Review Summary: Heaven is a place on Earth
It was 2016 when Kevin Morby released what is arguably his crowning achievement in
Singing Saw. At the time, I viewed the record as an exceptionally well-crafted launching pad for one of folk’s finest up-and-coming artists. However, the four albums that followed over the ensuing decade all seemed to fall short of Morby’s promised ceiling; sure, they delivered some rustic charm and were well-produced, but they were also sparse on hooks, lacked creative wrinkles, and proved to be ultimately forgettable even amid his workmanlike competence. Snapping him out of this ten year lull is
Little Wide Open – a breathtakingly expansive Americana record that finally lives up to the future that
Singing Saw once suggested was possible. Honestly, this might be even better.
Little Wide Open brims with the picturesque. It’s a record deeply rooted in concepts from the American Midwest, with references to the Bible Belt, June bugs, prairies, tornadoes, and just about every colloquialism you can imagine. Morby paints this image using vivid language and lush, vibrant instrumentation, depicting things like firecrackers illuminating the night sky, dandelions in the breeze beneath a golden sky, and menacing storm clouds approaching. It’s the sort of album that captures your imagination immediately, transporting you to a place where life may feel simpler, but within that quiet, the big questions only weigh heavier.
Kevin Morby’s creative awakening is partially fueled by a star-studded cast – which includes Justin Vernon, Lucinda Williams, and Aaron Dessner – but this is also an irrefutable triumph for Morby himself. The songs are all incredibly well-crafted and memorable, consistently progressing to unforgettable melodic heights while breathing more naturally than ever before. Opener ‘Badlands’ is about as accurate of an album microcosm as one could pinpoint with its beautifully droning guitars, heavy tribal-like drums, and haunting verses (the tornado motif and harmonies mimicking sirens never fail to delight) – yet,
Little Wide Open succeeds in large part because no snapshot could possibly capture the entire panoramic view that
Little Wide Open’s atmosphere represents. ‘Bible Belt’ offers an unforgettable blend of acoustic picking and lushly layered vocals, ‘100,000’ ramps up the energy with passionate repetition and a maelstrom of electric guitars, and ‘Junebug’ is a delightfully upbeat piano-driven ballad which feels like all things peaceful descending upon your burdened mind at once -- like dandelion seeds parachuting to the ground on a warm summer evening. Although the record feels unified thematically and in its pursuit of pastoral beauty, the way that beauty shines through feels just a little bit different on each track. Whether it’s the simple, fiddle-laden country feel of ‘Dandelion’ or the elaborate build-up of towering epics like 'Natural Disaster',
Little Wide Open continually unfolds in ways that both surprise and delight.
Lyrically, Morby also takes a leap forward. Gone thankfully are the
Sundowner days of verses about listening to people have sex through the wall.
Little Wide Open is gorgeously abstract, and mostly rooted in concepts about nature or existence itself. We get enchanting imagery such as “heaven is a place on Earth beneath the golden sky” alongside pondering reflections like “the sky expands and you and I expire, just like sparks flying off some firecracker” in the same song. There are enjoyable quips elsewhere like “if timе plays tiny violins then we play symphonies” as well as introspection as it relates to self-worth: “when I find a good thing, not sure that I desеrve it / I'm afraid I'll just hurt it, so I burn it down.” Morby is consistently fascinated with the passage of time, and trying to fight the innate human desire to escape death: “time, we share the same dream / to stretch on forever towards eternity / to be a little wide open.” Amid all these intriguing lyrics, perhaps the best stretch of writing in his entire career comes on the magical ‘Junebug’ - a piece that brilliantly articulates a yearning to experience life while you still can:
I'm up early
Every morning
Trying to capture
Morning's glory
To bottle lightning
Or bottle storms
Or bottle nightmares
From the night before
In the afterglow
Of the evening
When there was no God
To believe in
Another day
Above the dirt
Farming songs
On this planet Earth
Whether it’s the music or the words, something about
Little Wide Open hits on a deeper level. It feels earthy, yet spiritual at the same time. It’s so rich in its atmosphere and production, but still manages to sound entirely organic. Those who’ve been following Kevin Morby for most of his career recognize the heights to which he can aspire, but also know how frustratingly sporadic those gems actually surface amid his more by-the-books output. At long last, Morby has pieced it all together in a true magnum opus (of sorts).
Little Wide Open certainly isn’t grandiose or over the top, but it does feel like most of his best material settled into one place here. It possesses all the marks of a year-defining folk/Americana release – and while I’ll stop short of calling it an instant classic, I do think time will be kind to this album.
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