All Aboard: Your Escalade, My Freak-Parade. 2k4's 10 Best Country Albums.
Jan 09 '05
The Bottom Line The Bottom Line ain't no high class broad.
An exceptional year for socially and politically timely music, really, 2004 certainly offered an interesting proposition to country music in particular, seeing as how it is notorious for its status as the most conservative genre in popular music. It was a surprising move, then, that mainstream country-- despite the fact that Toby Keith and pals more or less got their way on November 2nd-- attempted to present itself as taking something of a progressive turn this year. That the artists bearing responsibility for this infusion of would-be novel ideas into the Nashville zeitgeist-- Big & Rich and Gretchen Wilson, The Sopranos ruling over the self-titled Muzik Mafia, who broke through in a very big way this year-- actually shrouded their conservative streaks in the guise of barrier breaking would resonate as an even more disturbing, insidious development than it is if not for the fact that Nashville has never really been clued in to such things.
It's impossible to be disappointed when you've been completely robbed of great expectations.
So, Wilson branded herself a ball-busting pioneer, breaking into Keith's and Montgomery Gentry's boys' club, neglecting the fact that her music owes a considerable debt to some influential male artists and that, more importantly, it's laced with a casual misogyny that actively undermines her marketing. Big & Rich attempted to position themselves as voices for inclusion, but they entirely overlooked the responsibilities entailed in doing so. And, as much as things might appear to change in Nashville, the more they stay the same-- in 2004, Toby Keith released both the woman-hating "Whiskey Girl" and the flag-waving "American Soldier," Lonestar played "Mr. Mom" and managed to lose whatever shred of credibility they had left, and Martina McBride received yet more industry accolades for wasting that huge voice of hers on not one but two repulsive, exploitative songs about dead children, one of them ("God's Will," and I'm no theologian, but no, it isn't) clocking in as possibly the longest five minutes in the history of recorded sound.
As a result, examining a genre that's been content to tread water for going on four years, lacking any social or political imperative to do otherwise, it isn't hard to see how the Muzik Mafia's attempts might appear progressive. And finding fault in even an ineptly executed attempt is an action laced with a twinge of guilt, since country music has so few mainstream artists willing to make such efforts at all, lest they find themselves Dixie Chick'ed right out of town. Which is why, as usual, finding the year's most artistically worthy country music means looking beyond the major labels and incorporating a genre definition perhaps a bit fuzzier than the one Big & Rich use. And, if the year offered only one flat-out brilliant country album, 2004 offered a wealth of very good to excellent ones that conveyed a deep understanding of the genre's greater functions as a vehicle for positive change and powerful artistic exploration.
2004's 10 (Or 13) Best Country Albums:
10. Rejoicing in the Hands, Devendra Banhart. Young God. // Our Endless Numbered Days, Iron & Wine. // Seven Swans, Sufjan Stevens.
2004 saw a three-pronged attack on contemporary folk from the likes of Iron & Wine, Sufjan Stevens, and Devendra Banhart, each of whom released career-best works that catapulted them from status as quirky also-rans to genuine, deserved critics' darlings. The albums from Iron & Wine-- the moniker of one Samuel Beam-- and Sufjan Stevens-- who I will refer to as "Bob" until he provides a definitive pronunciation of his name-- are more obviously companion pieces, as both men possess just the quietest tenors-- sensitive without being emo, thankfully-- both build their songs on delicate acoustic instrumentation and are unafraid to place a banjo at the forefront of their production, and both write the occasional song of open spiritual questioning. They'd likely be huge stars in the red states were they willing to drop that unfortunate questioning streak. Banhart, then, is the odd man out, which couldn't be more fitting for an artist most frequently classified as "freak-folk." Often armed with little more than a twelve track, an acoustic guitar, and that inimitable bleating-goat voice of his, Banhart is defined by his idiosyncrasies, but he stakes his claim as a modern-day troubadour because he isn't limited by them. He's no less celebratory or soulful a folk artist than Iron & Wine or Bob Stevens, and Rejoicing in the Hands, Our Endless Numbered Days, and Seven Swans are a trifecta that rejuvenated a tired genre even as they aimed for more personally transcendent goals. Rating: **** all around.
