The Musical Divide

Photo credit: Andrew Wendowski

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Read: Favorite Songs of 2023 (Part One)

To be honest, the first half of this year felt a tad light in terms of exciting releases – both in regards to individual songs and complete albums. The first half still contained its fair share of exciting surprises -  in both new discoveries and solid returns to form – but it feels like the second half of this year is really where things started getting heavier and more interesting. Like with last time, I’m going to examine favorite songs of the year in the order in which I heard and/or covered them, so let’s celebrate the year once more.

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July, and, uh, August, I guess

Unlike the first half of the year – in which every month seemed to start with a fun surprise for me – this is one case where I had extremely high expectations … and where Gabe Lee not only met them, but somehow surpassed them. He’s been on a winning streak since he first debuted with farmland; The Hometown Kid was my favorite album of last year. If you read my review, it’s not much of a spoiler to say that Drink the River will likely repeat that distinction, but let’s save the fuller conversation on that for another post and talk about a few of the highlights.

In particular, the lead single, “Even Jesus Got the Blues.” There’s a homespun charm to Lee’s latest work that can manage to feel warm and inviting, yet will also challenge you in certain regards. Case in point: a song with some of the best fiddle you’ll hear incorporated into a country song this year with its ebbing melodic flow, which offers a chipper background to what is otherwise a daring story. More specifically, it’s the tale of a wandering addict who stumbles back into territory that was once familiar to her but no longer is, spooking the God-fearing folks in the pew upon her return, as Lee puts it. And yet, one of the running themes with his work is that hope can still exist even in the most dire of circumstances, and from his perspective as a nameless onlooker, he knows not to judge her for whatever she’s been through.

That’s a similar sentiment that helps frame “Heart Don’t Break,” where again, I could praise just the composition alone for days: a lovely mix of tempered acoustics and pedal steel with just a light enough bounce to keep that optimistic spirit in check. It’s a bit more direct from Lee’s perspective this time around – a simple acknowledgment that even when love ends, there are memories to cherish and lessons to be learned for the next go-around, which of course Lee knows will happen. With that said, sometimes even if that hope is there, it doesn’t mean he or his characters will always see it, or at least want to see it. That’s why I debated between featuring either “Lidocaine” or “Merigold” for my final spotlighted cut (hell, literally any song from the album could have been featured here, but I do my have secret three-song-per-lead-artist rule in check), and I’m going to give it the latter track, about an older man’s shaken faith in life after losing his partner to cancer, where his only hope left is that he can go with her soon enough.

In a twisted way, I guess you could still call that holding out hope for something, but I like to see it as an acknowledgment of a different perspective that shows why Lee is one of the best writers working within country music today. Of course, speaking of writers with excellent track records in the genre, Lori McKenna dropped another great album earlier this year. It’s also probably her most hook-driven project to date. It’s always been easy to credit the warm, supple acoustic grooves that have provided the subtle backbone for her sound for nearly her entire career, which is the simple reason I love the title track, “1988,” for that simple, sunny hook and acoustic flourishes that provide a toast to her long-lasting marriage in a really sweet and endearing way.

Of course, she’ll also devastate you with her darker material, which is why I’m also spotlighting “The Town In Your Heart.” It’s another case where a paradoxically ragged yet energetic melodic drive is what initially pulls me in, but where the content ultimately does the bulk of the heavy lifting. It’s a song addressed to an alienated family member, but it could also work as a fractured relationship song, where despite what caused the initial rift to form here between two people that left bad blood behind, there’s enough time and distance now placed to remember them as they were – even hold out hope for a potential reunion. It’s complex in a way that can dig at multiple layers yet still be oddly relatable for likely quite a few of us out there, and it’s another classic to add to her songbook.

Up next, a strange selection, literally. I’ll admit I didn’t quite love Molly Tuttle’s City of Gold album quite as much as last year’s Crooked Tree, but it does contain my favorite song of hers to date, and one of my favorite bluegrass songs in years, since probably Billy Strings’ “Away From the Mire.” There’s something about bluegrass, I think, that allows for greater creativity in how far one can stretch a concept – maybe not so much lyrically, but certainly instrumentally. “Stranger Things,” then, isn’t just hazy: it’s damn-near transcendental in its hypnotic allure. It’s muted overall, but there’s still that echo reverberating throughout that fits for the philosophical wonder it inspires, from questions of death, to a possible afterlife, then to what matters most in this world in finding a love for something … or someone.

