Review Under Two: The 1619 Project

Review Under Two is a segment of The Marinade with Jason Earle podcast where host Jason Earle reviews an artistic work he finds inspiring in under two minutes.

Our Review Under Two for Episode 103 with musician and author Allison Russell focuses on The 1619 Project book.

The forever challenge of writing about race in America is finding a way to take on heavy conversations while also keeping the pages turning as the intellectual wheels are spinning and the emergency break is out of reach. 

It should not be a difficult ask for folks to buckle down and do the heavy lifting of reading truth about the painful history of race in America, but here we are. More than just a tough ask, the very suggestion that we call for people to learn facts has become a political wedge familiar to the most terrifying dystopian nightmares.

In 2021, 19 states passed laws restricting voting in America. These are rules aimed at disenfranchising Black Americans. Florida went so far as to pass a law that makes it a felony to protest in favor of Black rights. A law that codifies immunity for atrocities like our nation’s dark day in Charlottesville, 2017. The act of teaching The 1619 Project is within a hair’s breadth of bringing civil liability on the heads of school districts in The Sunshine State.

None of these statutes use language so strong as saying “Black people are not allowed to congregate and petition their government.” None of them at this point have been so audacious as to dip into the language that was codified under The Slave Codes or The Black Codes. But their intent is clear and that’s why The 1619 Project is essential reading.

My father used to say, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The integrity of the electoral count ain’t broke, but folks all across the country want to…’fix it.’ To fix the fact that Black folks are inspired to vote. To fix the fact that a Black man was elected president of the United States of America, a place where until 1965 Black folks did not even have the legally protected right to make such a decision. 

To “fix” the idea that a black woman like The 1619 Project’s architect Nikole Hannah Jones could grow up in Iowa, earn degrees from Notre Dame and the University of North Carolina, and go on put white supremacy in its place by daring to ask each of us that we deal honestly with our history.

Our history in a place that spent centuries enslaving humans, followed by Jim Crow, barely bridged by a handful of years of advances under Reconstruction.

You know most if not all of this. Some of you know it all-too-well having experienced the consequences of our collective past impact your own lives.

Nothing I have read has expressed those consequences in a way that is digestible by so many like The 1619 Project. 
Whether your life’s education has included a deep understanding of the history and impact of slavery on this country, or you grew up in a place where things were the way they were, The 1619 Project offers a clear examination of our history and a call to action. Nothing about that should threaten any of us. If it does, challenge yourself to read the book, or read it a second time, or a third; however long it takes for the truth to seep in and set us all free.

Live Review | The Kernal with Jordan Foley and the Wheelhouse | Tuffy's Music Box in Sanford, FL | Friday, February 4, 2022

The Kernal is running late. Real late. The old church bus that gets the band from gig to gig had engine trouble and then a flat tire, leading to the guys limping into the venue a short while before Jordan Foley and The Wheelhouse takes the stage. 

The garage door is open at Tuffy’s Music Box in Sanford, FL. It is a gorgeous Florida winter’s night. Jeans and rolled up sleeves weather. The kind of evening that reminds one why we choose to live in this wild swamp.

Foley and his band* take the stage to a crowded, rowdy room. These are the days of plague, yet it feels safe here. Well-attended but not packed. Folks having fun but mindful of each other.

The gamut of Sanford, Florida’s slice of America is in attendance. A country girl boot scootin’ in a Daytona t-shirt. A couple of old hippies. Some young sorority girls just out of college. A smattering of aging hipsters.

Foley and the boys kick off the night with an ass-shaking, foot-stomping set. Smiles exploding around the room. The band adding their contributions to his growing catalog of evolving songs.

This does not feel like an opening set. Not a scene-stealer - hell, one would have to be engaged in intricate sabotage to steal from The Kernal - but a performance worth the price of admission on its own.

Earlier in the night, Foley was talking about these songs with The Marinade. He gives such deference to them as being their own entities and to his band’s ability to make the tunes something special. All of that is true, but Foley’s sincerity in his love of these people, these characters, these moments, deserves the most credit for driving the live Wheelhouse experience. 

By the end of Jordan Foley and The Wheelhouse’s set, the crowd is enjoying a solid buzz, both alcohol and music induced. Some folks have been devouring The Kernal’s Listen to the Blood record since its recent release. Others have no idea what to make of this quirky looking foursome.

The Kernal is hard to miss. Well over six feet tall. Slicked back hair. Lightbulb eyes with a hint of mischief in them. He strides like a stallion, taking five steps to every one of a normal person.

The buzz in the room simmers awaiting what The Kernal has in store. They open with “U Do U,” the first track on Listen to the Blood. It’s the song with the unmistakable crowd-favorite line, “When the only Chic-fil-a back in the day was in the mall.”

Folks here for The Kernal shuffle forward. Most are thirty or forty-somethings who grew up on 90s and classic country, maybe went through a punk phase, and know every word to Master P’s “Bourbons & Lacs.” 

We are alone in singing along but have plenty of company feeling the music. The Kernal is controlled chaos. If Kern and his band are feeling an impact from the trying trip here, no one in this room would know it. His verbose, layered tunes finding universal acclaim in a group of folks who came here open to the idea of being transported.

Sent to tales of therapy in the country and “Wrong Turns to Tupelo.” By the end of the fifth song, when The Kern himself opens up the floor for questions, he has brought any strangers in the audience to the flock of believers. 

The Kernal is known for his performances and this night shows how that reputation was earned. Unpredictable but professional. Heady yet focused on having a good time.

From the first note of Jordan Foley and The Wheelhouse through the airy energy of The Kernal, Tuffy’s Music Box was aflame with the good medicine of great performances.

*Jordan Foley and The Wheelhouse is: Jordan Foley, Tyler Hood, Cris Faustmann, Mikey Guzman, and Matt Wassum 

THE MARINADE WITH JASON EARLE'S "BEST" (READ: FAVORITE) ALBUMS OF 2021 | PART II

Every December I try to think of some clever way to recap the year’s musical releases, but nothing ever seems right. We have access to so much great music in today’s world; and, people all over the world are making incredible pieces of art.

It is tough to decide which albums I want to highlight. I spend a lot of time listening to records. The majority of that time is allocated to doing research for The Marinade, so any year-end or favorites list is naturally going to include Marinade guests or folks who are Marinade adjacent.

I don’t consider myself much of a critic, so when I say “best” albums I mean my favorites. These are the albums that have been on heavy rotation at my house, in the car, and during my workouts. These are the works that captured my attention for extended stretches of time. They are the albums that came to mind when I thought about doing a “best of” piece.

