Country Catch-Up With Charley Crockett, Eric Church, Jason Isbell, Maren Morris & Morgan Wallen: Rapid Fire Reviews
Lonesome Drifter - Charley Crockett
Charley Crockett has long been a bubbling up figure in a country music scene that exists outside of the tightly controlled Nashville country mainstream. His prolific output has resulted in a pretty dedicated fanbase in love with his throwback country sentiments and dusty vintage outlaw cadence. I've covered his music twice now, but heard several more or his albums and I pretty much always come away with the same impression, mixed. While every record he releases has its high points, they also tend to repeat themselves and occasionally slip into even too obvious country cliches. More importantly, the “character” of Charley Crockett as The Man From Waco, The $10 Cowboy, or in this case, the Lonesome Wanderer, can start to feel a little routine.
I think Lonesome Wanderer starts off strong with its title track and the dejected “Game I Can't Win.” But from there it slips directly into the first song that feels like pure parody, the sauntering, overwrought heartbreak anthem “Jamestown Ferry.” The only other point on the record that feels THAT corny is “Life Of A Country Singer,” a self-aware Dylan-esque ramble where Charley inserts himself into a place in country music history that feels like a “for your consideration" pitch to the CMA's.
I'm a big fan of the short but simple “This Crazy Life,” which slows things down and, as a result, shows off Charley's songwriter side. Though in a much more direct way, he takes on that challenge with a classic piece of narrative country on the very next song, “The Death Of Bill Bailey,” which I'm also a big fan of. The record wraps up in satisfaction, especially with the sentimental “Amarillo By Morning,” whose horns manage to be sullen but infectious. Even though this album is, in large part, just another Charley Crockett record with the same strengths and weaknesses, I think it's more consistent than either of his 2024 projects. As a result, his debut on Island Records could have the chance to send him on a trajectory towards that place in the country mainstream he's been after for so long. 6.5/10
Evangeline vs. The Machine - Eric Church
For a long time, Eric Church carried the torch for a brand of more songwriting-oriented country music cutting through the mainstream and racking up critical praise in the process. Though in retrospect he's always kept more of a foot in both pools than most people remember, he probably still stands behind only Chris Stapleton as the most acceptable face of country music's dignity. I think that's why I was so conflicted about this album's lead single “Hands Of Time,” which certainly features his brand of detail-driven storytelling with a splash of humor, but also reaches a straight-up overwrought conclusion blasting away hokey guitars and loud backup singing.
The very next song on the record, “Bleed On Paper” handles this slightly better by at least setting up a lot of dramatic tension, even if it can also start to feel a bit silly by the end. That momentum is kept up through “Johnny,” a classic downtrodden anthem for the hard times, one that I frankly found pretty welcome to hear from someone in Church's position.
But the second half of the album is much more of a mixed bag, starting with the Chris Stapleton-esque “Darkest Hour.” For starters, the song isn't nearly as much of a duet as it really should be, and it never reaches that peak of emotional punch as a result. But the bigger problem is Eric forcing his voice into these weird, unpleasant squelching honks that don't fit him or the song at all. Even that isn't as bad as the embarrassingly hokey “Rocket's White Lincoln,” whose 4 minutes really do feel closer to 40.
A 4-year absence does not seem to have instilled Eric Church with many good new ideas. While he does attempt to push for new sounds at points on this record, they're often the most misconceived moments. Instead, when he plays it safe and leans into his songwriting ambitions, he makes a few great moments, but it's unfortunately too few and far between to satisfy. 5/10
Foxes In The Snow - Jason Isbell
Limiting Jason Isbell to the realm of “country” has long been cliche, and he's arguably at his most folk-inspired ever on Foxes In The Snow. The album arrives at a turbulent time for Isbell after his divorce from Amanda Shires, and it's something that the album absolutely washes itself in. Fittingly, Isbell is performing solo on these tracks, which meshes extra well with the extremely confessional nature of the writing. That was no problem on the album's remarkable opener and lead single “Bury Me,” but with this presentation, that album will sink or swim entirely on Jason's voice and songwriting.
The album is at its most impressive when Jason is at his rawest and most candid. “Eileen” is a great example as he contemplates the possibility of being alone, even if it isn't a reality he's had to face yet. It gets even better on “Gravelweed,” where he credits his previous relationship with helping him grow as a person from a more immature point in his life. The hook, in particular, is an incredible moment where he calls out about his own love songs betraying him and not meaning what they used to, really great stuff.
The title track “Foxes In The Snow” is actually a love song and I like it a lot. It manages to be incredibly infectious while also serving up a few major lyrical highlights, slotting playful turns of phrase into relatively simple refrains in impressive fashion. “Good While It Lasted” cleverly subverts its title by making the “it” in question moments when Jason briefly isn't thinking about his divorce. It also highlights just how good of a songwriter he is, something that's even more obvious on the track that precedes it,, “Crimson And Clay.”
