Archive for July, 2016

Album Review: Lori McKenna – ‘The Bird & The Rifle’

July 22, 2016

Lori McKenna

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The Bid & The Rifle

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The Bird & The Rifle comes on the heels of Lori McKenna finally achieving the level of songwriting success she’s so richly deserved since Faith Hill plucked her from obscurity in 2005. This record, her tenth, positions her at the next level – the masterful Dave Cobb produced it.

She’ll likely always be known more for songwriting cuts by other artists, which is a shame, since she’s a powerful artist in her own right. I’ll always be a bit biased, as McKenna is a local in my neck of the woods here in Massachusetts.

McKenna smartly included her own version of “Humble & Kind” among these ten tracks, which will hopefully draw some attention to the album. Given her local status I first heard the song when Little Big Town invited her on stage at the South Shore Music Circus in 2014. She also sang on Almost Famous, the local music show on my radio station 95.9 WATD-FM, long before Tim McGraw released it on Damn Country Music. Her version of “Humble & Kind,” which she wrote to impart wisdom to her children, is gorgeous and far more homespun than the one McGraw brought to #1.

The album, as one would expect, does go beyond that song. While she doesn’t treat us to “Girl Crush,” thank goodness, she does give us nine more original numbers. The album kicks of with the self-aware “Wreck You,” which Heidi Newfield recorded on What Am I Waiting For in 2008. The song, co-written with Felix McTeigue, details a shift in McKenna’s most important relationship:

I don’t know how to pull you back

I don’t know how to pull you close

All I know is how to wreck you

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Somethin between us changed

I’m not sure if it’s you or me

But lately all I do seems to wreck you

McKenna also solely wrote a number of the album’s tracks. “We Were Cool” is nostalgia at its finest, reliving in brilliant detail, carefree times with great friends. Pessimism grips “Giving Up On Your Hometown,” a critical view of change in the place you grew up. “If Whiskey Were A Woman” is the perfect bookend to “Wreck You,” a darker take on a concept conceived by Highway 101 twenty-nine years ago. McKenna imagines, through a killer vocal, how much more sinister the bottle would be as a relationship partner than her, for her husband.

The Love Junkies, masterminds behind “Girl Crush,” reunite for a couple of tracks on The Bird & The Rifle. “Always Want You,” a lush waltz, deals with sameness and the idea that no matter what happens in this world, she’ll always want her man. Mid-tempo rocker “All These Things” was co-written by two-thirds of the trio (McKenna & Liz Rose) and while I love the melody, it offers little lyrically beyond a laundry list of different signifiers.

The morning after never sounded so beautifully regretful as it does on “Halfway Home,” a co-write with Barry Dean and easily one of the album’s strongest tracks. “Old Men Young Women” is brilliant commentary on the phenomenon of third wives that are often years their husband’s junior. A Modern Family rerun, in which Claire and Hailey in which the pair consider companion tattoos, inspired the title track. McKenna co-wrote the lovely ballad with Caitlyn Smith and Troy Verges.

The most apparent takeaway from The Bird & The Rifle is how little McKenna has changed in the face of momentous success. She clearly has a solid sense of self, which undoubtedly continues to serve her well. While the album does feature songs stronger than others, it’s still one of the year’s top releases and not to be missed. McKenna’s pen and Cobb’s production make for a fruitful marriage I hope continues in the years to come.

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Album Review: Sara Watkins – ‘Young In All The Wrong Ways’

July 14, 2016

Sara Watkins

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Young In All The Wrong Ways

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Since the release of her eponymous solo debut in 2009, Sara Watkins has been embarking on an artistic journey towards finding her own voice as a singer and songwriter. She populated her first two albums with outstanding cuts by others, all the while honing her personal craft. Her output has been as rich as it is interesting, but it’s child’s play compared to Young In All The Wrong Ways, where she finally shed her inhibitions, picked up her pen and wrote the entirety of the album herself.

The difference is clear, from the strums of the blazing electric guitar on the opening title track. We’re hearing Watkins emerge as a woman for the first time, one who isn’t scared to embrace the messy and lay it all on the line. There’s a newfound defiance as she sings desperately about needing to turn the page. The aggressive backdrop provides the perfect emotional balance as she bleeds the frustration she’s kept bottled up inside.

She’s equally as punchy on “Move Me,” which I lovingly reviewed back in April. The bite in her vocal, paired brilliantly with the barn-thumping arrangement, reveals an urgency that drives the restlessness in her soul. Watkins’ agitation turns to regret on “Without A Word,” in which she gorgeously displays her stirring unease with lush precision.

Confrontation with an ex sets the stage for bluegrass romp “One Last Time,” in which she reveals he’s merely in love with the idea of her. “Say So” is introspection at its finest, a moment where Watkins looks inward to reveal the only one holding her back is herself.

The exploration continues on “The Truth Won’t Set Us Free,” a delicious slice of classic country with a modern twist, which finds Watkins fully aware that we take ourselves with us wherever we go. She takes a step back on “Invisible,” a prequel of sorts, in which she is searching for the very truth she’ll not be able to escape.

“The Love That Got Away,” one of Watkins’ finest vocals ever on record, is a spellbinding delicate mediation on voyeurism of examining life from the prospective of others. Her innate restlessness, once again, takes center stage:

All the people passing by

I wonder how they live their lives

And think of one outside of mine

I imagine and I envy all of their discoveries

Their simple, plain complexities

I’ve often taken issue with her songwriting – her songs often rely too heavily on repetition – but that gives way here to beautiful bouts of poetry, especially on “Like New Years Day” and “Tenderhearted,” two more highlights. Young In All The Wrong Ways is Watkins’ masterpiece, a searing self-exploration in which she emerges as the fully formed artist (thanks in part to friend and producer Gabe Wicher, who is also a member of Punch Brothers) her previous solo releases only hinted at.