Blake Shelton’s output prior to his stint on The Voice represents some of the best modern mainstream country music in the genre. In recent years, that output has gone steadily downhill until he hit a new low with Texoma Shore. Some will point to that last album as a turning point for Blake, as an organic return to his roots that finally saw him trying to move back toward tradition and substance–and it’s certainly true that there were more country sounds on that record than what you’d find on many mainstream projects these days. But Texoma Shore also represented a lyrical low for Shelton, and for this listener, it became the first Blake Shelton album not to have at least one or two great moments; even if those great moments had become harder to find lately, there were still always a few on any Shelton release, but Texoma Shore could not boast this saving grace.
So now we have the first taste of an upcoming album in the form of “God’s Country,” and this really does seem to be Blake Shelton returning, at least in part, to his roots. Staunch traditionalists will probably find a lot to hate about this song, with its electronic drums and hand-claps, or with the lyrics about small-town life that have become so clichéd in recent years, but this is a solid mainstream country single and a welcome move in the right direction for Shelton.
It’s true that the lyrics remain the weak point of the song, for songs glorifying the country way of life are so plentiful in the mainstream right now. But the concept is certainly not a bad one in and of itself, and Blake Shelton sings this with an impassioned, heartfelt delivery that makes this different from so many similar songs. You believe what he’s singing; this is not a pandering list of country qualifiers but rather real pride being expressed by someone who has lived this way of life. It doesn’t feel mocking or patronizing, even if the lyrics themselves don’t offer anything truly original.
The production is the thing that really sells this, though. Yes, we have electronic drums, and real ones would have gone a long way toward getting more traditional fans to listen to this, but the rhythm and the dark, heavy production really set the tone for this well. It’s not bright and happy like a lot of mainstream material; rather, the song is built around minor chords and a moody atmosphere. It also reaches the very limits of Blake’s vocal range in the chorus, not stretching him too thin but sustaining an intensity that matches the mood. In fact, the aforementioned hand-claps and beats are probably the only thing that makes this track sound mainstream at all, and these will be the things that keep contemporary country fans interested.
Nothing earth-shattering lyrically, but a great vocal performance and interesting, dark production make this song stand out. A good balance between the traditional and modern, and a promising sign for Shelton’s upcoming album.
As was discussed in my recent collaboration with The Musical Divide on the importance of continuing to cover and discuss mainstream artists, country music finds itself in an identity crisis in 2019. Bro country has long since died, and now the genre is seeking to reclaim its core fans. We’ve seen Luke Bryan and Blake Shelton release recent quality, country-sounding singles to radio. We’ve witnessed the meteoric rise of Luke Combs as listeners gravitate toward his authenticity and relatability. And we’ve watched George Strait come out of nowhere to suddenly regain airplay with “Every Little Honky Tonk Bar.”
Somewhere along the way, as we lost the substance and sounds of country music, we also lost the female perspective. Women became “girls” who rode shotgun in trucks and sipped drinks in clubs. NO one wanted to hear from a woman because it seemed they had nothing of value to say. The career resurgence of Reba McEntire is an embracing of both substantive and traditional country music, as well as an acknowledgement that forsaking the perspective of women might not have been such a sensible idea after all.
As I said of George Strait, a new Reba album is never a bad idea and always promises to deliver in both sound and quality. Stronger Than the Truth is not some forward-thinking opus that will blow the minds of all its listeners, but it’s a welcome return for Reba McEntire that shows her embracing her roots proudly.
First of all, can we please get an entire Western swing record from Reba? The opener, “Swing All Night Long With You,” fits her like a glove and remains one of the strongest tracks on the whole thing. It’s so infectious, with its cheerful piano and lively fiddles and guitar licks. “NO U in Oklahoma” is also a standout with its fun, upbeat production and catchy melodies. Reba brings a personality to both these songs that is frankly unmatched on the rest of the record. It would be great to see her explore this for a whole album; we often see country artists record a bluegrass album or a gospel project later in their careers–as McEntire herself did recently–and for Reba, a Western swing album would be perfect. She has a great voice for it and an obvious passion for the discipline.