09. Stay Poor, Stay Happy, Cub Country. Future Farmer.
Would that the entire album lived up to that title, as loaded a political statement as any released in 2004. So, if Stay Poor, Stay Happy sets the bar of expectation unreasonably high, it's nonetheless an excellent album that succeeds on more modest terms. Perhaps the greatest accomplishment on Stay Poor, Stay Happy is that it maintains a consistently melancholy tone that never once crosses the line into cloying self-pity. It isn't an album that offers easy resolutions to its lingering disquiet, but it's an album that thrives on the knowledge that the most meaningful conclusions don't come easy, if they come at all. Frontman Jeremy Chatelain gained a small but devoted following with both Handsome and Jets To Brazil, and he's assembled a tight outfit with Cub Country, who stake out a meandering groove on this, the band's sophomore effort. Ultimately, it's that meandering that gets Stay Poor, Stay Happy into trouble-- the songs frequently exceed five minutes and, while still very good, they often overstay their welcome as a result. With some selective editing, Stay Poor, Stay Happy certainly would've been an even stronger album. As is, however, it's an engaging album from a band with a distinctive sound, and it hints at greatness even beyond that vicious title. Rating: ****.
08. Dents and Shells, Richard Buckner. Merge.
Though it's an idea widely popularized by high school students who don't know any better, only a select handful of songwriters can make a legitimate claim that their lyrics read like poetry. Buckner, a former bookstore clerk whose best efforts render the songwriting term "literate" meaningless, is handily among those artists. That the lyrics to the songs on Dents and Shells are printed in poem form, complete with indents and parentheses, doesn't come off as pretentious speaks to his undeniable gift with the form. His previous two efforts, however, were difficult works-- 2000's The Hill was a risky but ultimately brilliant and rewarding stunt performance, but 2002's Impasse found Buckner turning so far inward as to render the album impenetrable at best and, at worst, unlistenable. That Buckner enlisted an actual band for the first time since his third release, Since, gives Dents and Shells some much needed breathing room, and it wraps his dense poetics in a rootsy production that, if not quite radio-friendly, is the most accessible of his career. It's still a challenging listen, to be sure, but Dents and Shells makes a better first impression than much of Buckner's recent output and leaves no less lasting a one because of it. Rating: ****.
07. Favourite Colours, The Sadies. Yep Roc.
Making their first of two appearances on this list are Canadian imports The Sadies, whose Favourite Colours marks a considerable step forward for a band previously overshadowed by their obvious influences and known primarily for their instrumental efforts. And, though the cover photo still suggests that they're aping The Byrds, the content of Favourite Colours finds The Sadies incorporating subtle atmospheric touches into their country-rock, and there are more vocal tracks on the album than on their earlier efforts-- though the three instrumental cuts make it abundantly clear why they're an in-demand touring band. They can still tear it up, no question, but it's to their benefit that Favourite Colours shows a definite departure from their garage influences. It's still adventurous, unconventional work, but there's a polish to Favourite Colours that commands authority on behalf of an act wanting to make sure that they don't become best known as someone else's backing band. Rating: ****.
06. The Duel, Allison Moorer. Sugar Hill.
Why stick to any one style, when you can flaunt the fact that you're good at everything, instead? Such is the case of Allison Moorer, who followed in older sister Shelby Lynne's blue-eyed soul vein with Miss Fortune, but who forges full-steam into Neil Young territory on The Duel, an album of potent, rough-edged roots rock. Moorer's pristine voice has always been her primary selling point-- that she changes her sound so frequently is a function of the simple fact that she can sing absolutely anything and make it sound amazing-- but she shows clear growth as a lyricist on The Duel. If it isn't a start-to-finish concept album like The Hardest Part, still the best album of her great career, The Duel retains a consistent thematic tone of deep-rooted conflicts: personal, political, and spiritual. Moorer's at her best when she sticks to internal conflicts on songs like "I Ain't Givin' Up On You," but that she's willing to take God ("The Duel") and country ("All Aboard") to task cements her position as one of the ballsiest women in any genre of music. If she's feeling conflicted these days, she still exudes a well-earned confidence. Rating: ****.
