Chris Stapleton
Traveller
Mercury Nashville
I’ve been sitting on this album for a few months, trying to decide whether or not to write a review. TRAVELLER was released in America in May; it’s just been named the CMA’s Album of the Year—so will anything I say at this late stage encourage anyone to fork out their hard-earned cash for a record that’s been universally hailed as one of the very best country albums of not just this year, but for the past several years? What finally clinched it for me was the news that rather belatedly, Universal Music UK is granting the album a UK release this November. So, if you’ve not heard, or even heard about, Chris Stapleton’s TRAVELLER, please do read on …
Though this is his solo debut, Kentucky-born Christ Stapleton is no young pup in the music industry. He’s 37 years old and has been in Nashville for the past 15 years. Former lead singer and main songwriter for acclaimed bluegrass band The Steeldrivers, for some considerable time he has been one of Music Row’s most successful songwriters, penning radio hits and album tracks for the likes of Kenny Chesney, Lady Antebellum, Don Williams, George Strait, Luke Bryan and even Adele.
Those expecting some kind of smoothly-executed collection of radio-friendly country-pop tunes or even heart-on-the-sleeve, singer-songwriter fare will be bitterly disappointed. The cover image gives an indication that this album, unlike most Nashville country recordings, is not aimed at the young music fans. Oh no! This is heavy stuff, aimed at the more mature, adult music aficionados that used to slaver over the works of George Jones, David Allan Coe, Johnny Paycheck and other good ol’ hard-livin’ country guys. Chris Stapleton’s singular voice sweeps down like the fabled voice of a true time traveller worn with rugged trails and hard-lived tales told to a fortunate few by the glow of a well-burned down campfire. TRAVELLER is a dusty, polished, new, old record—a dozen songs, the best he has ever written, with lines about love and the end of love, about journeys and homecoming, about the death of friends and drinking yourself dry, plus a couple of oldies given such distinctive renditions that they also sound like new-old songs.
An eclectic treasure trove of barroom rock‘n’roll, trad country, soul balladry and rootsy Americana, these are care-worn, dog-eared songs that eat you up; a salve for modern living that is both unsettling, yet strangely comforting at the same time. The universal theme of dreams hitting a brick wall is a thread throughout the album. There are stories of broken promises, battered hearts, and choices having dire consequences; tales of the dejected, the down-and-out, the desperate. Parachute is a haunting ode to backsliding. With its adventurous arrangement it reminds us that no matter what we struggle with, setbacks are a part of the healing process. He turns Tennessee Whiskey, a classic George Jones’ country hit from 1982, into a ballad wailer that sounds like a night when a 1960s soul revue found itself playing in a hillbilly roadhouse. Whiskey And You is raw, stripped down and the lyrics read like a novel about life, love, yearning and mystery. A glorious gem that unfolds with Stapleton’s cracked vocal stalking the perimeters unabashed.
Mickey Raphael’s mournful harmonica adds a little solace to Nobody To Blame; a classic country song––emotional and boozy, melodic and catchy––the listener is as likely to consume on a Saturday night with drinks as the next morning with the resulting remorse and coffee. The extended The Devil Named Music is possibly the most powerful life-on-the-road song that’s ever been written. He is joined by wife Morgana for the heartfelt More Of You, a delicate duet with simple but effective mandolin picking and lyrics that pluck at the heartstrings. Then he turns the emotional screw up a few more notches with Daddy Doesn’t Pray Anymore, with such passion that everytime I hear it, I just have to stop and listen once again and wipe a tear away. Yeah, grown men really do cry when real-life music is this powerful. This is the album I will play whenever someone asks me what it is about country music that makes me so passionate. Either you get it or, or you’re just a hard-nosed musical snob lacking in compassion with little or no comprehension of what real life is all about.
www.chrisstapleton.com
Traveller
Mercury Nashville
I’ve been sitting on this album for a few months, trying to decide whether or not to write a review. TRAVELLER was released in America in May; it’s just been named the CMA’s Album of the Year—so will anything I say at this late stage encourage anyone to fork out their hard-earned cash for a record that’s been universally hailed as one of the very best country albums of not just this year, but for the past several years? What finally clinched it for me was the news that rather belatedly, Universal Music UK is granting the album a UK release this November. So, if you’ve not heard, or even heard about, Chris Stapleton’s TRAVELLER, please do read on …Though this is his solo debut, Kentucky-born Christ Stapleton is no young pup in the music industry. He’s 37 years old and has been in Nashville for the past 15 years. Former lead singer and main songwriter for acclaimed bluegrass band The Steeldrivers, for some considerable time he has been one of Music Row’s most successful songwriters, penning radio hits and album tracks for the likes of Kenny Chesney, Lady Antebellum, Don Williams, George Strait, Luke Bryan and even Adele.
Those expecting some kind of smoothly-executed collection of radio-friendly country-pop tunes or even heart-on-the-sleeve, singer-songwriter fare will be bitterly disappointed. The cover image gives an indication that this album, unlike most Nashville country recordings, is not aimed at the young music fans. Oh no! This is heavy stuff, aimed at the more mature, adult music aficionados that used to slaver over the works of George Jones, David Allan Coe, Johnny Paycheck and other good ol’ hard-livin’ country guys. Chris Stapleton’s singular voice sweeps down like the fabled voice of a true time traveller worn with rugged trails and hard-lived tales told to a fortunate few by the glow of a well-burned down campfire. TRAVELLER is a dusty, polished, new, old record—a dozen songs, the best he has ever written, with lines about love and the end of love, about journeys and homecoming, about the death of friends and drinking yourself dry, plus a couple of oldies given such distinctive renditions that they also sound like new-old songs.
An eclectic treasure trove of barroom rock‘n’roll, trad country, soul balladry and rootsy Americana, these are care-worn, dog-eared songs that eat you up; a salve for modern living that is both unsettling, yet strangely comforting at the same time. The universal theme of dreams hitting a brick wall is a thread throughout the album. There are stories of broken promises, battered hearts, and choices having dire consequences; tales of the dejected, the down-and-out, the desperate. Parachute is a haunting ode to backsliding. With its adventurous arrangement it reminds us that no matter what we struggle with, setbacks are a part of the healing process. He turns Tennessee Whiskey, a classic George Jones’ country hit from 1982, into a ballad wailer that sounds like a night when a 1960s soul revue found itself playing in a hillbilly roadhouse. Whiskey And You is raw, stripped down and the lyrics read like a novel about life, love, yearning and mystery. A glorious gem that unfolds with Stapleton’s cracked vocal stalking the perimeters unabashed.
Mickey Raphael’s mournful harmonica adds a little solace to Nobody To Blame; a classic country song––emotional and boozy, melodic and catchy––the listener is as likely to consume on a Saturday night with drinks as the next morning with the resulting remorse and coffee. The extended The Devil Named Music is possibly the most powerful life-on-the-road song that’s ever been written. He is joined by wife Morgana for the heartfelt More Of You, a delicate duet with simple but effective mandolin picking and lyrics that pluck at the heartstrings. Then he turns the emotional screw up a few more notches with Daddy Doesn’t Pray Anymore, with such passion that everytime I hear it, I just have to stop and listen once again and wipe a tear away. Yeah, grown men really do cry when real-life music is this powerful. This is the album I will play whenever someone asks me what it is about country music that makes me so passionate. Either you get it or, or you’re just a hard-nosed musical snob lacking in compassion with little or no comprehension of what real life is all about.
www.chrisstapleton.com