Tag Archives: Americana

Commentary

“It’s Always the Songs”–What we Should Learn From Steve Earle’s Recent Outbursts

1 Comment

Ahead of his new album So You Wannabe an Outlaw, Steve Earle has not been afraid to speak his mind. IN a recent interview with The Guardian, Earle calls out, among other things, the current state of pop country and says that the mainstream is nothing but “hip-hop for people who are afraid of black people.” He also says that “the best stuff coming out of Nashville is all by women except for Chris Stapleton.” I don’t want to focus too much on this interview since that’s not originally what this article was meant to be about, but it adds new light to it and strengthens the point I was originally going to make here–Steve Earle is not afraid to be honest and share his opinion. However, the thing is, although it’s not overly common, bashing pop country is certainly not uncommon, and we’ve seen our fair share of artists do so over the past several years. The thing that makes Earle’s recent statements different comes in light of another interview, which before today had been the main focus of this piece.

IN another interview in Canada, with The Globe and Mail, when asked about Canadian songwriters, Steve Earle mentioned Colter Wall, citing him as “the best singer-songwriter I’ve come across in years.” Here’s where the interview takes an interesting turn.

I haven’t heard his new album yet, but I heard him [Colter] described as “bad Richard Buckner.”
Richard Buckner sucks. Richard Buckner is the most overrated songwriter in the history of songwriting ever. Girls liked him, because he stared at his feet. He’s a neanderthal. I know Buckner.
I’m quite fond of Buckner’s music. Particularly, The Hill (2000).
He can’t write his way out of a wet paper bag. Richard Buckner was nothing but a painfully alternative hipster’s darling. But I hate a lot of things people think are brilliant. I will not read Cormac McCarthy again. Technically, he’s one of the best writers I’ve ever come across. But I don’t think his intentions are good. I don’t think he likes us. I don’t think he likes himself. Actually, I think he likes himself just fine. That’s what’s so disgusting about it. I think he thinks the rest of us are pieces of [garbage].
Painfully alternative hipster’s darling, you say about Buckner. Can you explain that?
I don’t want to be a part of a culture that defines itself by what it hates. I can’t stand alternativism. I mean, I hate disco, but I have to admit there’s been some great art coming out of dance music.
But out of hate and alternativism comes great art. Punk rock, as a reaction to disco, for example.
Sure. But the stuff that’s great in punk rock are the songs. The songs hold up. The stuff lasts. Nirvana’s not Nirvana because of punk rock. Nirvana’s not Nirvana because it was different than hair metal. Nirvana is Nirvana because Kurt Cobain was a world-class songwriter. It’s always the songs.

First of all, I had never heard the name Richard Buckner before this interview, and let me tell you, after getting acquainted, Steve Earle is entirely correct, Richard Buckner sucks–but that’s beside the point. The point is, and it’s been strengthened today by his criticism of the mainstream, that he’s not afraid to judge the independent/Americana/alternative in the same way as what is popular. We’re all pressured by that in this independent country scene, to like everything Americana just because it’s not on the radio or isn’t considered mainstream. But let me tell you, a lot of it bores the hell out of me, and Country Exclusive was founded on a principle of honesty. When I said that, I didn’t just mean bashing the mainstream, and I get that there’s a certain problem with spending too much time unnecessarily bashing the little guy, but there’s also this elitist attitude in the Americana world that makes it seem as if you can’t criticize anything about these artists. Hell, there are albums I enjoy but have slight criticisms about in Americana, but somehow, if we say that, it’s a horrific thing. Criticism is meant to be constructive, and to share an opinion–and if the artist deems it necessary to listen, perhaps to make that artist better, but again, it’s just someone’s opinion. WE all find it easy to bash Nashville and pop country, and we all rally behind people like Steve Earle when they do the same. So why do we attack him for saying something negative about an Americana artist? I love that last point–“It’s always the songs.” Let it always stay about the songs. That goes for you mainstream fans afraid to like Jason Isbell, and for you independent/alternative/Americana fans afraid to like Chris Stapleton because he wrote some mainstream hits. Just let it be about the songs. They should, and will, speak for themselves.

Reviews

Song Review: “White Man’s world” by Jason Isbell And the 400 Unit

1 Comment

Rating: 8.5/10

Let me first say I didn’t want to review every single from the new Jason Isbell album, so I didn’t cover “If we Were Vampires,” but that is one of the best songs of jason Isbell’s career. I wouldn’t have covered this one either, except that I feel it needs discussing, and more than a couple sentences in an album review. More than that, I see, understandably, that people are hesitant to review it because of the political backlash that could ensue. But we all pretty much knew Jason Isbell was going to get political at some point on this albu, and he released this song ahead of The Nashville Sound for a reason; he didn’t want it to be an album cut that people ignored or passed over, he wanted people to be talking about it, so I’m rising to that challenge.

