Stranger’s Voice, William Matheny (from the Hickman Holler/Thirty Tigers release That Grand, Old Feeling)
If you’ve ever read any of our artist interviews, you’ve read many of them talk about touring life being 23 hours spent traveling, dealing with the business side of music, or just sitting around venues for the hour or two of joy that they get playing music. Not a great ratio.
On his latest album, West Virginia’s William Matheny expands on this insider’s view, approaching the topic with intelligence, candor, and a sly sense of humor. “Every Way To Lose” sets the tone with its title alone. Matheny reflects, “’I once had a birthright but then I traded it in on a fine collection of motel pens” before making his point in the chorus:
So many ways to be a winner
I wouldn’t know how to choose
And I’m not one to kid a kidder
But I know every way to lose
“If You Could Only See Me Now” chronicles the toll that touring life takes on relationships. While Matheny tries to paint a positive picture, perhaps to incite some jealousy, a wailing pedal steel guitar and plaintive melody raise some doubts.
If you could only see me now
Somewhere out here in the dim lights
Feeding my public every single night
And holding court just like a king
If you could only see me now
Drinking gin and bumming cigarettes
And smiling wide ‘cause I’ve got no regrets
About how life’s been good to me
“Down at the Hotel Canfield” finds him getting somewhat philosophical about a life spent on the road, reflecting “life’s just looking for something other than what you’re doing, but it ain’t like I’ve got anywhere to be.” He leans into touring’s darker side “Christian Name”. “I’ve been living on adderall, fingernails and alcohol,” he sings, “It’s still a prison if you build your own walls”.
He brings things to a close, figuratively and literally, with “Stranger’s Voice”. He first somewhat sarcastically describes another artist sharing the bill – “There’s a man with graying temples and the name of a band, but he’s just a guitar and a microphone stand” – before turning attention to himself:
I’ll be singing from 9 to forever
Up in front of some old dart board
As I face my eternal damnation
Down at the bar at the end of the world
Musically, this is midwestern-style rock in its finest form – taut with driving rhythms and plenty of electric guitar. When combined with Matheny’s sharp lyrics, it makes That Grand, Old Feeling one of the year’s best rock and roll albums.
Whatever Helps You Sleep, Abby Hamilton (from the Blue Gown Records release #1 Zookeeper (of the San Diego Zoo))
Kentucky’s Abby Hamilton is a welcome new voice in Americana. And what a voice it is, both figuratively and literally. On the figurative front, her songwriting is sublime. “Fine”, for example, chronicles an encounter with a former lover with the lingering hope that some love still remains. “It ain’t bad luck,” she laments, “it’s just poor stewardship of some damn good lovin’.”
The title track finds Hamilton thinking about an ex:
Now I’m wondering who you’re sleeping with
Thought starts and it doesn’t quit
Then I let it take me all the way down
Self-sabotage until I drown
As her imagination runs wild, she personifies the new lover with a touch of sarcasm, “I bet she’s the number one zookeeper at the San Diego Zoo and all she wants to do is touch you, good for you”.
Several songs focus on making the most of one’s life. “Lucky” chronicles a woman trying to make her way in the world. “Ain’t we all just tryin’ to get lucky,” she sings before adding “don’t drop me on a limb just to watch it break, oh for heaven’s sake”. Hamilton takes it a step further on “Good Thing” and “Whatever Helps You Sleep”. The former celebrates living in the moment (“Put all tomorrow’s worries on the shelf because tomorrow can take care of itself”) while the latter, with its tasty George Harrison-esque slide guitar, advises one to do “whatever brings you back to life, oh whatever makes you feel alright”.
And as for her literal voice, it is both powerful and pristine. She wonderfully adapts it to suit the song – sometimes singing barely above a whisper; other times unleashing its full intensity.
Abby Hamilton makes quite a statement with her debut album. No doubt she’s just getting started so, for now, just enjoy the rapture of #1 Zookeeper (of the San Diego Zoo).
Beggar For Your Love, Margo Cilker (from the Fluff & Gravy Records release Valley of Heart’s Delight)
Margo Cilker may hail from the West Coast but her music has tremendous Southern allure. For starters, there’s the New Orleans vibe of “Keep It On a Burner”. Horns and simmering organ, not to mention a fun Creedence Clearwater Revival reference, give it an irresistible charm.
“I Remember Carolina” is a musical road trip across America which, thanks to the rousing interplay of piano, accordion, and pedal steel, has a decidedly honky-tonk flair. “Steelhead Trout”, with its spirited fiddle and accordion, continues the hoedown. The song is ostensibly about fishing but equally about perseverance.
