Perspective and nuance can rarely coexist in country music, which is ironic, considering that the genre is so keen on one of those things and so poised to thrive with the other. The discourse around it would have you believe it only has two modes: this or that, black or white, boot cut, or skinny jeans. It’s rare to find that connection that its advocates supposedly yearn for, yet they always have trouble pinning it down. Authenticity, the true bearing of the soul, gets lost in a lot of records from our household names.
“Three Chords and the Truth” has no doubt gotten more complicated as we’ve spent more and more time with those burgeoning stars. Algorithms and social spotlights have shown off true colors and stripped a lot of the allure and mystery that once hung in the air of the concert halls and barrooms some of our favorite selectors inhabited. Either we’ve passed the age of the outlaw, or the smoke and mirrors are becoming harder and harder to see through. Both theories seem plausible.
Then again, that lack of gatekept wunderkinds makes finding them feel like you’ve struck gold. It’s a feeling that’s come most recently in the form of JR Carroll, a guy who’s been just a few steps away from the spotlight for years. The songwriter is quickly raising eyebrows as fans and critics have begun to take notice of the talent living right under their noses, now poised to make his career his own with the release of his debut LP, Dark Cloud. Where’s he off to now that he’s got both hands on the wheel? A place that every country crooner is often pining after yet rarely finds in their career. A home.
Carroll, a bandmate of Zach Bryan and fellow Oklahoman, has been honing his own polished and proper country tunes for years while roving the road with a guy who’s mastered (and inspired tenfold) the “spray and pray” method of songwriting. He feels like a student of his surroundings, picking up on the motifs that thrive as bonfire ballads and knowing how to use precision better than his teacher. Brevity and clarity have always been two sides of the same coin. Here, they play off each other in exciting fashion; this 36-minute wade through the waters of Carroll’s journeys to and fro feels like it’s shaved off a lot of unnecessary detours. There’s a lot of Bryan that’s clearly rubbed off, though the criticisms of the former are seldom found in the final product of the latter.
Old ideas behind a new lens are the bread and butter of “Dark Cloud,” as they have been for many of the guys in this new Okie songwriter extended universe. The album’s cover art immediately gives off Mandela effect vibes in its stark similarities to the cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Nebraska” (sound familiar?). As we open with “On The Run,” that outer decoration of loving and leaving, or maybe loving to leave, becomes immediately pronounced. It’s realized that the troubadour’s life is weighing on Carroll just as it did the ones who came before him.
That’s where the fresh lens comes in. As easily as this record could’ve spun into a web of heartbreaks and hard times, Carroll quickly finds the silver linings that come with being halfway to stardom. “Hometown Hero,” the album’s breakout single, rattles off a laundry list of little ironies that come with the unique life bestowed on him. No pity is needed, nor is he overly prideful. He’s confident his place will be remembered fondly in time.
Another note highlighted from Carroll’s touring days is knowing when to get off the rocking chair so as not to accidentally fall into a midday nap. “Too Late To Change It Now” puts a steady stream of chords in the gas tank as Carroll chugs along and leaves some of that pain in the past. The track isn’t souped up enough to leave that lover completely in the dust, though the feeling of ambivalence feels like a breath of fresh air when stated so overtly. The record leaves little of Carroll’s character to the imagination, who’s probably learned to get most of the skeletons out of the closet beforehand. Another keen note was taken from the professor’s chalkboard.
Regardless of the inspiration drawn and liberties taken, the record’s personality feels more singular than other similar projects orchestrated with the sole goal of ending up on repeat around the campfire. Even a rendition of “In The Garden,” a track covered ad infinitum in country music, rests comfortably as Dark Cloud’s closer, where Carroll’s strained and sorrowful vocals whisper every line as if it’s a personal lullaby. He’s familiar in sight and sound but flourishes between the lines.
There are a lot of comparisons soon to be made of Carroll to his counterparts, both direct and otherwise. What’s lacking for them where it isn’t for him is that marriage of perspective and nuance. Dark Cloud has many of the same traumas these types of records are accustomed to, but JR Carroll especially feels poised to address it. A consolation in his attitude invites listeners to take a deep breath rather than wince and prepare for the pain. It’s a rare feeling these days, made all the more comforting in the hands of a guy who’s got the spirit and the resume to get us there. A betting man wouldn’t put the house on Carroll surpassing that monstrous ethos he sits in the shadow of, but his odds are still better than most.