This is Part II of two “Best of” recaps. You can read Part I here. The records are presented here without regard for any ranking. If you would like to hear more about why I included these albums, and how I would rank them, head over to patreon.com/marinadepodcast and subscribe for the price of a latte or a nice IPA.

Sturgill Simpson The Ballad of Dood and Juanita

Willie Nelson’s Redheaded Stranger changed my expectations for albums. My father is not a musician - and only a casual music fan for the most part - but when he is passionate about something he becomes an evangelist. He turned me on to Tom T. Hall and Waylon Jennings. He instilled a love of bluegrass. 

When I started to get passionate about albums, I asked him what the best record of all time was in his opinion. He said something that sounds like what I would now tell a young person. That’s an impossible question, but you can’t go wrong with Redheaded Stranger.

Sturgill came off of two bluegrass re-imaginings of his incredible catalog with a lot of critical acclaim and the support of his fervent fan base. Still, I did not give Cuttin’ Grass Vol. 1 and 2  more than one spin. Not because they were not good. They were very good. I just have come to expect so much from Sturgill. Sound and Fury was a masterpiece. As was A Sailor’s Guide to Earth and Metamodern Sounds in Country Music. Hell, the whole damn arsenal is brilliant. 

If he wanted to put out a bluegrass record, I would like some new Sturgill tunes. That is probably not fair. It is a criticism based on my own expectations and not some objective commentary. 

No matter. All is forgotten with The Ballad of Dood and Juanita. Parents will be answering the question about great records with most of Sturgill’s catalog and this record is a perfect example of why.

The Roseline Constancy

This record came into my life because I lost my keys and got stuck in the garage. Craig of All Knowing McGill suggested I listen to The Roseline to pass the time and I got hooked from the first spin. Click here to read my Review Under Two of the record.

Nathan Bell Red, White, and American Blues (It Can Happen Here)

Nathan Bell is a thoughtful, smart dude. This record says so much of what I am feeling about the world today in a way I could never. Red, White, and American Blues (It Can Happen Here) got the Review Under Two treatment right about the time it was released. Check that out here. Also check out our conversation with Nathan here.

Waltzer Time Traveler

Time Traveler is a breath of fresh air and Waltzer is too cool. Waltzer writes tunes that are catchy and reflective, kooky and honest. This album was a constant companion in 2021 because of its unwillingness to be what anyone expects. It is an expression of Sophie Sputnik embracing who she is as an artist and a person.

Sophie sat down for an episode of The Marinade around the record’s release. We had so much damn fun and she gave the listeners a window into what makes her songwriting and playing so special.

Andrew Bryant A Meaningful Connection

Andrew Bryant found meaning and connection in an unconventional way during 2020. He stopped drinking, moved houses, and created the most impressive record of his exceptional career. A Meaningful Connection bridges the gap between the literal struggles of 2020 and the metaphors that carried Bryant into the next phase of his life. 

In July of 2020, Bryant turned forty and stopped drinking. Those two things alone would be a lot to bear for most of us, but Bryant was enduring more. His father-in-law was sick. He was moving his family. He had just released a record at a time when no one could leave their house and the leader of the nation was telling people to ignore the facts about a lethal once-in-a-generation pandemic.

For this record, he set out to write about things other than himself. The reality is, Bryant is interesting. His life is interesting and he is self-reflective about that life. In discussing A Meaningful Connection’s stunning cover art on The Marinade with Jason Earle, Bryant said he always found it strange that windows both reflect and allow you to see through them.

The picture is of a shirtless Bryant sitting up in bed. His wife lays next to him looking up as the artist holds his phone and looks into the camera. The scene is tender and vulnerable, honest and reflective. A mirror held up to a collective and personal transition into something better. A Meaningful Connection achieves what its title promises.

The Marinade with Jason Earle's "Best" (read: favorite) Albums of 2021 | Part I

Every December I try to think of some clever way to recap the year’s musical releases, but nothing ever seems right. We have access to so much great music in today’s world; and, people all over the world are making incredible pieces of art.

It is tough to decide which albums I want to highlight. I spend a lot of time listening to records. The majority of that time is allocated to doing research for The Marinade, so any year-end or favorites list is naturally going to include Marinade guests or folks who are Marinade adjacent.

I don’t consider myself much of a critic, so when I say “best” albums I mean my favorites. These are the albums that have been on heavy rotation at my house, in the car, and during my workouts. These are the works that captured my attention for extended stretches of time. They are the albums that came to mind when I thought about doing a “best of” piece.

This is Part I of two “Best of” recaps. The records are presented here without regard for any ranking. If you would like to hear more about why I included these albums, and how I would rank them, head over to patreon.com/marinadepodcast and subscribe for the price of a latte or a nice IPA.

Allison Russell Outside Child

Atop almost everyone’s best of list, this masterpiece is the kind of record we will be talking about in twenty, thirty, forty years. Reissues will shoot it back up the charts and into a new generation’s consciousness. 

Look for my conversation with Allison to hit your podcast feeds in mid-January. 

In the meantime, check out this clip from the end of our interview where we captured the moment Allison learned of her three well-deserved Grammy nominations.

Hayes Carll You Get It All

Hayes is one of the best to ever do the singer-songwriter thing. Todd Snider told me earlier this year that everybody knew Hayes was special when he arrived in Nashville as a twenty-something kid.

Now a seasoned veteran, Carll gets better with every album. Carll is a genius who comes across as an everyman, which itself is a fit of brilliance.

The album leads off with “Nice Things,” which sounds like it could be a hit on country radio in 1996. But, its subject matter would keep the song blacklisted from the mainstream from then to now.  

The album goes on to examine forever love, lost love, alzheimers, and much more. You Get It All was on heavy rotation at Marinade studios this year.

Tre Burt You, Yeah, You

Burt’s sophomore effort showcases the imagery and world-building that made his debut such a darling of critics. On the standout track By the Jasmine, he begins with the line “Dante woke up, he didn’t mean to/he could have used a little more time in his dreams.” The song goes on to tell the all-too-familiar tale of a black man out minding his own business who falls victim to the violence of systemic and implicit racism. 

In an album full of outstanding lines, the one that opens and closes the song is perhaps the most powerful. Is Dante awakening to a realization of the challenges a black man faces in America, or literally awakening and going on a walk? Perhaps it’s both. 

Most of the songs on You, Yeah, You come in at around three minutes. Using an economy of words, Burt is establishing himself in a short amount of time.  

Todd Snider First Agnostic Church of Hope and Wonder

There is no one like Todd Snider. Part songwriter, part folk hero, part comedian- the man is larger than life. First Agnostic Church of Hope and Wonder is a sonic detour from Snider’s vast body of work. He took some risks that result in his best work to date. 

