My Kind of Country

Country music from a fan's point of view since 2008

Tag Archives: Eric Brace

Album Review: Kelly Willis — ‘Back Being Blue’

Kelly Willis retreated forty miles south of Austin, Texas to The Bunker, her husband Bruce Robison’s rustic recording studio located on a five-acre plot with a fishing hole, to record Back Being Blue, her first solo album in a decade. The album, produced by Robison, was recorded to analog tape using an old board he frequently has fixed from a trusted source in Nashville.

Back Being Blue consists of ten songs, six of which Willis wrote solo, the most she’s ever contributed to any of her seven albums. She says the songs aren’t deeply personal or autobiographical, nor is the album intended as a showcase for her distinctive singing voice.

Willis instead drew inspiration from the melting pot of influences that first inspired her to make music, from Marshall Crenshaw to Skeeter Davis and Crystal Gayle. But one artist, in particular, guided her way:

“Nick Lowe was a real north star for me on this record. Like, ‘What would do Nick Lowe do?’ He was able to write modern songs that were like old songs—that had a cool soul/R&B/Buddy Holly kind of a thing that had sounds from that early rock and roll era—but that felt really fresh and exciting and now. I just love the A-B-C’s of rock and roll. Before everybody had to start piling on different things to make it sound different, it had all been done. With this record I was trying to go with the styles of music that have really impacted my life, especially when I moved to Austin as a teenager, and make it country-sounding like Austin used to sound.”

Lowe may have inspired the album as a whole, but it’s Gayle’s influence driving the sublime title track, which kicks off a trifecta of songs about men, and their inability to treat women with the respect they deserve. A mellow guitar-driven melody framing Willis’ biting and direct lyric:

She’s back in my baby’s arms

And I’m back being blue

The percussion-heavy “Only You” finds a man using the excuse that’s what lovers do to justify his consistently inconsistent behavior — he loves his woman one day than ignores her the next. “Fool’s Paradise,” which beautifully blends fiddle with Urban Cowboy-era guitar riffs, finds a man thinking he can emotionally manipulate a woman who sees him coming from a mile away:

I’m not riding this town

You’ll tell me again if you come back around

All that ache in your voice, like I don’t have a choice

It’s a fool’s paradise

Willis wrote the barnburner “Modern World” to vent her frustrations about how cell phone use has led to a society that’s less engaged. The fiddle returns on the gorgeous “Freewheeling,” about the wish to let go of old anxieties and live a less mentally-stressful life. She’s back in a mournful state of mind on “The Heart Doesn’t Know,” a striking ballad about that feeling of knowing a relationship is over, yet unresolved feelings still remain.

For the remaining four songs, Willis sought contributions from other writers. “Afternoon’s Gone Blind” is a sonically stunning slice of traditional country written by Eric Brace and Karl Straub about an individual having a difficult time with the end of a relationship.

The most eccentric number on Back Being Blue is “I’m A Lover (Not A Fighter),” which was originally released as a single by Davis in 1969 when it peaked at #9. The song exudes a lot of charm, and has an engaging melody, but threw me with the dated reference to Cassius Clay. Willis says she did entertain the idea of swapping out the late boxer’s name for the more contemporary Sugar Ray, but ultimately decided the song should stand as written. It’s growing on me, but it’s not my favorite song on the album, especially with the heavy reverb casting a film over the recording.

It’s no surprise one of the album’s most well-written numbers comes from the pen of Rodney Crowell. He recommended she cut “We’ll Do It For Love Next Time,” a romantic yet risqué ballad about a couple going to second base. Willis handles the song, which features a nice dose of mandolin throughout, with the ease she’s brought to her most stellar recordings over the last 28 years.

Willis closes Back Being Blue with Jeff Rymes and Randy Weeks’ “Don’t Step Away,” a song sent to her by her hairdresser, who recommended it after Willis said she needed one or two more songs to finish the album. The song is bristling with Austin funk, and a fair amount of guitars to bring up the tempo.

When I first listened to Back Being Blue I thought it was less than the sum of its parts. I hold Kelly Willis in the highest esteem and this just wasn’t making it for me. My opinion only changed when I dug into the context behind the album and understood what Willis was going for with the vibe and her relaxed vocals. Back Being Blue is a great album, even if some of her compositions feel unnecessarily repetitive. I’m glad she’s back and steering the conversation in her direction again.

