Songwriter icon Harlan Howard came to love country music as a kid listening to the Grand Ole Opry on the radio. When he came up with the phrase, “three chords and the truth”, the truth he was referring to was that life in rural America was hard. World War II was over, but prosperity was very unevenly spread. Fast forward 70 years and you can note the similarities. Growing up in a dead-end community in North Carolina, Nathan Evans Fox took away some of those same truths and they formed the foundation for his new album, Heirloom.
First and foremost, one of those universal truths is that you want your child to grow up to have all the good stuff you had, plus more. CD opener Lots of Beginnings sets the stage with some various words of advice, including one to have his grandmother’s sense of experimentation about life. Closer I Know the End is a little more lo-fi in its sound, kind of a gritty country ballad. Fox manages to sum up the whole concept by hoping “everything she’s made up of is the history of all I’ve fought and loved. In between, the title track lays bare the angst in bringing up a child in uncertain times, laid atop one of the more acoustic tracks on the record.
Sprinkled between some of the personal life lessons are a few lighthearted but razor-sharp commentaries on society. Little Bit of Shine is almost a bluegrass number, reflecting on paying one’s dues and the choices one makes when reviewed in hindsight. Racecar uses a NASCAR track as a metaphor for modern life, where most of us just go in circles, trying to get ahead of the other guy but with no real destination other than another lap. Hillbilly Hymn injects a little gospel sound into a reflection on what true kindness looks like. Landlords, Bill Lee, Etc., is destined to be a quote machine disguised as a country ballad. It’s full of offhand put-downs and wisecracks, none perhaps better than the opening line, “I hope your tenants make meth and chain-smoke.”
Nathan Evans Fox grew up in a community with mill closures and factory layoffs. After taking his own turn at mind-numbing jobs like stacking tires in a factory in South Carolina, he attended seminary. Subsequently becoming a hospital chaplain, he learned the art of commiseration by channeling his own experiences into sympathy for the sorrow of the survivors. So even though many of the tales on this record are sad in their origin, they’re uplifting in the way that sharing pain helps relieve it. So if you’re ready to feel better about feeling bad, take a listen to Heirloom.
About the author: I've actually driven from Tehatchapee to Tonopah. And I've seen Dallas from a DC-9 at night.