Sam Barber has several heavy sets of footsteps to follow. The first is undoubtedly the trail he’s paved for himself leading up to the release of his debut LP, Restless Mind. His breakout hit “Straight and Narrow” shot up country charts before going platinum; that now-signature gruff growl set him adjacent to many of the stripped-down feelers this side of country music has become littered with. It’s not necessarily that Barber is attempting to emulate his predecessors. Still, the game’s saturated nature provided an easy rise and an uphill battle after his ascent, urging him to make his mark in alternative ways.
His second challenge is following and setting himself apart from the acts that have clawed and scratched their way to the top of the mountain so guys like Barber could strut up unscathed. His meteoric rise saw the same basic bullet points as many of his peers: virality paired with a striking demeanor, both in his pen that crafts gut-wrenching lines and the voice he seems to pull from the deepest depths of his psyche. While the outline is now pretty cut and dry, it became Barber’s job to fill in the blanks.
After the ink’s dried on the page, his responses read similar to what we’ve grown accustomed to. His first full-length effort is meaty, coming in at 28 tracks and over 90 minutes. This is not unlike the breakout record “American Heartbreak,” released by Zach Bryan, one of Barber’s biggest inspirations. His LP follows the same static, stream-of-consciousness style in his writing could hurt an overly bloated record. Regardless of how daunting the long tracklist looks, once settled into Barber’s Restless Mind, you quickly realize that not every thought swimming through his mind makes sense. The scope of this record only amplifies how convoluted those thoughts can become.
Like many of the folks in his place, Barber seems pretty preoccupied with figuring out who he is, reflecting on how he bounces off those who love him the most. Family is, of course, a big theme here. Barber’s mother gives us a worry-filled voicemail on the opener in “Man You Raised,” a move expected from anyone on this side of the tracks these days (think Wyatt Flores and his signature opener, “Orange Bottles”).
While artists may live their truth, those they love can sometimes fail to grasp what it takes in today’s music landscape. This can be especially true for someone like Barber, a young gun veering into murky waters.
That’s the question Barber is trying to answer for himself and those around him in this hour-and-a-half-long therapy session. In “Will You Be There,” he applies those complex ideas to pretty plain arrangements with a simple down-strum, and his voice rumbles and raises some interesting questions. Would those he cherishes still find value in the dark moments or turn a cheek once the going gets tough? As his success continues to mount, it gets increasingly harder to tell.
If recent memory shows us anything, souls like Barber’s are far from siloed. He borrows inspiration in several ways, adding some remodeled versions of powerful vehicles. His cover of “Jersey Giant,” Tyler Childers’s cult favorite, is on that list, as he croons on old memories and friends. Remembrance here is key, as it seems to be a coping mechanism for Barber. Even if you can’t hold on forever, some people still hug your mind long after they’re gone.
There’s a lot of Sam Barber that’s still very undefined. As impressive as his debut is in its bulky size and subject matter, there’s room for exploration that doesn’t hinge as closely to his influences. If there is more to the story, he needs only to speak it into existence to garner people’s attention. With a voice poised for stardom, there’s not a message too powerful or radical to be uttered from his lips. It all depends on whether he’s willing to share it.
