A little more Hank than Lucinda. Perhaps an equal dosing of Johnny Cash and Joan Jett, Sarah Shook‘s latest record “Years” came to my ears as an unexpected shockwave to my chest cavity, stopping my heart and pounding it back to above normal heart sinus rhythm in one fell swoop.

Photo by John Gessner

There is something so authentic, raw and untroubled about her delivery of each tune on this record. Seemingly ok with heartache and despair, or at least accepting that its part of being human. A deadpan delivery and a break in her voice that could collapse mountains with its benevolence, that even when she sings the most scathing of her lyrics, a certain vulnerability and realness seeps through in the sickly sour taste of whiskey mixed with coffee after a rugged night on each breath.

Rather than continue on with “Shook is a bit of this and a bit of that”, its more accurate to say that she straddles the lines between genre, influence and even gender paradigms as some of the narratives seem to come from what would traditionally be a male point of view in this kind of music, and she delivers that point of view to great effect. As she sings each word of these stories, with all the conviction in the world, its not necessarily about ‘who is telling the story vs who it is about’, as much as it is about just how well it is written and how much persuasion the teller of it has over its listener. She never misses a beat and in actuality, the ability of a songwriter to put themselves in another character’s shoes and have the confidence to deliver the story as if it was them behind those eyes, well thats a rare gift and Sarah Shook has that gift by the truckload full.

Every so often a song is veritable gut punch and, for whatever reason, it resonates in ways that other songs simply cannot touch. “Good as Gold” had that effect on me the first time I spun through ‘Years‘ and after listen upon listen of this album, it still sticks with me in some uncanny way. Its not necessarily that the song’s context is particularly sad or that the arrangement is filled with weeping strings and melancholia, but the delivery of each note and word is just so genuine and, in a way contains a sense of surrender, that I relate on some different level to Shook’s story.

I’m afraid of losin’, losin’ everything to you,
My heart, my pride, the wreck inside.
Nothin’ on this jukebox ‘cept the blues.

And that chorus is inflicted in a fashion that is a juxtaposed “rip your heart from your chest” despondency, that you cannot help but feel the pain and light injected into the lines.

Baby, if you go it’s over for good
And I’m as good as gone.
No, it won’t be long ‘til the wrong song comes on
At the right time.

You’re as good as gold.
I’m as good as gone.

Sonically the record is dust kicked, steel crying perfection. The band’s chops and ability leaves an insatiable hunger for a listener’s ears to listen on repeat. Instrumentally, this is what every country infused record should strive to. Flawless execution while retaining all the heart and emotion that is needed to stand toe to toe with Shook’s lyrics. So is the case with “New Ways To Fail“. The band takes the notion of a rock n’ roll, shit kicker and intermingles with the necessity for a songwriter to find the catharsis in pouring their emotion and pain into a song. Here is where the band proves that party music can be pensive and just because you need to expel some demons doesn’t mean it has to be a downtrodden minor keyed downer of a tune and by the second chorus you will be singing along with “‘Cause I need this shit like I need another hole in my head.”

‘Bottle Never Lets Me Down‘ further dwells on the things that we carry on our backs and is incredibly introspective and self-aware while taking an outlook that can still make you want to move across the dance floor. A spooky, True Detective-esque vibe coats the arrangement like a dark syrupy sepia toned cover-up. Noir and filled with trepidation. As Shook declares “Every night I sit ‘til sunup drinkin’ And every day I wait for night to fall So I can clear the darkest memories from my recollection And hear no sounds and feel nothing at all.” with a howl, its a cautious declaration about falling down that hole, that leads to a hole in the wall dive in towns across the country. Also serving as another prime example of how the songwriter can impart herself into the narratives of characters in the songs. Singing “Make me feel the man I used to be.” with a discerning quality of truth and confidence.

 

 

Another standout is the mournful and longing impact of “Heartache in Hell“. That feeling creeps back in. This one hits me the hardest. The cascading of drums and bass as the chorus section concludes and the break in Sarah Shook’s voice that sends chills down my spine. The detachment and somewhat monotone delivery coupling with some pretty heavy shit embedded in the words. A less attentive listener may take it for granted, but when you let that feeling, the sounds, the deep emotion in the song wash over you, it pays you back in spades.

Front to back “Years” is a kick in the teeth, rambunctious ride of a record with glimmering heartfelt moments of vulnerability alongside cutting authenticity and unapologetic candor. Without a doubt, one of the best records that 2018 will see.

 

Sarah Shook and the Disarmers will be at Atwood’s Tavern on Sunday April 29th and I couldn’t be more direct in saying “you need to go to this fucking show”. The band isn’t long for the world of 100-200 person capacity rooms, so see them up close and personal before the stage they are on is above your shoulder height and you are 100 feet away in a sea of people.