I’ve heard many musicians, from Todd Snider to Warren Haynes to Kris Kristofferson, advise aspiring songwriters to write about what they know. I have no idea if Texan Dustin Brown heard someone tell him that firsthand, but somewhere along the way he picked up the skill. He grew up the kid where both parents had to work, and his own non-musical career was decidedly blue-collar with gigs as a commercial diver and oil field hand. Even his musical journey started by playing biker bars as an underage band leader. So it should come as no surprise that his self-titled, but 3rd full length, album has a decidedly working man’s sound.
About half the songs on the record have an outlaw country feel. Falcon 9, an already-released single, bemoans the “death of a small town, USA”, where Dollar General stores are the only retail left and soulless banks drain what spirit remains. River Road is a gritty country number about negotiating the transition from irresponsible youth to accountable adult. Heartless has a similar aural feel, but when Brown sings, “you don’t have to count me out, I was never counted in” I’d opine that’s as much cynical as heartless. Baby Don’t is pure country gold about a relationship where the guy’s social skills are still in early development.
Old school Texas troubadour could describe a number of the other tunes. Burn includes a shout-out to Townes Van Zandt, and you can hear a bit of him in an admission that some things just have to be learned the hard way. Ain’t No Love has a little bluesy shuffle to the country. As Brown sings about laying there with his head on her pillow and “thinking about the life I’ll never know” I can’t decide if it’s a comment on the relationship or a broader acceptance of how things are going to turn out. Old Houses has a little bit of that theme as well in a story about how getting up at the crack of dawn for a job became a natural part of life. Hard Hats is also a slower cut. It’s a more intricate take on not judging a book by its cover from the perspective of a man wearing Carhartt jeans and steel-toed boots.
A lot of records make you peel back a layer of production to hear the passion and soul that drove the musician to write the songs in the first place. Not this one. Dustin Brown is wearing his heart on his sleeve with his self-titled release and you can hear that from the first strains of the opening cut all the way through to the end.
About the author: I've actually driven from Tehatchapee to Tonopah. And I've seen Dallas from a DC-9 at night.