Most of the album isn’t nearly as lighthearted as these two selections, however. Much of the material deals with heartbreak and pain, exploring the emotions so often associated with country music yet also so often ignored in recent years by mainstream performers. “The Bar’s Getting Lower” is an almost brutal slice of honesty, as the narrator contemplates having a one-night stand with the man she’s just met in the bar because she’s getting older and lonelier, feeling that she might never settle down and make her mother proud. It’s a song that will be relatable to so many, to the ones who have directly felt this desperation and to the ones who live in fear of one day becoming this woman. “Cactus in a Coffee Can” is a nice story song and one that will probably be universally liked, telling the tale of a woman who sits next to McEntire on a plane, pouring out her life story of a mother who abandoned her on the day the girl was born and struggled with addiction until the day she died. The title track remains one of the highlights as well, simple in its execution but timeless in its message as the main character tries to cope with the soul-crushing knowledge that her husband has betrayed her.
There is a lull in the heart of the album where a moment of energy would have helped to lighten the mood. “Storm in a Shot Glass,” one of the album’s most catchy selections, could have been sequenced differently to better break up the otherwise mid-tempo, depressing stretch from tracks 2 through 7. It’s also here that we find some songs which are told better by others elsewhere on the album; for example, “The clown” is essentially Part 2 of “Stronger Than the Truth” and doesn’t tell the story nearly as well as that song. It also feels like the piano drags on forever, which admittedly goes with the repeated line “the piano kept playing” to illustrate that life goes on all around us even when our hearts have just been broken, but the whole thing just feels a bit overwrought. “Your Heart” is also pretty forgettable and seems to be advising women to lead men on; this was probably not the actual intention, but the song is framed that way. Trimming a couple of these songs, sequencing them a little better, or even adding another upbeat moment here would have really gone a long way toward keeping the album from dragging and becoming too depressing.
Overall, though, this is a nice, solid slice of country music and a welcome return for one of the genre’s best. The strongest songs are near the front and back of the record, and there’s some filler in the middle, but there are some truly excellent tracks here. The Western swing numbers have instant replay value, and “The Bar’s getting Lower” is one of the best songs of the year so far. The songwriting is strong throughout most of the record, the production is interesting, the music is country, and Reba sounds great vocally. Another solid album from Music Row, another encouraging sign for the genre as a whole, and another quality offering from Reba McEntire.
Just as a steaming bowl of soup has an understood and unparalleled power to heal and comfort us when we’re sick, a George strait release is a cure for what ails country music, a moment of relief and comfort in these troubled times. When you hear that a new Strait album is on the way, you don’t get worried, as is the case with so many mainstream artists, that he’ll sell out or start chasing trends or take a last stab at radio relevancy with some embarrassing, ill-advised single in lieu of aging gracefully and making the music he wants to make. You don’t worry that he’ll compromise his sound or his principles for cash because he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to court radio and younger audiences either; he’s built up a fan base too strong for him to care about any of that. In fact, the only real concern with an artist like strait is complacency, especially after such a long career. But King George hasn’t been complacent at all; he’s continued to select great songs and has also written more and more of his own material in recent years, churning out album after album of substantive songs and showing no signs of slowing down. Honky Tonk Time Machine isn’t a reinvention of the wheel, but that’s never been George Strait’s goal. Like Strait himself, the album is solid, steady, and undeniably, refreshingly country, adding another quality record to his extensive discography.
