In this day and age of artists making a killing on 99 cent downloads and hit singles, the days of that special album that you don’t feel the urge to skip even one song on the entire disc are almost gone. We all have the ones that still reside in our top 3 or 4 albums, the ones that we would have with us in our life vest if we were ever stranded on a desert island (I know, I know, hopefully Gilligan and the Skip left The Professor on the island to help us make a CD player out of coconuts, Mrs. Howell’s necklace, and one of Mary Jane’s Banana Cream pies). My list of CD’s that I just leave the skip buttons alone for are (in no particular order): Too Far to Care – Old 97’s, Heartbreaker – Ryan Adams, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road – Lucinda Williams, Millican – Reckless Kelly, Trouble – Ray Lamontagne, and Failer – Kathleen Edwards, just to name a few of the most recent additions to the club. After listening to Austin Collins’ latest offering, Roses are Black, I realized that I need to sew an extra pocket into my life-vest to make room for this one. Collins is a Texas boy that has one disc already under his belt, 2005’s Something Better. I have to take issue with his debut’s title as I see Roses as a step up in all areas. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed Something Better, but time, experience, a grittier sonic, the invaluable addition of genius Will Johnson (Centro-matic, South San Gabriel) turning the knobs as producer, as well as playing guitar and backing in the vocals dept., have seen Collins make the step from solid to stellar. With much of today’s Rockin’-Country, I’ve noticed a one dimensional tone that sees the artist displaying all rock with simple lyrics (making it “country” in many people’s book), or a story-teller tone that never quite seems to hit the folky mark that the artist is trying to hit. Other critics have likened Collins to various Southern-Rockers like Drive by Truckers, or Son Volt. Unlike many releases from those artists, this is an extremely accessible album that doesn’t come off as the acquired taste that some DBT’s swampier, more moon-shine drenched cuts can often seem. The diversity that is on display in this discs 12 songs is remarkable in the sense that none of the songs ever reach an extreme in tempo on either end, yet still seem to be different enough to provide the listener with an array of moods, and judging by songs such as “Unapology†and “Witching Hour†an array of relational issues and conflict. My favorite lyrics on the disc are contained in “Unapologyâ€. Collin’s sings to a former lover that he cant say he’s “sorry anymore†and that she’s “entitled to the grace that she won’t showâ€. I like lyrics that refuse to take the easy way out. This song, which musically is reminiscent of Whiskeytown’s “16 daysâ€, could be George Strait’s “Easy Come, Easy Goâ€, where everyone involved is happy and ready to move on, but it doesn’t go that route. Picture the light “Easy Come, Easy Go†vibe with a casual middle finger waving effortlessly at this chick who done him wrong and then you have the right picture. The track where I feel that producer Johnson’s fingerprints are most evident is “House Without Windowsâ€. The gritty, moody, muted guitar intro is a prime example of what you might hear on a future Centro-matic record (if you aren’t familiar with Centro-matic, you should be. They are DBT’s Patterson Hood’s favorite band, people!!) Again, lyrically this isn’t a song that chooses the stale, easy, country-cool path. When Collins strains his voice, he laments his “lead-based dreamsâ€. We are left wondering how dangerous such dreams are when the chorus reminds us that his is a house “without windowsâ€. This album also shows a major emphasis on the intro of each song. So many times, a song fails to use instrumentation to paint the picture that the artist wants us to see. The moods that are set with each intro are as integral to each song as the lyrics and inflections that each track. The clean, acoustic strums of the album’s opener, “11 Months†leads elegantly into the echoing tones that wrap the opening words sung by Collins. With this album, Fat Caddy records has positioned itself as a label that is home to some of the best of the Lone Star State (Macon Greyson, Band of Heathens). Thanks to Roses are Black, look for Austin Collins to be the next Texas artist that cant be held by the boundaries of his home state.
About the author: I likes me some wine, women and waffles, not always in that order (but usually). Chaucer is cool, but fart jokes are even better. You feel like spikin' your country with a little soul or mix in a little rock without the roll? Lemme hear from ya!!