Review Summary: California’s own Chicken Soup for the Soul.
Knuckleball Prime is an album that finds you when you’re ready for it. Even though I’ve listened to Willy Tea Taylor for a few years, a parasocial relationship forged and encompassed by 2023’s more energetic
The Great Western Hangover, I’d never dug much into his past records.
Knuckleball Prime earned a couple attempts from me, but its slower, more contemplative pace warded me off and my attention moved on to other acts and genres. I can’t explain what it was that called me back to finally give this album a full listen, but the season out here in the Pacific Northwest has been turning and the looming maw of the Big Dark approaches as the days shorten, vacillating between cool starts and blazing zeniths. Another birthday is also approaching, so maybe I’m just getting old. Whatever the cause, I’m glad I finally settled down and gave this album a listen. It’s more than worth it.
Even on the
The Great Western Hangover, Willy Tea’s lyrical chops are obvious. He’s a songwriter who knows how to perfectly turn a phrase or string along a story before driving it home for maximum emotional catharsis. But while that album is more upbeat and rock-driven,
Knuckleball Prime finds the underground Americana bard at his most raw. There’s hair-raising parts of “California” where nearly everything stops except Willy Tea’s mournful voice as he chokes through lines about escaping economic desolation by fleeing to his home state, only to find a quagmire of disappointed dreams. Then there's the wall of distortion that breaks up the soft crooning of “You Have My Attention,” demanding of the listener their own attention as Willy Tea details a sad story, cleverly relayed, about a departing lover. “The Very Best” mines a similar vein to simple, devastating effect:
“I might not be too good at most things I do,
But I’m the very best at missing you”
Musically the album is intentionally scaled back but intricately composed and blends together Americana, laid-back country and folk. Slide guitars and violins swing down from on high, sparse drums know how and when to build and slash the energy, and synths and backing guitars provide a perfect foundation for Willy Tea’s warm and crackling voice. For his part, Willy Tea plays an antique four-string tenor guitar which brings a subtle but noticeable timbre to all his albums and becomes especially apparent on live recordings. But it’s really the songwriting that shines through on this album. The pacing for the 11 tracks and the record as a whole is pitch-perfect and leaves listeners wanting more despite the album’s 45 minute runtime. This is a gentle and therapeutic experience that leaves the listener calmer by the end. It’s the perfect album for late summer contemplation; for watching southward-drifting sunshine cast growing shadows on fading hardwood floors while the trees beyond begin to drop their leaves. An album for change and reflection.
Knuckleball Prime’s appeal is also helped by the fact that Willy Tea Taylor himself seems about as down-to-Earth of a musician as you could hope for. His songs are imbued with an earnest romanticism - especially for California - and an honest introspection. You can even hire him to play at your house straight from his website. Maybe it’s that humble attitude that’s kept him from really breaking through into the mainstream. It could also be the nature of his music which rewards multiple listens and examination of the lyrics to really blossom. Whatever the reason, this is a phenomenal album and it’s a shame more people haven’t heard it.
