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Reviews

Album Review: John Prine–The Tree of Forgiveness

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Rating: 7/10

How can I actually find a way to properly introduce the great John Prine. If background info seemed superfluous with Willie Nelson, it seems almost ridiculous with John Prine, as that name should be an introduction in and of itself, carrying the legend of the incredible songwriting that has marked his career. Indeed, he wrote one of my favorite songs in “Angel From Montgomery,” and I am nothing but glad to see that with this resurgence of his popularity at this point in his life, new generations are coming around to the fact that Prine is a songwriting genius.

John Prine was never an especially remarkable singer, and time and especially cancer can be cruel to a voice, but that’s not why anyone ever listened to Prine in the first place. If it was a great voice you were looking for, it’s your loss because it’s wisdom and passion which outlast even time and circumstance, and Prine displays both in his songwriting. Anyone looking to become better at this craft should study this album and the music of John Prine, for the man is a world-class wordsmith, and no one can pen songs quite like him.

It’s not just his choice of words or the unique way he can empathize with the world, either. It’s the way he can make death seem like a party in “When I Get to Heaven”–in fact, the very name of this album comes from the name of a nightclub he plans to open in the afterlife. He speaks of starting a band and smoking cigarettes that are nine miles long and makes it all seem like an adventure, all but eliminating the fear of death with this picture of it. He can make us all feel at once sympathetic with the forgotten, lonesome narrator of “Knockin’ on Your Screen Door” and guilty for not helping the less fortunate. With the pictures he paints, he lets us know it’s our business to be more compassionate to people, to understand their circumstances and put ourselves in their place. It’s not preachy because John Prine is not a preacher–he’s a storyteller, and this is a story of the downtrodden that needs to be told. He can even humanize “poor planet Pluto,” as he does in the album highlight, “Lonesome Friends of Science,” the once majestic planet which has now been demoted.

It’s also in that song that he speaks of actually “living” in a place deep inside his mind while collecting his mail in Tennessee. It’s an interesting perspective and one that is common among songwriters and other creative souls, as they interpret the world with deeper emotion and unique insight, feeling things from deep within and letting their imaginations run free. It’s certainly from a place like that where songs like “Egg & Daughter Nite, Lincoln Nebraska, 1967, (crazy Bone)” originate; yes, that’s a real title here on this album, and yes, the song is about as strange as that title would imply. But it’s a cheerful reminder for us all to stay weird if nothing else.

Dave Cobb was, for the most part, a good producer for this because he knows how to get out of the way of an artist and let their lyrics be the focal point. This is pretty minimalist in its approach, and usually, that serves Prine well. There’s some upbeat, cheerful acoustic guitar in “Knockin’ on Your Screen door” which helps to give that track some life, and some lively drums and more energetic production to help the humorous “Crazy Bone.” The piano adds to “Lonesome Friends of Science” as well, creating a nice interlude in the middle of that track. There are some collaborators, most notably Jason Isbell, Amanda Shires, and Brandi Carlile, and they do their part to enhance, rather than take away from, the lyrics. Prine and his words are always the main focus.

Still, it does feel like sometimes John Prine is left too exposed by the production. “Summer’s End,” for example, could have done with a bit more, especially at the beginning, as it sounds sort of unfinished. “NO Ordinary Blue” could have benefited from some collaboration to support the vocals as well, and “Caravan of Fools” just feels like it needed something else, maybe some strings or piano to add to it. There are some strings which come in at the very end, but they would have served the song better if they’d come in earlier. It’s an odd thing to say because a record usually suffers from the opposite when it comes to production issues, but this one is underproduced in places.

As for John Prine himself, this album proves why he’s become so popular again later in his life, why people are once again taking notice of his songs and his career. It’s because he is a songwriter like no other, and people recognize that wisdom and talent when they hear it. They admire his compassion and love the weirdness and wit which separates him from many of his contemporaries. On a side note, this record is also a great case for the fact that artists don’t magically stop having something relevant or profound to say when they’ve reached a certain age or point in their careers–it’s a lesson Americana knows well but which country needs to learn. Aspiring songwriters and fans of good music, acquaint yourself with Jon Prine. This is just another good place to begin.

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Reviews

Album Review: Courtney Marie Andrews–May Your Kindness Remain

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Rating: 7.5/10

One of my greatest joys in 2016, an intermittent and strange year for Country Exclusive, was the discovery of Courtney Marie Andrews, She’s an artist who could rightly be called more folk rock than country but whose style and songwriting transcend genre classification in the same way of Linda Ronstadt, an artist Andrews channels quite a bit vocally. IN fact, it’s the voice that captures you first with her, some kind of wonderful cross between Ronstadt, Joni Mitchell, and something all her own that draws you in and leaves you hanging on every word until you’re also captured by her stories and melodies. As mentioned, 2016 was an odd year for the site and for me personally, and there was a lot of music I heard but just never had the time or energy to review; if I found the strength within myself to write about something that year, many times it was special. Andrews’ album Honest Life blew me away from cover to cover and received one of the few perfect ratings I’ve ever handed down here. So needless to say, I was incredibly excited to hear that she’d be bringing us new music, and while this doesn’t capture me on the level of her previous record, it’s still a pretty solid album from Andrews.

