No Brakes – Warren Zeiders Written By Adam Delahoussaye
From the jump, it feels like we might be off to the races with that gallivanting guitar intro, but the rear-up turns into a trot that rarely hits breakneck speeds, ironic for a title track dubbed “No Brakes.” It’s a shame that a song analogizing heartbreak to a roller coaster pretty much stays in cruise control, especially given how aptly Warren Zeiders can handle those full-throttle emotions with his all-or-nothing delivery. He doesn’t veer too deep into unfamiliar territory lyrically, either, sticking to some staple name-drops of outlaw lovers and shakily holding together comparisons between crime and passion. All wrapped up in an arrangement that’s about as colorful as a manila folder, there’s not much Zeiders can say to get the point across, despite how melodramatic he makes it sound. For as wild and passionate a character as the singer presents as, rarely does his body of work reflect the high-octane adrenaline every other aspect of his personality suggests. It’s hard to tell if Nashville needs to catch up, or Zeiders needs to slow down.
3.9
If You Could Talk – Dexter and The Moonrocks Written By Adam Delahoussaye
If Treaty Oak Revival taught us anything with the rollout of West Texas Degenerate, it’s that southern rock’s new revival is most pungent when it leans into some of its inherent darkness. But whether it’s inherited on the road or the innate nature of the rockstar to be a bit broody, mood-driven, and angst-filled doesn’t seem to matter to Dexter and The Moonrocks as much as just getting the feeling out in the open does. The band primarily seems concerned with translating that emotion, whatever its root cause, as two-to-three-minute sharp bursts of pain that get interpreted as noxious riffs and drone-warped vocals from frontman James Tuffs. It’s a bit of a southern psychoanalysis of masculinity in “If You Could Talk,” which follows its yearning for missed life with the apology, “sorry, I gotta pay the bills,” in the song’s second verse. The pain isn’t played up to be glamorous, or even worth much in the end for the band, who only get spurts of real life shown to them through a phone screen in between nights on and off stage. That conflict of purpose seems to be a real ailment of this new crop of southern rockers, who are taking a more pointed emotional stance against it than their country counterparts did. Dexter and The Moonrocks could be the next Nirvana, but it sounds like they’re wondering if that even matters when the ones they love aren’t there to see it happen.
8.0
Kings And Queens – Gary Stewart Written By Joel Reuben Pauley
On Friday, a new collection of unheard recordings by the late Gary Stewart was finally released. The album, One Track Mind, is the first posthumous record since his tragic death in 2003. On “Kings And Queens,” the“King of Honky-Tonk” paints himself this time as the “joker.” Stewart uses a handful of card-playing metaphors to illustrate the sting of heartbreak, as if he’s already played his last hand. It seems every note that Gary sorrowfully sings makes his depressed narrative more compelling, his weary delivery and quivering vibrato bringing every emotion to life. Everything about the production of this track, as well as the rest of the album, feels vintage and perfectly preserved. Listening to “Kings And Queens,” listeners can be fully immersed in the iconic sound of the mid-70s, a classic era following the height of the countrypolitan movement that country music has never truly revived. For younger country fans, this is an enticing invitation to explore the genre’s rich history and dive a little deeper into Gary Stewart’s catalog beyond “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles).”
9.1
Glory. – Ryan Hurd Written By Joel Reuben Pauley
If there’s a word to describe the way Ryan Hurd’s new song sounds, it’s “triumph,” even though the message doesn’t exactly win any wars. In “Glory.”, Ryan is basically saying, “You don’t miss a shot you don’t take,” as he begs the recipient of this message to be brave. Noting “Ships never sink if they stay in the harbor,” Hurd sings out the idea that love requires risk, and he has no intention of playing it safe. Even with the possibility of it all going “down in flames,” he’d rather take the chance than never leave the safety of shore. Although these metaphors are about as deep as the lyrics ever get, the victorious, driving sound of the production and performance make this an enjoyable listen. As the song progresses, the band begins to play like a worship band during the height of a slow-built three-minute bridge, creating a powerful sense of tension. Like a battle cry, Hurd, backed by what feels like an army of harmonies, belts out the word “glory,” stretching it out for about eight seconds at the end of each chorus. Even as there aren’t many layers to the written message, there is still plenty to appreciate in the song’s inspirational themes and triumphant sound.