Present are the normal Snider musings on life and subtle political statements, but this is a record dependent on the beat rather than Todd’s observational poetry. From the first beat of “Turn Me Loose (I’ll Never Be the Same)” Snider takes the listener through ups and downs- paying tribute to dead friends, dwelling on the “Great Pacific Garbage Patch,” and playfully stepping down from his post as pastor of the First Agnostic Church of Hope and Wonder. It’s a hell of a tour of existence that only Todd could lead.

Review Under Two: Orange Blossom Revue Music Festival

Review Under Two is a segment of The Marinade with Jason Earle podcast where host Jason Earle reviews an artistic work he finds inspiring in under two minutes.

Our Review Under Two for Episode 101 with singer-songwriter Tennessee Jet focuses on the Orange Blossom Revue music festival.

All Photos by Jenn Ross.

Legend has it a local Indian chief once fought an alligator to the death in Lake Wales, FL. As the story goes, if you put your car in neutral at the bottom of nearby Spook Hill, as your death machine rolls backward it will appear as though you are actually travelling uphill rather than down. Make sense? 

We are sitting at the foot of Spook Hill just before heading to the Orange Bloosom Revue, a two day festival boasting headliners The Wood Brothers and Blackberry Smoke, along with headline-worthy artists like Devon Gilfillian, Hayes Carll, and the Steeldrivers. 

We follow the directions on the garish sign marking this hallowed spot. Pull up to the line, put the car in neutral, and marvel at the magic that ensues. My creative partner Jenn Ross drops the car in neutral, the vessel begins to roll backward, and it feels like…a car in neutral rolling backward. 

Life during the COVID-19 pandemic has felt like a trip to Spook Hill- build up and excitement for what is around the corner just to feel like a car rolling downhill and back from whence it came. Truth felt like fiction and fiction closer to truth.

The Orange Blossom Revue festival in Lake Wales, FL, just about a mile from Spook Hill, bucked this trend. Rather than feeling like a car rolling downhill, Orange Blossom Revue was more akin to a drive down the Pacific Coast Highway- gorgeous scenery all around with the windows down. Not a care in the world. 

The healing power of music acting as a coupler to hold frayed parts of society together for two glorious days. After a quick glance around Lake Wales, FL, one would be forgiven for thinking this was little more than the birthplace of Florida Man. There is the Endtime: Christian School of Excellence, a bevy of flags supporting the 45th president, a handful in favor of the long-defunct Confederate States of America, and more than a few indications that the messages of folks like Hayes Carll and the Steeldrivers may not be welcome around these parts. And yet, it all made so much sense. 

Everyone checked their bullshit at the gate to enjoy a rush of performances by artists on top of their game. The lineup fitting within the parameters of the Americana genre while stretching from the blues-influence of Gilfillian, to the heady lyrics of Carll, jumping up against the grooves of The Wood Brothers, and venturing into the mass appeal of Blackberry Smoke. 

Orange Blossom Revue was an intimate festival in a forgotten part of the world. For those two days, Lake Wales and Orange Blossom Revue allowed attendees and artists to pause and be entertained by some of the finest musicians in Americana. A strong lineup, with no scheduling conflicts, and a low bright burn of beautiful performances.

Review Under Two: Constancy by The Roseline

Review Under Two is a segment of The Marinade with Jason Earle podcast where host Jason Earle reviews a work he finds inspiring in under two minutes.

Our Review Under Two for Episode 100 with singer-songwriter Ryan Anderson focuses on the excellent new record Constancy by The Roseline.

The Roseline’s Constancy is a slice of pumpkin pie as imagined by a cutting edge chef. Reminiscent of bands like Whiskeytown and The Flying Burrito Brothers but insistent on tackling familiar themes and exploring comfortable sounds from an original perspective. 

Constancy is a hopeful record. Its characters do the messy work of looking back and examining the changes that need to be made. They acknowledge the messes in their lives and refuse to be defined by them. They decide to persevere instead. 

The backbone of the album is a tune called “Hunker Down.” It is a perfect encapsulation of the record’s prevailing theme. Constancy’s characters are in varying stages of getting to know themselves, with those in “Hunker Down” getting as close to self-actualization as one could dream. 

“All I wanna do is mostly nothing/Hunker down with you and try to tame/All my pecadillos and bad habits/Lay ‘em to waste”

“Hunker Down” is the excavation of life as a work in progress. It digs up the days of “flirting with service industry women” and “spending a shift’s worth of wages or more” in one night- those floundering moments of foolish youth that feel like they are necessary rites of passage. Maybe they are. Maybe the big takeaway should be that our bad habits and mistakes are necessary to develop constancy as a skill. 

The narrator in “Hunker Down,” has overcome the false urgency of a night wasted to experience the beauty in doing “mostly nothing” with people you love. 

We could all use a healthy dose of constancy, and The Roseline is an able ambassador for fortitude in the face of a precarious global landscape.

Review Under Two: Where the Devil Don't Stay by Stephen Deusner

Review Under Two is a segment of The Marinade with Jason Earle podcast where host Jason Earle reviews a work he finds inspiring in under two minutes.

Our Review Under Two for Episode 99 with singer-songwriter Jeremie Albino focuses on Stephen Deusner’s excellent book about the band Drive-by Truckers.

The Drive-by Truckers are one of the great American rock bands. Not a household name like Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers or Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band, but every bit as important and influential. To tell the story of such a band is to tackle a powerful and fascinating story. The Truckers might not be the most famous band in the world but few collectives have kept at it this long and engendered such a passionate following.

Stephen Deusner’s Where the Devil Don’t Stay is a book that sits back and waits for the off-speed pitch to come its way then, with incredible alacrity, drives the challenge over the right centerfield fence. But, describing the book as a home run may be selling it short. Where the Devil Don’t Stay is a masterwork in the musical biography genre. 

Deusner unfolds the story of one of America’s greatest rock bands by taking the reader on a tour of the places that shaped their legacy. Along the way we meet faces both familiar and lesser-known. And get to know places any Southerner thought they knew as intimates. The Athens of the Drive-by Truckers is not that of the average Georgian. Nor is their Birmingham like that of most Alabamans; or Memphis as to residents of the Volunteer State. 

The story of The Truckers is one of perseverance and survival, which is why Deusner’s decision to examine the story by taking a tour of The South is such an important one. To a couple generations of Americans, DBT provided a true education of one of the worlds’ most complicated regions. In less capable hands, the nuance of the band’s significance could be buried in drama and excess. Deusner takes the reins of a bucking hot potato and wrestles the beast into submission. 

