The Musical Divide

There’s an alternate timeline where a celebration like this doesn’t feel as awkward: one where the genre-bending Uncaged provided the blueprint the Zac Brown Band would continue to follow, rather than the actual path they embarked on into the 2010s. At one point, this band had a real winning formula: a melting pot of sounds that ranged from neotraditional country to southern-rock on their 2008 debut, The Foundation, and even further into R&B and folk on later albums. Sure, the songwriting scanned as a tad basic at points, but that didn’t matter when the harmonies – vocally and instrumentally – were killer, the melodies soared, and the actual compositions were downright excellent, regardless of whether they were played straightforward or got more experimental.

Of course, on that last note, this band went off the rails around the middle of the decade, mostly due to off-the-wall experiments through an album like Jekyll + Hyde that branched out at the sake of ripping out the core of what made the band so memorable in the first place. And while Welcome Home acted as something of a course correction, it was a fairly safe and boring one that lacked the same passion as before. I attribute that to drama surrounding Zac Brown’s personal life around this time, as between that odd Sir Rosevelt side project and the complete disaster that was 2019’s The Owl (along with a solo album from him, but the less said about that the better), a lot of artistic decisions felt like hubris on his part that brought down a great band.

But … those first three albums still exist, along with a great side venture through The Grohl Sessions (produced, of course, by Dave Grohl and released in 2014). And I do think 2021’s The Comeback was a fitting album title that referred to more than just the pandemic, as it really brought the focus back down and still provided the legroom to branch out – a spirital succesor to Uncaged that came nearly a decade after; hey, better late than never (and as an aside, John Driskell Hopkins’ solo album from that same year, Lonesome High, is also really damn good). So, call it me being nostalgic or hopeful that this band is back on the right track, but I’ve been digging back through their work a lot lately – and I’m ready to talk about my 15 favorite songs by them today. Let’s get started.

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No. 15, “Leaving Love Behind” (written by Zac Brown, Coy Bowles, Clay Cook, Phil Hanseroth, Tim Hanseroth, and Jimmy De Martini)

Given that The Owl is better left forgotten entirely – not that anyone who heard that album ever could anyway, sadly – this feels like a strange opening selection. But, “Leaving Love Behind” was always the sole easy highlights of that album, a warm piano ballad only ever further punctuated by violin on the bridge for a beautiful, intimate moment.

And it also highlights how great Brown is as an emotive interpreter, a moment where he’s alone in the aftermath of divorce and caught reminiscing on better days together and wonders if he could have anything different to fix things … but also knows there’s strength in just moving forward, too. A simple, familiar lesson, but a profound one to actually carry through that requires actual strength over empty promises. And then those harmonies carry it all out, to let him know it’s not a struggle he has to endure alone. It deserved way, way better than being the closing track on that album, but it’s still a gem worth seeking out.

No. 14, “Day For the Dead” (written by Coy Bowles, Zac Brown, Clay Cook, Wyatt Durrette, Levi Lowrey, and Rich Robinson)

Yeah, this is a tricky one, mostly because it has way less to do with the alluded titular holiday in sound or content, and is more just a southern-rock jam fest about personal forgiveness and redemption. Again, strange, but between the fantastic progression carried through the interplay between the fiddle and electric axes along with multiple fantastic breakdowns – you’ll know them when you hear them – I couldn’t care less anyway. It’s campy in the sort of glorious fashion that actually makes it pretty anthemic … and certainly kickass. It’s one of their hardest-hitting and punchiest songs ever, a song that certainly dances among the living as intended.

No. 13, “Any Day Now” (written by Zac Brown, Clay Cook, Josh Dunne, Ray Fulcher, Ben Simonetti, and Jonathan Singleton)

And now, something more recent – another divorce-themed ballad that’s also gorgeously produced off of its glistening, spacious string and acoustic textures and minor swell. But it’s also a song of theirs where the writing really stands out, a moment where Brown’s personal stubbornness eventually leads to his partner’s alienation, an unwillingness to change he swore he’d fix any day now … until that day comes and he has to accept her decision and that end. And that it’s sold through the aftermath of it all, where he sees it all clearly now, that takes guts to own up to in one’s own faults. It’s a moment like this that convinces me this band is truly back.