It does take awhile to really hit its stride, though. It’s true that Courtney’s voice is as powerful as ever, and the way she bends syllables to add extra emotion is just fantastic and something that seems to be completely inherent and unique to her as a vocalist. She’s got a knack for writing within the sweet spot of her vocals as well, bringing out high notes that display her raw emotion and intensity. All of that is there from the outset, but the lyrics fall a little short. The title track is the only standout of the first three, with its gentle advice to let our kindness outlive our physical beauty and remain even when our money is gone. This one has some really unnecessary electric guitar in the middle that frankly distracts from it and just seems overdone, but this is still nice lyrically and melodically. You kind of forgive the production choice and hope for a better one on the next song. But “Lift the Lonely from My Heart” and “Two Cold Nights in Buffalo,” though both better in terms of production, just don’t stand out or make much of an impression lyrically. They’re not bad, but they’re not living up to the standard Courtney Marie Andrews has set for herself, and three songs into this record, I am a little disappointed.

That all changes in the heart of the album. Here, Courtney reminds me exactly what she’s capable of with several incredible songs. The piano and heart-wrenching delivery of “Rough Around the Edges” set the backdrop for this tale of a character with whom we can all probably empathize on some days. Andrews’ attention to detail in this song serves to paint a startling picture of a person who’s been hit hard by life and barely hanging on; every line serves a purpose, from the dishes in the sink to the curtains being drawn and the TV constantly being on but not really being watched, to the fact that she doesn’t even feel like answering her phone for anyone today. Courtney’s knack for portraying the downtrodden continues with “Border,” as she sings of a man coming to America for freedom and a new life and reminds us, “you cannot measure a man until you’ve been down the deepest well.” I love the experiments with production they took here, as this one veers toward a more atmospheric rock style that really works for this track. And then “Took You Up” arrives, the definite crown jewel of this album. This again is the story of downtrodden people just trying to get by, but this is a story of love outlasting all and surviving when money is tight and times are hard. Courtney Marie Andrews’ genius vocal ability really adds to this song, as it’s her unique inflections which draw out all the emotion in this simple track. Put this in the hands of another singer, and it’s an average love song, but with Courtney, it’s a gem on this record. “This House” serves as a follow-up to this song, relying on all those details again to paint a portrait of a home filled with laughter and love even if it might not be, to use Courtney’s words, “much of a house.” And for all you strict traditionalists/purists out there, although Courtney Marie’s work does lie more in the folk rock realm, this song is very solidly three-chord country.

The problem with this album, though, is its inconsistency. After these four excellent songs, we have “Kindness of Strangers,” the least memorable thing on the entire project. It still speaks to the lonely and forsaken, saying that some days, it takes the thoughtfulness of strangers just to get by, but in some ways, it’s simply echoing themes that we’ve already heard presented better earlier on the album. “I’ve Hurt Worse” gets us back on track with a sarcastic look at a toxic relationship and how we sometimes love and stay with people we know aren’t right for us because we think we don’t deserve any better. The melody here is absolutely beautiful, and there’s a nice, almost Celtic flavor to the instrumentation. “Long Road Back to You” hearkens back to the themes of distance and coming home to loved ones so often explored on Andrews’ last album, closing the record elegantly.

Overall, this is a solid effort. Its greatest problem is inconsistency because rather than being solid all the way through, it’s a record of highs and lows. When Courtney hits the mark, these songs are incredible. Her gift for portraying and empathizing with the downtrodden is similar to what we saw from Brandi Carlile’s recent album, and her ability as an emotive interpreter is unparalleled. Unfortunately, unlike her last record, this one does have some forgettable moments lyrically. However, even the lesser songs in that respect are elevated by her melodies and especially by her talents as a vocalist, so it’s still a really nice album. Also, I’m probably being a bit unfair to it because I’m judging it at the high standard to which I hold Courtney Marie Andrews, and in that respect, it falls a little short. But this is still a good record with some standout songs, and many will find a lot to enjoy here.

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Playlists

February Playlist on Spotify and Apple Music

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Well, this month’s playlist is definitely a good one. If you haven’t checked out Brandi Carlile, Wade Bowen, Caleb Caudle, Mike & the Moonpies…well, here’s your chance. It was a strong month for singles, and we’ve got some promising new songs from Willie Nelson, Kacey Musgraves, Ashley Monroe, and Red Shahan. There seemed to be something for everyone in February, from Americana to Texas country to the mainstream. And if you’re shocked that a Cole Swindell song made our list, well, deal with it. Thanks as always to Zack for supplying the Spotify version, and my apologies in advance for the lack of Courtney Patton on that platform.