Like most George strait albums, this is a collection of solid, straightforward tunes with some exceptional moments. The high point of this particular record comes in Strait’s cover of “Old Violin,” a song originally written and performed by Johnny Paycheck. Personally, I’ve been hoping for a studio version of this since I heard him sing it live back in June. It’s a great fit for George vocally, and he really sells it well in terms of emotion. “Sometimes Love” is another strong ballad, this one exploring what happens when someone takes a casual relationship too seriously and accidentally falls in love. The title track is the highlight of the livelier selections, one of those songs that’s just fun to listen to and which would sound great in the kind of bar the song describes. “Codigo” is in a strange position, given that it’s essentially a commercial for the tequila Strait chose to invest in, but it’s actually one of the better songs here both lyrically and melodically. I’d argue that the more pandering reference to the tequila brand comes in “Every Little Honky Tonk Bar,” as they could have chosen any number of liquor brands to “do a shot” and conveniently chose to throw this one in. That’s no knock on “Every Little Honky Tonk Bar”; it’s also one of the stronger tracks on the record. But it seems more fair to criticize this line than the actual song “Codigo,” a catchy little number that we’d all love unconditionally if Strait hadn’t invested in the brand.
This album is not without its flaws. Several of these tracks feel like they could have used another verse or a bridge to tie everything together. “The Weight of the Badge” is the best example of this, a song that feels just short of being great and indeed could have been great if only it had been developed a little more. Some Nights” has some strange rhymes in the chorus, and it certainly seems like this idea could have been explored more deeply as well. And “Sing One With Willie” is fun and all, but ultimately, it’s a novelty and feels like a bit of a missed opportunity for two legends of the genre to give us something truly extraordinary.
But all in all, it’s another solid record from King George. It’s not earth-shattering, but that isn’t George strait. This album is what Strait does best, a solid collection of songs rife with fiddle and steel and piano and boasting smart, substantive lyrics. Strait is probably never going to release the Country exclusive album of the Year, but he’s also never given us a bad record in nearly forty years, and that’s truly a thing to behold. Another slice of solid, straight-up country music from one of the genre’s most special artists.
If you are looking for a new traditionally minded artist who still sounds fresh in 2019, look no further than Emily Scott Robinson. If you are seeking the raw emotion and honest songwriting unique to country music and to true artistry, you’ll find it in Emily Scott Robinson. To women specifically, if you are searching for empowerment and inspiration, for stories that resonate, for songs that heal and comfort, search no further than Emily Scott Robinson. Turn away from the generic, empty messages offered by so many mainstream artists, and find hope and strength in the songs of Emily Scott Robinson.
This album’s greatest strength is Robinson’s intangible ability to relate, to reach inside her soul and share a part of herself with all of us in the hopes that we may find comfort and common ground. “The dress” has been the most publicized example of this, a heartbreaking account of Emily’s struggle to move on after being raped. The simple questions in the chorus like, “Was it the dress I wore? Was it the wine he poured?” reflect all too well the questions which victims often ask themselves as they fight to come to terms with the terrible reality.
But “The dress” is only one instance of many on this record where Emily Scott Robinson manages to capture heartbreak and despair so poetically. “Run” feels like the fictional companion to the autobiography of “The Dress,” with a narrator that endured eleven years in an abusive marriage before finally fleeing in the dead of night, fearing for her life. “Ghost in every Town” rings with the kind of honesty that is almost painful to listen to, as Robinson paints a bleak picture of the forgotten people in every town and the hopeless lives they wander through each day. The characters in “Delta Line” each endure their own personal struggle as well, highlighting that every one of us is going through some private hell of our own, each one unique but no one less difficult than another. “Pie Song” seems to be lighthearted and fun at first, with simple lyrics about baking a birthday pie for a lover, but it’s deeper than that; the pie is only an illustration, meant to explain that even the most thoughtful of gestures don’t matter in a loveless relationship. You cannot earn the affection of another, and we all deserve someone who loves us back and gives as much as we give to them.