No. 12, “Lance’s Song” (written by Zac Brown and Nic Cowan)

I will gush over Uncaged plenty in this post. And while it is pretty consistently excellent throughout and my pick for this band’s most experimental effort that actually, you know, works, that final run of songs really is pure gold. This is the first example, a song dedicated to fiddler Jimmy De Martini’s friend, drummer Lance Tilton, and a glimpse of someone who never had that chance to make it bigger in the music industry. But it’s more by choice than anything else – a chance to play those big shows that he turns down to chase personal fulfillment instead, even if it’s on a smaller scale and casts him in relative anonymity; it’s all about the music for him anyway.

It’s just a heartbreaking tribute and so phenomenally well-balanced as a whole, from the aching fiddle that anchors the song to the supporting touches of acoustic guitar, pedal steel, and dobro that add to the general solemnity this song carries. And it’s made even more gutting with with the a capella final chorus, a depressingly beautiful song overall.

No. 11, “Toes” (written by Zac Brown, Wyatt Durrette, John Driskell Hopkins, and Shawn Mullins)

I won’t say this band’s single choices do them any disservice – there’s plenty more to come, actually – they just don’t quite tell the full story or show quite how far the talent runs. But considering their pivots into island-inspired territory have typically always landed at radio, this is the one that’s stuck with me the most over the years – the first example of theirs and, to me, still the best. That’s because it matches Brown’s easygoing demeanor with lyrics that speak to letting it all go in a way that doesn’t take itself seriously in the slightest, but still with a story to tell in how he got to that point. It’s also an example of how technically stellar this band was right out of the gate, where the blend of sunny acoustics and swirling organ helps seal the deal on a song that’s always a joy to revisit.

No. 10, “Quiet Your Mind” (written by Zac Brown and Wyatt Durrette)

One thing this band always nailed on their earliest records was a sense of dynamics and scope. Even some of their quietest recordings had the bones of an arena-rock anthem ready to burst – we’ll definitely explore another example later on – and that’s a fitting, if odd, way to describe this song. It’s all about capturing personal peace and tranquility, with a slight nature influence in the writing to make it feel like a philosophical musing.

But if it is an exploration of the psyche, then it’s also about echoing the titular sentiment in a way where Brown’s character first needs to rid himself of the mental clutter. So a song built on little more than soft percussion, muted bass, and organ builds into a frenzy dominated by excellent-as-ever fiddle and a heavier percussive stomp to really feel like a journey toward … well, healing, I suppose. Quiet little song, but a heavy sentiment.

No. 9, “I Play the Road” (written by Zac Brown, Wyatt Durrette, and John Driskell Hopkins)

With the band element at play, you expect a sense of camaraderie to emerge on record, even if just subtly in the compositions or writing. And while this band has plenty of moments where they do more by interacting with one another for a bit of mischievous fun – we’ll get to an example later – this feels much simpler, a breezy song about life on the road carried mainly by a melodic burst of keys and fiddle.

Every act has a song or two about life on the road like this in their catalog, and said songs are usually sold with a sense of fatigue (understandably) at the personal toll that life can take on a person. And that is present here – especially in the latter half - but like with other songs in this vein, there’s a sense of earnest thankfulness for having that opportunity in the first place. It’s a bright, roiling southern-rock blast from beginning to end, and one where you can feel the love for the craft at hand. Speaking of …

No. 8, “Day That I Die” (feat. Amos Lee) (written by Zac Brown, Nic Cowan, and Wyatt Durrette)

Again, the final run of songs on Uncaged all feel like mature odes to life on the road, sold with a sense of experience and world-weary wisdom. But this is more about when that life on the road ends, and really, when life ends for this character in general. It’s the sort of late-career song you expect a veteran act to write and record as mortality weighs harder on their mind, but it’s more of a celebratory ode to the sense of fulfillment music can bring here – to listeners, of course, but especially for the people who actually make the magic happen, too. And following “Lance’s Song” from before, it’s a song about someone who lives and dies pursuing the art they love, a simple yet profound statement. It’s an incredibly meaningful and moving song that really captures how anthemic this band can be at their best.