Apple Music users, you can follow me there @countryexclusive for this and all our future playlists, as well as for updates to the Saving Country Music top 25. For February’s playlist,
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Reviews

Album Review: Brandi Carlile–By the Way, I Forgive You

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Rating: 8/10

I would like to forgive Pastor Tim.
I forgive you for deciding not to baptize me when I was a teenager for being gay.
It was not so much that you wouldn’t or couldn’t do it because of the tenets put in place by the baptist rules and traditions, but because you waited until all my family and friends were present and waiting in the pews for the ceremony.
I don’t believe you did it to humiliate me – I think you struggled with the decision and simply ran out of time… I think you probably still do struggle with it.
I’d like you to know that I still love you and that I understand we’re all on a journey together, trying our best to walk through the world with honor and dignity – but what I want you to know most of all is that you did not damage my faith. Not in god, not in humanity and not in myself.
The experience inspired me to help other gay kids and my spiritual LGBTQ brothers and sisters come to terms with the disappointments they’ve endured on the rugged road to peace and acceptance. I think you’d appreciate that process.
You’ve helped far more people than you’ve hurt and you helped me too.
Thank you 
xobc

These words came from Brandi Carlile as part of the promotion ahead of this release, as she encouraged fans to share their own stories of forgiveness. Sometimes, background information is irrelevant when discussing an album, but with this record, it’s important to understand Brandi’s empathy for people, her ability to put herself in the place of others, and her search for forgiveness, no matter how hard it might be. These songs seemingly don’t have much to do with one another on the surface, but her ability to understand and empathize with others connects these tracks and explains the title of this record perfectly.

Unwrapping this album takes time, and taking in all that Brandi Carlile has to say here can be quite honestly daunting at first. I say sometimes that a record is an easy listen; this release is anything but easy to listen to, as there’s not really a moment of levity or relief on the entire project, except for perhaps “The Mother.” That said, it’s certainly a record that will make you feel something, one that will be relatable to people in many difficult situations, and one that carries much hope and understanding within it.

The greatest asset here is Brandi herself. It’s her ability to command her voice, her intensity and power on songs like “The Joke,” and the way every note seems to come from a place of pure passion. Sometimes, that passion comes because the songs are personal; I mentioned “The Mother,” and this one is the closest thing to a light moment, as she’s thankful for her daughter Evangeline. Still, even here, there’s some underlying pain, as she mentions the sacrifices she’s made and remarks that the world has been against them. She also adds a touch of personal pain and experience to “The Joke,” as she reaches out to kids who don’t fit normal stereotypes, letting them know that in the end, the joke will be on the ones who laughed at them.

Perhaps even more valuable than her personal experience, though, is the unique ability of Brandi Carlile to put herself in another’s place and make you feel all of their pain and suffering with her voice and lyrics. She sings about addiction on “Sugartooth,” weaving a tale of a man who fights the battle all his life only to commit suicide. She reminds us, “no point now to judge him in vain. If you haven’t been there, you don’t know the pain.” It’s a startling reminder that maybe, under different circumstances, that could have been any of us. She wrote a song here called “Fulton County Jane Doe” specifically to remind people thinking about committing suicide that they were once loved, that they were called something sweet by someone once which means something more than Fulton County Jane. She wants all these downtrodden people to know she thinks of them and prays for them. We all could learn from her compassion.

Forgiveness, like the album’s title would suggest, does serve to tie these tracks together and give the record a cohesive feel. The opener, “Every Time I Hear That Song,” sees Carlile letting go of an forgiving an ex, indeed thanking her for bringing Brandi to this point in her life. She’s displaying that empathy again, as she can put herself in her ex’s shoes and understand that leaving Brandi was hard for this woman as well. “Whatever you Do” arrives in the middle of the record with another story of love, this one implying that she loves this person so much that it’s actually affecting her life and dreams. For most of the song, this one is just simply Brandi Carlile and her acoustic guitar, allowing the depth of the lyrics to shine, as well as that commanding presence in her voice. The album closes with a return to love and forgiveness, tying the whole thing together with a moving piano ballad called “Party of One.” Here, Carlile is sitting alone in a restaurant after a fight with her lover. She’s not ready to leave the relationship, simply wanting some time alone. By the end of the song, she’s going home to be with her lover because in the end, no argument is worth giving up that love. She’ll forgive and work through this because she knows that this love means more than anything which came between them. It’s a really powerful way to close the album, and the string section comes in at the end to add to the intensity of the song and the message.