The bleak, somber nature of the album is also present in the production. Many of these tracks highlight only Emily’s vocals and acoustic guitar, keeping the arrangements sparse and showcasing the lyrics. There’s some fiddle sprinkled into “Delta Line” to add some color, and some lovely steel guitar accentuating “Pie Song.” Emily Scott Robinson’s voice is soft and soothing, and the production, through most of this, is tasteful and appropriate, not drowning her out or getting in the way.
And like all good dark albums, there’s hope and joy mixed in here as well, bright spots to provide levity and keep things from running together. “Better With Time” may be one of the best selections here, beautiful in its simplicity and sincerity. This is also autobiographical to Emily, but this is a story of love and friendship, the things that make this whole difficult life worth living. “Overalls,” though it’s told from the perspective of a man on his deathbed, is one of the most joyful songs of the bunch, as he advises his family not to dress in black and to remember him with fond smiles rather than tears. And where “Borrowed Rooms and Old wood Floors” tells the darker side of life on the road, not knowing where home really is anymore and sleeping in old friends’ houses, with nothing to talk about these days except memories long past, “White Hot Country Mess” provides the lighthearted side to it all and pokes fun at the “Americana dream” of living on caffeine and dry shampoo. Through it all, there’s balance; life can be cruel and unforgiving, but it can also bring us the simplest joys and comforts.
This album is an excellent showcase of human emotion, highlighting the pain and hardship we all experience while still somehow managing to carry hope and peace. It’s comforting and cathartic, and the lighter production, as well as Robinson’s gentle delivery, adds to the mood of the record. These stories are honest, sometimes to the point of brutality, but there is a power in songs like these to heal which is far greater than that of happy, feel-good anthems that carry a shallow message and ignore the world’s pain. This is the kind of comfort that only comes from empathy and understanding. IN short, it is the heart and soul of country music.
Beautiful, powerful, incredible album. Emily Scott Robinson is a name you need to know.
This is not going to be a traditionalist bashing of the new Maren Morris album on the grounds that it isn’t country in the slightest. Every artist should have the right to his or her own self-expression and should make the music they want to make. I am not going to criticize Maren Morris for making a pop/R&B album, or even for marketing that album to country; you can read enough about my opinions regarding that on Twitter, and it’s really a separate issue. Regardless of your position, we are music fans first, and although I will not pretend that I believe this music is right for the country genre, and I firmly believe it is less deserving of the precious few slots that this broken system will allow women than many other more country-sounding women, traditional and modern alike, I will not bash a record simply because it isn’t my taste. Kelsea Ballerini’s latest album was, somehow, less country than this one, but i reviewed it as music first because it’s a pretty good pop record. Questions of genre distinction are important, but there are larger points being ignored here by both sides.
Simply put, this is not a very good album no matter what genre you label it. It’s not only that it doesn’t belong in country; in fact, that’s almost beside the point compared to all the other problems with GIRL. It’s mediocre and derivative lyrically and littered with bad production decisions. It’s also proof that bad music in the country format doesn’t just arrive via bro country or Sam Hunt’s style of spoken word, a case that uniqueness isn’t necessarily synonymous with quality.
The brightest spot on this record is the vocal ability of Maren Morris. Her phrasing and styling are certainly not country, but again, that’s a secondary concern. She’s a fine singer in a technical sense, and she has a pretty unique voice. She sings the more upbeat material with energy and personality, and you get the feeling that this is indeed mostly the record Maren wanted to make.
It falls terribly short, however, in the songwriting department. Some of these tracks do have great messages, but the actual execution is often empty and derivative, devoid of anything truly meaningful to say. Take the title track, for example, which offers a good message about not comparing women to one another and advises women to think positively and keep their heads high when life is hard. Certainly a worthy subject, but the writing itself is just so empty and generic. As a woman listening to this, I don’t feel inspired or empowered, not the way I do when Emily Scott Robinson sings of struggle and abuse, or when Angaleena Presley sings about the institutional sexism in the country industry and the way some women feel trapped in harmful marriages by archaic ideas. “GIRL” is just an empty, feel-good mantra that, even if it wasn’t intended to, comes across as pandering to the media and calculated and formulaic lyrically.
