in “daddy’s Girl” that she’s “all thrills, no frills,” and that’s a good description for the raw feel of the production. It’s not smooth or polished, and that’s another thing not everyone will enjoy about it. It’s also something which will make it even more appealing to those who will like this record.

As for the themes, it’s actually pretty well-balanced. The hard living echoes throughout, but it’s not a one-sided portrait of being an “outlaw” for the sake of it. “Wild Reckless and Crazy” is first presented as a triumphant tale, but then there’s a stripped-down version which completely turns the song on its head–instead of an anthem for questionable behavior, it becomes a self-aware and reflective commentary on her state of affairs. Each is probably correct, depending on the present moment, two sides of a complicated coin. “Daddy’s Girl” sees Darci declaring that being alone “sounds way more fun than being stuck at home with a man” and that, although she does believe in love, “I’ll be damned if I can find one I can’t get sick of.” Yet she’s got a sentimental side like all of us, even the most jaded, and it comes out in songs like “To the Moon and Back” and “Indian summer.” They’re not sappy by any means; the former features the line “even strung out on dope, you’re still heaven-sent,” but they represent another side to Carlson and show that she’s not one-dimensional, just doing the outlaw thing to brag or simply for the sake of being an outlaw.

I’m enjoying the hell out of this. It’s cool and different and most importantly, it’s not getting enough love. As I say, it’s not going to be everyone’s thing, both because of the material and because of the production style, but this record is strongly recommended if you like your country dark and gritty, and especially if you don’t give a damn about society.

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