6.4
Sleeping with My Boots On – Lily Meola Written By Aishwarya Rajan
Once again, Lily Meola proves her unmatched capability to carry listeners to a distinct time and place, one closer to swing than hillbilly. “Sleeping with My Boots On” is an experience layered with nuances difficult to fully digest on first listen, as there’s always something new to realize and appreciate. Through every vocal inflection, harmonization, and bit of production tinkering, Meola tells a story as old as time through the shutters of something new: when dusk comes, keeping her boots on around someone who was only ever good for taking them off her, a metaphor of sorts. Meola introduces classic remnants into the track through the muffled textures of an old-west cartoon or 1950s sitcom like I Love Lucy, where listeners are beholden to vintage production from an aged stereo, curating every listen into its own experience. Powered by the quick steps of layered drum beats, subtle cymbal rings, and the eerie lows of a bass guitar, Meola’s artistry proves just as sharp lyrically as it is sonically. While there are a number of earworms and instances of wordplay worthy of reporting throughout the track, one example encompasses both: “watch my Levi’s, leave right out that swingin’ door.” Not only does it bend to the quick-stepping melody, but it tells the same story she sings of: leaving dramatically rather than walking the fine line of forgiveness. Listening to this song, you may find yourself transported not only to different eras of music, but to different eras of cinema as well.
9.1
Pathetic – Laci Kaye Booth Written By Aishwarya Rajan
A great storyteller has a knack for opening the floodgates of a reader’s imagination, drawing out memories that parallel their own translation of the artist’s lyricism. Laci Kaye Booth is no stranger to living in that in-between space: wrapping a listener up in a story that feels deeply understood, yet is probably interpreted differently by everyone who hears it. Last week, Booth added to her arsenal of tender, head-in-the-clouds storytelling with a gentle, weary exposé called “Pathetic.” It’s a track warmed by the honest mind of a hopeless romantic, whose over-indulgent thoughts grow exhausting in the presence of the very person she adores. Carried by silky, acoustic movements and a steel guitar, the 30-year-old swaddles listeners in her vulnerability. For this reason, she confesses just how pathetic she must seem. Despite building something so heavy with imagery, this spacy melody, paired with the tender bones of Booth’s unique upper register, lands closer to tranquility and adoration than the sorrow she sings of. “Pathetic” is armed by lyrical vulnerability adjacent to “Hold On, Houston” with the soft-dreaminess of “Broken Heart Still Beats,” and it is the meeting of qualities new and old which instill an excitement for her upcoming project. That being said, it may be fair for listeners to yearn for Booth to explore a greater range in her sound and production style.
7.8
Jack and Jill Daniel’s – Emily Ann Roberts & Ian Munsick Written By Noah Sneath
Bluntly, “Jack & Jill Daniel’s (feat. Ian Munsick)” is a missed opportunity; nearly a year after Emily Ann Roberts released the solo version of this track, the duet does little to add depth or enhance the narrative. Turning it into a double bill was the right instinct, but Ian Munsick’s vocal timbre sits too close to Roberts’s to create two distinct sides of the story, or to balance her grace with a little grit (see “Whipped” for the best example of that kind of sonic tension in her discography). The arrangement is lovely but identical to the solo version. It sounds like the original was copied, pasted, and refitted with Munsick’s vocal in place of half of Roberts’s, with no real reimagining behind it. The artistic vision of this duet is unclear. This is not a bad song; in fact, the original is quite good. We still hear the clever songwriting, a fiddle intro that shines in a genre prone to atmospheric “whale sounds” as front-end filler, and Roberts’s terrific vocals throughout. But judged by what the duet version actually adds, it falls short of the original.
6.8
The Day I Hang it Up – Gavin Adcock Written By Noah Sneath
Please check all of your Gavin Adcock baggage in the lobby, please. No matter how contrived or bombastic Mr. Adcock’s haters find him, there is a reason he has a loyal following: he makes good music. He typically doesn’t sacrifice musical integrity for pop country flourishes; his vocal approach is controlled yet unrefined, and he blends 90s grunge and southern rock in a way that sits somewhere between Hootie & The Blowfish and Pearl Jam. The latest addition to one of the most polarizing music careers in recent memory is a thumping anthem, another statement of outlaw identity that rolls along at a conversational pace that suits Adcock’s thick drawl. The message is this: I’m hard-living, hard-headed, and I’m going to take my time getting to whatever end may come. “The Day I Hang it Up” is another example of the wonderful contradictions in Gavin Adcock’s music. It’s relaxed yet persistent, heavy yet stripped down, and coherent for all its drawl. Of course, there are flaws; the electric guitar part is nauseatingly simple, the overwhelming vocal echo effect nearing the two-minute mark is unnecessary, and this is certainly well-trod thematic ground for a country musician. But love him or hate him, Gavin Adcock will persist. Or at least, so the song says.
6.9
How to Get Away With Murder – Jason Scott & The High Heat Written By Noah Sneath
Jason Scott & The High Heat are a hard bunch to pin down musically. Whether they’re playing desert funk in the style of Tom Petty or doing their best impression of Jeff Tweedy singing Dwight Yoakam, they are as idiosyncratic as they are detailed in the construction of their often score-like songs. “How to Get Away With Murder” is striding, groovy, ominous, and controlled. It trots over a well-worn trail paved with syncopated drum beats, a pastoral melody shared by the bass and strings, and other instrumental adornments of spaghetti western soundtracks (e.g. the vibraslap). But once the soundstage scenery is pulled away, the band settles into a much simpler groove that sounds like a country cousin of the quieter, funkier tracks Damon Albarn conjured on Gorillaz albums like Demon Days. The success of this song, and much of Jason Scott & The High Heat’s catalog, is found in the balance between the indulgence in country cliché and the desire to blend it with something unexpected. “How to Get Away With Murder” is not a blend that produces a terribly interesting story or showcases a specific musical talent. Still, it is blissfully different and unexpectedly delicious despite its potentially conflicting ingredients.