Grade: B+

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Album Review: Nanci Griffith – ‘Intersection’

Much of Nanci Griffith’s work has tended to fall closer to the contemporary folk side of the border with country music, but regardless of genre, her music has been of consistently high quality.  Her 20th album is out now in the UK and Ireland where she is currently touring, and is set for release next month in the US on her own Hell No Records, distributed by Sony.  She has had a tough time in her personal life in the past few years, and the album is reportedly very personal.  Production was a joint effort by Nanci, Pete and Maura Kennedy, and Pat McInerney, with very few outside musicians being involved.

The catchy but abrasive ‘Hell No (I’m Not Alright)’ is angry handclapping protest-folk, and is the first single. Supposedly it is inspired by the Occupy protest movement, but while the official video portrays the latter, I cant detect any overt polical aspects at all in the lyrics. When the song stands on its own merits, it appears to be about a thoughtless man who has let the protagonist down in a personal relationship. Nanci’s personal views about the socio-political situation may have informed her sense of malaise, but standing on its own merits I don’t hear this as a political song at all. The seething anger she expresses at the man’s patronising response to her is universally relateable on a personal level:

Hell no, I’m not alright
You can talk all day and ask all night
Nothing’s gonna change, no end in sight
Hell no, I’m not alright

Did you really think it would be okay
To leave me stranded alone that day?
Did you really think you could wait so long
To call me up to see if you’re alright?

You’re on the bow and I’m alone
And when you’re alone you’re all alone
I’m still gone, it’s all the same
But I’m takin’ notes and I’m namin’ names

Am I the one to get you to forget
That the one is gone, is gone, is gone?
Am I supposed to say you’re okay?
Cause you’re not okay and you’re not okay

The insistently bluesy ‘Come On Up Mississippi’ is more political in the widest sense. It is very short, closking in just under twwo minutes and uses a small children’s choir with unusual restraint. Perhaps the most political song here, it’s an angry response to the poverty of the state of that name and a stirring call for solidarity from other Americans:

Come on up Mississippi
Come on up
I’m coming on up to you
And if only America knew
Of your poverty, your dirty streets, your children with their barefoot feet
They’d all be coming on up to you Missisippi…

Come on up Mississippi
America’s for you

The opening ‘Bethlehem Steel’ laments the closing of a Pennsylvania steelworks in the 1990s and its effect on the town that relied on the jobs it had provided.  She paints a detailed and atmospheric picture of “an American icon”, and a sympathetic portrait of a woman remembering childhood memories of the area’s past prosperity gives it a human face.  Ethereal backing vocals add to the elegaic mood.

The catchy but repetitive ‘Stranded In The High Ground’ was co-written by all four producers, and has a bright feel but doesn’t really go anywhere lyrically. Nanci also revives her own 20-year-old ‘Just Another Morning here’, with Eric Brace and Peter Cooper on harmony; it is on the folkier side of her repertoire and not one of her more interesting songs.

I enjoyed the surprisingly upbeat defiance of ‘Bad Seed’, written by Nanci and Maura about a deeply troubled father-daughter relationship. This is one of the overtly personal songs, with a scorching indictment of the man who has rejected her, with a twist of humor to leaven the soul searing honesty:

I look like him without the mustache
I’ll have that too if I live that long…

When I’m winning he knows me
When I lose I’m his bad seed
After all he told me
Nothing good would become of me
Now that I’ve gone crazy
With no love from my father
Am I the bad seed he always said I would be?

The title track’s mellow laidback sound underpins the resigned lyric about facing failure and having to move on:

It’s time to walk away though I’ll live to curse this day
Sometimes making the best is doing the worst to yourself
And I will not complain
It’s all still the same
I’ve had a hard life and I write it down
I’m at this intersection here between my hopes and dreams and fears
Traveling love boulevard on a green light

Hitting similar notes thematically, the pensive mid-tempo ‘Never Going Back’, written by Mark Seliger, reminisces gently about moving on from a restrictive neighbourhood. Nanci has always been willing to include other writers’ material alongside her own, and the songs selected from outside writers fit in well with her own material here. Blaze Foley’s mournfully beautiful ‘If I Could Only Fly’ is impeccably done. The gentle ‘Davey’s Last Picture’ (written by Robbin Bach and Betty Reeves) is a sensitive and touching tribute to a young firefighter killed on 9/11. Bach sings harmony on this track.

I particularly enjoyed an unexpected and very charming version of ‘Waiting On A Dark Eyed Gal’, written by Ron Davies (brother of Gail) and recorded some years ago by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Nanci’s wistful version changes the song to make it a third person narration, and gives it an attractive acoustic arrangement. There is also a delightful hillbilly cover of a lesser known Loretta Lynn song, the joyful ‘High On A Mountain Top’, with the Steel Drivers’ Richard Bailey contributing rhythmic jangling banjo. This ends the album on a high note.

Grade: A