Basically, it’s all about the mysteries of life, and whether it’s to suggest we explore them further or leave them be, well, who can really say? I, however, can’t help but be drawn in toward the danger, because this is just beautifully captivating in a way few other songs were this year.

Of course, in terms of captivating singles, we have another one of a different variety, in which Hailey Whitters delivered an infectious burst of energy by way of “I’m in Love.” Yes, she leans even further into Chicks-inspired neotraditional country of the 2000s, so while it may be familiar and fall into similar territory as the most recent material by artists such as Kelsea Ballerini or Lainey Wilson, it’s still an excellent sound. But I don’t really know what to say about this beyond that, mostly because it just hits my pure joy receptors and works for that alone. It’s upbeat, bubbly, and carefree, driven by a warm, organic flair off the strong acoustic groove along with the banjo, mandolin, and pedal steel interplay – with even some appreciated electric sizzle on the bridge and accordion to support the hook!

And conceptually, while everyone around her may be stuck in their own little world, all that matters to her right now is that she’s in love and has found stability, at least for now. It’s a song that coasts on its breezy delivery, and really just hit a grand ol’ sweet spot for me. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.

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September

So, yeah, we just skipped August entirely. That’s around where the wheels fell off for me personally and I lost track of a lot of things in life, including catching up with new releases. I won’t dwell too much on that, but it did mean that September and October were heavy catch-up months for me, in which I listened to and reviewed a lot of albums in random order. So in staying true to when I covered them, what a way to bring me back into the blogging fold than with the grand return of the Turnpike Troubadours.

Well, somewhat grand. Reception seems a bif mixed on A Cat in the Rain as a whole, but I greatly enjoyed it and think it gets even better with repeated listens. And the one criticism I definitely won’t agree with is that it doesn’t sound like a Turnpike album. I mean, “Chipping Mill” is one of their punchiest fiddle-driven tunes yet, a true blast of euphoria that nevertheless carries the scars of a downward spiral, framed within the context of an album all about clawing its way back to redemption and reconciliation. And given the true sing-a-long worthy hook of “I always kept the best for you,” I’d definitely say Felker put his all into fighting his hardest for that.

Granted, for something that is decidedly different for them but nonetheless executed incredibly well, we have “Brought Me,” with a lot of well-incorporated Celtic flair. That’s enough to sell me on it as is, but it’s also the track that may act as the grand thesis statement of the album entirely – a love letter to the fans that stuck around and believed that a reunion like this could happen at all. That it comes so early on within the album is even better, because the proof that he hasn’t taken that love for granted is evident on the tracks that follow.

After all, as Ashley McBryde will tell you, you’ve got to be “Made For This” kind of life if you’re truly in it for the long haul. Her latest album may been a return to her comfort zone after the wildly zany Welcome to Lindeville (a love-it-or-hate-it affair, it seems, in which I’m in the former camp), but considering said comfort zone is still better than, like, 95% of current mainstream country artists at their best, I’ll certainly take it. We’ve got three tracks to highlight from it, the first and most obvious one being the one I cheekily referenced earlier. It follows a tradition of “Girl Going Nowhere” and “Never Will” of great McBryde songs framed around life on the road, with this continuing the latter in its dogged determination to keep at it, even despite how unglamorous it all is on the climb up – especially when you’re her and deserve far better from the industry anyway.

And with an awesome little nasty groove that blazes off its pummeling drums and snarling electric axes, this has a weathered feel to it yet still kicks so much ass in terms of its pure energy – as if whatever gets thrown her way, she’s going to walk through it all unscathed regardless and keep on trucking. It’s one of my favorite songs from her in general, but even better is “Learned to Lie.” It features some of her best and most heartbreaking writing to date, a song that captures how she’s aware of a viscous cycle of hurt and abandonment that runs in the family which she can’t shake. There’s a tempered empathy present in the framing that never casts blame, either – just heartbreaking realizations of the hand dealt to her and the best way to move forward with it. And like “Made For This” suggests, she certainly will move forward, but it doesn’t mean the scars don’t last. It’s why I also love “Women Ain’t Whiskey,” not just for that incendiary vocal delivery and hook, but also because moments where she gets burned like this through being used aren’t always easy to just swallow and move past.

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October

But from hardbitten tales of life on the road where nothing is meant to last forever, we now travel in the complete opposite direction. I already discussed Tyler Childers’ ode to a deep-seated commitment on “In Your Love” through my post on favorite hit country songs of the year, and really, it’s fairly high on my list of favorite songs in general this year, too. Granted, I’m not sure what to say here that I didn’t already over there, but I do think I’m starting to become a Childers fan. Rustin’ in the Rain was my favorite thing I had heard from him since Purgatory, and I actually just might appreciate shorter albums these days than bloated ones.