The reader does not have to be as obsessive as this author to understand and appreciate the stories told in Where the Devil Don’t Stay. Deusner’s exhaustive research and passion for the work will win over anyone who cares about the history and culture of The South, or even just damn fine storytelling. 

For the diehards, this book will feel like the first time you heard Decoration Day or Southern Rock Opera. For anyone who loves a good yarn and good music, Where the Devil Don’t Stay is an essential read.

Review Under Two: Van Plating's The Way Down

Photo by Bethany Blanton

Review Under Two is a segment of The Marinade with Jason Earle podcast where host Jason Earle reviews a work he finds inspiring in under two minutes.

Our Review Under Two for Episode 98 with singer-songwriter Jeremie Albino focuses on Van Plating’s record The Way Down.

Van Plating’s forthcoming record The Way Down is a top self bourbon served neat on the back deck at twilight. Its complexities are immediately apparent but still best enjoyed with slow, rapt attention and an awareness of their context.

Plating spent her 20s playing and singing in indie rock bands. When her band Pemberley broke up she decided to take some time off from touring and making records. Then life happened and a little time off turned into years.

Once the need to create, the pang that pushes one to make beautiful things, enters the system it never leaves. Like a blood flute quietly doing its work, the need to make art will rear its head even decades after the bug first arrives. 

Photo by Bethany Blanton

Plating’s 2019 self-titled record was the first manifestation of the creative bug pushing itself from the cocoon. The Way Down (set for release on 11/19/21) is where the butterfly takes flight. A decade of reflection and growth baked into a collection of songs that celebrates the person Plating has become and is becoming. 

So often we think of creative change in terms of rebound or redemption. An artist who overcame addiction or was left for dead by the industry. In the case of Van Plating’s The Way Down, the change is not a return from oblivion. It is a leap back into a life that was always there percolating just below the surface of a “normal” existence.

The spiritual centerpoint of the record is the final track “Oxygen.” It is a song about the loss and recovery of love. Its imagery is stark and powerful, with the ocean setting the stage for an examination of what it means to lose something essential and recover it through perseverance. 

“Whose side are you on? My wings are made to soar.”

“Oxygen” is the second song on the record to mention wings- the appearance of which nods both to Van Plating’s complicated relationship with the church and her determination to rise above the noise. Who should make art? How and when should it be made? Throughout The Way Down Plating decides the answers to those questions on her terms. 

“Oxygen” is a fitting closer to the record. With little more than three chords and an acoustic guitar, Plating makes apparent that while she may have had a hard time breathing at points in her life, on this record the creative airways are clear.

Review Under Two: Razorblade Tears by S.A. Cosby

Review Under Two is a segment of The Marinade with Jason Earle podcast where host Jason Earle reviews a work he finds inspiring in under two minutes.

Our Review Under Two for Episode 97 with singer-songwriter AHI focuses on the novel Razorblade Tears by S.A. Cosby.

So many of life’s important conversations are now reduced to shouting at the opposition. If only we all had S.A. Cosby filters to pass through our complicated thoughts, this might cease to be true. Put through the prism of Cosby’s able pen, the nuance of situations can exist and the big issues face reckoning. 

The characters in S.A. Cosby’s novel Razorblade Tears come to a place of understanding, but not by shouting about how they are right and others are wrong. They get to a place of compassion, remorse, and recognition by rolling up their sleeves and getting dirty. 

Ike , Buddy Lee, and the rest of the ensemble come to life through Cosby’s command of dialogue. The two fathers - Ike and Buddy Lee - are the stars of the show and they have a lot to say to each other. They are ostensible opposites who have a lot more in common that they realize at the outset of the story. Ike is a black man. Buddy Lee is white. Ike runs a successful business. Buddy Lee is barely holding whatever he has left together.

We get to know them through trips to bars and flower shops. Through long drives and mornings at the breakfast table- none of which are particularly conventional given the circumstances of these otherwise pleasant settings. They get to know each other by talking about the gravity of the situation in which they find themselves and the consequences of their actions.

Despite their differences, the two men share a quest for vengeance stemming from the brutal murder of their sons, who were a married couple. Neither father was very good at their jobs while the boys were alive - which is both a function of their own prejudice and the fact that each man found himself in trouble with the law for violent reasons. They are united by a desire to do right this time- to find out who killed their boys and why.

While the fathers dominate the story, every character is treated as a crucial piece of the puzzle. We learn about their insecurities, their strengths. We get to understand their motivations. 

Ike and Buddy Lee develop into heroes but the line between hero and villain in this crime thriller remains thin until the end.

The demarcation happens as a result of the choices each character makes. Cosby’s villains are evil not only because they are bigots, but because they are bigots who are unwilling to change. 

Ike and Buddy Lee harbored some hate of their own. What sets them apart from the truly nefarious characters in this book is their willingness - albeit a stubborn one - to self-examine. These are guys who could be dismissed as total ass holes on the surface. A pair of ex cons, both homophobes when we meet them. But, forced into action by a system that has left them behind, the two men become friends who help transform each other. It is in these moments that their humanity shines, even as they are committing unspeakable acts.

In Razorblade Tears, there is a hope that people can change. There is an opportunity for redemption, even for middle aged folks who have had life knock them down with its best combinations. S.A. Cosby delivers a knockout punch like one of his protagonists with this novel.

Review Under Two: Tennessee Jet's South Dakota

Tennessee Jet spent a lot quarantine consuming records. While he enjoyed many of those releases, none of them were capturing what he was feeling in this moment. So he set out to make such an album. The result is a stripped down performance meant to capture the moment- imperfect but powerful and poignant. TJ, a guitar, and sometimes his harmonica are the instruments that lay his characters bare. 

South Dakota is a record that examines the present through the lens of its rich characters. Among his greatest strengths as a songwriter perhaps the strongest is the richness of his 

characters. In just a few short minutes he gives us enough backstory to understand why we should care, opens the door to empathy and understanding, then leaves us wanting to know more about these people and their stories.Characters and the layers of their lives are a bright spot of any TJ record. On South Dakota they are ambassadors of self-reflection and examination. 

The album ends with a song called “The Good.”

“I will kill your hatred/Your conscience I’ll make clear/my love has no conditions/I will see this mission through/Till like me you see the good in you”

On its face the song is about a loved one, a reminder that while flawed they are beautiful and full of potential. The subject seems to be going through a struggle of some sort. It is a gorgeous reminder to look for the good in all of us. But if you listen to Tennessee jet with any regularity, you know he is rarely content to leave things at surface level. These ears hear a call to action for Americans. An invitation to acknowledge the messes that have been made while also looking for - or reminding ourselves of - the good in US.

