on the pulse - 2021 - #17 - kacey musgraves, sturgill simpson, lauren alaina, panopticon

So my original plan was to do this episode as a replacement for covering Kanye and Drake… then I discovered that I could effectively kill two birds with one stone with those reviews - and I’d be stuck on Billboard BREAKDOWN anyway - and that I had enough projects to pull this together anyway, so screw it - all country episode of On The Pulse!

Mike and the Moonpies - One To Grow On - you know, I was really high on that last album Cheap Silver and Solid Country Gold, and so were a lot of the indie country critics that heard it, but the more I think about Mike and the Moonpies, the more I wonder why they don’t always grip me as deeply as I like. Yeah, the production is often melodic and rich and the writing is deceptively great and reportedly they’re fantastic live… so why can’t I escape the feeling that I’m praising an extremely solid neotraditional act rather than one that will take a bigger swing, which was the biggest selling point of their last album? Well regardless, they put out another project and it’s once again getting rave reviews from the indie country set… and yeah, it’s solid for what it is, generally bouncy and melodic neotraditional country with plentiful lead work careening off the pedal steel and solid grooves that keeps a brisk clip without a serious issue in their production to speak of. But again, I’m wondering why this doesn’t grip me as deeply as it could, why it doesn’t take that next leap, and I think I’ve got more of a handle on it now. For one, their frontman Mike Harmeler has a good voice but not a super distinct presence - his vocal timbre can feel a bit thin, especially given how he’s placed a shade back in the mix, which remains my consistent issue with this band’s production where it just feels like the low-end is a little neglected. There’s also something about a lot of their compositions that showcase their bar band roots, where you can tell they wrote a lot of these songs with that freeflowing structure that kills live whenever they want plentiful solos to jam out, but it can mean the hooks aren’t quite as strong as they could be, and that doesn’t help the band leap off the page in the same way especially if you know or grew up with their influences. Granted, I’m not sure it helps that so many of their songs circle that same work-a-day territory too, which is why the songs I like the most show them venturing away from that. I like how ‘Hour On The Hour’ plays into the same post-heartbreak melancholy Scotty McCreery nailed with ‘Feel-Good Summer Song’, and ‘Brother’ is a cool story where he’s facing mixed emotions trying to reconcile with a prodigal sibling now they’ve struck oil on their land that compositionally reminds me a bit of ‘El Dorado’ by Randy Rogers and Wade Bowen, which is absolutely a compliment. And when you pair it with the swaggering ‘Rainy Day’ and ‘The Vein’, along with the slice of barroom longing on ‘Social Drinkers’, cuts that feel like conventional Mike and The Moonpies but wind up great all the same, and the fact that this album gets in and out without landing a miss… I mean, it’s incredibly easy to like for what it is, but it feels like they’re content with a lower ceiling than they’re capable, especially given the risks they took with Cheap Silver and Solid Country Gold. So for me, extremely light 8/10, it’s too well-constructed for me to dismiss it and there’s enough great songs to nudge it up, but if you want them to take the next big step, this isn’t it.

