It would be easy to think you had “Sunshine State” pegged from the title.
More happy country. More blue skies. More of that chart-ready stuff with a cold drink in its hand and nowhere much to be. Probably best to think again. There is nothing but rain here, reckons McCoy Moore, and that is what makes the record work.
Moore himself has called “Sunshine State” the most honest representation of who he is, where he comes from and how he sees the world, adding that every story, memory, lesson, heartbreak, dream and musical influence from the last 25 years found its way into these songs.
That is not just label-copy waffle either. You can hear it. This is a record that might sound, at first, like it is built from familiar country parts, but the deeper it goes, the more bruised it becomes.
On one hand, “Every Single Summer” has the idyllic feel these albums often have. The sun is out, the memories are warm, and everything should be perfect. Except here, the girl is missing. She has gone. And to be honest, by the sound of it, she is not coming back.
That ache runs right through the record. Cole Swindell appears on a song that hymns the idea that real life is not reflected on the news, which of course it is not, because normal lives do not sell adverts. That, in many ways, is what Moore is writing about here: small towns, small dreams, and the ways ordinary people find something important in ordinary places.
“Not Even Close” is here because these albums all need something to tug the heartstrings, right? And anyway, he is getting over her in time-honoured fashion on “Went To A Bar,” because country music has never met a heartbreak it could not at least attempt to drown for three minutes.
“Chesney On A Beach” is exactly the sort of thing you assumed the album might be full of: warm breeze, sand, the whole deal. But “Bible And A Bar” is closer to the constant battle at the heart of the record. Right and wrong. Temptation and faith. The sacred and the Saturday night. It sounds timeless, and timeless is a good word for “Memories We Never Made” too. Everyone has one that got away, surely.
“Prayin’ For Me” cannot quite believe its luck, while “John Deere Blue” is a clever, rural way of saying you will not forget someone. And my God, this does not get any cheerier. “Dyin’ On The Hill” keeps the record bleak enough that it is not immediately clear how he intends to get over any of this.
“Beer I Never Should Have Bought” changes tack slightly. It is still heartbroken, but this time it is her fault: “word gets around in a small town and damn girl so did you,” he sings, which is a line that knows exactly what it is doing.
Then “Left Alone” finishes the album the way it has been all the way through: broken, and in love with someone who does not love you back.
Moore made his Grand Ole Opry debut on May 26 after receiving an on-stage invite from HARDY, and you suspect that will not be the last milestone. It seems like every week we say a country star is born, but guess what? It is 100% true here.
The real McCoy? Yep. Sorry, couldn’t resist it.
Rating 8/10