Review Under Two: Bendigo Fletcher's Fits of Laughter

Louisville, KY, is the Istanbul of The South. A town at the crossroads of East and (Mid)West. A place suited to spawn My Morning Jacket, Muhammad Ali, Hot Browns, and Louisville Sluggers. A city proud of its heroes and icons. 

Louisville is a Southern town and a Midwestern town. It is country and cosmopolitan. Edgy with an insistence on being refined. Above all, Louisville is one of the jewels of Kentucky- a state whose pride in its creative contributions to American culture could never be over-inflated.

While those icons endure, a new generation carries on the legacy while forging their own trace. In furtherance of that lofty tradition stands Bendigo Fletcher. A band whose music is the feeling of first acceptance after a tough breakup, of the promise that a jarring and unexpected decision brings. Bendigo Fletcher’s Fits of Laughter is an album drunk with familiar sounds melding in the mind to create the buzz of a Sunny Sunday afternoon in the fall. 

As they take the stage at Americanafest’s 2021 Commonwealth of Kentucky showcase a group of twenty-somethings makes their way to the front of the crowd. For the next all-too-short thirty minutes they are all of us who have fallen for this band. Ryan Anderson’s lyrics spanning from party anthem worthy to ruminations on existence and communing with nature. The sounds from Bendigo Fletcher’s tight group of players running through myriad soundscapes to create a sound that is both mature and fresh. 

Ken Coomer, who played drums with Uncle Tupelo and early Wilco, produced Fits of Laughter. His influence on the record is clear. Anderson described their partnership as natural. They began working together by talking about music they loved. To hear him talk about the process sounds like a joy. Joy is the emotion Bendigo Fletcher’s Fits of Laughter evokes. 

From the twenty-something folks dancing and singing every lyric right up front to the music journalist twice their age sporting a grin wide as the Cumberland Gap, Bendigo Fletcher’s record Fits of Laughter and their performance at Americanafest 2021 ignites joy in all who listen. 

Review Under Two: Nathan Bell's Red, White, and American Blues (it can happen here)

Photo by Keith Belcher

The novel It Can’t Happen Here by Sinclair Lewis was published in 1935. It tells the story of Berzelius “Buzz” Windrop, a demagogue who is elected as President of the United States and subsequently seizes authoritarian power. Winthrop is in over his head, an unlikely populist juggernaut, and not smart enough to hold the job. Sound familiar? Almost feels like it can in fact happen here, doesn’t it?

Like its partial namesake, Nathan Bell’s Red, White, and American Blues (it can happen here) is an unfortunately timeless piece of art. Necessary in its import. Heartbreaking in its relevance. 

Written over the course of several years and delayed in its release by the COVID-19 pandemic, Red, White, and American Blues has a transportative quality. The tension of recording in 2019, a stress that is often forgotten due to subsequent events, feels immediately present to the listener. While the record feels like 2019, it also feels like 2015 and 2021 and 1935, because Nathan Bell lives in the present and he has lived.

Lived in the sense of raised a family. Lived in the sense of worked a 9 to 5 job. Lived in the sense of come home from work and put on the ball game. In the sense of read all the books and listened to all the records. He has a poet’s eye with an everyman’s heart. Red, White, and American Blues (it can happen here) is the self-aware expression of a life well-lived. It is what every songwriter seeks- an honest expression of where we have been and where we are now. 

The album is musically sparse which allows Bell’s command of storytelling and imagery to shine. Bell takes on America’s gun obsession (twice), “Buzz”-Windrop-come-to-life Donald Trump, and more that ails this country. He also celebrates everyday folks, pays respect to his late father, and examines mortality with an optimistic eye. 

Red, White, and American Blues (it can happen here) would be a powerhouse of a record if the vocals were Bell’s alone. The contributions of Aubrie Sellers, Regina McCrary, and Patty Griffin take songs that stand on their own two feet and launch them into rarified air. 

The collapse of a free society can, and very well may, happen here. It won’t happen for lack of artists like Nathan Bell turning a critical eye on American society.

Lived in the sense of raised a family. Lived in the sense of worked a 9 to 5 job. Lived in the sense of come home from work and put on the ball game. In the sense of read all the books and listened to all the records. He has a poet’s eye with an everyman’s heart. Red, White, and American Blues (it can happen here) is the self-aware expression of a life well-lived. It is what every songwriter seeks- an honest expression of where we have been and where we are now. 

The album is musically sparse which allows Bell’s command of storytelling and imagery to shine. Bell takes on America’s gun obsession (twice), “Buzz”-Windrop-come-to-life Donald Trump, and more that ails this country. He also celebrates everyday folks, pays respect to his late father, and examines mortality with an optimistic eye. 

Red, White, and American Blues (it can happen here) would be a powerhouse of a record if the vocals were Bell’s alone. The contributions of Aubrie Sellers, Regina McCrary, and Patty Griffin take songs that stand on their own two feet and launch them into rarified air. 

The collapse of a free society can, and very well may, happen here. It won’t happen for lack of artists like Nathan Bell turning a critical eye on American society.

The album is musically sparse which allows Bell’s command of storytelling and imagery to shine. Bell takes on America’s gun obsession (twice), “Buzz”-Windrop-come-to-life Donald Trump, and more that ails this country. He also celebrates everyday folks, pays respect to his late father, and examines mortality with an optimistic eye. 

Red, White, and American Blues (it can happen here) would be a powerhouse of a record if the vocals were Bell’s alone. The contributions of Aubrie Sellers, Regina McCrary, and Patty Griffin take songs that stand on their own two feet and launch them into rarified air. 

The collapse of a free society can, and very well may, happen here. It won’t happen for lack of artists like Nathan Bell turning a critical eye on American society.

A Glacial Pace | Part I of Ten Days in Montana

“If the bear starts to eat you, fight for your life.” -Glacier National Park’s backcountry safety video.

My buddy Dave* and I go hiking in the backcountry of a different western state each summer. We have been close since college. As our lives and attitudes about them have diverged, these summer trips have remained a constant source of connection. 

This year we are in Glacier National Park trying to wing it. Most years we come in over-prepared but this year there has been no time for planning. We know the risks and are experienced backcountry hikers. In over a decade of hiking together, we have never been asked to watch a video dramatizing such risks. 

Glacier is serious about safety. A lot of things can kill you in the backcountry, the video warns. Hypothermia, falling, drowning, ticks, and most important bears. The video makes it seem like bears are sitting around fires together at night, rubbing their paws together and scheming to eat humans.

It appears there are bears hanging from every tree and hiding behind every bush like villains in a video game. As for us, we are 2D Marioesque characters from the original Nintendo. We can go forward or backward, and jump an inch or two, but otherwise are sitting ducks for ravenous monsters. 