Jason Isbell is quite up front in his delivery of this, speaking as the white man in a “white man’s world,” a “white man’s street,” a “white man’s town,” and “a white man’s nation.” This is what makes this song speaking out against discrimination arguably more hard-hitting; it’s not coming from a minority, it’s coming from a white man who recognizes that it’s a white man’s world and wants to change that. He looks at his daughter and notes that “thought this world could be hers one day, but her mama knew better.” He goes on to explain that “her mama wants to change that Nashville sound, but they’re never gonna let her.” It’s acknowledging both the discrimination against women in general and specifically within Nashville and country music. Isbell goes on to lament that the highway was built over a Native Ameircan burial ground–“got the bones of the red man under my feet” and then regrets that he ever turned a deaf ear to “another white man’s joke” when he looks “into a black man’s eyes.” It’s told with frankness and honesty, and the little details like that last fact, that he has been guilty of ignoring such things in the past, make the song real and regretful as opposed to just preachy. He ends the song by saying that he still carries hope, maybe because of the “fire in my little girl’s eyes.” It’s exactly the kind of song we need in 2017, and credit to Jason Isbell, a white man, for being the one to deliver it.

My slight criticisms with this song have to do with the fact it doesn’t quite stick melodically. The verses do, when he’s listing the examples I mentioned, but the chorus isn’t really grabbing me, and in that sense, it sort of reminds me of the first single, “Hope the High road,” because the melody doesn’t stand out all that much. There’s some really nice blending of country and rock instrumentation, and the fiddle solo adds a nice touch. Still, although the music is where my criticism lies, it’s the lyrics that make this song important, and it’s the lyrics that Jason Isbell wanted us to be discussing and pondering. So, overall, it’s a very nice and timely song that has me looking forward even more to Jason Isbell’s record.

Written by: Jason Isbell

Reviews

Album Review: John Moreland–Big Bad Luv

Leave a comment

Rating: 8/10

Yeah, it took me quite a long time, several listens, and a detour in between to discuss the music of Kody West and Colter Wall before I could accurately put into words how I feel about this album. And that’s due to the sheer talent of John Moreland, the fact that his lyrics are on quite another level and hard to digest, let alone put onto paper, and generally that I felt this album is very good and deserved better words, even if written later, rather than words which were forced out just after the release. It’s always good to see success and talent coming out of my home state, and Tulsa’s John Moreland definitely has the talent–and a portion of the success. But this record could, and should, be the one that brings him to a new level of success and prominence.

I’ll say first that this album isn’t really country, although you’ll hear some country touches, like the occasional steel in “It Don’t Suit Me (Like Before)” or the lively harmonica in the opener, “Sallisaw Blue.” It’s not really Red Dirt or country rock either, like so much music coming out of this region. It’s closer to Americana, with lots of nice piano and acoustic guitar brightening up the record, and actually the Apple Music description sums it up well: “Heartland folk rock, warm and tough like weathered denim.” “Warm” is the perfect word to describe the melodies; Moreland’s past work has been largely dark/depressing, but there’s definitely a happier tone to this album, perhaps due to Moreland’s recent marriage and current state of mind. regardless, the melodies will stick with you, and it’s that detail which elevates this record from something on the more boring singer-songwriter side to something more relatable because those melodies will get stuck in your head, and you’ll find yourself coming back and listening. It’s an album that works its way into your heart slowly, a bit like Jason Eady’s latest record. And credit to John Moreland for giving equal attention to his melodies–many Americana/folk projects suffer from the same problem of considering melody secondary to lyrics, and thus, while maybe telling a great story, often lose that story in a forgettable melody.

And speaking of those lyrics…I already said they’re on another level, and I can’t really put into words even now the poetry of John Moreland. As I say, you come back to this album for the melodies, but the more you listen, the more new things you unravel in the words, and you start to find lyrics that could rival the genius of even Jason Isbell–yes, that’s what I said. I’ll say that “Love is Not an answer,” accompanied by some of that beautiful piano I mentioned, and the acoustic “NO Glory in Regret” stand out as fantastic pieces of songwriting, but you just have to hear them to fully appreciate them, and that’s why I struggle to put the music of Moreland to paper; my words can’t do it justice, and it loses something in trying.

So after all this praise, why am I giving this album an 8? Well, it goes back to relatability. With all that deep songwriting, sometimes it’s just not accessible/relatable. It’s still hard to rate this because some people are going to absolutely love this album and call it a genius piece of art. Other people are going to hear it and say, “It’s good, but I can’t get into it.” Still others are probably still going to see it as boring despite its charming melodies and instrumentation. This is one of those times that I can see all angles, and this 8 is the best I can come up with as both a fair critic and an honest music fan. I do think it’s an album that grows on you, and people that buy it and listen to it multiple times will get more from it than people who stream it once and say it’s not for them. It took me lots of listens to fully appreciate it, and it’s still getting better. And that, as I say, speaks to the talent of Moreland, that his work improves with time.