The ballad “Beggar For Your Love”, with its piano and subtle banjo, explores the unevenness of relationships as Cilker reflects “when you get lonely I will remember how it hurt me when I was a beggar, a beggar for your love”. “Crazy or Died” celebrates people in her life she has respected and lost but closes with a lament on the sinister world in which we live. “Everyone I look up to has gone crazy or died,” she sings.
Valley of Heart’s Delight strikes the right balance between melodic accessibility and lyrical depth. And is simply a great listen.
Faded Love, Restos (from the self-released Ain’t Dead Yet)
Restos – (Spanish for “remains”) – emerged from the ashes of Austin’s Western Youth and immediately established themselves as one of that town’s leading rock bands. Think Tom Petty if he was raised on the red dirt of Texas. From the percussive intro of album opener “Wild Heart” to the urgent closer “Time” these boys make it clear that they came to rock. It’s a point they make themselves with the mid-album track “I Came Here To Rock and Roll”.
Failed relationships are a notable theme. The ballad “Your One” with its prominent piano and strings, finds singer-songwriter Graham Weber lamenting “I waited patiently for something more, but now I know I’ll never be your one”. Album stand-out “Faded Love” finds Weber acknowledging “we both know I’m gonna fuck it up again” even as he decries “faded love feels like giving up”.
If you’re in the market for some well-crafted rock and roll, look no further than Restos.
Am I Ok, Jerry Joseph (from the Cosmo Sex School Records release Baby, You’re the Man Who Would Be King)
Like many an artist, Jerry Joseph saw his musical plans grind to a halt back in spring of 2020. He was finishing up The Beautiful Madness, an outstanding album that featured Drive-By Truckers as his backing band when the world ground to a halt. In the subsequent darkness and uncertainty, the seeds of Baby, You’re the Man Who Would Be King were planted.
While it would be understandable if the songs wallowed in pandemic misery, Joseph instead chose to infuse them with an air of perseverance. “Some days just accept the battle, hide in the trees or get back in the saddle,” he sings on upbeat album opener “The War I Finally Won”. He follows that up with the title track, confidently proclaiming “we’re gonna get through this.”
Which isn’t to say that there aren’t moments of darkness. Fiddle and accordion add a rollicking flair to “Am I Ok” as Joseph exclaims, “well I’m down here in the darkness, throw some fuckin’ light my way.” He further explains:
If I’m supposed to die here on this blue Ikea rug
I’d implore you gentlemen to rustle up some harder drugs
I didn’t come to battle monsters. I came here for a hug
Late in the album he offers the uplifting and inspirational “Loving Kindness”:
Hey it’s all up to you
whatever you do
there’s loving kindness
hey whatever you choose
god gave it to you
his loving kindness
Amen. A worthy sentiment from a meaningful album.
Maybe There Are Angels, My Sister, My Brother (from the self-released My Sister, My Brother II)
My Sister, My Brother is the duo of Garrison Starr and Sean McConnell. The name is an apt one – their combined voices have the type of magic that is typically only found among siblings. It’s their songs, however, that make this collection so special. The music oozes melancholy yet their lyrics are uplifting. “Cry Me a River” encourages a partner to release pent-up emotions to find some cathartic tranquility. The string-laden arrangement only adds to the song’s beauty.
“Maybe There Are Angels” is another gem in the collection. Piano and acoustic guitar anchor the restrained ballad as the singers question how one can find happiness amidst a life of hardship and bad decisions. “Think I’ve figured out that faith and doubt are the same, just different angles,” they sing.
“Another Life” is the album’s lone – but glorious – rocker. The song celebrates a joyful relationship and is pure pop goodness, right down the Elton John reference: “We were deep in conversation trying to name the constellations, Singing b b Benny and the Jets”.
Here’s hoping there is more to come from this tremendous collaboration. It’s just so good.
Forwards, The Alarm (from the Twenty First Century Recording Company release Forwards)
Mike Peters is nothing if not consistent. Since the beginning of his career, the Wales songwriter has crafted rock anthems as good as anyone. Forward, his band’s latest album, only adds to this legacy.
Opener and title track “Forwards” sets the tone perfectly. It bristles with a kinetic energy as Peters proclaims his desire to find contentment in his life and the world:
In the streets of the abandoned
In the homelessness of youth
I’ve been searching, my belongings
Trying to find something that looks like the new truth
That theme of perseverance and idealistic hope permeates Forwards. “Another Way”, as the title suggests, preaches that one can always find the path, well, forward. “I leave no flowers, I’ll shed no tears,” he sings, “‘cause there’s another way out of here.” On the furious rocker “Next” he adds, “all is possible, all is understood, whatever doesn’t kill me makes me feel alive.”
