I don’t understand someone who would hear a good song they don’t know, and let it pass without investigating who sings it.
What is now my very favourite band in the world I first heard in a club waiting for a band to come on in the mid-90s and went up to ask the DJ who it was. These days of course, it’s a lot easier. The internet has ruined this world in a great many ways (and I genuinely believe that, by the way) but crikey it has made music accessible.
I was listening to a Podcast today with the fabulous singer/songwriter Beans On Toast, picking his songs for the apocalypse. One of the artists he picked, I’d never heard of, so set to work and now I’ve got a couple of albums ready for tomorrow.
It’s that, self same thing that led me to see Jake Smith for the very first time on 22nd July 2016. That night that I termed “a murder ballad hoedown” came because I watched a TV show and heard his songs on it. He’s probably bored of hearing about it now, but you know the song and you know the show,
Fast forward four years and here we are at album number six (I think!) and lets get this out of the way shall we? It’s the best of the lot. If the rest were great, then this? Well this is incredible.
Shooter Jennings’ presence as producer got me excited. Not least is he a brilliant songwriter in his own right, but his work on Duff McKagan’s solo record last year was glorious. This had the potential to be a match made in heaven, but it’s gone beyond that.
As the press release accompanying “The Widows Walk” put it so succinctly: “With an eclectic history to his illustrious name, Shooter simply has no interest in playing it safe.”
And he’s brought that out in The White Buffalo and his band.
“Problem Solution” sets the stall out from literally the opening line: “tell me what’s wrong with my brain” asks TWB. Does he find the answers over the next 11 songs? Who knows but it sounds cathartic, nonetheless.
“…Solution” is effectively two songs in one, because halfway through it changes tack and Jennings’ keys take it somewhere else. Completely. “you can’t live this life straight” it offers. “So get high or get gone….”
The thing about Buffalo, though, is that he is essentially a troubadour in the classic mould. “The Drifter” is built on the classic country sound, and of course it has that voice, that utterly indescribable voice, deep and rich and still somehow fragile.
It switches gear at will. “No History” is a heads down rocker. Recalling, to me anyway, mid period Steve Earle, as Drummer Matt Lynott and bassist Christopher Hoffee (who plays guitar too) are all over this with real skill.
They balance that out with the genuinely beautiful, evocative words in “Sycamore”, and the kind of acoustic funk of “Come On Shorty”. This is one that sneaks up on you. I’d listened to this record quite a few times before writing this review, and I didn’t really notice it to start with. A week later, it was melded into the psyche, and the relish with which he sings: “then I can finally say we’re through” is palpable.
“Cursive” is built around piano, and barely hides its bleakness, but yet again the gear changes are effortless. “Faster Than Fire” has the same driving energy that Counting Crows always manage to find a couple of times on an album. Guitars screech, and Smith’s voice is even raspier than normal, it is a fabulous stomping brat of a track. The near title song, “Widow’s Walk” which follows, is the Sunday morning hangover to those Saturday night hi-jinks, and you have to credit the poetic imagery here. It’s present throughout the album, but never bettered.
There’s something eerie about “The River Of Love And Loss”, like its lurking with malevolent intent – if TWB has a signature sound, I guess it would be this. And then there’s this line: “I tell you I got secrets, I know you got yours too, but mine are little more sinister, I’ve done things I can’t undo….”. That’s the first bit of the wonderful “The Rapture”, which does that thing he does of being dark and violent yet totally accessible. It’s like someone has condensed every primal urge you ever had into a song. It’s also, probably, the best thing on this – although that’s changed about 10 times, and I actually wasn’t going to write that line when I started this, as if to prove the point.
If he began by asking a question, then he ends that way too. “I Don’t Know A Thing About Love” is tender, piano led, but come on, there’s got to be a kick to the taste, right? Yes. And here, at the end of the chorus, he simply asks, “do you?”
Damn. Now that’s changed the mood. So do I? No, not really, beyond the fact I know I love “On The Widows Walk” and I am certain it’s the best album amongst an already superb collection of them.
Rating 9.5/10
