The Musical Divide

I’ve reviewed many albums over the course of this month, all in my endeavor to whittle down my backlog and make my return. I wouldn’t say this final roundup encompasses quite everything I’ve wanted to cover, but it definitely helps put me back on track for the remainder of this year and allows me to focus on other features again.

On that note, however, I should note that my uploading schedule may become a bit more sporadic henceforth, which I noted in my return post. Even still, the website isn’t going away again, and I’ll do my best not to get lost in this endless shuffle.

Anyway, we’re going to keep things brief for these selections, mostly because we have a lot of music to talk about. Also, because it will make certain selections easier to discuss. Onward!

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William Beckmann, Here’s to You, Here’s to Me

We’re starting off strong today. I quite enjoyed William Beckmann’s EP from last year for hitting a comfortable, 2000s-inspired neotraditional stride. And with another seven-song EP released earlier this year, he’s as rock-solid as ever … though there is still that odd feeling of anonymity still swirling around his artistic persona. I don’t know if it’s just another case of a project of his showcasing potential but feeling a bit slight in what it offers or what, but I just keep hoping he takes those bigger swings – both in the compositions and lyrical content.

Granted, for another short collection of songs centered around heartbreak, he is damn good at what he does. And the production is often once again rounded and firm in its overall neotraditional-inspired warmth, especially when the harmonica gets plenty of chances to blast through and add a bit of dusty rollick to the mix. And outside of the stabs at stomping, ‘70s-inspired outlaw country on “She Can’t Be Found” he can’t really sell well, there are no duds. If anything, it’s probably his most consistent listen to date. And tracks like “Leaving Kansas,” “Tennessee Drinkin,” and “It’s Still January” are great exercises for his terrific vocal range and timbre.

Although, in that regard, “The Party” might be his best cut yet, a moment where he tries to fake being the life of the party in light of a breakup but can’t hide his personal stumbles. An excellent closing moment to a very solid project; I guess it’s just another case of a project leaving me wanting more. (7/10)

• Favorite tracks: “The Party,” “It’s Still January,” “Tennessee Drinkin’,” “Leaving Kansas,” “Damn This Heart of Mine”
• Least favorite track: “She Can’t Be Found”

Stream the album.

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Ryan Bingham, Watch Out For the Wolf

Really? Four years removed from Ryan Bingham’s last album, and this is what we get? Granted, as someone covering this a few months late to the party, it feels like this side project has already been forgotten. Sadly, that’s a good thing. Watch Out For the Wolf was billed ahead of time as Bingham’s rawest and most intimate album yet, written and recorded in the wilderness of Montana and produced and mixed by himself.

Sadly, no matter how many whistles or preprogrammed electric guitar and drum loops he throws into the mix, this sounds more hollow than fresh and inspired. I’ve seen certain critics note that with all of the spaciousness evident on record, it could be best viewed as an ambient experience. But there’s a difference between creatively atmospheric and a washed-out, hazy affair that sounds like it was thrown together in Pro Tools in a single night. There are plenty of unpleasant moments to be found here all around, really: the clunky flow of “Where My Wild Things Are” that botches the percussive mixing to neuter a steady groove; the droning ramblings of “Automated”; the attempt at darker edge via the electric axes on “Shivers” that lands like a wet fart; and a needless interlude on top of it all.

The odd comparison I’m thinking most of is to Justin Timberlake’s equally disastrous Man of the Woods album from 2018. And the only decent moment is maybe “River of Love” for featuring something of a coherent spirit and rambunctiousness off of that bursts of mandolin and jaunty electric groove … even if it also all sounds completely buried in the mix; I only meant best by default. (3/10)

• Favorite track: “River of Love”
• Least favorite tracks: “Automated,” “Shivers,” “Internal Intermission,” “Devil Stole My Style”

Buy or stream the album.

