Love is on Brantley Gilbert’s mind.
That might not be the first thing you associate with a man who has spent much of his career presenting himself as modern country’s resident outlaw, but Sins Of The Father, his eighth album, finds him approaching familiar subjects from a slightly different angle.
“The Addiction” sets that tone immediately. The guitars are still there and Gilbert’s gravelly delivery remains unmistakable, but the dependency being explored is emotional rather than chemical. For all the noise around it, this is a record about needing people.
“Good Damn” finds him on the wrong side of the tracks and desperate to get someone back. “I ain’t seen you since the last time you said you’d never see me again,” he sings, capturing the sort of romantic disaster Gilbert has always understood better than most.
He is exceptionally good at the bad-boy-with-a-good-heart routine, and “Mud On His Halo” could almost be its mission statement. Gilbert has never pretended that his characters are saints. They make mistakes, start fights and take the wrong road, but somewhere underneath the scars and bravado, they are usually trying to do the right thing.
Then the big guns arrive.
Jelly Roll appears on “Begging For Change”, as the pair discuss genuine pain and the struggle to escape it. Given the two men involved, the song could easily have collapsed under the weight of its own earnestness. Instead, it is brilliantly done. The emotion feels lived rather than manufactured, and the collaboration makes complete sense.
“Back In The Days Back” proves Gilbert still has choruses to kill for. The modern country production is absolutely nailed, but the important thing is that the polish never removes the personality.
There is darkness throughout Sins Of The Father. While plenty of Gilbert’s contemporaries are making records built for tailgates, parties and endless summer nights, he appears far more interested in catharsis.
“F****d Me Up” initially seems to be heading towards another account of emotional destruction, but Gilbert cleverly reverses expectations. This time the chaos has a happy ending. Love has not ruined him; it has changed him for the better.
“Driveway” is closer to the sound that made Gilbert famous. It is country music played with enough distortion and muscle to stand alongside hard rock, full of swagger and barely controlled aggression.
“Good Ol’ Boys” goes even further. This is not merely “damn near” hard rock. It has an arena-sized riff that Shinedown would happily take for themselves, while Gilbert reminds everyone that he still knows exactly where the trouble is likely to be found.
The title track is rooted in both history and faith. “Sins Of The Father” considers inheritance, consequence and the things passed down through generations. Gilbert understands that where you come from shapes who you become, but he is equally aware that the cycle does not have to continue forever.
When you boil it down, is that not what much of modern country is about anyway?
“Small Townin’” deals in identity, belonging and the communities that make people. It is familiar territory, but Gilbert’s conviction carries it.
“Wild Like That” is one of the album’s more overtly pop moments. The edges are smoother and the hook is designed to travel, yet his voice ensures it still sounds like Brantley Gilbert rather than an anonymous attempt at crossover success.
“Dirt Wrote” knows exactly where it comes from and is entirely comfortable with that fact. Gilbert is not searching for an escape route from his roots; he is celebrating the way they made him.
“Copperheads” underlines the point. It is another of those country songs that makes you feel as though you know the people involved purely through the detail in the lyrics, even when the lives being described are a million miles away from your own.
That ability to create a world remains one of Gilbert’s greatest strengths.
As “Hell Yeah Boys” looks back, it also finds hope in the next generation. Gilbert sees something of himself in the young men coming through: the same wildness, the same mistakes and perhaps the same chance to eventually become something better.
Scanning the tracklist, you might briefly wonder whether “Live Forever” is an Oasis cover. It is not, obviously, but it does bring the album back to where it began.
Love.
After all the darkness, inherited damage, bad decisions and hard-rock riffs, Gilbert ends by considering what survives after everything else has gone.
Sins Of The Father feels like a move away from what was expected. The familiar toughness remains, but it is accompanied by reflection, vulnerability and a desire to break old patterns.
It feels like a new vibe, but Sins Of The Father is a heavenly departure.
8.5/10
