In today’s modern country music landscape, there are a few key archetypes that keep the world going ’round, easily defined by its three most prominent stars. There’s the Luke Combs archetype, the beer-drinking good ol’ boy, whose sound throws back to the early 2000s with catchy country-rock choruses and no shortage of small-townisms to lean on lyrically.
There’s the Morgan Wallen archetype, which flirtatiously toes the line between contemporary country music and 808-infused pop. Its artists might be a little more risque in their lyrical choices than those in the former category, and generally lean away from down-home “doin’ what we do” type songs in favor of more sensitive concepts about relationships gone wrong. However, you can bet that there’s just as much alcohol involved.
Finally, we have the Zach Bryan archetype, characterized by confessional, longing songs accompanied by unpolished, acoustic arrangements. These artists are so divorced from the typical conventions of mainstream country music that it’s almost like they’re grandfathered in from the fringes of rock and roll, where singer-songwriters have become increasingly estranged.
Dylan Gossett fits this third category to a T. His songs are defined by earnest, longing deliveries and no-frills instrumentality, often just him strumming feverishly on a six-string. When he first came on the scene in 2023 with the breakout single “Coal,” it was difficult to separate him from the crop of “Zacholytes” (credit Grady Smith) that had hit the scene. From Sam Barber to Evan Honer to Eddie Flint to Oliver Anthony to Gossett himself (whew), the 2020s brought a real demand for pensive singer-songwriters who wore their tortured emotions on their sleeve.
As his full-length debut, Westward is Dylan Gossett’s opportunity to step into the light and truly define his sound for the growing listenership he’s built since releasing “Coal.” In typical Big Loud fashion, there’s no shortage of material on this tracklist; with its humble a cappella opening, “Lord Will You Carry Me” and the stomping folk-rock “Hangin’ On,” Gossett comes across as thoughtful, sincere, and simple. The Texas native’s “signature sound” is hard to define, as he hasn’t quite found his footing as a producer; his calling card is an earthy croon, which cuts through on anything he’s singing and makes him tough to mistake for any of his aforementioned counterparts.
Apart from his staunchly distinct voice, there are pieces here that feel unique to Dylan Gossett, such as “Sweet Lady’s” jangly, 70s-infused keys or “Tree Birds'” bright blend of red dirt country and Noah Kahan-esque folk pop. Even so, the ever-present, fast-strumming major chord progressions still seem inextricably tied to Zach’s early music and make it hard not to see Gossett as a product of his time stylistically.
Time and again, the idea of longing permeates Westward; you get the sense that Dylan Gossett feels perennially incomplete in his life and is tired of being let down in his search for completeness. When he really “goes there” and lets his pen cut deeper than lusterless, surface-level analogies, this serves as a highly compelling theme across the record.
Oftentimes, he perceives that missing piece to be childhood innocence, and tries to recapture the version of himself that felt at peace in the world. “Like I Do,” Westward’s best song by a long shot, captures this idea fantastically. With incisive imagery that recalls fond memories from summers past, Gossett implores those he grew up with to reminisce with him.
Apart from “Like I Do” and a handful of scattered moments, the writing here often feels like it’s missing something. Gossett is obviously in touch with his emotions and knows how to sell a sentiment vocally, but there’s an element of specificity that’s too often lacking. On a track like “Song About You,” you’re waiting to be sold on a story, as our Texan troubadour implores this girl to love him as he loves her; instead, the chorus offers a clumsy promise to “hold her hand” and “give a damn.” There are moments like this all across Westward where the songs seem to be about 3/4 of the way there, but just need a poignant observation or bit of wordplay to stick the landing.
The hope going into the next LP is that Gossett evolves as a storyteller, perhaps with the assistance of some trusted collaborators in the writers’ room. Too often, Westward makes it feel like Gossett wants to express himself, but doesn’t want to let you in all the way, settling instead for disconnected analogies about being “six feet down” (Tired Of Running) or “playing his hand” (Snake Eyes). You just wish that there were more verses across this album that read as heartfelt and introspective as his vocal conviction would suggest.
Overall, there are good pieces here, but the Dylan Gossett experience still strikes you as somewhat incomplete. He’s a young artist finding his way, and it’s fair to wonder if Westward was hurt a bit by the quantity that Big Loud usually demands of its full-length releases. With a voice as excellent as his, Dylan Gossett’s ceiling is extremely high; a solid squad of co-writers would be a huge boon for him to realize his potential with personal songs that do him justice. Until then, Westward offers enough to be quite bullish on Gossett’s future.