Jason Eady - To The Passage Of Time - I bet there are some of you who might be a little surprised this isn’t getting a solo review. After all, I’ve been on the record that when it comes to his stripped back brand of primarily acoustic country, Eady is one of the best of the 2010s, and I stand by that. Well, with this project here, coming after a lot of lockdown work he put up on Patreon last year and his 2018 album… well here’s the thing, Jason Eady’s formula is so rock solid with such a high floor that it can be difficult to contextualize why an album might not have the same impact as his very best, so you wind up having to drill into the subtlest of details. Because of course his mix is warm and balanced and very approachable in its minimalism - the bass grooves provide great foundation, the mandolin, strings, and pedal steel allow for a lot of texture, and as a singer Eady has always been about the little restraints that come with age and maturity, and as most of this album plays back to slower tempos, it fits closer to his self-titled album. And yet, why am I stuck with the feeling that this doesn’t have the gutpunch of that album, or Daylight & Dark? Well, some of it might be linked to a feeling of comfort in the writing - with his wife Courtney Patton alongside him, he sounds more settled and content, and given how sharp her delivery can be alongside his I do wonder if it was a misstep to not utilize her more as a counterweight to any dramatic storytelling. But I think the issue is that any sense of ‘greater drama’ is a bit limited; even beyond the road stories of Daylight & Dark there was a spiritual weight to trying to be better despite hard living across the self-titled that feels less present here. Eady has described this album as a bit of a follow-through to I Travel On and I do hear some of it in his mature realizations of agency and what he can’t do, especially with so much in the world that has changed around him, and maybe he has to change and grow too… but I wish I had a greater feel for the stakes beyond the broadly existential - ‘French Summer Sun’ is highlighted as the centerpiece in the open question of the generations lost in war, but the reveal feels a bit slight in comparison with the quiet slow burn of, say, ‘Saturday Night’, where he’s playing to a very sparse barroom crowd and has to soldier on… and even then, as an artist he at least has that luxury of dreaming, which is showcased in the prior song of that title. But it’s that sense of stakes that adds a little more of a personal touch to Eady’s storytelling, even if it’s very low-key in its presentation - hell, that was its charm, just how lived in and focused it felt. And that’s still here - again, this is exceptionally easy for me to like, which is why it’s getting a light 8/10… but for as lean and effective as this, there should be a little more meat.

Panopticon - …And Again Into The Light - Okay, I was waiting until the lyrics got formally released to cover this properly, but this album dropped in May and it’s now September - and yes, it’s closer to country than some of the stuff mainstream Nashville plops out, so it counts! Granted, in this case I’d say that Austin Lunn’s palette of strings and acoustics is tilting a bit closer to folk this time around… and honestly, in this case specifically I probably could have gotten away with not needing the lyrics as much, basically because there’s more of a structured arc to this album that doesn’t really require much writing to parse. For one it feels more personal - Lunn has used black metal to find wild tranquility amidst the rage, but this time it feels like he’s trying to confront depression and feelings of letting people down directly in recent years, and in barrelling into pitch-dark territory to do so with more spacious, downbeat passages like on ‘Dead Loons’, he shows that despite his political ambitions within his art, there needs to be space for some vestige of self-care. And when paired with the fractured clank of acoustics and wailing strings that sound as crisp as ever, you can tell that instead of the stark division of sounds on the 2018 double album, Lunn is trying to find more of a synthesis with the black metal elements… which is awkward given how the production fidelity can only barely match those elements. This has been the greatest point of contention with this album - the melodies are striking, the atmosphere is potent, the drumwork is legit fantastic, but if the bass is mixed into oblivion and the guitar melody has to claw through a level of murk the other instruments don’t have on an album that runs seventy minutes when the majority of the vocals can’t be made out, even if you gradually get used to the fusion, it just doesn’t have the impact it could in comparison with his early 2010s albums. And it’s frustrating because even if I can justify why it was done early on the project to showcase the mental struggle and the guitarwork is utterly wild, the lack of consistent mix balance, developed crescendos and dynamics, and any sense of groove just keeps this from being as great as it should be, especially as you still get some really damn distinctive moments on practically every song, like the chunky riffage on ‘Rope Burn Exit’ and ‘Know Hope’ or the insane shredding on ‘A Snowless Winter’ or the bells backing the punishing ‘Moth Eaten Soul’. Yes, ‘The Embers At Dawn’ has probably the most strikingly hopeful swell on the entire project, even if it’s absolutely playing to post-rock textures for half the song - Deafheaven should take notes - but outside of that, despite all the heaviness that I know in my gut should hit so hard, this one didn’t click, and I mostly blame the production for it. So solid 7/10… let’s hope this stylistic diversion was a one time thing and Panopticon can get back to being top of the field.