So, would I recommend this? If you like older rock or folk rock or Americana, absolutely. There’s a beauty in these melodies and lyrics that is special. I’m not sure your average person looking for strictly country gets into this quite as much, but this is still real and raw and rootsy, so it just depends on your musical tastes. As I say, it won’t relate to everyone because of the sheer complexity with which John Moreland writes his songs, but it’s an album worth checking out, and it keeps getting better each time you hear it.

Standout Tracks: “Love is Not an Answer,” “It Don’t Suit Me (Like Before),” “Sallisaw Blue,” “NO Glory in Regret,” “Amen, So Be It,” “lies I Chose to Believe”

Listen to Album

Reviews

Album Review: Colter Wall (self-titled)

2 Comments

Rating: 9/10

Eleven miles west of Dodge City, Kansas, on West Highway 50, otherwise in the middle of nowhere, there is a boardwalk and a historical marker to denote the place where over a century ago, wagons passed through on the Santa Fe Trail. If you stand there on that boardwalk in that relentless prairie wind and look out over the land, you can still see the ruts these wagons drove into the ground as countless people made their way to Santa Fe, and though so much time has passed, their stories are still etched into the prairie and echoing out of the past. Though you stand there in the 21st century, a piece of 1872 is still with you in those ruts, and there’s something about that that’s powerful and timeless.

It’s that same sort of feeling you get when you press play on this record, and Colter Wall starts to sing, with often little else but his guitar and some well-placed steel or drums to accompany a voice reminiscent of Johnny Cash and stories that seem to come pouring out of another place and time. From the opening words to “Thirteen silver dollars,” where we are invited in with, “It was a cold and cruel evening, sneaking up on speedy Creek, I found myself sleepin’ in the snow,” it’s an album of rambling and searching, more story than song, more folk than country, and more past than present. That remarkable voice will draw you in and remind you of earlier days in country, but it takes more than that to sell stories like these, especially in these modern days. It’s the conviction and emotion in these words that keeps you listening and makes it more than just a singer with a great, throwback voice, and rather a storyteller taking you on a journey. This particular journey includes hopping trains and sleeping in lonely motel rooms, and culminates in prison–and that’s just the front half. This half of the record ends in fine fashion with “Kate McCannon,” as Colter Wall sings from his prison cell about meeting “the prettiest girl in the whole damn holler” and then subsequently “courting” her and murdering her after finding her with someone else. This song builds and builds until the climactic line, “I put three rounds into Kate McCannon,” and you can feel all the pain and guilt of the song and whole first half of the album in that line.

I separate the album into halves because that’s exactly how Colter Wall presents it, and between the halves, there’s another slice of the past, as a DJ on the “Old Soul Radio show” is supposedly debuting Colter’s album, complete with static and background noise before he “flips the record over.” I can see how people would love or hate this moment, but it does serve to add another vintage element to the album, and it also breaks the record nicely into two parts, providing a break after the intensity of “Kate McCannon.”

The back half of the album is just slightly weaker, at least for me, as I’m still not really getting into the song “You Look To Yours.” If there’s any filler on this record, it would be this song. Here we have two nice covers, Townes Van Zandt’s “Snake Mountain Blues,” which serves nicely as the opener to the second half, as well as the excellent “Fraulein,”–originally done by Bobby Helms, but also previously performed by Townes–featuring Tyler Childers. These two are excellent together; Childers adds some high harmony and some great contrast to Wall’s bass, and they should sing together more. Townes Van Zandt is a fitting artist for Colter Wall to cover on this album because his songs work well with the images and stories portrayed here. Some of the best songwriting on the record can be found on “Transcendent Ramblin’ Railroad Blues” and “Bald Butte.” The former is more of, well, exactly what the title says, but this one stands out for its lines like, “If I don’t leave here tomorrow, I believe I’ll blow out my brains. But either way, there’ll be sorrow, you won’t be seeing me again.” The latter is a story straight out of the past, as we are told the tale of Henry, who had his horse and rifle stolen by some Southerners and sought revenge, only to be shot. The details and imagery in this one are impressive.