7.5
Never Been in Love – Lauren Alaina & Kane Brown Written By Noah Sneath
“Never Been in Love” is a terrific example of the worst pop country impulses. Let’s play Bad Country Song Bingo, shall we? The first second of the song includes an atmospheric whale sound that inexplicably appears quite frequently in country music despite it being mostly absent from the hits (there’s a lesson in here, people). The instrumental backbone is an uninteresting loop-pedal guitar riff. Synthetic snapping and drum machine hits? Check. The melody is predictable and safe. And to top it all off, we get a tacky mid-pass (“phone effect”) filter on an echoed line at the 1:04-second mark following the first chorus. Bingo! With a man who wears a marshmallow helmet currently on top of Spotify’s Hot Country playlist, it is only fitting that fans are being fed more Chainsmokers-inspired gruel in the dog days of Summer. “Never Been in Love” offers nothing interesting and everything you’ve heard before at the worst bonfire party you’ve ever been to. Lauren Alaina and Kane Brown deserve respect for their respective careers and what they’ve achieved, but it will be best for everyone involved if this song is, as it should be, quickly forgotten.
1.4
The 90s Called – Mae Estes Written By Noah Sneath
This song is what they call a half-baked idea. Maybe closer to 75% baked. Mae Estes has a lovely voice; the arrangement is tight and captures the intended 90s sound–yes, musically this is a successful song in that it sounds exactly like the contemporary nostalgia-heavy songs coming from the likes of Zach Top and others. But what is the thesis of this song? Are we lampooning or praising? Mocking or mimicking? Perhaps the intent was to straddle the line between the two. Still, if so, the ceiling of this song is inherently lower when submitted into a commercial ecosystem that depends on hard controversy. Love it or hate it, if you’re going to have an opinion, it better be a strong one or no one will pay attention. “The 90s Called” has a lot to love from days gone by: a wonderful clarity in the kick drum, controlled chaos in the fiddle, crunchy guitar chords, and a soaring vocalist on top. But it’s all in service of a thesis that comes off as fairly tepid and obvious: we are experiencing a 90s country revival. Waylon Jennings didn’t sing “well, maybe Hank would’ve done it this way. Or maybe not.” He made a bold statement and was rewarded. Mae Estes is one of country music’s hidden gems, but unfortunately, this song lacks the lyrical bite that would really make it shine.
6.5
Rather Be Here – Corey Kent feat. Jason Aldean Written By Max Buondonno
The traditional country radio barn-burner goes a little something like this: compare drinking at an old shack of an establishment to other activities and destinations one could be spending their time with, then highlight all the smallest details of said bar and celebrate them with an electrifying production atmosphere. Whether to get a crowd riled up at a show or inject energy into a tracklist for an album, these songs usually cover the same ground with slightly different adjectives thrown in to spice things up. As such, we have Corey Kent’s latest single, “Rather Be Here.” A duet with country-rock legend Jason Aldean, the song goes in the direction you most expect: yeah, outdoors is kinda dope, but what about this dive bar with a crappy cover band? Pair it with Kent and Aldean’s vocals, which each have a distinct energy on their own, and you have yourself the My Kinda Party-era hype track you were hoping for. Where it fails to make an impression is in that very approach: its inability to add anything fresh or give a unique spin to this style of songwriting makes it feel boring, despite its punchy energy. Whatever cross-section of Kent’s fan base that also listens exclusively to Aldean will appreciate the collab, but its tendency to lean too far into country butt-rock for divorced dads begs for you to be drunk before even pressing play. And it probably will slap under those conditions, but it’s hard to love otherwise.
6.1
Find Me In a Bar – Nate Smith Written By Max Buondonno
Between the over-produced vocal corrections and Shaboozey-Queen hybrid production, Nate Smith’s latest single sounds like any other modern attempt at an anthemic drinking track, minus a reason to hit play again. At just 2:22, the song ends before it can lodge itself into your brain, while booming kick drums and auto-tuned choruses hum in the back to make it feel bigger and grander than it really is. At its core, it’s yet another drinking song, just like its long litany of predecessors, even in the bro-country category. Smith sounds too polished and over-produced to leave a memorable mark on the song, sounding more like a mouthpiece than anything else. Of course, it’s never been his brand to make a song that doesn’t chase radio charts, and it’s a solid attempt in that regard. But Smith’s catalog has felt boring and forgettable for quite some time, and “Find Me In a Bar” doesn’t do him any favors to improve that.
4.3
