A few weeks ago, I started following Kiefer Sutherland on Instagram. He’s been on a very lengthy UK tour, posting little videos from each place he plays, and it’s obvious how much he enjoys being on the road, playing his songs.
But there’s more to it than that. He’s searingly honest, too. When he was forced to cancel the US leg of the same tour, he didn’t blame “logistical issues”. Instead, he told the more than half a million people who follow him that he was doing so because no one had bought a ticket.
That kind of bravery colours “Grey” throughout.
“Ain’t it funny how life breaks you, even when you got it made” is a hell of an opening line, and maybe it gets to the heart of why Kiefer Sutherland does this in the first place.
On “Come Back Down”, he sounds incredibly world-weary, like a man who has seen too much and is still trying to process it all.
“American Farmer” was one he included in the set the other week, explaining that after buying his own farm, he had seen first-hand the plight of small-town farmers and wrote the song to highlight their struggles. As storytelling goes, it’s not a bad one at all.
The one that follows it, “Goodbye California”, is more personal still, as he packs up, leaves his home and moves East.
Another already in the set is “Simpler Time”, a piece of reflection, a “wasn’t the past better?” sort of thing, but one so innocent and heartfelt that it becomes charming rather than cloying.
“Starlight” provides a counterbalance, another from the world-weary end of things, as the bar is full of people “throwing back our drinks and telling lies”, and the harmonies are as haunting as the ghosts they’re running from.
“Cruel Work” takes on mental health issues unflinchingly, while there’s real darkness about “Down Below”, a feeling that it is restraining itself, waiting to build.
“Third Time’s A Charm” adds a kind of silver lining, as the narrator finds love, and there should be a word, too, for the band, who turn their hand to the jazz of “The Bottle Let Me Down”, where the half-spoken delivery only adds to the confessional feel.
“Rage In Me” likes the 1920s prohibition-era vibe, and surely that rage is turned into the lyrics. That is what Sutherland seems to do here: take whatever is inside and shape it into something honest.
What he does cleverly, though, is walk the line between black and white. Because, as this album understands very well, sometimes things exist in the grey.
Rating 8/10