All that said, this is not a perfect album. The highs are incredibly high, but there are some lows. “Hold out Your Hand” just doesn’t work on any level, most notably the vocals, as instead of commanding the song in her usual way, Brandi just seems to be shouting over everything on this track. It comes off more like a lot of noise than a wall of sound, which is what I think they were going for here. “Harder to Forgive” fits in with the themes running through the album, but it’s the ninth track of ten, and it doesn’t really say anything as profound as the other songs before it. The others paint the pictures through compelling stories and relatable characters, whereas this song’s message is almost too transparent. We’ve already heard this done much better. “Fulton County Jane doe” also could have gone a little deeper; the foundation is great, but it’s a little underdeveloped lyrically, particularly in the verses, and unlike a lot of the other songs here, it’s also not that interesting melodically.

Overall, though, this is a solid record. For those of you who like to get caught up in the rating, this is one that I debated quite a lot because I can see this album either growing on me with time as the depth of the material continues to impact me, or getting a bit older after awhile because of the sheer intensity of this project. Consider this a tiny, light 8 for now, with a lot of room to change. For those of you more concerned with finding good music, there are some incredible songs here, and Brandi Carlile is certainly a forced to be reckoned with vocally. This may not be the record for everyone, but it’s certainly a good one.

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Reviews

Album Review: The Secret Sisters–You Don’t Own me Anymore

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Rating: 7.5/10

It’s no secret that traditional-sounding country has little, and female representation has even less, place in the mainstream today, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that the vintage, traditional Secret Sisters lost their major label deal and struggled to get by despite their incredible talent. It’s also been pointed out recently that the mainstream has a noticeable lack of female producers, and it’s not as if there are a ton of them in the independent/Americana world either, so it seems fitting that the Sisters’ latest record, aptly entitled You Don’t Own me Anymore and very much an album of empowerment and freedom from control, would be produced by Brandi Carlile. And for the most part, it’s a great showcase of the Sisters’ vintage sound and undeniable talent.

I use the word “vintage” more than “traditional” because this record harkens back very much to the earliest days in country, and it’s like something you can imagine your grandmother playing and loving. It’s not necessarily reflected in the themes, like the timeless Colter Wall debut, but in the sound and overall mood of the record. It’s a simple album, not relying too much on production to tell these stories but instead playing to the strengths of Laura and Lydia Rogers and allowing their vocals to be the highlight. And indeed, the sisters’ incredible harmonies shine forth as the greatest asset to this whole thing. It’s the dissonance in the beautiful “Carry Me” that adds to the raw emotion, and it’s the reimagining of “Kathy’s song” with harmony that ultimately makes it stand out here despite it being a cover. Although the opener, “Tennessee River runs Low,” is not one of my personal favorites, there’s no denying the fact that it’s a vocal masterpiece, showing off all kinds of crazy chords and harmonies and just being generally impressive.

The songwriting is another strength of this record. It’s definitely an album of empowerment, as embodied in the title track and the mournful “To All the Girls Who Cry,” featuring some nice piano and those excellent harmonies. Sometimes it seems directed at a controlling lover, like in the more upbeat “He’s Fine” or in the painfully honest “The Damage.” It’s probably also referring to their struggles in the music business, and the powerful thing is that even though the record is called You Don’t Own me Anymore, this person and/or entity that once owned them has obviously left an incredible, even irreparable mark. It’s a triumphant title, but it’s not a happy album; in fact, except for occasional fun breaks like the ode to Alabama entitled “King Cotton,” it’s a melancholy, sorrowful affair. But still, it brings comfort and healing in a way that only these types of albums, borne of struggle and filled with empathy, can. A song like “To All the Girls Who Cry” only works when you understand that they’ve done their fair share of crying themselves, and that sense of empathy permeating this record is what makes it so relatable.

It’s no secret that this album is great from a technical and critical standpoint, so why the 7.5 rating? Well, as a music fan, it honestly could have used some more energy, particularly in the back half. Sometimes the reliance on the vocal ability of the secret Sisters goes a bit too far. The vintage sound renders some of these tracks almost classical in nature; in fact, one of the best examples of that is the previously mentioned and lyrically beautiful “To All the Girls Who Cry.” As I said, it’s an album that played to the strengths of Laura and Lydia Rogers–credit to Brandi Carlile for that–and it’s quite simple. That’s both the best quality and the thing that ultimately holds it back slightly. Their talent is obvious throughout, but it’s stuff like “Carry Me,” “King Cotton,” and “He’s Fine” that will hold up better because their harmonies are simpler. Having said that, this record is one that grows on you with time, and as you start to dig further than the outstanding harmonies and really absorb the lyrics, you begin to uncover more of the underlying genius in the album. So, it’s a 7.5 for now, but that rating will probably increase with time.

Beautifully sung, painfully honest album. It may not be for everyone because of its vintage nature and a slight lack of energy, but it’s certainly worth your time, and after a few listens, you might just find it working its way into your heart like I did.

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