On that note, one of my favorite things about music blogging is that I can always freely change my mind on artists, songs, or albums with enough time and perspective. Granted, that can also lessen certain favorites for me, which is why I certainly prefer it when I can, instead, admit to coming around on something in a big way.

That’s the journey I took with Stephen Wilson Jr. this year. His bon aqua EP was interesting sonically, but the actual material didn’t impress me in the slightest. But, expanded through an album that explores even more diverse sonic territory and more interesting lyrical territory through the loss of his father, I was far more impressed with his full-length album. It’s dark, gritty, and, well, “twisted.” That’s a good way to describe his oddball, impressionistic writing, but I often found myself drawn to his strong emotive capabilities and generally agreeable hooks. Life, as he puts it on that song, is, indeed, twisted. There’s a muted yet indescribable primal resonance there that hooked me immediately, and that’s what I also love about the titular conceit of “Grief Is Only Love,” one of many songs here to deal with the fragile nature of life itself and how to heal from grief. And his howl on the “I don’t feel like crying” line is another favorite individual music moment of mine from this year.

That’s enough doom and gloom for now. Let’s turn over to Brent Cobb for something a bit easier and more relaxed. My vote for his best moment goes to “When Country Came Back to Town,” an optimistic look at the last decade-and-a-half of a bunch of cool names that helped create the independent country renaissance moment we’ve got going on right now. Speaking as someone who’s been loosely writing about the genre since 2015 – during the burn-out of the bro-country era – but also remembers every moment mentioned here, before and after, hearing this journey recounted just feels special in an almost indescribable way. I read someone mention this as a spiritual successor to Waylon Jennings’ “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way” in their own year-end list, and while I can hear it in the supple, warped, ‘70s-inspired warble and wide-angled look at the industry, this feels more optimistic about the future as a whole. It might not be the most upbeat or hook-driven selection cut featured here, but this is the one that made the happiest to hear with every revisit this year.

After all, no matter how dire things get, time can heal all wounds – even for an entire music genre. That might sound cliché, but there’s a truth to it echoed by other artists featured here, too. Take Tony Logue, for example, for delivering the song that perhaps gutted me most this year, with “The Phoenix.” On an album where most of Logue’s stories end with questions of what his characters will do next in order to survive, the answer is often up to interpretation. He’s crafted songs where his characters resort to crime and have to live with their choices afterward, after all.

But here … well, we have a woman ready to get a tattoo of a phoenix, told from the tattoo artist’s perspective, where her goal is to rise above a past suicide attempt and find a way to live again. And it’s told with so much grace and empathy from Logue’s character’s perspective, especially with the slow-rolling tempo and blasts of fiddle that don’t overshadow the darkness but do their best to add a new fuel for that evergoing fight and fire. If there’s one song I hope doesn’t get overshadowed on this list, it’s this one, because it’s a gut-punch classic.

We’re sticking with heavy topical matter for this next entry, just told through a different perspective. Rhiannon Giddens’ old-world melodic sensibility serves “Yet to Be” incredibly well, a love story between a Black woman and an Irish man (played by Jason Isbell) that’s equally daring as it is playful – lyrically and in its composition, with those plucky acoustics providing a jumpy groove. Giddens and Isbell sport great chemistry together, and with an optimistic outlook for this forbidden love, it’s just a ton of fun, too. I guess love has always conquered all.

Well, unless you’re Lydia Loveless. Granted, the entire point of their latest album was about them trying to confront old bad habits over their fears and personal heartbreaks and finding a way to move onward. With them, though, it never comes easily. “Runaway” is absolutely one of their most gorgeous-sounding cuts in that regard, in all of its watery, windswept wonder off the starry keys, where the heartbreak of the titular conceit - “I don’t like to run, I just like to run away” - really shows that vicious cycle in full force.

Even then, it’s as much of an album about change as it is of acceptance, which is why I love the wry, self-aware humor that gets to inform more hook-driven cuts, like “Toothache,” for instance. This is a bit more in line with the incendiary barn-burners of their earlier work, and is just a fiery kiss-off wrapped in alt-country glory. But even it falls just slightly behind “French Restaurant” for me, one of their best and nastiest cuts ever, not only through that snarled groove and uptick in Loveless’ frustration by way of that stunning final chorus, but also in the fallout explored in the content, too … told through an ugly confrontation that explores neglect and even something of a growing class divide between them at a hoity-toity establishment that might just result in a food fight by its end. Again, punchy and nasty in the best way possible.