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Zach Bryan, Boys of Faith

I was late to talking about the self-titled album; might as well as be late to talking about this follow-up EP. Granted, I actually think sporting some time and distance away from the initial release date is for the better when it comes to discussing Zach Bryan’s output. Give the material a moment to breathe and a chance for everyone to cool their jets. Then again, I guess the debate this time around is a more heady one worth the discussion, given how Bryan released this project the same day as Charles Wesley Godwin’s Family Ties album and likely stole the spotlight away from a friend and colleague.

Personally, I don’t know what to think. All I know is that there are way too many albums coming out week after week anyway, and that given how Bryan is, again, a noted supporter of Godwin’s, the close connection might have actually helped more than hurt. Or not. All I know is that I wish more people had paid more attention to Lydia Loveless’ comeback album released the same day.

Anyway, Boys of Faith. It might just be my favorite Bryan project to date. It’s a bit short and once again leaves a bit to be desired in the finer details, but in working strictly with what we have, it might just be his tightest, most focused effort, too. The production is way punchier and robust than nearly anything else of his to date – of which the highlights include the seedy harmonica interlaced with the electric guitar and fiddle on “Nine Ball,” the ramshackle vibe of “Sarah’s Place” with an uptick in tempo later down the line, the hollow echo wrapped around the hypnotic melody of the title track, and the snaky fiddle that adds a bluegrass rollick to “Pain, Sweet, Pain” - and his chemistry with his guest performers gives way once again to some of the main highlights, just like on the self-titled album (yes, I’ve heard of Noah Kahan).

There’s a sense of refinement present that I’m glad to finally hear, and I’d even make that a note on the writing, too. At first glance, it’s a typical Bryan affair, with plenty of soul-searching framed through the eyes of someone in their 20s who doesn’t have it all together. And it’s a bit frustrating to hear him resort to the follow-up EP route yet again after releasing a longer album.

But there’s also something of a cool mini-arc, starting with “Nine Ball” where a talented kid at pool is used by his alcoholic, gambling father for his own benefit, only to repeat a similar self-destructive cycle where dreams never become fully realized. It’s why despite the hearty rollick present on “Sarah’s Place” where he can catch up with an ex-partner who’s found what she’s wanted in life without him, he can still put on that brave face and know he could have had it all too, if he hadn’t gotten in his own way.

It frames the downward spiral of “Deep Satin,” even if those horns sound really out of place on that track. That’s why I like the title track best, a song akin to a nighttime drive off the aforementioned production setup, where there’s a yearning for a sense of place and purpose that’s been attempted to be patched with constant traveling. To little surprise, it’s not the answer in finding that clarity. I’m not sure if ending on an otherwise straightforward, clichéd note of pain being a good thing on “Pain, Sweet, Pain” is necessarily the gut-punch closer I was hoping for, but I really like what was accomplished here overall.

Huh, go figure: The five-song EP ended up giving me the most to talk about here. (8/10)

• Favorite tracks: “Boys of Faith” (feat. Bon Iver), “Nine Ball,” “Sarah’s Place” (feat. Noah Kahan), “Pain, Sweet, Pain”
• Least favorite track: “Deep Satin”

Stream the album.

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Margo Cilker, Valley of Heart’s Delight

I was looking forward to this. Margo Cilker’s Pohoyrlle album really caught me by surprise and blew me away in late 2021. Its scrappy, ramshackle production approach and lived-in writing centered around snapshots of life on the road really made listeners feel like they were a part of her own journey.

There are two reasons I’m only including the follow-up in a review roundup like this. For one, this album hits a lot of the same lyrical beats and feels like an extension of that last project. That’s a good thing, for the record; it just makes finding new things to say a tad more difficult. The other reason is because Cilker carries over the same charming, stream-of-consciousness-like framing and perspective that made her last album such a treat, but also doesn’t leave much in the way of deeper analysis (and, to be fair, doesn’t need to in order to still be great). There are, once again, plenty of moments imbued with a wandering, traveling spirit, with “I Remember Carolina” literally standing as a recollection of various stops around the United States, including a stop in Texas that incorporates fiddle, what sounds like a great burger, and a funny George Strait reference I won’t spoil.