Dave does not fear death in the way I do, but we both can’t help erupting in nervous laughter when the announcement about getting eaten enters the video. Dave’s a practicing Christian. He believes in heaven and does not find its existence terrifying. 

To know what is going to happen when you die and not be frightened by the thought is an enviable position. I once thought the same way except it scared me beyond belief. I would lay awake at night having what I now recognize as panic attacks thinking of eternal life on “streets paved with gold.” Dave, who is a genius, still maintains what I see as cognitive dissonance about the nature of existence.

The ranger is a young guy built like a second baseman. His eyes teem with excitement as he relays that we are in luck. It’s almost impossible to get this hike, the most sought after in the park, late on a Saturday afternoon with no reservations. We need to be flexible and willing to put in some extra miles but he can get us on some incredible trails.

Our campsite on night one is in the front country. It’s a luxurious space. Even has showers.

Sleeping is always fitful that first night. The excitement and wonder of what’s ahead. The fact that you are going from sleeping in a bed the night before to crashing on the ground with just an inch or so of inflated plastic as a cushion. And the danger. 

In this writer’s experience, the most honest version of oneself comes out in the backcountry. Death is an ever-present spectre in my life. It is the source of all fear and anxiety. Thus, backcountry hiking is some of the strongest medicine for my mental health. 

When a person is scared to die. And, we are all so disposed whether we admit it or not. The fear of what comes next can be all-consuming when we are mired in the day-to-day machinations of our existence. 

The backcountry strips away any distraction aside from existing. Moving, eating, finding and creating shelter. In the wilderness, the battle is between your doubts and fears. You are the referee in this fight. There is no promoter or sponsor. You have control over your next move but are powerless against factors well outside your control. 

We are about five miles into what could be a near sixty mile hike and the sole of my right boot has fallen off. These boots were on their last legs but it seemed like they had at least one more trip in them. About a mile ago a young guy and his horrified date on her first overnight camping trip reported a sow with her two cubs bluff charged the pair to within seven feet. 

Nature is wasting no time in reminding us who is boss. Dave has a little duct tape. I have some athletic tape in my first aid kit. One step at a time is the motto. 

Our campsite for night two is in one of the most stunning places I have seen in my life. The sun seems to split out like a neon hula hoop around the horizon as it sets. Everyone here at 50 Mountain knows Glacier like the back of their hand.

Where are we headed? We don’t know. Something lake through something or other pass. Everyone else has their shit in a neat package.

Most of the folks camping here are from West Texas. They know something or other lake. Must be Mokawanis Junction and Elizabeth Lake. The patriarch of the group just turned forty. He charmed sixty friends and family into going back to Glacier for the umpteenth time. The women stayed back with the young kids. 

Day one was some of the hardest hiking Dave and I have done in over a decade hiking together. We could use some trail magic. Day two is not forthcoming. We have been hiking for what feels like twelve days. Dave’s heels are a wreck. He has quarter sized blisters on the back of each. They shine like the sun from last night.

A blister is not just a blister. It changes your gait. Challenges your spirit. Picture walking one way your entire life and then being forced to change that pattern while stepping on and over rocks and roots while gaining thousands of feet in elevation.

We are looking up at a pass between peaks. There seems to be no way out. A group of three is enjoying a late afternoon picnic along the bank of perhaps the most gorgeous lake these eyes have seen.

*Dave is not his real name. He’s one of my best friends but does not have an online presence. I want to respect that.

Part II of this story is on the way in this space.

A Series of Essays on The Marinade's Favorite Albums of 2020 | Fetch the Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple

Fiona Apple’s Fetch the Bolt Cutters blasted into the world while much of the United States was still in quarantine due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Do you remember when you first listened to it? I was in my living room. My partner and I had just played a game of Scrabble and I succumbed to my Twitter-checking reflex. My feed is full of artists and fans of art so just about every other Tweet referenced the triumph of Apple’s surprise album.

We dialed it up in an instant and listened while dinner was prepared. About once a week for a couple of months we listened together, not to mention the times we each listened alone. Fetch the Bolt Cutters is unlike anything I have heard this year or any other. It is unpredictable, powerful, honest, cathartic, pop, rock, hip hop, soul. Every time I think I have the record figured out another listen sets me straight.

Fetch the Bolt Cutters comes from a place of liberation and this year in so many ways felt like a personal liberation for me. I was forced to confront my anxiety about mortality without the benefit of escape. I was faced with an examination of my commitment to causes I have long made noise about but which require more than just noise. And, I insisted on being paid what I’m worth. 

Apple’s masterpiece was a fitting soundtrack to a tumultuous year of growth. It was messy, complicated, and challenging. There were fits of anger and bursts of hope. At the end, as difficult as it may seem, love won a lot more than hate. Anger was channeled into action. And, the future looks brighter than the past. 

A Series of Essays on The Marinade's Favorite Albums of 2020 | Roll On by Water Liars

This is the second in a series of short essays looking back at the records we loved from 2020. The series focuses on how each album impacted Jason Earle’s life this year.

Few records rise to all occasions. There are songs for dancing. Those for drinking. Music for lounging. Road trip music. Songs for fucking. Sometimes an album overlaps in a couple of those places. Other records remain siloed. 

Then there are albums like Roll On by Water Liars. The rare artistic effort achieving universality of mood. An album for any moment.

You get home from one of those days for which you were unprepared. The kind where dominoes seem to resist gravity.

You just got a promotion, have been feeling good and taking care of yourself- eating right and exercising. You want to rock. Bounce up and down and sing at the top of your lungs. 

It’s Saturday. The rest of the family is out doing family things. They let you sleep in because you are a lucky mother fucker with a bad ass family. You enjoy the luxury of a slow cup of coffee sitting by the window and watching your world awaken.

Roll On does what its title track promises- carrying the listener through whatever life presents. Justin Peter Kinkel-Schuster’s writing spans a lyrical spectrum from epic ruminations on love and perseverance to sparse, abstract nods to anxiety. The imagery is vivid. The mood in each song is set. 

“Down Colorado I followed your shadow/And credit card receipts/The cocaine receding, the western sky bleeding/The mountains in relief/I never deserve you but how could I earn you/When stone ain’t made to bleed?”

On the whole I have been one of the lucky ones in the year 2020. The pandemic slowed me down and made me rethink my day-to-day. I was able to refocus on the relationships that mattered and distance myself from those that were taking more than they were adding. I stood up and advocated for myself. I fought the right battles and let go of the other stuff. 

There were personal and professional challenges, both self-created and as the result of outside forces. It was not a perfect effort but again, relative to most folks I was fortunate. 