The fury continues, albeit with a different message on “Love Disappearing”. An angry Peters lashes out at the hatred, violence, and suffering that he sees in the world. “Love disappearing from our world, fading fast,” he sings, “love, sending a message, sending an S.O.S.” Sounds about right, unfortunately.
Without You, Shadwick Wilde (from the Sofaburn Records release Forever Home)
Louisville, Kentucky’s Shadwick Wilde may have cut his teeth in punk bands but, if Forever Home is any indication, indie folk is his true calling. The album is musically restrained but lyrically intense, one filled with both beauty and pain, tranquility and sorrow.
The happy-go-lucky sounding “Better Version of You” is a prime example. Wilde celebrates a lover (“I hope you know you’re beautiful, that’s why I tell you all the time”) while recognizing his own shortcomings and impact on the relationship:
Don’t let me pin my hopes upon you
Don’t let me drag you around the way I do
Go and be a better version of you
Go and be a brighter light to shine through
Go and be a better version of you, of you, of you
“Floating Away” captures the slow disintegration of a relationship. Wilde acknowledges both the situation and his inability to change it, admitting “I hope that we end up in the same sea, but it’s not up to me alone.”
There’s a fatalistic undercurrent to several of the songs. The acoustic “Gardener’s Blues” describes a summer spent fighting weeds in the garden. While Wilde seems to enjoy it (“Smilin’, I’ll strangle them out”), he adds “When I am dead, let me sleep with the honeysuckle vines, the ironweed and the dandelion”.
The view gets even stronger on “Without You”. The song opens with a reflection on the passage of time shared with a companion (“but the memory is fading even now, of you standing in the summer rain”) but quickly focuses on the inevitable:
I don’t want to leave you here alone
I don’t want to leave this place without you
But everybody leaves this place alone
Everybody leaves this world alone
It even inhabits the closing title track, which finds Wilde professing love for a companion while also declaring:
But if you should ever find
There’s a better home for you
I would burn it all to the ground
So you could start anew
Yet despite their bleakness, there’s a gentle beauty – and dare I say warmth – that inhabits these songs. As Wilde says in “Dark Hours”: “ There will be dark hours in our lives, don’t be afraid.”
The Heron, Van Plating (from the self-released Orange Blossom Child)
Van Plating and I have something in common – we both spent our youth in Florida. Hence, I find personal connection to Orange Blossom Child, her album about the experience. For those who know, Florida has its own brand of Southern life. It’s one filled with sunshine, water, and wildlife (both figurative and literal). And it’s one that Van Plating perfectly captures.
Her approach isn’t to provide a detailed descriptions but rather to bring it to life, doing so in a way that is relatable even if you’re not from Florida. There’s a tale of heading out on a Friday night in search of good times (“The Sugar Palm Club” and the title track) and one about fighting for one’s self despite – or perhaps to spite – other’s perceptions (“They’re Gonna Kill You Anyway”) and one that is a biting take-down of a man who treated her wrong (“Big Time Small Shot”).
“The Heron” is the most overtly Florida of the collection, name checking the Suwannee River, State Road A1A, and the Seminole Native American tribe. The song, which features fellow Floridian Elizabeth Cook, celebrates both music and the waterborne lifestyle.
And speaking of Cook, there’s a certain irony that Van Plating’s album about Florida, a state known for tourism, features numerous guests. Others include Nathan Mongol Wells and Billy Law, Kirby Brown, and Willy & Cody Braun (of Reckless Kelly), to name just a few.
The bottom line: whether you’re from Florida or not, Orange Blossom Child is as entertaining as it is enjoyable.
Roll Up, Gonzalez Smith (from the Middlebrow Records/Bobo Integral release Roll Up a Song)
Gonzalez and Smith is a collaboration between Jay Gonzalez, known to many for his work with Drive-By Truckers, and comedy writer Pete Smith. 17 tracks, only 2 of which exceed three minutes – all of which are catchy and fun.
The collection has an eclecticism that recalls the late Harry Nilsson, never a bad thing. There are full-on power pop songs like the title track and “She’s My Girl”. There are Burt Bacharach-style piano and string-laden ballads like “I Wish the Day” and “Silhouette”. There are eclectic and orchestral gems, a la Brian Wilson, like “The Lexington Line”. There’s “Lindsay Buckingham”, a tribute to the legendary musician with guitar-playing in the Buckingham style. You get the picture – this is a mad genius kinda record in all the best ways.
About the author: Mild-mannered corporate executive by day, excitable Twangville denizen by night.