In the run-up to “Weathervanes” coming out, Jason Isbell said something that set me thinking.
“If we romanticize the past,” he reasoned, “then we can’t learn from it.”
That sentiment colors the whole album, but never more than on its true standout moment. “When We Were Close” is not just the best song here; it’s the best song of 2023 and arguably the best that Isbell has ever made.
It isn’t too much of a stab in the dark to suggest it’s about Justin Townes Earle, and at its heart, it has this: “saw a picture of you with your child, I hope she will remember how you smiled, but she probably wasn’t old enough, the night somebody sold you stuff, that left you on your bathroom tiles.” No sugar coating, for sure, but in a piece of wonderful songwriting, he also asks, “you were bound for glory, but grown to die, oh why wasn’t I?” It’s utterly glorious.
But it’s just one example of this most wonderful of albums. Its opening track, “Death Wish,” poses the question “what’s the difference between a breakdown and a breakthrough” but never answers. And if, in common with the greats, it’s tough to tell where the personal ends and the stories start, then “King Of Oklahoma” is typical of the way he writes about the downtrodden, and the violin adds depth to the sound. Meanwhile, “Strawberry Woman” is acoustic, but it’s the details in the words. They are like short novels, almost.
“Middle Of The Morning” is a vehicle for his voice and something as American as the Eagles. And “Save The World” contains the words “somebody shot up a classroom again,” just matter of fact, as if you are numbed to it.
“If you insist” is is classically what he does, built on odd rhythms. You get put in the middle of the story, and the way he tells those stories is astonishing. “Cast Iron Skillet” is poignant, dealing with the loss of a parent, but more than that, it is a study into how The 400 Unit always finds the right sound, as they do on “Volunteer” with its haunting harmonies, matched with lyrics that seem to underline the sentiment about not romanticising the past.
It’s a feature of the record, too, that there’s not a lot of light in these tunnels. “Vestavia Hills,” for example, reasons that “you’d rather be anywhere than here, but it can get so much worse, and I reckon it will.” Maybe you settle for what you have?
As if to underline the fact that each of these songs is a novella almost, “White Beretta” takes in questioning faith and many other emotions as the couple reflects on an abortion (at a guess). Whatever it is, it’s a quite wonderful song.
It ends with two of its longer ones. “That Ain’t Hit” swirls along on the back of screeching guitar and a stunning chorus, while “Miles” is appropriately expansive. You can imagine it playing over some series.
And just like a series, a truly great series, you’ll interpret these differently, perhaps. Like discussing he end of “The Sopranos,” did Tony die? We can all sit around debating what these songs mean. The best do that. The best make you question your thoughts. Jason Isbell is probably the best at this these days. He keeps proving it again and again.
“Weathervanes” in that respect is another in a long line of brilliance, and if the summer is too early to crown an album of the year, then I’ll say this: anything better than it in 2023 will be the best.
Rating: 10/10