“Common,” a duet with Brandi Carlile about loving one another despite our differences, suffers from the same fate. Carlile sings the hell out of this, and I look forward to seeing what these two and Amanda Shires will deliver with The Highwomen, but this song feels shallow and underdeveloped, like it could have been so much more. Once again, it’s a good message that fails to really say anything in its execution, much like Carrie Underwood’s recent single, “Love Wins.” There’s nothing really wrong with either of these tracks, but both try so hard to appeal to everyone and bring a universal message that they ultimately don’t say anything important or lasting.
We also have several sex songs on this record, and sex songs are not inherently bad, but the God-awful production of “Make out With Me” makes this song absolutely intolerable. To add to that, it is literally written as a drunken voice mail, and I question whether or not a man could record this in today’s country format and not be called misogynistic, fairly or otherwise. “RSVP” is also just insufferable, especially with the word “gots” replacing “got” in the chorus to add R&B phrasing and further drive home the point that this is miles from anything you could reasonably call country. Once again,, a secondary concern, but it only adds insult to injury as you struggle through this album.
There are some better moments in terms of the writing, though. “Great Ones” is an interesting love song melodically and lyrically, although it is cluttered by the overproduction that unfortunately plagues this entire record. “A Song For everything” actually scales back the production enough to allow a relatable sentiment to connect with the listener, and here, Morris sounds invested emotionally and really sells the song. The idea that music can get us through anything is one that most of us can relate to, and it’s here in this more subtle moment on the record where Maren Morris makes a connection far stronger than with the empty platitudes of “GIRL” and “Common.” “The bones” is another of the stronger tracks, again helped by the emotional performance of Maren Morris and less clutter in terms of production.
That messy production renders a lot of the more mediocre tracks difficult to listen to. “All My Favorite People,” for example, a lively party song with Brothers Osborne that would be a lightweight, fun track on a better album, is just a disappointment here. There are some clever lines, but no one involved in this project could seem to resist producing the hell out of everything. It’s not random, cacophonous production reminiscent of Keith Urban’s latest atrocity of a record, but it adds unnecessary layers to everything until all the heartfelt sentiments that Maren Morris wanted to convey are lost. “To Hell & Back” and “Gold Love” are prime examples, two songs that might have been standouts if Morris didn’t sound lifeless singing them. As mentioned, she’s a great technical singer, but her heart doesn’t shine through on so much of this. It would be nice to see her personality as much on something more vulnerable like “Gold Love” as much as we see it on an energetic song like “Flavor.”
This is not about genre. As an artist, Maren Morris should have the creative freedom to make the record of her choice, and it’s great that she has. But the record she wanted to make just isn’t very good. It’s underwhelming lyrically, and much of its themes are too generalized and shallow to really make an impact. The production is cluttered at best and counterproductive to some of the songs at worst. Marketing this album to country is just the icing on the cake, and while we shouldn’t gloss over this fact either, the bigger issue is that this is just bad music in general. It’s not good pop music sorely mislabeled, it’s bad pop music with an unfortunate country label attached to it to rub salt in the wound. It’s not the genre-bending, inspiring blend of country pop it believes itself to be; it’s just another generic collection of songs that frankly, we wouldn’t even be discussing at all if they were being marketed to pop and it didn’t seem as if Maren Morris were courageously pushing some sort of arbitrary sonic boundary. Kacey Musgraves and Caitlyn Smith both made incredible albums in 2018 that pushed boundaries and fused the sounds of pop and country, but the difference is that these records were marked by unique, insightful songwriting and stirring vocal performances, helped rather than hampered by the production. GIRL boasts none of this; indeed, it offers nothing worth more than a passing glance, and in the vast music landscape of 2019, deserves to be forgotten.