July and August was a tough stretch of the year. COVID-19 cases were climbing. Schools weighing whether to re-open despite not having the resources to keep people safe. The 2020 election loomed as the potential final nail in the coffin of our eroded democracy. 

Roll On was delivered right on time. The record was made in 2015 but released in the middle of this year. It may not have reached my ears in 2015. Hell, even if it did I may not have needed it so bad five years ago. Roll On was there for what turned out to be a second half full of hope in 2020. 

I kept coming back to the record, bingeing it and finding new nuggets during each listening session. I also went back into the Water Liars catalog and those of its individual members. I found comfort in the atmosphere of Water Liars. Roll On was a steady friend and a willing partner in the second half of 2020.

A Series of Essays on The Marinade's Favorite Albums of 2020 | Reunions by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

This is the first in a series of short essays looking back at the records we loved from 2020. The series focuses on how each album impacted Jason Earle’s life this year.

“Be Afraid,” the first single released from Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit’s Reunions came out in February of 2020, the same weekend I ran my first marathon. It was a fitting release date. The great ones have this way of putting out the sentiment we need at the right time. The novel coronavirus arrived in Florida in the same month but life was continuing as normal. Our challenges were of our own creation at the moment.

For the amateur, running a marathon is an encompassing endeavor. Most of your free time is spent training, meal planning, and recovering. Your emotional bank account is on life support for several months. 

To get across the finish line you need your personal support system, which I consider to include my friends and family but also the art I consume. Like art, running is rhythmic. The physical act itself and the process of training for a race both require a consistent commitment to coming back to the things you need to stay in the moment. 

The act of creation is similar in so many ways. When we find ourselves doing the work on a regular basis, treating it with a certain rhythm, breakthroughs happen on a more regular basis. 

What we know about Jason Isbell is that he does the work. Hours of guitar practice every day. Going back to the well again and again. 

Photo by Jason Earle

The result of Isbell’s dedication is a succession of classic albums. Prior to his 2020 release, the last three (or four) of his records are brilliant works. But, it is possible no record has ever hit me as hard as Reunions. 

The year 2020 was one for facing fears. Fears of democracy’s decline and possible end. Fears of mortality. We as a species had to dig deep. Isbell could not have known the depth and breadth of challenges humans would face this year, and that is why a song like “Be Afraid” is so powerful. Its message matters as much now as it will in five or ten years. 

New challenges and fears will follow. The same ones will rear their heads. All the while, great art - works of the magnitude of Reunions - will be there as support. A way to think through and deal with our fears. A “battle cry” as Isbell says on that first single.  

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit’s Reunions is the record I listened to the most in 2020 because it represents the best of us. Our ability to endure and innovate. Our willingness to keep fighting when the finish line seems to push further and further away. Whether pushing ourselves to run a marathon or just surviving a once in a hundred year shit storm, we can “be very afraid,” but we also must ask ourselves, “What have I done to help”?

Good Medicine: How Trusting the Process Led to the Birth of a Podcast

Brett Bass is being really patient. “Where do you want to do this?” he asks. “Do you have a press pass and does it let you backstage?”

I do not have a press pass. In fact, I have never interviewed an artist face-to-face before. Calling myself press would be a stretch. 

He suggest the VIP. I don’t have that kind of clout either. They barely let me in the park. The gatekeeper is a woman in her fifties. The lines on her face suggest she knows she is clever.

“He’s a journalist. We are gonna do an interview. Can he come back for a few minutes?” 

“Sure. Who do you work for, Rolling Stone?” she asks flashing her wrinkle-maker. 

The VIP sits stage left. The music is loud but this is a bluegrass festival so we can hear each other with just a little more than normal effort. 

I flub a compliment about his Unknown Hinson shirt. “My girlfriend’s band opened for them.” Them?! Yeah, lady, I’m the next Cameron Crowe.

I lead with some Man, what are you doin’ here?! questions. “These are such great songs and you are one of the most incredible guitar pickers I have ever seen. Your tunes should be in heavy rotation on every country station. Why do you think they play Florida Georgia Line and that bullshit instead of music like this?”

My phone is recording the conversation. We had agreed on twenty minutes. It’s been seven according to the screen. Despite seven minutes of me fellating the lead singer’s ego, Grandpa’s Cough Medicine is nowhere near the top of the country charts. Time to switch gears.

“When you sit down to write, are the lyrics coming first or do you build on the melody?”

He casts an imposing figure. Brett Bass is probably 6’4” and built like an offensive lineman in retirement. He leans back. Takes a satisfied breath. Almost as if he had been bottling up the urge to tell me how dumb my questions had been to this point. 

I’m not sure what to expect. Am I doing well or is this a disaster? He rewards my moment of self-awareness by going off about inspiration, process, his love of playing guitar, the difficulty of being a bandleader, and more. Twenty minutes is over in a blink.

My blood is pumping with the high you get from falling in love or besting a long-standing challenge. I’m making wrinkles of my own. My father is there to witness the birth of this new chapter. He leaves me alone on the hill overlooking Spirit of the Suwannee’s meadow so I can listen to the recording and start writing. 

What is this piece? Will it be a straight transcript? Maybe part of a larger review of the festival? Listening to my conversation with a stranger whose music I love is disorienting. It sounds much as I remember from ten minutes ago but as an outside observer I notice some things that were not evident during the chat.

As I remembered, Brett is polite and professional. But the Grandpa’s Cough Medicine frontman does not want to talk about why his band is not a household name. While I kind of picked up on that in the moment, it is so clear on tape. My line of questioning is like asking a teacher who has been busting their ass for years why they aren’t making six figures.

His tone shifts at the seven minute mark. Voice almost skips into the conversation about process. He sounds loose, at home. I wish my readers could hear this! How am I gonna explain it in print? Maybe these interviews should be a podcast. How does one make a podcast? Gonna have to do some research but how hard can it be? Thirty minute conversations about the creative process. Short intro. Make up a theme song. 

Now, what are we gonna call it? The...

Keep Your Foot on the Gas | Can America Learn From NASCAR?

U.S. Air Force photo by Master Sgt. Chance Babin

Explaining NASCAR to the uninitiated is a difficult task. The name conjures images of mulleted rednecks drinking beers, fighting, and making out with their cousins. The hater will say NASCAR is too conservative, too white, too male, too simple, too boring.

Some of that sentiment can be understood by examining our own prejudices while also acknowledging some facts. NASCAR has its roots in the South, having emerged from moonshiners running from the fuzz. Its drivers and fans are largely white males. Many drivers speak with an accent and say things like “we run good.”

To assume a Southern sport is backwards is its own kind of bias. Bias NASCAR is actively trying to combat.

