The reviewer’s conundrum: How do you write about everything else when several of the artists in your queue are on a different level than everyone else?
Case Number One: Everything I hear from Jason Isbell comes from the top drawer. I recently got my hands on another 4-song sampler of material from his early career (2009) that was already more polished than 90% of the current pretenders. “Alabama Pines” is mildly evocative of John Hartford’s “Gentle on My Mind” in that it’s tender without being sticky toffee. “Tour of Duty” has shopworn country images–a train, pain, settling down–yet coming from Isbell, none of it rings false. I absolutely adore “Codeine,” with its litany of things he can’t stand. But hone in on his juxtapositions of the banal and important things, such as bad cover bands and the sound a woman makes after her heart breaks. Check out “DaisyMae,” an acoustic tale which you could be forgiven for thinking was a lost mountain ballad. All of this was 11 years ago and all Isbell has done since is take things to higher levels.
Case Number Two: Kelsey Waldon. Her 2019 album White Noise, White Lines deservedly shot up the charts fast; this Ballard County, Kentucky singer songwriter is the real deal. Her Appalachian origins invite Loretta Lynn evocations, but I’m going with young Dolly Parton. From the moment Waldon opened her mouth on “Anyhow,” I was hooked. Her backwoods tones are robust and the way she works with her band is very impressive. The song’s boldness matches its mantra: You just do it again…You do it anyhow. On “Kentucky, 1988,” Waldon sings about where she’s from with a refreshing and unapologetic candor. There is no attempt to tone down her nasal accent, and hints of nostalgia are counterpunched with doses of reality and a stoic shrug. The title track is another take on this. But just when you think you’ve got Waldon pegged, she throws out “Very Old Barton,” which is old-time country from the roadhouse era.
Mitchell Tenpenny looks to be a fast riser on the country scene. His 2018 CD Telling All My Secrets climbed to #5 on country charts. He’s working on a new project, but details are sparse at present. Tenpenny is that rarest of birds, a country singer who is actually a Nashville native. His single “Drunk Me” path-to-sobriety message sounds autobiographical, especially given that he’s also composed “Alcohol You Later.” I’ve heard two versions of “Drunk Me”–album and unplugged–and it’s as if they are two different animals. I like them both; the album version is catchy and jangly, while the acoustic is more earnest and suits his voice better. Tenpenny has a sweet voice with a country pop/John Mayer in feel. When I hear songs like “I Love You All Over” or “Unravel,” some of the accompaniment seems like overkill. But let’s reserve judgment until we see how they sound when they make it out of the studio.
Lanco is a quintet fronted by lead vocalist Brandon Lancaster–the band name is shorthand for Lancaster and Company–and is billed as a country band. It is, though “Born to Love You” evokes indie rock with twang. It does, however, trade in country nostalgia in incongruous ways. Lines like I was born in a town full of red pine trees/ County sign says "follow your dreams"/ Westbound train makes the whole town shake/ Friday night lights decide your fate don’t exactly jibe with a video of a rooftop stage and a city skyline in the background. Lancaster is charismatic and has a powerful voice, but after listening to other songs– “What I See” and “Greatest Love Story”–his stroll through yesterday’s values could be viewed as artifice. Some grit wouldn’t go amiss.
I have mixed feelings about the Los Angeles band Magic Giant. Lead singer Austin Bisnow is gutsy. On the new single, "Outta My Head,” he slides into falsetto, though he’s actually an on-the-light-side tenor, as we hear on “Jesse’s Song.” That one flirts with a folk/folk rock vibe rather the alt.rock label the band has assumed. If you poke around you can find a “campfire version” or “Disaster Party,” their 2019 single, as well as the airplay cut.
I’d never heard of Australian pop/rock performer Ali Barter and was surprised to learn she’s charted Down Under and is often as explicit as Ani DiFranco used to be. Mainly I was gobsmacked to find she’s 34, not 20 as I had her pegged. On “January,” she sounds young, or maybe I was thrown off by her (very) minimalist guitar work. Was she aiming for satire on “History of Boys?” To me, the lyrics sound immature. Not sure what I think of Barter.
I have a low-bar standard for young bands: The lead vocalist has to sing way better than I was that age. So, it’s thumbs-down for the London band Honey Lung; Jamie Batten simply doesn’t have the chops. The band was apparently inspired by Jesus & The Mary Chain, though “Name” and “Be My Friend” come off as low-fi. But maybe that’s because I kept hearing flat notes.
Rob Weir
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