No. 7, “As She’s Walking Away” (feat. Alan Jackson) (written by Zac Brown and Wyatt Durrette)

This is one of those songs I appreciate more and more with age, a song that pulls from the “Cafe On the Corner” or “People Are Crazy” template of establishing wisdom passed down from an older character to a younger one. And when the former character here is played by Alan Jackson … well hell, it’s already stacking the deck for me, but it also adds an air of believeability to the situation, especially when Jackson’s warmth and grace has always come through in his own performances and reflections. And the complicated wisdom passed down here is … well, lessons on lost love, and how you shouldn’t let a possible opportunity pass by you in that regard; you never know, after all. It’s an overall lighthearted collaboration between two acts that, naturally, is also melodic and coasts off its neotraditional charm exceptionally well. I know I won’t ever let this one walk away from me.

No. 6, “Whiskey’s Gone” (written by Zac Brown and Wyatt Durrette)

So that general sense of fun camaraderie I mentioned earlier … yeah, the band has a few songs like this in this vein, and I do enjoy said songs like “Sic ‘Em On A Chicken” and “Fun Having Fun” a fair bit, too. And they’re usually endlessly fun and riotous from beginning to end, but this ups the ante by featuring a sordid character who keeps getting endlessly knocked down and kind of deserves it. And it all happens in lightning-quick fashion, where the weedy organ does the bulk of the heavy lifting for that this time around but is just naturally breezy off the fast-picked acoustics and fiddle, too. All the more fitting, given this character’s blurry, drunken descent into chaos. I don’t think there’s a way to get her back at this point, buddy. But damn, is it fun to hear you try anyway.

No. 5, “Jolene” (written by Ray LaMontagne)

No, it’s not a Dolly Parton cover, but it is one of an old Ray LaMontagne song that retains the acoustic bedrock but ditches the sleepy coffeehouse folk touches of the original in favor of something a bit more rounded … but no less weary or beaten-down. Again, I think Brown is a convincing emotive interpreter when he chooses to be, and this sad look at a man who’s lost everything from addiction and tries to claw his way back to redemption is no exception.

The sad part is, he’s not actually on the road yet, because quitting is far easier said than done. But that he’s clear enough to see what it’s doing to him and that he’ll never win back his titular partner even if he finds redemption … I can’t lie, I can’t tell if it’s a song about keeping just enough hope alive to try, or if it’s a sad realization about letting go and fading away. Even still, it’s a heartbreaking scene to witness.

No. 4, “Goodbye In Her Eyes” (written by Zac Brown, Wyatt Durrette, John Driskell Hopkins, and Sonia Leigh)

It’s come up multiple times already here, and it will again later on, but this band’s songs often revolve around traveling musicians and the highs and lows that come with living that sort of life. And, as far as the latter is concerned, they’ve never shied away from showcasing the strain that can put on one’s own relationships. And while it’s never directly referenced here as the main reasoning for this breakup, I can’t help but feel it’s present anyway – a heartbreaking look at a relationship that’s sputtered out because the passion is just gone.

And, to add further to that, it’s also a moment where our character is caught wondering if it’s worth trying to drag it out until the end or if it’s just better to accept that it’s finally over and his partner has moved on from him. That’s just the content, too – there’s also the somber recurring fiddle line and minor acoustics, the excellently layered harmonies, the general intensity that comes with the slight uptick in percussion toward that end. It’s just pure devastation from beginning to end.

No. 3, “Highway 20 Ride” (written by Zac Brown and Wyatt Durrette)

The most obvious criticism I think I see of the Zac Brown Band’s early work is that, for as colorful as the presentation could be, they weren’t really good songwriters. I disagree with that – it’s more just that the lyrics didn’t really matter as much as everything else surrounding them, which I’ve hopefully highlighted by now. Even then, I’ll gladly engage in a spirited debate for this track – a nuanced, acoustic ballad where a father grapples with the aftermath of his divorce, namely in how it’s going to affect his son.

