Review Summary: The former Civil Wars guitarist delivers a generally strong set of alt-country tunes that bode well for the future.
John Paul White has always been something of a mystery. As half of the (now defunct) Civil Wars, White provided a ghostly, hushed croon that carried heavy drama and intensity even when it wasn’t the central focus of a song. The band itself was very ghostlike, seemingly materializing from nowhere, winning four Grammys, and then vanishing back into the ether from which they emerged. In interviews after the breakup, White was absent, remaining silent and letting Joy Williams be the public face of the group in its final hours. Still, questions remained: What was the future of The Civil Wars? What would become of John Paul White, the enigmatic guitarist that had provided the soul of the duo?
With
Beulah, White’s second solo album and first since the breakup, we might be a little closer to gleaning some answers to these questions. As opposed to Williams, who pursued a more standard adult-alternative sound in her 2015 record
Venus,
Beulah doesn’t stray too far from the Americana and folk stylings of the original Civil Wars albums. The opener, “Black Leaf,” is the purest continuation of this sound. As an unsteady rhythm peels away from White’s acoustic guitar, he sings of lost love in a way that seems to metaphorically address the rift between him and his former bandmate: “She’s a quitter, but I guess we’re both quitting now.” It’s blunt and direct, giving the impression that White felt he needed to acknowledge the elephant in the room before continuing on with his own career. Musically, it’s one of the best things here, with an undeniably gothic atmosphere that sets the tone for the rest of the album. It isn’t all heartbreak and sorrow, though. After all, the ominous black birds on the album’s cover are flying inside a gorgeous, watercolor sky, indicating that perhaps all is not lost. Relationships might be temporary and fleeting, but White insists that “there’s always a second time around.”
Redemption and second chances are both motifs that continue on for the record’s duration, and White explores them from multiple angles. On “I’ve Been over This Before,” a lovely collaboration with The Secret Sisters, (with whom The Civil Wars shared a space on the Hunger Games soundtrack in 2012) White informs a former lover that “So as long as I may live, I can’t ever let you in… I’ve been over this before, I won’t get over it again.” It’s a bit hypocritical that White would desire a second chance for himself, yet deny such an opportunity for those around him. However, he embraces his imperfections and hypocrisy in “Make You Cry,” the record’s most vulnerable track. Over an initially sunny backdrop of plucked guitar, a monsoon of strings and choral vocals pours in to guide the song to an uneasy climax as White sings of his sadistic desire to “watch the pain start to work.” Another standout moment is “Hate the Way You Love Me,” a bluegrass ballad that emphasizes the dichotomy of White’s desires and his reality. He’s a self-identified sinner, a man who somehow manages to elude happiness even when he desperately grasps for it. When he loses love, he’s resentful and bitter, but those feelings remain even after he finds it again. The best parts of
Beulah are those which confront the cursed nature of White, since they provide a slightly darker twist on the sound which had already become familiar to us over the course of both Civil Wars albums.
Familiarity, however, is often White’s weakness. “The Martyr” is a dull and uninspired slog through standard country-rock territory, and “Fight for You” features a lazy chorus, a guitar riff that is blatantly ripped from The Decemberists’ “Rox in the Box,” and a surprisingly restrained vocal performance that doesn’t quite mesh with the intensity of the track. Generally, it seems that White is more comfortable on the softer songs, the exception to this rule being the terrific “What’s So,” a bluesy number whose wailing guitars chug along nicely in the spirit of Jack White’s “High Ball Stepper.” Still, there are a few too many moments on
Beulah that conjure up memories of more original tunes by other artists.
The remaining tracks are all enjoyable, but generally lack the lyrical or instrumental punch that the highlights deliver. Overall, though, the record is quite solid, with enough moments of genuine inspiration to make up for the occasional misstep. It also leaves enough room for the growth that I’m sure will take place over the next few albums that White releases. He’s in a good spot in the industry, occupying a unique sound that falls somewhere in between Sturgill Simpson’s oddball-country and the likes of more mainstream artists like Chris Stapleton.
Beulah is a very promising start to White’s post-Civil Wars career, and hopefully his gothic Americana can continue to revitalize the broader genre in these dark days of Florida Georgia Line and other “bro-country” acts that seek to rid Southern music of all the beautifully imperfect grime and angst that once defined it. So far, White’s hopeful assertion in “Black Leaf”- that he’ll make the most of his “second time around”- seems to be correct, and it’s great to see him return to the country scene just in time to nudge it back in the right direction.
