Hours before the release of his sixth studio album, Zach Bryan shared a surprising announcement on Instagram: three days after With Heaven On Top’s release, it would be accompanied by a full acoustic counterpart on the grounds that “there’s gonna be a billion people saying it’s overproduced and shitty.”
Consistent with Zach’s social media habits, this was a rather thin-skinned, pouty way to reveal a new project for his fans to be excited about, but hey, new music is new music, you’ll hear no complaints here.
Before With Heaven On Top’s arrival, it was fair to wonder if this statement was just Zach Bryan being overly sensitive on the internet. With the album out, some very valid critiques manifested, from the disjointed storylines on the likes of “Rivers and Streams” to the uncreative production on “Bad News,” and much of the record at large.
For those who shared our own Joel Reuben Pauley’s mixed feelings about the overall execution of With Heaven On Top, the big question going into this project is “did it improve on them?” My answer: yes, to the greatest extent that an acoustic project could.
Contrary to Zach’s presuppositions, one of the original project’s biggest shortcomings wasn’t that it was overproduced, but often that it was not produced enough, with plodding, flat instruments with little opportunity to shine. Seldom were we treated to a guitar riff like that of “American Nights;” nay, more often than not, Zach was regularly backed by a few repetitive open chords and a mid-tempo beat that rarely did enough to captivate the passive listener.
In an impressive contrast, this acoustic version brings a crisp, clean recording texture and channels many of the best qualities of his earliest output in its simplicity. Stripping away the aforementioned dubious mixing and bland instrumentals, the slow songs in particular feel like a genuine, confessional stream of consciousness rather than a flat imitation of Springsteen’s Nebraska. This is Zach doing Zach in the purest way he knows how.
Take “Skin,” for example, which purportedly reflects on the end of his last relationship. This new rendition feels emotionally naked as you would hope, and fully sells the listener on the idea that he’s letting go of his baggage, even if it leaves him empty inside. It sounds the way it was meant to sound, and refuses to allow you to gloss over our narrator’s bitter admissions.
Zach’s vocal delivery is generally stronger as well, and you get the sense that he’s in his element sharing his inner musings about his world and his own heart, however vague and rambling. The album standout “Runny Eggs” is especially potent in this respect; as one of the most of-the-moment tracks on With Heaven On Top, the acoustic version puts you right in the room with Zach through your headphones as he recounts his recent goings-on and daydreams about his never-ending wanderlust for the road. Once again, you get the feeling that you’re hearing this song the way it was always meant to be heard.
Zach Bryan has always been good at doing more with less, but he isn’t yet as deft a producer as he needs to be to maximize the tools at his disposal.
Though a rudimentary, back-to-basics approach to these songs absolutely helped many of them realize their potential, too many are just too poorly contrived from the jump to really show out. For instance, the original version of “Dry Deserts” is a very fun listen, but with less to distract the listener from its chorus’s quirky quandaries, it’s more difficult than ever to unite verse and chorus and make sense of what he’s even writing about.
Here and there, Bryan also attempts some weird falsettos that are inescapably cringey; “Sundown Girls” is the worst offender here, as he warbles his way through the chorus in the most absurd upper register he can summon; suddenly, nothing about this song sounds self-serious or interesting, and you’re trapped with a brisk, helium-induced recap of Zach’s recent travel itinerary.
And of course, the album is still far too long, and the inherent lack of instrumental variety doesn’t help that; obviously, listeners can still whittle down their favorites on repeat spins, but as so many of these songs blur haplessly together in a blot of sameness, it really does feel like there was some excess volume that could’ve been left on the cutting room floor, for the sake of a more accessible listening experience.
All told, this With Heaven On Top (Acoustic) achieves the honest atmosphere that the original too often couldn’t, putting these manic, often confusing poems in their proper context; they don’t always make sense, but they’re offered passionately and clearly as Zach Bryan’s truest inner monologue. Whether it was born of insecurity about the original project or enthusiasm for it, skeptical listeners should certainly be left a bit more satisfied.