Lauren Alaina - Sitting Pretty On Top Of The World - …look, it’s not all going to be indie stuff, I thought that would be obvious. And besides, I’ve been onboard with Lauren Alaina for a few years now for having better country instincts and solid songwriting chops, but not quite able to realize her crossover potential like, say, Kelsea Ballerini due to issues of label momentum and promotion. So even though the buzz on this seems to have been scant, I wanted to give this a chance, and… it’s odd, I feel like I’m going to wind up praising this more than a lot of folks, but it’s still not quite as good as I think it should be. Firstly, the major positives: Lauren Alaina has taken advantage of country pulling back towards more neotraditional tones by embracing more twang, fiddle, and pedal steel, to say nothing of predominantly organic percussion, which when you have such a huge and naturally expressive voice as Alaina does sets you up to play in similar territory as that absolutely fantastic pop country album from Lucy Hale in 2014. Now that’s not saying there aren’t obvious plays for mainstream attention in the production and writing, most often in the drum machines that slip in some programmed skitters and feel perpetually unnecessary like on ‘When The Party’s Over’, the Trisha Yearwood collab ‘Getting Good’ or the clunky ‘Getting Over Him’ with Jon Pardi. And I have nitpicks with the album’s pacing and sequencing, which can feel jerky and inconsistent, especially with the very loose post-breakup narrative that winds through the album before winding up in a relationship at the end again - like her last album she tacked on a bunch of songs from previous EPs and I’d argue none of them need to be here outside of maybe ‘What Do You Think Of’, the collab with Lukas Graham - yes, I’m serious, despite a basic composition the two of them have shockingly decent chemistry and the melancholic longing actually lands. But for all of this, it has to circle back to the writing, which was her greatest hidden strength in 2017… and I’m not sure it’s going to save her here outside of the cowrites from Lori McKenna in ‘Same Story, Different Saturday Night’ and my personal favourite ‘I’m Not Sad Anymore’. And there’s nuggets of nuance I appreciate, like how ‘It Was Me’ highlights her lack of self-confidence was the real reason her relationship fell apart, or her disgust for the preening of the ‘Good Ole Boy’ followed by ‘You Ain’t A Cowboy’ - even if she gives herself an out with ‘On Top Of The World’ that funnily enough I really like - but I feel like a little more introspection or detail to painting the scene could have added more detail, especially given the lingering feeling of filler on this album’s back half, even if I do respect how the arc is more about her finding self-respect rather than just getting over this lost love. But even then… I’d struggle to say anything here stands out among her best from her last album, and while I appreciate the details that punch above, a more focused and distinctive project would really do her good. So solid 6/10 - it’s worth hearing, especially if you’re a pop country fan, but again, wanted to like this more.

Sturgill Simpson - The Ballad Of Dood & Juanita - At some point we’re all just going to admit that Sturgill Simpson is just fucking with us, right? He’s been on the record saying that he was only going to cut five solo albums - I guess the bluegrass Cutting Grass projects were just diversions last year - but I also he’s wild enough to throw curveballs into the mix, especially with this coming after the careening genre-and-production nightmare that was SOUND & FURY; keep in mind I still like that album and it does sound a bit better on vinyl, but I can call a spade a spade especially in comparison with his first three. In comparison, this was reportedly a narrative-driven concept album leaning way more heavily on traditional country and bluegrass… and you know, after a few listens to this, I’m all the more convinced this was cut so Simpson could slip towards a band project that occupies more interest or just retire, because this is a pretty abortive coda to the material he used to knock out of the park. The word I’ve seen in a lot of evaluations is ‘rushed’, but to me the words are ‘underthought’ and ‘shallow’, with a broadly sketched story of a couple where the woman is kidnapped by a bandit, the guy gets shot and has to bury his dog in the chase… but then she’s returned by an Indigenous tribe where the bandit tried to trade her for a horse, and then after going home, the protagonist goes off to shoot the bandit anyway! It’s frustrating that the story is so undercooked because the detail to set the scene is here - there’s a lot of twang and potent bluegrass rollick, the fiddle sounds great, Willie Nelson shows up to play guitar, the mix is peppered with campfire crackles and gunfire, there’s a few a capella moments I really liked, and Sturgill’s vocal production might be the most stripped back and effective it’s ever been. And I guess you can make the argument Simpson was intentionally going for something more primitive, where the atmosphere fills in the gaps of an archetypal story. But he’s also not a stranger to doing more interesting things with these archetypes, and if all that detail goes something that feels a little like glorified fanfiction, playing into a outlaw power fantasy rife with cliche where only Dood is a real character at all, all on a project that runs less than a half hour, it winds up feeling like a side venture, or more likely a project cut to get out of a record deal, and if SOUND & FURY burned half of his bridges, this burns the other half. So… 6/10, I would treat this as an extended side EP at best, and even then, it’s still not that good.

