It won’t surprise anyone who reads these pages, really, that I love words. I love the way a songwriter can put a line together, make you look at something differently, or find something extraordinary in the everyday. Which is where Kyle Kimbrell comes in, because the man is a brilliant songsmith.
He’s a brilliant lyricist too, and Lonesome in the Sky gives you plenty of evidence of that. Right from the start of “Paperbacks”, where he sings about those who claimed God, gold and glory, you’re left considering how all that turned out. The music is brilliantly expansive, giving those thoughts room to breathe, and immediately there’s a sense that this is going to be something special.
It isn’t just about the words, though. “Helmet Head” is insistent and incessant, with an energy that brings Black Rebel Motorcycle Club to mind. That wasn’t necessarily a comparison I expected to make when this record began, but it tells you something about the range here. Kimbrell has more than one way of getting his point across.
“Blood Hound” takes a different route, with a bit of fingerpicking and the image of “living in the dark like an old bloodhound”. There’s something wonderfully evocative about that, while “Grocery Cart Ordeal” is instantly familiar and so full of class. These songs have a way of sounding like they’ve been with you for years.
“Maker” is so old school that it practically needs Johnny Cash. As the piano tinkles, Kimbrell sings: “I can’t explain how the world went insane through my bedroom window.” Maybe he’s just been watching 2026 unfold. Either way, it’s another of those lines that makes you stop and listen.
And speaking of 2026, there’s “Demagogue”. I don’t think we need a lengthy discussion about where Kimbrell sits on the political spectrum. He makes his feelings clear enough here, and the songwriting carries the point.
“Bad Apple” changes the feel again, an acoustic offering with a different vibe, before “She Feels Like Home” finds something desperately sad in the words “somewhere in a bar there’s a band without a crowd”. Yet there’s familiarity too. You wonder whether he’s singing about himself, or simply capturing a scene he knows all too well.
“Surely, Surely, Surely” underlines that gift for words. Jason Isbell comes to mind, and that isn’t a comparison I make lightly. There’s an ability to make a phrase carry far more weight than you might initially realise.
“Times Like These” is eerie, as though something is lurking just beyond view, while “No, That’s Not Me” leaves you with the unsettling image of someone hanging on by their neck. Even at the end, there’s another line to turn over in your mind.
There are so many different moods and styles here, all held together by the quality of the songs. It makes you wonder just how many wonderful singer-songwriters are out there waiting to be heard. On the evidence of Lonesome in the Sky, Kyle Kimbrell belongs right in that top drawer.
Rating: 8.5/10