05. Drag It Up, Old 97s. New West.
Last we heard from Old 97s, on 2000's Satellite Rides, they were following Wilco's path into power-pop territory and sounded no less confident or vital for the change of direction, and frontman Rhett Miller's solo debut, the unjustly slept-on The Instigator, suggested that the band's next album would certainly continue to forge a distinct identity somewhere between The New Pornographers and Fountains of Wayne. So when Drag It Up opened with Miller singing, "You're a bottlecap away / From pushing me too far" over what sounded like Drive-By Truckers performing behind him, the album was met with confusion. Subsequently, Drag It Up has been dismissed as a regression for Old 97s, rather than as the return-to-form it represents for the band. Maybe Satellite Rides was the diversion, after all-- not that such things matter too much when the albums in question are as excellent as Drag It Up. Old 97s have been one of the most consistently great bands in country for the better part of a decade, and Drag It Up finds the band at their rough-hewn best. What they incorporate from Satellite Rides is their skill in writing a killer hook, and Miller's pop culture references and sly self-reflexive streak recall the best of Stephen Malkmus. An album that rewards repeated listens, Drag It Up is already overdue for revisionism, which, as an interesting coincidence, places it in the company of Wilco's 2004 release. Rating: ****.
04. The Tigers Have Spoken, Neko Case. Anti.
The Tigers Have Spoken is a disappointment in precisely two ways. One: It lacks the overall thematic coherence that made its two predecessors, Furnace Room Lullaby and Blacklisted, such powerful artistic statements, easily the best country albums released in each of their respective years. Two: Its running time is but a scant 35 minutes, and the quality and the breadth of the live performances offered on The Tigers Have Spoken would fully justify double that. Case is in such fine voice that it should be criminal for anyone actually to sing this well, and backing band The Sadies prove themselves more than up to the challenge of supporting such a dynamic performance. Only one of the twelve tracks is taken from her studio albums, so The Tigers Have Spoken isn't the superfluous exercise in self-promotion that so many other live albums turn out to be, nor is it simply an appetizer for the studio album she has due in the Spring. It's an essential addition to Case's small but brilliant catalogue. No artist can be the best every single time, but Case is still batting 1.000. She's country music's Pixar. Rating: ****.
03. Tambourine, Tift Merritt. Lost Highway.
It's quite the impressive learning curve Tift Merritt displays with Tambourine. Her debut album, Bramble Rose, was a solid if unremarkable singer-songwriter effort that gave promise that she might eventually record a classic album, but there was nothing to indicate that she'd do precisely that with her sophomore disc. It's comparable to the growth shown between Tuesday Night Music Club and Sheryl Crow, the difference between vague, abstract promise and legitimate artistic mettle. Like Crow, Merritt isn't doing anything truly revolutionary-- so there's still plenty of room to get even better-- but she's just simply exceptional at what she does do. On Tambourine, she flawlessly incorporates some classic soul production into her roots-rock, and, while her debut drew comparisons to Linda Ronstadt and Kim Richey, this album places Merritt in the awfully nice company of Shelby Lynne, even as her voice makes her sound even more like Emmylou Harris. That Tambourine is a better album than even those lofty comparisons imply makes it one of the year's most exciting releases from any genre. And consider: NARAS actively avoids anything alt-country unless it's made by a big name like a Lucinda Williams or a Lyle Lovett, but even they nominated Tambourine for a Best Country Album Grammy. Rating: ****.
02. O.C.M.S., Old Crow Medicine Show. Netwerk America.
Their formation already the stuff of modern Music City folklore-- the members of Old Crow Medicine Show met in New York City, embarked on a cross-country tour on which they learned how to play their traditional instruments and, just as importantly, how to play them together, then took up residence on the sidewalk directly across the street from the Grand Ole Opry, only to be invited on stage within a matter of weeks-- Old Crow Medicine Show may be the closest thing Nashville ever has to its very own version of The Strokes. That their debut, O.C.M.S., was produced by no less than David Rawlings and features his most famous collaborator, Gillian Welch, playing percussion on a few tracks gives clear indication that the band has made quick work out of impressing many of the right people.
