In the Romantic era of the late 1700s and early 1800s, readers were introduced to a type of figure who would become a focal point of literature for centuries: the tortured artist. These were writers who would twist their emotional turmoil, angst, and agony into confessionals for the world to see. Of all these poets, Lord Byron stands apart for giving the world a new archetype, the Byron Hero: the moody, brooding, isolated rebel, held captive by his haunted past. Sound like someone familiar?
If Lord Byron were walking among us today, he would surely be reincarnated as Zach Bryan. Bryan’s catalog follows a similar tortured path: the nomad, troubled lover, with insurmountable grief that can’t be outrun. It’s fitting, considering Bryan’s literary choices. He embraces his role as a poet of the modern era, often indulging in overly taxing storytelling and carving spoken-word poems into one project after another.
The Oklahoma outlaw’s latest EP, Young Manhood and Other Donatable Organs (YM&ODO), revisits nearly every theme we’ve come to expect from him, with one exception: the challenges of the modern world, namely politics and technology. Thankfully, much like Byron’s creative companion Shelley, Bryan is joined once again by producer Eddie Spear. His fingerprints are all over the records that remain the artist’s most celebrated to date: American Heartbreak, Summertime Blues, and Quiet, Heavy Dreams.
This eight-track project is a fight between grueling vocals, intriguing production, and lyrical crosswords: with enough hints, you’re given clarity; otherwise you’re completely lost.
“Dog Days” falls into the first camp. It isn’t so bad, that is, until you hit about 0:51 and wonder how many packs Bryan blew through, or how much firepit smoke he inhaled during the making of YM&ODO, to lose all range before the grating screams of what sounds like pent-up rage. It’s costumed angst, and it undercuts the story he’s selling about rising from the ashes. The only ashes on this track are those coating his vocal cords.
Frankly, it’s unfortunate that he sounds so putrid, because the energizing drumming matched with twitchy electric guitar makes for an enticing sonic landscape. If you thought that was the last of the disappointment, “Plainsman” is perfectly ruined after 40 seconds. What begins with Bryan’s graceful, low-register rumbling and earthy tone, like Turnpike Troubadours’ Evan Felker, is quickly spoiled by Bryan’s attempt at the same sky-high notes Felker hits so successfully.
As a whole, it’s a hodgepodge of big sounds that stretch across genres. Bryan has never been shy about pursuing new soundscapes, steering away from the stripped-down qualities that defined his “DeAnn” and “Twenty So” days. In fact, these risky directions have often served him well, with The Great American Bar Scene as a prime example. Still, this EP may be his most ambitious feat yet. Soul colors folk and country instrumentals and electric rock, which allow him to build rallying anthems such as “Lodi When.”
The largeness of the production carries over into “Robot Killed the Working Man,” which, in tortured-poet fashion, follows suit with anthemic folk dedicated to protesting the changes of industry. Possibly the least decorated track, it offers a simple storyline as a welcome change from the lyrical density of the rest of YM&ODO.
“Lies,” featuring Lana Del Rey, shares that clarity, signaling a change of pace as a lyrically digestible ballad. The two artists sing to each other, and she gives him the sweet little lies he begs for. Bryan’s trembling vocals, wrapped in orchestral swells, carry a painfully melancholic song about his mental turmoil. It’s a plea for someone to coddle and console the very behavior that engulfs him.
When Del Rey first enters, her vocals undercut the track jarringly. Her angelic, ethereal tone fails to sustain the weight of the arrangement after the bravado Bryan establishes at the start. That said, the duo’s harmonies are transcendent when taken together, with Del Rey’s voice lifted by the rising instrumentation rather than drowned out by it. In both offerings, the message is plain, and the delivery serves it well, which is exactly what the rest of the EP struggles to do.
Tracks like “You’ll Get By” and “Backwards” are reminiscent of classic ZB, leaving listeners itching for more of this style amid the slew of songs. Bryan’s smooth vocals are the star of the show, letting the lyrics take more flight than the instrumentals ever do. It’s emblematic of his earlier craft, which gave listeners something they could return to again and again in any setting. The reliance on gang vocals in much of YM&ODO, by contrast, feels anthemic, tying it to a distinct time and place and helping it resist repetition.
While these two cuts are a masterclass in the Zach fans know and love, “Lodi When” falls down the slippery slope of trading substance for theatrics and dressing up a whole lot of nothing as something profound. There is a fine line between having something to say and merely sounding like you do. Delivered with enough conviction to a big enough fanbase, even a takeout receipt could be hailed as genius, with listeners half-convincing themselves they understand the yammering, and that will likely prove to be the case here.
This EP is not spectacular, and it is nowhere near Bryan’s best work, which is unfortunate. YM&ODO feels like an extension of the dramatics in “With Heaven on Top” and an experiment similar to that of The Great American Bar Scene, but lacks the notable pieces that made those work stick; think “Runny Eggs,”“DeAnn’s Denim,” “Better Days” or “The Way Back.” While the 30-year-old strikes a decent balance between slow-unfolding tracks and powerful songs expanding his palette of production risks, there are two striking problems: Bryan can’t reach a high note for the life of him, yet tries to in three consecutive songs, ruining the storytelling underneath (with “Is The Blue Tangled in You” being the worst culprit), and he often plays off his rambling as profundities through questions.
Storytelling has always been Bryan’s strong suit, and it’s almost a failure here. There is real creativity in some sampling additions, but it doesn’t overcome the circularity of most tracks. Worse, he uses unanswered questions as a crutch, enlisting listeners to decipher even subliminal meaning. He used to tell whole stories without redundancy, but this approach lacks that novelty. It just begs the question of, “Lodi When” will we get Zach pre-2026 back?