Despite considerable progress, the sport’s warts have entered our national consciousness of late. First with the public banning of the Confederate battle jack necessitated by the flag’s ubiquitous presence at events. Then with an ugly, as-yet-unresolved racist act against its lone black driver Bubba Wallace .

Much of NASCAR’s reputation is based on stereotypes of the South. Its history is intertwined with that of the region. Other sports have worse contemporary problems yet NASCAR as a league bears the brunt of popular criticism when it comes to race.

Shed no tears for Dixie during this zeitgeist but it is worth noting the discrepancy in standards as we look for ways to understand systemic racism. Wherever prejudice is possible it needs to be illuminated.

The NFL blackballed a high-level player because he dared protest police brutality against people of color. Several of its coaches, owners, and players have and continue to take openly racist stands.

Atlanta Motor Speedway Circa 2011

Photo by Jason Earle

There is less of a conversation around the racism of the NFL, NBA, and MLB. NASCAR is an easier target. To have the broader discussion, we must acknowledge race as an enormous challenge all over the world, not just the American South. Thankfully, America is beginning to reckon with that reality in a more meaningful way.

NASCAR should not be let off the hook. A noose was found in a black competitor’s garage. Driver Kyle Larson was recently fired for using the n-word during a virtual competition. The league has a long way to go before it can be seen as a model for progress.

NASCAR can be viewed as an example of how change is a slow and messy process. There will be a breaking point. Perhaps this is it. Maybe now we wrestle with the heavy questions and work toward answers with sustained vigilance. Answers beginning with an examination of the institutions we hold dear.

Sports provide both a reflection of and escape from the real world. We are projected as fractured microcosms of society on game day. United in defense of people we have never met playing a game most of us never play. Fortified against another group of people on the other side of the arena.

America, ain’t it? Opposite sides of the arena. Each group feels like they are on the righteous side of history. Neither wants to hear a single fact from the other. If only the problem were so simple to distill.

The sticking point in this contest is the Trumpian side of the arena has no interest in facts. Sports teams led by cowards and fools stumble their way to mediocrity. Their fans will keep showing up for the hope that this year things may be different. The same is true of politics.

A noose in Bubba Wallace’s garage is the powerful tip of a terrifying iceberg. A violent obstruction lying below the view of many citizens. Its response to what happened with Bubba or what Larson did contains lessons. The fight for a more just world begins with chipping away by addressing specific incidents, but change will not stick unless the system is changed.

NASCAR represents a snapshot of America. An organization slow to reckon with its past, uncertain of its present, and anxious for its future. Hopefully we learn lessons from the sport’s slow shift. Unlike a NASCAR event, there is no finish line for equality. We must keep our foot on the gas like a driver on the back straightaway of an endless race.

The Consequence of Genius: Some Words About Jason Isbell's Reunions

Photo by Jason Earle

An odd consequence of genius is we come to expect it. When Bob Dylan puts out a mediocre or even slightly sub-par by his standards collection of songs, the effort is met with vitriolic critical rebuke. Such is the price of creating art that inspires across cultures and generations. Songs by Dylan and his ilk are not to be casually enjoyed. They are events requiring time to marinate and then parse.

The difference between Dylan and modern standard-bearers is the former is going to have an audience even after each perceived misstep. Everyone watches his mulligans because the competition in his heyday was minimal compared to geniuses in an internet-connected, streaming world.

Today we have instant access to truckloads of great songwriters. If one stumbles, our collective attention wanes, and in that lapse a writer may not recover for two or three albums- if at all. Jason Isbell has admitted to feeling a bit of this pressure. In a very candid New York Times piece, he confessed his new record Reunions was a different beast.

Long an Americana darling, Isbell’s notoriety and prestige stepped into a different gear with the Dave Cobb-produced trio of records Southeastern, Something More Than Free, and The Nashville Sound. Ask an Isbell obsessive about their favorite record and you will likely get a different answer depending on the day. This is because Jason Isbell is the best songwriter in popular American roots music. With the mantle of greatest comes a more critical and less forgiving eye.

Reunions will not settle the score. Art is not an objective competition so we cannot discharge the debate. Frankly, Isbell does not owe any further proof of greatness, yet further proof is exactly what this collection delivers.

With every song, he challenges us to think about our place in the world. By turning a mirror on himself, in this case a far-sighted mirror reaching to less proud moments of the past, he challenges the stories of internal valor we tell ourselves and roots out questions about how we are actually going to confront our issues.

If you just looked at Jason Isbell, maybe caught a tiny snippet of him saying something seemingly inconsequential, you would be forgiven for thinking he was just like us. He has a way of remaining authentically down-to-earth while orbiting the creative sphere in rare air.

The truth is in short supply even as access to information increases exponentially. We still get romanticized, sometimes sterilized versions of artists and ideas. Merchants of misinformation point fingers rather than offer honest appraisals of the way things are. Thankfully, Isbell is hyper-committed to the truth to the point of expecting it from himself and the listener.

Like a dog’s peanut butter coated pill, facts are better consumed on a full stomach with an appetizing presentation. All great songwriters have this ability. Isbell does it better than anyone.

On “Dreamsicle” — one of the biggest triumphs in his storied career — the narrator reminisces about a mother trying to make the most of a dysfunctional situation. Despite multiple narratives throughout the album, there are common threads to which we have grown accustomed with Jason Isbell records. Namely, everyone is doing their best, and if they are not then it’s time to start. His characters are broken and battered but each tale is delivered with empathy for the realities that lead to less than ideal situations.

Photo by Jason Earle

Even if you can’t directly relate to growing up in a dysfunctional family, the humanity in each story offers something universally unifying. Isbell never misses. There are polarizing songs on the other records. One person finds “Anxiety” speaks directly to them. Another thinks it a bit too much. A diehard fan names “24 Frames” as their favorite while someone else thinks it falls short of his best. Reunions does not have those tunes. It offers not a moment to check out or allow the songs shelter as background noise.

Honest introspection is typically tough by nature. Baring your scars for a discerning audience to examine and apply their own whims is an even bigger display of honesty. The characters of Reunions leave nothing on the field, including the role of a man supporting his grieving partner and trying to suppress his own jealousy or the performer exhorting their cohort to “be afraid but do it anyway.”

Each song is a masterpiece worthy of marination, and even after just a couple of weeks in the world they already feel all-consuming. It is the right kind of possession, one where the possessed grows stronger with each listen.

Artists on the level of Jason Isbell are lucky to get mulligans these days. Fortunately for Isbell, he has not needed one. If that day ever comes, let’s remember Reunions- a record that raised a bar already set so high only one writer could have cleared it.