The rawest moment on the entire record is “True Believer” where Jason drags his voice through these soaring, angsty wails as he croaks out lyrics about how hurt he feels about being blamed for his relationship falling apart. He's once again incredibly candid on how it's affected him mentally, to the point that it can be a little difficult to hear. Because of moments just like that throughout the record, Foxes truly feels like a peeling back of the curtain on one of the most acclaimed songwriters of the past 20 years. His talent means that these songs drift gracefully between sunny optimism and dejected introspection and manage to be incredibly catchy despite just how much they have to say. Even if the format of just Jason and his guitar can be a bit dry for a song or two on the album, it's largely the perfect medium for him to show off a side of himself that's more vulnerable than ever before. The record shows you a clearer portrait of Jason the man than ever before, but it also reminds me exactly why I've always found Jason the songwriter so spectacular. 8/10
D R E A M S I C L E - Maren Morris
Oh, Maren Morris, country music's woke mom. While she won a lot of people over by taking on Tucker Carlson directly over trans issues, musically, she really clicked with me on her 2022 album Humble Quest. While it isn't perfect, it has a soul and intention well beyond so much of the assembly line country slop that comes from the Nashville factories. So while i never expect Maren to drop the album of the year or anything, it's certainly music worth getting excited for. That anticipation increased even further when i heard the great single “carry me through,” which still may be the best song on the album.
But it also gets off to a great start with the playful opener “lemonade” and the slinky Jack Antonoff-produced “people still show up.” Both show off not only Maren's talent but the authenticity and conviction that separates her from her peers. The record isn't perfect, though, in fact, there are times when Maren's authenticity hits its limits. One of those times is “cut!” which features Julia Michaels for a song that is literally about being a mother and the expectation to always present perfectly. I certainly wouldn't mind hearing the song playing over a speaker at Target, but I'm at least a decade away from enjoying this kind of mom-core, hopefully. It also comes right after the track “cry in the car” which is a swing at a soaring 80s pop ballad that I'm fairly certain misuses the phrase “ice in my veins.”
That's sort of how the album works, oscillating between moments like the genuinely potent “i hope I never fall in love” and moments like the unbearably corny “too good.” While the resulting listening experience is inconsistent and has its cringey moments, it's still crafted around the vulnerable, honest songwriting and inviting vocals of Maren Morris. What it loses in sonic intrigue from her previous record, it mostly makes up for with maturity, even if its brightest points are the ones where Maren has lost as much of her inhibition as possible. 6/10
I'm The Problem - Morgan Wallen
There isn't much suspense in this review, because there was never really any chance of it being positive. I've been known to complain about album length, and Morgan Wallen is absolutely one of the worst offenders, dishing out a painful 2 hours of material spread across 37 songs. What may be a surprise to some of you is just how much I've enjoyed certain Morgan Wallen songs in the past. His albums have always been bloated and packed full of commercial sellout garbage, but hidden somewhere in the folds, there's always a great songwriter. But on I'm The Problem he really has lost touch with that ambition, as even the records highlights fail to reach the same galaxy as songs like “7 Summers” or “One Thing At A Time.”
One big impediment to me enjoying the album is that Wallen has not evolved thematically at all. Though there are moments of intrigue, for the most part, we are once again taking a dive into his whiskey-fueled heartbreaks over and over again for the full 2 hours. The only real intrigue is finding out whether he's going to bitterly flame his exes in retrospect or, occasionally, take some kind of accountability. Painfully, the record leads off with its title track and “I Got Better,” two deeply bitter outings that set that tone for the full listen.
Though the album certainly gets better across its, next few tracks we don't reach a real highlight until “Falling Apart.” It's the first point on the record where Wallen feels genuinely remorseful, and his anguish cries against a backdrop of gentle synths is surprisingly compelling. Even though it's kind of corny and the bassline reminds me a lot of Luke Combs’ “The Kind Of Love We Make,” I do think the narrative-driven countdown of “20 Cigarettes” makes for another solid moment on the record. I also quite enjoyed two of the album's many singles, specifically the poppy playful “Love Somebody” and the Post Malone-featuring “I Ain't Coming Back.” I also found myself enjoying “I’m A Little Crazy” more and more each time I heard it, but part of that might be because it meant we were at the end of the album.
In contrast, some of Wallen's new worst songs pop up here. The record's worst slow cut is the preachy and overwrought “Revelation,” which has nothing to say for itself that 30 other songs here don't say even better. The peak of unapologetic vengefulness comes on the deeply unpleasant “Kiss Her I'm Front Of You,” whose title is pretty self-explanatory. It also comes back-to-back with the record's worst production job, the staticy slop “If You Were Mine.” Combine it with the Florida Georgia Line-esque “Don't We” and the whiny “Come Back As A Redneck” and you've got the worst stretch on the record by far.
There are plenty more low points to be found but frankly I've heard the record 3 times now and I never fucking want to hear it again. There's a tolerable 45 minutes of music in here, which is for some reason stretched into a deeply repetitive and often lifeless 2 hours of Morgan Wallen swinging at any trending sound or style in his peripheral vision in the desperate hope that a few of them hit. Do not subject yourself to this. 3/10