Listening to the album, it's not hard to see how. With their inventive acoustic arrangements of a half-dozen dusted-off public domain songs and originals that sound every bit as timeless, Old Crow Medicine Show approach their material with an unfettered enthusiasm. If co-lead singers Keith Secor and Willie Watson are obviously affecting their nasal vocal deliveries, it goes a long way toward verifying my sneaking suspicion that their true voices sound a whole lot more like, say, JC Chasez's than would fit their material. It's a testament to the band's undeniable skill, then, that this doesn't diminish the album's potency in the least. If it's all just a put-on-- though Rawlings' attachment pretty well definitively proves otherwise-- it's done with such unimpeachable talent and expertise that it wouldn't even matter. O.C.M.S. is the best country debut since Wide Open Spaces. Rating: ****.
01. Van Lear Rose, Loretta Lynn. Interscope.
Patty Loveless' Mountain Soul finally gets some competition for the title of the decade's best country album. And it isn't just a matter of home-state bias on my part: no other country albums released in the past four years come close. Though they sound nothing alike, both Mountain Soul and now Van Lear Rose rank among the select few albums in any genre that truly demand the type of critical analysis that separates "pop-art" from "art." That the breakthrough of another supposed redneck woman who did absolutely nothing to merit the frequent comparisons she drew to Lynn, rather than the actual Lynn's glorious, wholly unexpected return to relevance, was the biggest story in country music in 2004 should be criminal and ultimately speaks to everything rotten at the genre's core. But why dwell on the negative? Van Lear Rose stands entirely on its own, a fearless, peerless statement of artistic identity from a woman whose place in music history was already firmly secured but whose legacy is all the richer for the effort. Further fawning praise here. Rating: *****.
4 Stars, Handed Out Like Candy:
11. Change of Living, The Only Children. Glurp.
Former emo kids (of The Anniversary) make like Dubya's cabinet and get out while the getting's still good. That they landed in a comfortable patch of country occupied by Old 97s rather than in the Reagan-era posturing of The Killers somehow makes them seem progressive. They aren't, but The Only Children acquit themselves in their new career quite nicely just the same.
12. Lonely Runs Both Ways, Alison Krauss & Union Station. Rounder.
Not the least bit challenging either to the listener or to the artists behind it, Lonely Runs Both Ways is still as technically accomplished as any 2004 release and more purely pretty besides. Dan Tyminski nearly matches Krauss note-for-note when allowed to sing lead, but Krauss' gorgeous voice is in career-best form here.
13. Impossible Dream, Patty Griffin. Ato.
Griffin records her very own latter-day Lucinda Williams album. Fitting, then, that she's the artist who's always been Williams' chief rival as roots music's finest songwriter. Dense, challenging work even when broken into more readily-digestible pieces, Impossible Dream is difficult stuff as a whole, inscrutable in a way that makes it easy to admire but nearly impossible to embrace.
14. Nino Rojo, Devendra Banhart. Young God.
In which the freak flag fully unfurls. Emblematic: "Don't let your eyes pop out / You might drop them on your stove."
15. My Country II, Dan Bern. Messenger.
One of the few contemporary folk artists willing to get overtly political, Bern manages to do so without sacrificing his trademark wit. A too-brief collection of potent protest songs that surely would've ranked higher had they actually been effective.
Oh, like I Wasn't Going to:
2004's Top 10 Country Singles:
10. "Creepin' In," Norah Jones f/ Dolly Parton.
Jones' influences might not be especially difficult ones to acquire, but it's hard to fault anyone for wanting to team up with Dolly Parton. That Jones confidently holds her own suggests that maybe she truly is the real deal so many people have said she is, but it's impossible to imagine this single justifying itself without Parton.
09. "Sweet Southern Comfort," Buddy Jewell.
What sets Jewell apart from the countless others who've been turned into overnight "stars"-- a word that applies more readily to the talents of some (see: Clarkson, Kelly) than to others (ignore: Gracin, Josh)-- by television talent competitions is a legitimate artistic identity borne out of years of experience in the minor leagues. What sets Jewell apart from other artists in Nashville is that his music exudes a genuine warmth. He's a fine singer, but what gives "Sweet Southern Comfort" something akin to resonance is that, listening to it, Jewell just sounds so unabashedly grateful for the opportunity to sing it at all.
08. "It's Hard to Kiss the Lips at Night That Chew Your A*s Out All Day Long," The Notorious Cherry Bombs.