And at least sonically, this does feel like an overall brighter, more lighthearted affair than Pohoyrlle, with plenty of jaunty keys, pedal steel and even horns incorporated into the mix, and plenty of outright funny moments in the sing-a-long “Steelhead Trout,” along with a fun story told in “Santa Rosa.” The only real moments of devastation come through in the heartbreak-centered “Beggar For Your Love,” and the personal anxiety of “With the Middle.” That might be why I’m a bit less sold on this overall, given that I do miss some of the darker, windswept edges of that last project – especially when there’s not quite the same highlights present here like there were with “Broken Arm in Oregon” or “Barbed Wire (Belly Crawl).” Even still, for an album informed by place that feels like it’s been everywhere and carries a very real, lived-in core, this is still excellent. (8/10)

• Favorite tracks: “I Remember Carolina,” “Lowland Trail,” “Beggar For Your Love,” “Mother Told Her Mother Told Me,” “Steelhead Trout”
• Least favorite track: “Keep It On a Burner”

Stream the album.

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Dan + Shay, Bigger Houses

I was not expecting to have a Dan + Shay album on my radar, but color me surprised by how much I was won over by its lead singles for seeing the duo pivot in a more organic direction. I might have been a little too hopeful, though, as while there’s a generally charming, breezy quality to the duo’s newest project in its embrace of more robust acoustics, pedal steel, and fiddle, it all feels a little aimless in what it’s actually trying to accomplish. It doesn’t feel like a full-blown do-over, given that there are plenty of moments of familiar overblown melodrama and bombast via the chintzy “Breakin’ Up With a Broken Heart” and the electric snaps of “Heaven and Back.”

But I do want to give credit where it’s due for a generally more pleasant, rounded production quality that favors softer acoustics, gentle percussion, and, again, a mid-2000s-sounding country-pop sound; they’ve always drawn comparisons to Rascal Flatts, and it feels dead-on here, for better or worse. Speaking as someone still very much not within their target audience, though, I have to wonder if it’s just a response to the general changing of the tides or what. I mean, “Always Gonna Be” is basically just a checklist-written song full of country signifiers that feels out of place for them, and I’m not sure I buy that they’re drowning their troubles through a jukebox with Merle Haggard songs on “Heartbreak On the Map.”

For as much as I hate to say it, it feels like an inauthentic put-on, which is why I prefer cuts like the breakup-centered “Missing Someone” and the similar what-could-have-been sentiments of the title track. They lean more into their usual relationship-themed territory while still sounding much better and livelier than their past work. To be fair, there are some unexpected pivots that work: I thought they handled the jaunty flow and switch-up of “We Should Get Married” well, which felt like an odd cross between Shania Twain and John Michael Montgomery with the appreciated plethora of fiddle and faster pacing. And the album as a whole ends with its strongest material. It’s just that it also carries the duo’s usual share of cloying, melodramatic boyfriend country by way of “Then Again,” “Always Gonna Be,” “What Took You So Long,” and especially the gag-inducing wedding song of “For the Both of Us.”

I can respect it more than I actually like it; it just feels like a weird album without a purpose is all. (6/10)

• Favorite tracks: “Missing Someone,” “We Should Get Married,” “Bigger Houses,” “Save Me the Trouble”
• Least favorite track: “For the Both Of Us”

Buy or stream the album.

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Adam Hood, Adam Hood’s Different Groove

I became acquainted with Adam Hood’s southern-rock-meets-Texas-country melting pot by way of last year’s Bad Days Better, and a cut from it, “Harder Stuff,” went on to become a top five favorite of the year for me. He’s back again with a new album (albeit a rerecorded effort by way of Different Groove from nearly 20 years ago), with a title that references a shift into blues and soul, not unlike the pivots that Brent Cobb and Jason Eady took with their latest albums.