I mentioned before that there’s not much to accompany Colter Wall here usually except his guitar. Sometimes there’s some steel and sometimes some drums, which certainly do a lot for “Bald Butte.” For people that knew Colter wall before this and enjoyed his debut EP, Imaginary Appalachia, this could be a good or bad thing–that EP had much more interesting instrumentation and production, often with lively fiddles. I think some of that could have helped this record in places, and having Dave Cobb as the producer is certainly to blame for this. Having said that, personally, for this particular record, I think Dave Cobb handled it excellently, getting out of the way of Colter wall and his stories and letting them speak for themselves. I do think that going forward, Colter will have to expand his sound–we saw with Stapleton’s record that it wasn’t as interesting production wise as Traveller. But as far as this record goes, I don’t have any major complaints with the production. And for me, it’s actually quite an improvement from Imaginary Appalachia for Colter Wall himself, as on that EP, I felt he was singing too often in higher registers; this record shows off much of his lower range which suits his voice, as well as these songs. I would say that while he may be still developing his sound and style, he’s also come quite a long way in that aspect on this album. So I agree the concerns of production are valid, but something we should hold off on for the 21-year-old Wall until his next project.

There’s also the concern that by singing in this throwback, sometimes dated style that Colter Wall could develop into a niche performer, and that’s also something I’d argue it’s too early to speculate about. If it turns out to be the case, I’m proud to be one of the throwback types that enjoys this music. if not, I think there’s a conviction and heart in Colter that, combined with that kind of voice, can impact people on a much larger scale. I see a tremendous amount of potential in this 21-year-old Canadian folk singer, and only time will tell if he lives up to that potential. For now, this is a pretty incredible album, and rather than speculating on Colter’s future, we should all just go listen to it.

Listen to Album

Reviews

Album Review: Sam Outlaw–Tenderheart

2 Comments

Rating: 8/10

If you’re unfamiliar with Sam Outlaw, you’re missing out on some great and frankly just cool, unique music. He calls his music SoCal country, and it’s got a smooth, clean feel that’s just pleasant and soothing to hear. It reminds you that polish doesn’t always remove emotion, and a record doesn’t need grit to convey something real. His debut album, 2015’s Angeleno, was one of the few projects that came out prior to Country Exclusive’s birth that I felt I had to go back and cover because the record just deserved it.

Read: album Review: Sam Outlaw–Angeleno

With all that said, this was definitely a 2017 release I was looking forward to. and after a couple listens, it’s not quite blowing me away on the level of Angeleno, but it’s another great album from Outlaw.

Tenderheart hones in on that unique style Sam Outlaw introduced with his debut record. It’s just so clean and pleasant. At times, I was reminded sonically of Jim Croce in “Time in a Bottle” or “Walking Back to Georgia.” This album has a mellow feel like those songs as well as some quietly great songwriting. The front half is particularly strong, featuring the deceivingly reflective “Bottomless Mimosas,” the bittersweet title track, and the beautifully written and achingly true “everyone’s Looking For Home.” This, I might add, was a very nice album opener and set the tone of the whole record well. The sparse arrangements throughout the album really allow the lyrics and Outlaw’s vocals to shine and bring emotion to the stories. IN many cases, it’s a matter of less is more, and that’s the reason you won’t find me explaining too many of these songs. Many of them are quite simple yet elevated by the arrangements, the clean production, and the vocal delivery. Breaking down the tracks would take away some of that beauty and experience you get just by listening to Sam Outlaw’s music.

One exception I feel I should highlight is “Two broken Hearts,” a song depicting the fate of two missing broken hearts after two people found each other one night. Another exception is “She’s Playing Hard to Get (Rid of),” which gets points for the originality in the title and hook even if the songwriting here doesn’t quite live up to it. Still, it’s the mood of the record that really brings it to life and makes tracks like the previously mentioned “Bottomless Mimosas” stand out.

If I have anything to say against this album, it’s that nothing really blew me away like “Ghost Town” on Angeleno. Some of this record is better than that album as a whole, so that’s not entirely a fair criticism, but I kept waiting for that one moment where I would just sit back and be blown away by musical greatness. admittedly, I might be grading Sam Outlaw a little too harshly because the main reason I feel this way stems from the fact that I’ve seen what he is capable of. “Ghost Town” was one of the best songs of 2015. I don’t think you’ll find a song of the Year contender here, but this album is stronger in places than Outlaw’s first. Having said that, the back half does start to run together a little, and I don’t think the last few songs will hold up like the first seven. For me, the shining exception to this is “All my Life,” where the narrator is explaining to a woman in his hometown that even though he has the rest of his life to find a wife, he’d rather spend it with her. It’s a nice twist on a love song, and it’s also one of the only upbeat moments on a mostly mid-tempo album, so it certainly stands out.

Overall, this album is another great one from Sam Outlaw. He continues to do what he does best, perfecting his so-called SoCal country sound into something unique and cool, a modern take on the Nashville sound that suits his voice and these songs excellently well. As I said, it shows that it doesn’t take grit to be authentic. Although there isn’t a “Ghost Town” moment on Tenderheart, it’s a really nice, solid album most of the way through, and there’s a lot about it to enjoy.

Listen to album