I’m generally a fan of debut albums. Without the pressure to follow up an earlier record, or put something out to satisfy the label, an artist can cull from their life’s best work. Sometimes that can go awry, though, when a musician has worked their way through a variety of styles on their way to crafting their sound and they end up with a collection of singles that’s no greater than its parts. Nashvillian Joel Timmons avoided that fate on his first release, Psychedelic Surf Country, by telling stories with a common theme–his own life. Having Maya De Vitry produce the album no doubt helped the focus with her own depth of experience.
The autobiographical bent starts with the first cut, Just A Man. It’s a tribute to Timmons dad, told through the pyromaniacal anecdote of a Christmas tree bonfire that in hindsight is an example of his father’s humanity. He also relates how he found some common values with bass player-extraordinaire wife Shelby Means’ father, where “when he pulled out his Gibson I knew we’d be friends.” Featuring Jason Carter on fiddle and harmony vocals it’s also a broader lesson on getting along with others who don’t see things your way. The Luke Bell-penned honky-tonker, The Bullfighter, fits in the theme as Timmons first heard it in a Bell show at Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge. It features Cary Ann Hearst on vocals, and Brett Resnick on slide, who played on the original version.
There’s a nice vein of subtle humor in several tunes. Turbo has a retro, R&B-meets-rock style in a tale of being busted for pot by a black Lab in the K9 unit. Even funkier is Tryin‘, with its southern R&B groove, about trying to do all kinds of things to improve oneself in an attempt to get the girl. Swimming Song is a Loudon Wainwright III composition with the surf guitar of the record title, and Means and De Vitry on background vocals. Unquestionably my favorite cut on the album is East Nashville Cowboy. It’s an exaggerated country shuffle with Means and Hearst doing background yodeling and vocals. It’s also an examination of where the line is between a musician with character and just another East Nashville poser.
Although a little less explicit in some songs than others, Joel Timmons wrote an album of stories about what made him who he is. You can hear some of the insecurity poke through occasionally, but also the lessons learned, some harder than others. He then leveraged his musical community to turn those stories into an album that leaves you hungry to hear more. For that reason, don’t pass up Psychedelic Surf Country.
About the author: I've actually driven from Tehatchapee to Tonopah. And I've seen Dallas from a DC-9 at night.