And maybe it’s just a burnout from hearing so many similar projects at once, or maybe it’s because it’s an early project that feels rough around the edges in many regards. But for as unfair as it will be to compare Hood’s latest album to those aforementioned ones, it couldn’t help but become a driving force as I listened through this. And by comparison, I would call it a tad weaker effort overall, even if Hood has the best pipes of the three to sell his slow-rolling swagger with more gusto and edge.

Maybe it’s because he leans more into nocturnal, starry-eyed soul as a whole, where there’s not a lot of groove to carry this and the more polished production is meant to give way to a sleepy, relaxed experience. And there are slow-rolling cuts in that vein that hit really effectively, from the longing for an ex-lover long gone on “Shelly,” to the warbled, Fleetwood Mac touches of “Buzzes Like Neon” where he and Ella Langley have a strong chemistry together. But several tracks also feature extended outros that drag on without really being all that interesting, and with how one-note this album is as a whole, I kept hoping for the writing to carry some muscle like it did last time.

And I’m not sure it does - at least, not with any sort of dramatic punch or flair like Hood’s best work does. No outright duds, though I did think him trying to sidestep into a character’s downward spiral on “Late Night Diner” while unpacking his own baggage without being asked to be in poor taste. There are plenty of moments where the deeper complexities come close to a good groove, though, from the tireless struggle to chase down dreams on “Never Comes Easy,” to the heartbreak-centered “Fool of an Honest Man.” But again, with a sleepy presentation style overall, it’s just a different groove I respect more than like. (6/10)

• Favorite tracks: “Shelly,” “Buzzes Like Neon,” “Whole Town Talking”
• Least favorite track: “Late Night Diner”

Buy or stream the album.

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Viv & Riley, Imaginary People

I’m at a bit of a loss for words with this one. I enjoyed this duo’s spare, beautifully produced country-folk on their self-titled album in 2021. It was nothing groundbreaking, but it was an enjoyable listen with plenty of windswept edges by way of the great fiddle work, and a younger perspective in the writing that kept things fresh. Imaginary People is basically part two of that, albeit with some forrays into folk-pop territory that can be hit or miss. When it’s used to strengthen a melodic hook, like on the skittering, ascending, soaring high of “Kygers Hill,” it’s really potent. On the echo-heavy “The General,” with the heavy percussion and canned vocal production that doesn’t feel all that well-balanced, not so much.

Otherwise, it fits more generally within this duo’s aforementioned wheelhouse than previously billed, even if it’s rarely as striking or warm as before, outside of the title track and an instrumental in “Chance Creek” that might be my favorite thing here. It’s a weirdly dark, dour listen, with more plaintive acoustic numbers in “Flashing Lights,” “The Long Way” and the cover of the traditional standard “The Blackest Crow” filling in the second half, all of which feel sleepy.

I’m also not sure having Vivian Leva take less of a lead role this time around was always for the best, given that – as much as I hate to say it – Riley Calcagno has “generic indie guy” voice and probably adds two of the weakest, most melodramatic cuts in the overblown “Is It All Over” and the slightly inert “How to Lose.” There’s just an edge missing here, and I think that also has to do with the writing, which centers around hazy nostalgia and homesickness by way of tracks like “Kygers Hill” and “Sauvie Island” that at least sets up a decent map for the album to follow. And tracks like the title track and “How to Lose” at least somewhat follow it up in their messy stumbles and navigations through young adulthood.

But between an oddly submissive love song in “The General,” what I think is a note on climate change but could also be nonsensical rambling on “Is It All Over,” and an instrumental and traditional cover that don’t add much to the overall plot, it just feels like an album that never coalesces behind a more consistent or unique vision. I’ll take “Kygers Hill” and “Chance Creek” and probably forget the rest. (5/10)

• Favorite tracks: “Kygers Hill,” “Chance Creek,” “Imaginary People”
• Least favorite track: “The General”

Buy or stream the album.