A novelty to be sure, but it's not as though that title doesn't give ample warning. What it doesn't suggest, however, is how well Vince Gill and Rodney Crowell would lighten up now that they're fully a decade removed from commercial relevance.
07. "Songs About Rain," Gary Allan.
Post-modern without making a big thing about it, "Songs About Rain" is a great piece of songwriting, made evident in how the single's emphatic powerballad production neither cheapens the lyrics nor comes off as cloying. And the way Allan, probably mainstream country's best solo male vocalist, snarls the lines, "Now, there's all kinds of songs / About babies and love that goes right," is the most genuine expression of modern male disaffect in any country single in recent memory.
06. "All Aboard," Allison Moorer.
If the mainstream had ever paid attention to Moorer at all, this would've been the single to buy her one-way ticket to The Island of Misfit Toys with The Dixie Chicks and Steve Earle. Too much of a broadside, really, to be a truly genius political statement-- which puts her in the company of Green Day's American Idiot, so don't feel too terribly sorry-- it's an open lament of Nashville's groupthink that's still courageous because Moorer had the nerve to release it at the last possible juncture at which she was still an outside threat to break into the big leagues.
05. "Wagon Wheel," Old Crow Medicine Show.
So, they're sort of a jam band, but Old Crow Medicine Show make their sort-of cover version of Bob Dylan's "Wagon Wheel" a compelling single rather than a tiresome exercise in self-indulgence because they're just so lazy about it. The production and vocals are so loose that the single sounds as though it could all just fall completely apart at any given instant. But "Wagon Wheel" wobbles along steadily in spite of itself and its band, and in doing so becomes a wonderfully self-reflexive single, country's answer to Modest Mouse's "Float On."
04. "Suds in the Bucket," Sara Evans.
The most d@mning piece of evidence that Evans absolutely needs to lay off the Diane Warren treacle, because that accent of hers is far too thick to allow her ever to cross over to bland adult contemporary the way Faith Hill, Jo Dee Messina, and Martina McBride have. So aggressively "traditional country" in its production-- this one's four minutes of undiluted twang and fiddle-- that it would be nearly impossible to believe it was a #1 radio hit if every second of the song didn't demand otherwise, "Suds in the Bucket" deservedly re-established Evans as one of Nashville's brightest stars.
03. "Break Down Here," Julie Roberts.
Comparisons to Trisha Yearwood don't come easy, and if Roberts' self-titled debut isn't as jaw-dropping an opening salvo as was Yearwood's, at least she doesn't embarrass herself in the company. She minds her phrasing, goes for nuance over glorynotes, and has a good ear for material. Here, Roberts absolutely sings the living sh1t out of one of the trickiest, most layered songs in recent memory-- the pun in the title deftly avoids cliché, and the opening verse makes an oblique reference in metaphor to an unwanted pregnancy. And the way she drawls "rear-view mirror" in the hook is worth the price of admission all on its own. That a single as exceptional as "Break Down Here" stalled at a paltry #19 sums up everything wrong with country radio, but there's still no way to hear this single as anything other than the breakthrough of a talent worth following.
02. "Portland, Oregon," Loretta Lynn f/ Jack White.
"Well, Portland, Oregon and sloe gin fizz / If that ain't love, then tell me what is," and who are we to argue? So, for reference: Pour 1 ½ oz Sloe gin and 1 tsp lemon juice over cubed ice in a highball glass. Fill with soda water. Garnish with either a cucumber stick or lemon peel. Repeat until to-go pitcher is full or until you think dating Renee Zellweger makes sense.
01. "Save A Horse (Ride A Cowboy)," Big & Rich.
The best part? The a capella Rawhide / Bonanza theme and single plucked banjo string in the first 10 seconds. It's all downhill from there, but it's a fantastic ride anyhow. The reference to gigging frogs earns them far more street cred than does name-checking Willie Nelson or their use of "Escalade," but read further into them at your own peril and at the expense of what is easily one of the best country singles thus far this decade.
I'm not typically one to find causes for optimism within mainstream country music, but, particularly in some of the singles that were successful at country radio, 2004 managed to give a few sidelong glances in the direction of self-improvement. In a year encapsulated in the thought of statements of mild endorsement being taken as mandates, here's hoping Nashville takes this slight forward momentum and runs with it.
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