Of course, if you like your relationship songs a bit more, well, stable, Charles Wesley Godwin returned with an overly ambitious concept album about family, with the aptly titled Family Ties. It’s the songs about the time apart, however, that really gripped me on this album. First through “Another Leaf,” where a desperate desire to return home from the road starts in fast-paced, frantic fiddle-driven territory, only to then shift into a slower tempo for something more sensual before picking up the pace once more – really, just chalk up that ending sequence as another favorite individual music moment of mine this year - because the road never ends when providing for loved ones.

And while that’s difficult beyond words, it makes the moment of connections all the more special. And Godwin is adept at making those types of songs feel like true journeys, where if “Another Leaf” stands as a frantic journey back home, “Two Weeks Gone” feels like it locks into a more comfortable groove. Hell, that jangly, ‘90s-inspired compositional muscle might make for one of Godwin’s most groove-heavy and catchiest cuts ever, but it also feels like a more settled (and needed) moment – as if he’s got a better handle on leading this sort of life and balancing it out not just with his family, but between his two passions in general in a way where neither becomes neglected. It may just be my favorite cut of Godwin’s to date, if simply for how fun and engaging it is from start to finish.

It feels like we keep flipping between lighthearted and dark tracks, because we’re back in the latter territory, through, by far, one of Jason Eady’s most harrowing songs, with “Mile over 45.” And it gets there not just off its roiling, deep, sinister sizzle, but also in terms of its story. It tells of a working man who loses part of his hand working the sawmills, the last straw when it comes to years of torture and a life ruined by a corrupt landowner. And yet, even for an album that plays toward some very lighthearted, seedy territory, this is more just about a deeply entrenched desire for revenge above all, and a catharsis that won’t come due to the class divide. This is deep-seated blues performed with the respect it deserves, and one of Eady’s best-ever cuts.

Next up, a cut that surprised me. William Beckmann thus far has been a little over the place artistically, in a way where it feels like he’s still searching for a true identity. With that said, for as much as his EP earlier this year played with a lot of old-school country and honky tonk tones, my favorite cut is the more pop-driven closing cut, “The Party.” It’s a moment where he tries to fake being the life of the party in light of a breakup but can’t hide his continuous personal stumbles, told with enough aching, lonely detail and just enough muted warmth in its twinkling textures and pedal steel tones to make me emphasize with yet another character here among many who just can’t seem to win. Still, even despite it being a pretty crushing cut overall, “my friends all left with somebody / those bastards love Irish goodbyes” might be the line that made me chuckle most this year.

If you’ve read through this list long enough and wondered where the Zach Bryan cuts were, you may be surprised that I’m not pulling any from the self-titled album, but from the Boys of Faith EP, instead. And in that regard, “Nine Ball” may be my favorite of his to date, if only for how different it is overall. There’s a way punchier and more robust presentation found here in the drums and seedy harmonica interlaced with the electric guitar and fiddle interplay that makes for a frantic cut overall. And that’s a good way to describe the content, too, 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. So yeah, it’s another Bryan cut to explore regrets and fuck-ups, just through a different perspective in which the mistakes made aren’t his young character’s, but rather just the unfair consequences he has to suffer from and live with, as best as he can.

On that same weird wonderful and different note, The Steel Woods’ cover of the Patty Loveless classic “You Don’t Even Know Who I Am” redeemed an overall lesser album for me. A fitting song that may as well act as that album’s centerpiece, too, especially when its main look at how emotional detachment and loneliness eats away at a couple is a perfect fit for an album about fallouts of different regards. In a way, it reminds me of Luke Combs’ “Fast Car”: It’s not trying to outdo the original; it’s just trying to showcase it from a different perspective and is recorded faithfully out of respect, because why mess with a good thing, right? And at least in another case once again, this just works as an excellent cover and nothing more or less.

