Alright, here’s a head-scratcher. It’s like a country song, kinda, but it hasn’t been built with the usual sonic building blocks. Sure, you got your acoustic guitars, backbeats, and bass lines, but this tune is also wonderfully raw, a bit washed out like it’s from another dimension. It’s beguiling, brilliantly disarming and slightly odd (and I mean that in the best possible way—odd being the antithesis of mundane, ordinary, conservative, and familiar).
Trying to pinpoint why it feels out of place is a task and a half, but I’m all for songs that defy the mould, so no complaints here. Only some things have to conform neatly; not everything has to make perfect sense. There’s this hint of sixties infusion about it, and it straddles the rootsy vibes of the New World as effortlessly as it does the folksy echoes of the Old; the song’s solo, especially, carries this keening, Celtic vibe. It’s a tad spiky yet utterly endearing, quirky, funny—the perfect remedy to those chisel-jawed cowboys in oversized hats crooning sombre odes to their dogs or pickup truck… or their dog’s pickup truck.
Genres and labels? Hell, who needs them? The world’s always been a better place without those constraints. Let’s toast to a song that feels familiar yet bold and sonically fresh. That’s how the music world keeps on spinning, after all.
I kicked off by admitting I didn’t know what the heck was going on. At the tail end of this rant, guess what? Still don’t. But what I do know is, I’m diggin’ it, and maybe, just maybe, that’s all that really matters.
