In an interview on the Ten Year Town podcast, Charles Wesley Godwin told Troy Cartwright that one of the biggest differences between Christian Name and his previous catalog was in how he was able to lean on his co-writes. The comment is unsurprising from a singer now well settled into his major label deal, where splitting ink becomes common practice during development season. However, he did make a point to contrast the moods that he and his new collaborators would walk into the room with. Where a Godwin flying solo normally goes for the gut punch, getting deep and dark sentiments out under breaths that rumble in your sternum, he said a lot of his partners tried to give the notepad some color rather than continuously shade it in. You can hear the difference almost immediately on what’s something of a revival record, where Godwin’s staunchly traditional and distinctly Appalachian worldview beams with optimism now that the church is the main focus; he sounds untouchable in a pew or under a steeple.
The church is where this West Virginian and son of a coal miner finds refuge on his fourth studio record, maybe the only extended instance of Godwin coming out to get a glimpse of the sun in all its optimism throughout his career thus far. Christian Name is full of glowy finishes on his normally relentless baritone, guitar strings that glide through the heavens, and some full band arrangements that wouldn’t sound out of place in a new age worship service off any given exit of Interstate 75. Albums like Seneca and How the Mighty Fall were pining to live that trad life Godwin croons about all over his latest effort, where part of him now is pulling from childhood memory, and the other half is willing the lifestyle into existence for himself. In between some stirring fiddle feels, the singer blows on some abstract places “out in the meadow, way up on the mountain” on “Place I Know.” You can’t help but wonder if Godwin’s searching for his own version of a promised land, using the journey to fuel some much-needed self-searching.
The problem is that while Godwin on his own sounds well equipped to lead a roving tent revival, the backdrops of scenery throughout “Christian Name” are closer to K-Love than they are to the traditional hymnal. The clash isn’t as contradictory as it is just flavorless. Mixes feel a little too airbrushed to properly complement Godwin’s voice, which soars like an eagle during his highs and can shake the ground beneath you on its lows. Those dramatics flip into parody on the record’s lowlights, where you half-expect Danny McBride’s Jesse Gemstone to come crashing over a congregation on a jetpack during the crescendo-stuffed “Try Again.” He continues not to do himself any favors on “Hey There Son,” awkwardly trading musings with stand-in tyke Wyatt Flores, who just can’t quite match energy thanks to a stark contrast in delivery between the two. Godwin has always had more of a character presence than some of his closest peers, but it’s hard to hear him stumble through his next steps when he’s taken out of his element.
But like his peers in the traditional space, he thrives when he leans on his roots. He proves he can still sing to the heavens in praise rather than desperation on “God’s Been Good To Me,” a plucky number just north of being a true bluegrass boot stomper. Still jovial, still anthemic, it’s one of the few instances where the singer actually translates that yearning for simplicity past simply declaring his commitment to time-honored traditions. However, the lyrics are rarely the issue here. Despite what critics of a crowded songwriting session will tell you, Godwin’s collaborators can stay on-theme and seem bought into the world-building from an authorial perspective, as evidenced by the Southern-geared Springsteen “Hallelujah High.” The crew just struggles to keep the theme uniform when it’s time to make them pop off the page.
Godwin recently told Rolling Stone that Christian Name came in part as a response to real loss, making those outreached arms and a bit of a twinkle in his voice seem all the more poignant in context. As a concept, one centered around leaning into faith during times of hardship, it works.
That being said, Big Loud tends to sand down some of its most singular voices. Godwin seems to be the latest victim in that trend, whether a purposeful branding move or a byproduct of having his strengths mismanaged in the studio. A lot of his newest effort comes off as bland, overgeneralizing the rich text and tapestries that made him such a visceral force in the first place. The biggest sin of Christian Name is failing to project the Good Word properly, or maybe not knowing how to best utilize the conviction that the poet behind the pulpit clearly has for the source material.