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November and December

Whew, October was … a lot. I kind of dropped the ball again of reviews and new music in general in November. Again, I won’t get into the details of that, but I will say I was thankful for Jaime Wyatt’s feel-good foray into country-soul, with the aptly titled Feel Good album. It was definitely a switch from her earlier work, and not one I was sure I was immediately sold on, to be honest. But songs like the title track and “Fugitive” ended up sticking with me and helped in placing the album in better context overall. The latter track just has a great galloping muscle to it that brings back some of the rougher edges of her early work, just presented in new context. The former is just different overall, though, in a good way. Off the spacious, mellow mix of bass and strings, it truly lives up to its name as a feel-good experience. So did Chris Stapleton’s “White Horse,” the easy, blustering highlight off the somewhat disappointing Higher, and also a cut I’ve discussed elsewhere, through my favorite hits of the year.

Granted, Wyatt and Stapleton did help establish an easy template for me to follow through with the rest of the year. I didn’t seek out as much music as I perhaps should have for the final month of the year thus far, but I covered everything I wanted to, and I’m happy with that. I finally caught up with Cody Johnson’s Leather, which I mostly checked out because of surprisingly solid reviews and walked away delightfully surprised by the number of great tracks on it. My favorite is still “Dirt Cheap,” a song in which a farmer is encouraged to sell his land for profit but declines, due to the strong memories made with his family on that land that have remained with him, even if times have changed. Despite his daughter being a grown woman now and the dog he once loved now buried on that land, he can still remember the simpler, innocent times just by looking out, and they’re the kinds of memories you can’t trade for anything. It’s an excellent ballad in every regard, and if this is the sort of mature, neotraditional direction Johnson is heading in, I’m all for it.

Lastly, we’re closing out with some selections that bring some fun, needed energy to the table. The Wilder Blue continued their wonderfully creative streak of zany song concepts through Super Natural, including a ghost tale by way of “Bless My Bones” that’s fast-paced, frantic, and contains a pretty epic twist ending. It pairs nicely with the Joe Stamm Band’s “Wild Man,” a more archetypal look at the rambling man persona that nails its atmosphere excellently. Between the slow-rolling opening acoustics that give way to a propulsive combination of thickly strummed electric axes and pounding drums, it’s got the cinematic intensity to work as a soundtrack to a western epic, and a perfect way to end this list and my year in music in general.

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We’re not quite done, though. I did promise a traditional ranking of every song mentioned here, so here it is:

1.) “King of Oklahoma”

2.) “The Phoenix”

3.) “Stranger Things”

4.) “Two Weeks Gone”

5.) “Boomerang Town”

6.) “The Corner Comedian”

7.) “French Restaurant”

8.) “In Your Love”

9.) “Even Jesus Got the Blues”

10.) “When Country Came Back to Town”

11.) “White Horse”

12.) “Different Kind of Simple Life”

13.) “Learned to Lie”

14.) “Lover’s Game”

15.) “Volunteer”

16.) “The Party”

17.) “Heart Don’t Break”

18.) “Macon If We Make It”

19.) “Silver and Gold”

20.) “Chipping Mill”

21.) “Tale of Two Towns”

22.) “Angels Carry Me”

23.) “On A Piano Bench Getting Wasted”

24.) “Time to Go Home”

25.) “Brought Me”

26.) “Runaway”

27.) “Merigold”

28.) “Nine Ball”

29.) “Neon Blue”

30.) “Thinkin’ Bout Cheatin’”

31.) “Another Leaf”

32.) “Where the Wild Things Are”

33.) “Michael Keaton”

34.) “Northwest”

35.) “Yet to Be” feat. Jason Isbell

36.) “Grief Is Only Love”

37.) “The Town in Your Heart”

38.) “Made For This”

39.) “Missing Someone”

40.) “Elohim”

41.) “History of Repeating”

42.) “The Guitar Slinger”

43.) “I’m in Love”

44.) “Trail of Unforgiveness”

45.) “Division 5”

46.) “Jersey Giant”

47.) “Joe”

48.) “Closing Time”

49.) “Who Are You Mad At”

50.) “Feel Good”

51.) “You Don’t Even Know Who I Am”

52.) “Cast Iron Skillet”

53.) “Fast Car”

54.) “Women Ain’t Whiskey”

55.) “Fugitive”

56.) “Dirt Cheap”

57.) “Ain’t No Harmin’ Me”

58.) “twisted”

59.) “Bless My Bones”

60.) “Toothache”

61.) “Wild Man”

62.) “Oklahoma”

63.) “She Smoked in the House”

64.) “1988”

65.) “Mile Over 45”

66.) “County Road”

67.) “Holler Rose”

68.) “Bad Imagination”

And we’re still not done! Stay tuned for my eventual favorite albums of the year post, which will also take a slightly different turn from past years. I’m excited to launch it soon, but for now, stay safe, and thanks for reading.