Review Summary: When is simple too simple
For this opening paragraph, I would like to imagine myself inhabiting the world of Ryan Bingham's music video for 'Southside of Heaven', a single from his highly promising but slightly flawed debut
Mescalito. In said video, Bingham wanders around in some very harsh sunlight, but also stops for a daydrink in a roadside bar. In my scenario, I'd enter the same bar, sit down next to him and ask a simple question: "What the hell happened?".
Since his debut (which had a slightly flabby second act), Bingham has gradually endeavoured to present his followup material on the strength of performance alone. I feel he's simplified his songwriting and upped the earnest personality, with chorus lines like "Who's knocking on the door? It's me mother***er!" trying to sell a vague sense of unconvincing social rebellion on 2012's
Tomorrowland. As a listener who prizes the heart of things over skill, this should resonate, but I think Bingham already had the requisite level of intensity and character in his unique, weathered voice. While his previous albums still have some good songs, here on his latest, I think the approach has finally run as dry as a well in one of the hypothetical repossessed farms that oft pepper Bingham's lyrics.
I'm not sure if the aim here was to capture some sort of spontaneity; songs infused with the power of starlight and camp fires. But I think I'd like to hear a solid bridge to break up the strumathons, or a climax to justify the aimless generic picked riff repetition of 'Devil stole my style', truly a song with no menace that just peters out. Perhaps the devil really did jack his trade - the lyrics on this sound like boilerplate cowboy code, with only 'Automated' able to utilise the hazy patterns to any effect. Bingham's sensual, almost dreamy ode to achieving comfort and chemistry does work, but does not stack up against his best work; rather it is a sketch of a viable possible direction.
In my little bar vignette, if Ryan hadn't delivered a stinging left hook, I'd ask if he keeps in touch with his old band The Dead Horses. Bingham's voice and lyrics are whisky with a touch too much peat; the Horses provided a filigreed coaster to rest the glass on. Their sophisticated little touches are sorely missed in his post
Junky Star output. I'm rooting for him to find that balance of delicate and rambunctious he did so well in 2007; back then he tapped into feathery country, rust belt rock and even a little Mariachi with hearty panache. Right now I think it's less meaningful glances through the flames and more kumbaya before S'mores.