And for as painful as it is now to drive that long, winding road to go see him now – all peppered with the sense of loneliness that comes with it – he’s more worried about the future: how his son might hate him, the mother, or possibly both of them. It’s a slice of raw emotion not really explored in these kind of tracks, where Brown’s character knows his own pain matters less when looking at the bigger picture overall. Less wasn’t always more with this band; it was the opposite until it wasn’t, actually. But this is sneakily one of their most cutting songs to date.

No. 2, “Natural Disaster” (written by Zac Brown and Wyatt Durrette)

Can’t lie, part of why this is here is because it converted my metal-loving friend into a country fan, at least temporarily. And I can see why, given how this opens soft with amazing harmonies and backing organ before erupting with a slight Celtic flair and galloping percussive stomp that provides one hell of a potent adrenaline rush – and it only continuously adds upon it by getting even more frenetic and fast-paced! I’ve certainly alluded to it but haven’t outright said it yet, but this band had a sense of structure to their earliest compositions that always made for music that was excellently layered, potent, and anthemic. Kind of ironic for this song, given that it’s meant to be unstructured on an album where that wild experimentation and freedom was part of the point, a song about a girl who’s wild and akin to a natural disaster.

OK, so lyrically it traces familiar ground, but that hardly matters when everything surrounding it otherwise is excellent throughout. It’s a perfect storm of sorts that helps cement Uncaged as one of my favorite albums of the 2010s, and there’s only song in this band’s catalog that’s just a bit better for me.

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As always, before I unveil my No. 1 pick, here are a few honorable mentions that just barely missed the cut for this list:

“Junkyard” (written by Zac Brown and Roger Waters) (feat. Angie Aparo on the live version)

“Tomorrow Never Comes” (written by Zac Brown, Niko Moon, and Wyatt Durrette)

“Cold Hearted” (written by Zac Brown and Nic Cowan)

“Bittersweet” (written by Zac Brown, Niko Moon, and Wyatt Durrette)

“Let It Rain” (written by Zac Brown, Wyatt Durrette, Brad Stella, Jimmy De Martini, Clay Cook, and John Driskell Hopkins)

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And now, my No. 1 pick:

No. 1, “Colder Weather” (written by Zac Brown, Wyatt Durrette, Coy Bowles, and Levi Lowrey)

In terms of a pure enjoyment factor, pretty much anything within my top five could have taken this top spot. But I think “Colder Weather” has come to encapsulate everything that works about this band over the years: the journeyman framing that’s always anchored their best work, the beautifully layered production that can easily owe to multiple genres but still feels even-keeled and focused as a whole, and the harmonies that help add a propensity and swell to make their work feel so much bigger than it really is at points.

Even with all that in mind, this is something else. It’s a sparse piano ballad that cries with the soul and bones of a rock ballad and actually gets to showcase that by its end, where Brown shows why he was always adept at playing the role of the imperfect, wandering troubadour. But it’s also removed from the band’s island-inspired material and even their fast-paced southern-rock shit-kickers, swapped instead for a setting inspired by the frigid air of Colorado. It’s why the mix feels a bit different here; it’s more wind-swept in its piano and acoustic textures, and there’s even some lonely pedal steel that gets to cut through effectively at points. But the emotive core remains, not only in how Brown really can belt with a ton of emotive firepower when called for, but also in how richly layered the composition and the harmonies are as a whole.

Like with their best songs about life on the road, though, it’s an endurance test. One where a lonely partner waits hundreds of miles away, and the oncoming blizzards and lonely roads that await this character’s journey home act as extended metaphors of the strength that characterizes this particular relationship, hard as it is to make it last and strained as it already is by this point.

It also features one of their best-ever melodies, and that bridge and final hook are always enough to make me feel how powerful this can be without forcing it. But otherwise … I don’t know, again, I think I’d just call it the perfect synthesis of every great element of this band. Whether we’ll ever hear magic like this from them again remains to be seen, but if it happens, well, I can’t wait until then.