Self-released

****

After two decades of hard scrabbling around the Los Angeles alternative country scene, very much sidelined with a loyal cult following, the safe bet would be on singer-songwriter David Serby’s exhaustion, but that’s not the case at all on this, his seventh album. He has never been shy about tackling social issues or matters of the heart. But this time, David hikes through high and lonesome territory without even breathing hard. If you’re breathing and your heart is beating, I can pretty much guarantee you’ll be entertained. Maybe not every song will be to your liking, but there’s plenty here that will grab your attention. It would be easy to say this LP has garage-rock quality, but it doesn’t—it’s a little too polished despite its street credentials. His studio band, most of whom perform live gigs with him, play a loose-limbed amalgam of jangly Bakersfield country, lightly rumbling sounds of roots rock and soul-searching heartbreak ballads. It all sounds like a late-night honky-tonk gig caught on tape for posterity. At once stylish and timeless.

An audacious ten-track effort that distils his anthemically-minded, junkyard country-rock-and-roll into something punchy and slightly turbulent. His engagingly modern take on old-school West Coast country is quite addictive. Musically, the set sits at an ideal intersection of Buck Owens and Wynn Stewart with a pinch of Dwight Yoakam and a slight dash of Dave Alvin. In addition, this skilled songwriter has some of Tom Russell’s flair for narrative wit and wisdom. The title song starts the record with a big groove. On the surface a joyful singalong that hides the heartache of a couple’s chance meeting under a neon sign, looking for healing to the sounds of an old jukebox and a glass of the hard stuff. A toe-tapping blend of Americana influences with an optimistic message that however bad things get, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

The rest of the album follows through on that theme, a deep drive into uncharted lands of heart and soul. The clarity of this journey is astounding, wreckage and all. Hardscrabble honky-tonk at its best, Don’t Stay Fixed¸ compares working on a thorny relationship with the maintenance required for a car or domestic appliances. The rhythmic Flight Path is another dark song about a break-up dressed up in a vibrant country-rock arrangement to process one of the hardest leave-takings of all. He has a great ability to add humour and sarcasm to really drive his point home on the rocking Gone For Good. Soft Mexican rhythms drive the minor-chord Border Town Affair, coloured by Spanish guitars and melodic accordion in this sad ode to a broken Senorita seeking an escape from heartbreak.

There’s a couple of palette cleansers among these harsh doses of reality. No Happy Endings perks along with bright-eyed innocence and optimism. Little Ole Bruise is hauntingly visceral, as he comforts a young woman about a messy romance. Incredibly sweet and kind, he paints her an exposed snapshot taken straight from life’s experience. He closes with Drive Me Home, in which an evening of drowning one’s sorrows with a sympathetic single woman, leads to an invitation to be driven home the worse for the alcohol. If this doesn’t make you smile, you’ve got the lonesome mighty bad. David Serby is quite adept at chronicling dysfunctional and broken relationships and is finely attuned to the inequities and injustices inherent to human affairs. No, it ain’t always pretty, but still, he conveys an honesty and emotion that gives the listener a clear connection.

https://www.davidserby.com

May 2026