Review Summary: Arguably the best country album of 2023, Bonnie Montgomery's debut stanza is flavorful and inviting.
I'm still reeling from Jason Aldean's
Highway Desperado, which is honestly morbidly impressive when you consider that it'd be such a nothing burger of an album if not for its purposefully ugly lead single "Try That In A Small Town." I'll admit; I, like many, allowed that song to do what it was actually intended to do: elicit an outraged response. It's not hard to see that it was a cheap political statement done solely to goad you into reacting, but what do you do with a song like that? If you leave it alone and don't push back, it feels vindicated in its convictions, however loose they may be. But if you give it the time of day it doesn't deserve, Aldean, along with the audience he's pandering to, dig in their heels and hold their ground. Either way, it seems like they win. And that's a bigger tragedy than most people realize. No one ever tried to meaningfully stop country music from turning into the attenuated farce it's become. So where does that leave artists, especially on the ground level, who still actually give a sh*t about diversity of thought and sound?
Enter Arkansas-born Bonnie Montgomery, a classically trained powerhouse vocalist whose debut studio album
River was floating on Bandcamp seemingly waiting for me.
River is a brilliantly performed slice of Americana coated in neotraditional grandeur and offers, if for a fleeting moment, a reminder of why country music will always hold a special place in my heart. The appropriately titled project certainly flows and oscillates through different sensations and feelings. On mid-stage highlight "Half Drunk", Montgomery is reassuring a nameless muse to hold on and help her weather life's storms; "Life is hard, I guess ya know, I wouldn’t trade you for peace or war. But just lay low, boy, the tide’s sure to turn," she gracefully pleas. On "I Was Fine", however, she laments that his showing up takes away the "spring" in her step; "Now you’re gone and the room just feels so empty to me," she confesses.
The drawl in Montgomery's voice is scant. The warm timber in her lower register is where she really carves her niche as a vocalist. Fiddles swell and steel guitars croon throughout, but Montgomery's diaristic form of storytelling is what really carries the album forward. The lyrics can be a bit opaque on times, like on the repeated hooks on "No Way Around It" or the opening title track, but neither track reaches a conclusion or crescendo that could jeopardize the intimacy of the music, which is particularly tasteful if that's what Montgomery was going for. Later cut "Seventeen" is almost orchestral, ratcheting up just enough fervor to remind you of an action movie sequence, before gliding into a dreamy and pleasant violin-led bridge.
Though the album plays with a fair bit of structure and consistency, it's not devoid of variety. Penultimate hit "I'll Know" can be defined in equal measure by its vibrant imagery (another of the album's calling cards), but also its bouncy keys, which are germane to that track. Album closer "This Town" is marked by poignant lyrics that stack up to a Taylor Swift verse; "I heard you cry, but I did not see your face," Montgomery proclaims. As it progresses, a statement of optimism is mostly at the fore ("Everything's gonna be alright)", and the plainness is honestly part of its charm.
River is a very interesting and tenderly crafted production. I'm eager to see if Bonnie Montgomery will gain any traction in the genre's mainstream; Lord knows we could use more Arkansas apples and less jelly rolls.