Kacey Musgraves - star-crossed - …look, if I didn’t put her in this video, you wouldn’t watch it. Granted, given just how much hype and momentum Kacey Musgraves had from Golden Hour, you might be excused for thinking this’d get a solo review proper, especially as it’s framed as a divorce album from one of my favourite indie country acts in recent years Ruston Kelly. Not only that, given the behind-the-scenes moves with her label, I had suspicions this was going to be about the furthest thing from country she’s ever made, so I was prepared to have a lot of complicated emotions, especially as while I like Golden Hour, it doesn’t come close to matching the best of Same Trailer, Different Park. And thus in this case… okay, let me start by saying that I was really trying to get behind this one. Kacey Musgraves is an incredibly charismatic and expressive performer, even through her most hazy and synthetic production to date - a lesser performer would have gotten lost in this haze, and there’s enough an distinctive core to pull you into this meandering breakup narrative. Bizarrely the album that slipped into mind wasn’t any country breakup project, but Beck’s Sea Change - not just in the distinctly 2000s vibe to some of these compositions and production that we’ll get back to, but also in the listless, dreamlike fragmentation of the relationship where neither side was entirely in the right or wrong - it just didn’t work and the haze is the distance you need because otherwise it’s just too much. And given what Ruston Kelly has put on his albums surrounding his demons, or the very telling melancholic undercurrents of Golden Hour that always seem to go overlooked, the framing is very believable and as a fan of both artists, I appreciate the relative evenhandedness of the framing, acknowledging Kelly’s depression, self-sabotage, and insecurity in the face of her success, in parallel with Musgraves who may have had a foot out the door instead of really trying and make it work, but it’s not remotely fair to expect her to be his caretaker… even if deep down she might have wanted to try and certainly seems to regret it when faced with the mess of being single. So yeah, even if I think Kelly’s made better music in the past few years, I completely believe what Musgraves is presenting here and I can bet he’d even agree with a lot of it, so even if the language continues to feel more broad and basic compared to her early country material which can lead to redundant moments, it’s still very credible. And yet I really wish the actual music could rise to match it. This is her second album working with producers Ian Fitchuk and Daniel Tashian to lean into the acoustic backed, synth-inflected haze and I’ll repeat what I said with Golden Hour. The album loses momentum and can drag, the blending feels just as inconsistent especially with the vocal leads - I’d love to hear Kacey Musgraves work with FINNEAS, someone needs to make this happen - it feel melodically undercooked without more of a driving tune, and while her embrace of psychedelics has contributed to a very relaxed vibe, it utterly breaks any sense of tension on the album, which even for a breakup as mature as this should at least temper the tragedy, especially when the soft disco touches don’t have anything close to stronger hooks this time. So to summarize… this is an album that only seems to work if you’re just riding the surface vibes, or you’re a diehard fan who is invested in Kacey Musgraves’ personal arc that as of yet still feels inconclusive by the end of this album, where a lot of the imagery she’s evoking doesn’t match the reality of the drama - and if you fall in between, or you don’t have the emotional investment to care about both sides of this divorce drama, I’m not sure there’s enough to satisfy in terms of hooks, distinctive writing, or groove. I don’t consider it boring or an outright dud - the writing and delivery is still really damn good and for what it’s worth some of the weird synthetic layering at least is peculiar enough to hold my interest… but it is her weakest album to date. 7/10, I really wanted to like this a lot more.