These days, Kip Moore’s lack of public presence is as much his calling card as his rugged, matter-of-fact voice. Since his third LP, SLOWHEART, Moore has been pretty transparent about his desire for seclusion amidst Nashville’s endless cycle of bustling promotion. There was a time when you could’ve lumped Kip in with the rest of the faceless bro-country crowd. Still, after his more heartland rock-inclined sophomore effort Wild Ones, he decided that the industry could miss him with its petty obligations, like creative flexibility, radio-ready singles, and social media.
Though he might be walking the maverick’s path, Kip hasn’t reaped many benefits of giving mainstream country music the bird. Where Chase Rice gained favor with more independently-minded country fans for turning his back on the Nashville machine, Kip’s music is decidedly more indebted to Bruce Springsteen than Eric Church. As such, he’s largely alienated himself from both Music Row’s powers and the average country music fan. Today, a small but mighty listenership of “Slowhearts” remains, faithfully fueling each of his free-spirited country-rock escapades.
Even though there was more Tom Petty and John Mellencamp to his fifth album Damn Love than most country fans might usually appreciate, it did feel like that record was throwing a bone at contemporary country music. The LP included a feature from industry darling Ashley McBryde, a revelrous single about drinking beer, and bigger hooks than the more introverted Wild World. In hindsight, Damn Love might’ve been the Georgia native’s last-ditch attempt at an olive branch to country music. However, with Kip well into his 40s without a proven track record at radio, it joined his ever-growing list of under-appreciated heartland rock without a true home in country music.
That led us to 2024, when Kip Moore announced his intention to part ways with MCA Nashville and release his sixth studio LP entirely independently. The move was curious; typically, when an artist goes it alone without their major-label partner, it’s because they felt shackled by commercial obligations and compelled to make something that scratched a creative itch. That said, Kip had been doing that for over a decade. From one record to another, there’s no doubt that the music he made was what he wanted to make. Suddenly, it looked like he might have a few surprises in store.
Months later, those expectations were met with the obnoxious Southern rock single “Live Here To Work.” Immediately, it felt like a clunky return to the pragmatism of his mainstream debut in all the worst ways. The absence of his trademark originality and perspective was painfully noticeable. The promo tracks that followed weren’t nearly as obnoxious, but they did make it hard to understand why it was important for Kip to go independent for this outing.
The move makes a little more sense now that Solitary Tracks has arrived in full. Where Damn Love was the Kip Moore model at its most commercially palatable, Solitary Tracks is the exact opposite. Both records are very much Kip and rely primarily on his gravely inflections and mid-tempo guitar riffage, but this is a decidedly less accessible offering. From song to song, there aren’t very many big hooks in the vein of singles like “More Girls Like You” and “Beer Money.” The record is stacked with quiet musings on life as an outsider and simple proverbs about making the most of what he’s given, all set to a Jason Isbell-esque mid-tempo folk-rock backdrop. In other words, there’s a lot to like overall.
Individually, most of the songs here are thoughtful and appropriately Kip-y. However, it’s fair to say that this album isn’t necessarily greater than the sum of its parts. In fact, at 23 tracks long and clocking in at a whopping 85 minutes, the pacing can be pretty darn monotonous as we roll through “Half Full Cup,” “Bad Spot,” “Straight Line Boots,” and more in sleepy succession. A few tempo moments offer some much-needed musical variety, but unfortunately, more of these cuts blur together indistinguishably than not.
Obviously, not every album needs to pop and swing to be good, but for the longest record of Kip’s career, it’s fair to expect a tracklist that feels both cohesive and fresh. Any given song on Solitary Tracks is good in a vacuum, but the album as a whole would’ve benefitted from about seven fewer 150-bpm tracks about living life to the fullest.
That’s not to say that there are no standouts at all; on the album’s back half, “Love & War” hits your ears like a bolt of lightning, charged with the punchy ‘80s ambition of John Parr and Belinda Carlisle. Additionally, Kip leans into his funkier side on “Good Things Never Last,” bolstered by some infectious harmonies and tight guitar lines. Aside from “Live Here To Work” (which feels more out of place than ever in the context of the full album), whenever Kip tries his hand at something fun and peppy, it pays off, though those moments feel few and far between when listening to Solitary Tracks front to back.
The album’s emotional centerpiece is unquestionably “Forever Is a Lie.” Recorded with the bereft simplicity of a solo Jason Isbell record, this is a song that feels especially poignant coming from Kip. He’s said a few times that he’s married to his craft and hasn’t had much experience with romantic relationships in general. For the first time, this song makes you question if he really prefers it that way. The way he tells it, his understanding of love is shaped by its impermanence in his life, and he’s made peace with the notion that “forever is a lie.” On an album with a lot to say that rarely drives a lyric home, that one absolutely hits and deserves the full attention of anyone giving this record a casual skim.
On the whole, Solitary Tracks is a decent album and remains firmly on-brand with the rest of Kip’s discography. Really, it’s a lot like Kip Moore himself; it will seldom surprise you, but it’s always steady and offers something earnest and substantial. In the future, when our kids’ kids listen to Kip’s discography in the past tense, this record may not get much attention; even so, it still delivers with that rough Kip Moore charm that’s made him compelling for so long.
