Jason Isbell

A few of my friends on the softer side of life are Jason Isbell listening blokes. They're almost the typical Jason Isbell demographic: in their mid-30s to late-40s, white as Fuck, into country folk but they call it 'Americana', they may or may not be huge fans of either or both, My Morning Jacket or Wilco, they "listen to the words, man", they are notorious thigh slappers and finger snappers, and they buy their artist merch before the opener is done with their set.

These people aren't idiots, they're highly intelligent, they just happen to like their music to fall into one narrow column.

Thankfully for me, I can appreciate the music in this column, even though I can't fucking stand Wilco and MMJ is the still the most amazing yet ungodly fucking boring band I've ever seen in concert. I love knowing exactly what I'm going to get when I put on an album.

Jason Isbell is shit smacked in the center of this music column of "you know what to expect, but you act interested enough to still hope for something exciting".

All that being typed, I'll openly admit to enjoying the Fuck out of this album in the least exciting way possible. The musicality of these musicians is fucking gorgeous in every sense of the word and every damn song on this shit, again, cruises along in the exact center of the comfortable country folk lane on the highway of musical genres.

There's very little movement outside the pocket besides the occasional use of a distortion pedal, and my five year old daughter did pipe up in the car on the way back from the farmer's market and say "he said 'shit' daddy!".

But Jason Isbell has this endearing quality to his song writing that I've only ever experienced in The Giving Tree Band, where I don't just want to know his lyrics, but the story behind the story of each song. I don't just want the inside scoop, I want to hum these fucking songs as I change the oil on my tractor or filet this morning's catch on the tailgate of my pickup. I recognized immediately that these songs held the value of allowing me to enjoy the scenes unfolding in front of me without distracting me from their equidistance from the same ol to the same ol.

The one place on this album where I said an audible "oh Fuck yes" was just after the 3:04 mark on 'Children of Children' where the instrumentation just fucking eases into one of the more beautiful few minutes of my year. Seriously, at 3:44 when the guitar leans into that obvious choice for a solo, I won't lie, I was fucking holding my lips in a duck face and nodding slowly while uttering a low "wooooooooooooooo". Such fucking beauty bros. Damn.

Tom informed me that Jason's latest album sounds "too similar" to his previous album, but I can't hold that against someone who always sounds like this. Isn't this the very quality we demand from the artists we obsess over? Don't leave what I love about you off your next album please! But then you use that as an excuse to not love more songs that remind you why you fucking love the guy in the first place?

This isn't rap bro. You can't say dude is saying the same shit unless he's actually saying the same shit.

These might all be songs about things you've never thought about the way he thinks about the things you've never thought about, but that's why we love this dude. Quit being such a Wilco fanboy, damn.

Tom's note: Hold the Fuck up Bee Boy. I know exactly the person who you are subtly describing at the begining of this review. His name begins with a T, ends with an M, and uses his chin as a pencil sharpener.

1. I grab my merch before the show because I always have to pee after the show. AND if I go to the merch table after i do my biznass, the only t-shirts left are smedium and XXL.

Secondly, an insult to My Morning Jacket is an insult to me and my French Canadian ancestors who've broth me to this land.

C. You aren't making any friends by saying Wilco is boring in a JASON ISBELL REVIEW. It's like going to see Lord Of The Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring and wearing a shirt that says "Star Wars BLOWS, more like Puke Skywalker. Amiright?"

IV. And in context, I said that Something More Than Free is too similar to Southeastern for me to love. I think the album is very good. At times it makes my heart twinge but it's a slightly less sad continuation of his previous album. 'At's all.

Joel's Ending: WILCO IS BORING IN A JASON ISBELL REVIEW.