The Musical Divide

I didn’t expect to find myself back here discussing Stephen Wilson Jr.’s music again so soon. I reviewed his bon aqua EP months ago and walked away with mixed feelings toward it and his sound in general. On one hand, I was blown away by the natural talent on display – a rough-edged, full-throated vocalist who leaned into the darker, bluesier slices of Americana strikingly well, where the melting pot of comparisons and influences scanned all over the place, from early 2010s Eric Church to Travis Meadows, all with a more pronounced southern Gothic bent in the sound and writing.

It was mostly unlike anything I had heard in quite some time … except for when it came to the actual songs. This is where things felt more unfocused, because while moments like “the devil” and “The Beginning” were deeply complex songs focused around sin and temptation through a biblical lens, other songs like “Hometown,” “American Gothic,” and “Holler From the Holler” scanned as purely generic, checklist-driven, small-town-centered songs without the same level of flair – almost as if it was intentionally more chameleon-like for the sake of greater accessibility, which feels like the wrong direction overall for this guy.

Now that initial seven-song EP has stretched into a 22-song behemoth (because in 2023, of course it has), but aside from still feeling a bit unfocused by natural way of running far too long, this is a huge improvement across the board in every regard. Really, chop off most of those EP tracks and I’d likely call this among my favorite projects of the entire year, a potent, complex project that delivers on all of that aforementioned potential and more.

But again, given how many directions it heads toward sonically and lyrically, it’s a tricky nut to crack, especially when you consider Wilson Jr.’s writing style as a whole. He’s got a strange way of sketching his scenes informed more by loose imagery and snapshots than a truly concrete narrative, which can sometimes lead to some stock generic ramblings. But there’s also something primal in the way those words are delivered, helped, again, by his naturally haggard, emotive delivery that I’d say really does the bulk of the heavy lifting. Even if songs like “Grief is Only Love” and “twisted” basically only really revolve around their titular conceits, there’s a resonance there that’s still potent as hell where the actual meaning is still felt on a deeper level despite a tighter focus.

Thankfully, too, the production is as weirdly wonderful as it was on that EP: a punchy, spacious, distortion-filled, country-meets-rock-meets-grunge effort that often aims for coarsing, atmospheric, pounding percussion and grooves dripped in a lot of smokey texture, with enough references to heartland-inspired Americana in some of the tonal choices and especially the writing to give this album a real heart and identity. Not to say I’m always wild about the millennial whoops that creep their way in on cleaner tracks like “Hometown” or “patches,” even if do still really like the latter track. But there’s a real potent snarl evident on the swampy “Mighty Beast” I really dug, and when the album aims darker and more emotional on muted cuts like “twisted,” “Father’s Søn,” and “Grief is Only Love,” there’s a primal resonance there that really clicked with me.

Again, very much southern Gothic in terms of tone and content, which is one reason I enjoyed the blend of the two on the windswept, adventurous “Calico Creek,” which seems inspired at least in part by regional folklore. But it’s evident more in the lyrics and framing, where the underlying point seems to stem from a complex navigation of an equally uncertain and ever-changing world. Even if I’m not sure songs like “the devil,” “Mighty Beast,” “The Beginning,” or especially the annoying “Cuckoo” coalesce into anything all that coherent with their doom-and-gloom biblical framing used to provide context of an unforgiving world, the more personally rooted moments definitely leave their share of potent scars. The hollow and slightly clumsy “Werewolf” isn’t really a favorite of mine, but there is something to be said for its willingness to examine personal demons and move on from them as best as possible, or find ways to control the ones that won’t leave. And just on delivery alone, again, I think there’s a resonance to similar sentiments examined on songs like “patches” and “twisted.” I also appreciate that he’s a bit of a music nerd who channels the simple comfort of old favorites to look for personal peace at points, which is one reason “Year to Be Young 1994” has really grown on me in all of its propulsive, Eric Church “Springsteen”-inspired glory.

But it’s when his focus expands outward that he’s really gripping, especially when he centers around family and tries to maintain a balance and stability that doesn’t come so easily. One that also can feel scary to try and create when you can’t always find it for yourself. The four-song run between “twisted” and “Hang in There,” which features moments that all in some way examine Wilson Jr.’s grief over the loss of his own father, is absolutely excellent, especially when he has to examine that grief in order to move on and be a good father himself.

From “Henry,” where he sees the role of being a stepfather as so much more, to more empathetic views of what it might be like to be a kid growing up in the modern world, saddled with the sort of generational pressures and expectations previous and future ones won’t always understand, on “kid” and “All the Wars From Now On,” there’s a way more interesting core than what that initial EP suggested. It’s not always perfect and certainly could have trimmed the fat for a much more concise and engaging listen, but for all of its sprawling splendor on display, I think there’s something truly special here.

(8/10)

• Favorite tracks: “the devil,” “billy,” “patches,” “Year To Be Young 1994,” “twisted,” “Father’s Søn,” “Grief Is Only Love,” “Calico Creek,” “Henry”
• Least favorite tracks: “Hometown,” “Cuckoo”

Buy or stream the album.