The Singles Jukebox

As opposed to a FLAC Year or a Tidal Year…

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[5.38]

Alfred Soto: Not one for word play, Eric Church recasts a breakup as an excuse to hole up with his favorite albums — a conservative gesture, sure, but free of his usual rancor. I don’t get how he’s supposed to sound like Hank and Stevie — I don’t expect a clavinet and jokes. So long as he still impatiently elides consonants to create unexpected stresses he’ll never bore while still honoring his influences; this is one of the best vocal performances of Church’s career. Bet he learned that trick from Hank and Stevie. Can’t wait to hear how country radio listeners respond to the “countin’ on a needle to save me” line.
[9]

Thomas Inskeep: Cool and collected as he sings about the aftermath of a brutal breakup, this is Church at his best: smart lyrics and smarter singing, on an economical tune. Give plenty of credit to Jay Joyce’s light hand behind the boards, too.
[7]

Anthony Easton: There is this great Ridley Bent song called “Nine Inch Nails” that is my favourite example of discography as an autobiography. Every time I listen to “Record Year,” I go back to Bent. I like the pun in Church’s song — and it’s a great twist — something that Jones might inherit. I also believe that Church actually listens to these records, but they also work as class and social signifiers, just like the Jeff Tweedy drop earlier on the album is supposed to mark authenticity. I don’t believe that the narrator listens to these albums, but I do believe that Church is making a meta comment about taste, which means the heart break doesn’t strike me as that believable. I do think that Church loves the records more than the girl.
[4]

Cassy Gress: Eric Church certainly has a lot of twang in his voice; in fact, if I were a guy and wanted to parody country music, I’d probably sound something like him. He doesn’t have the warm baritone of Garth Brooks or George Strait, and that really lets the song down, but I think the song knew that would happen, because the backing music is pretty thin too. Country songs that namedrop past country legends always feel like they are an authenticity check — “yup, I listened to Hank Williams and Waylon Jennings and George Jones, I’m a True Country Fan.” The result is insulating, more doubling down than anything else.  He mentions Stevie Wonder and James Brown too, but if they had any influence on him whatsoever, you certainly can’t hear any of it here.
[3]

Jonathan Bogart: Being successfully pandered to always feels like a failure.
[6]

Iain Mew: One more “vinyl is back!” article, in song form, with not one of the referenced artists being given the same reverence as the form, never mind as much as Springsteen. The quiet-to-loud sweep at least feels less crowbarred in than the break up angle.
[4]

Micha Cavaseno: Eric Church glamorized Springsteen and has an album called Chief, so he’s the opposite of what I want to support in the world. I’m not even sure what the saga of “bro country” or “pop country” or “regular country” even is as an ideological dispute, nor would I know where Church even sits within that field. But Church’s strange fame is a peculiar thing. He’s out here referencing all these things outside the realms of country, but rarely displays hints that could draw from sounds other than an homogenized stadium rock country sound: the kind of material Garth Brooks rode to the highest peaks once upon a time. It’s sandblasted of any identifiable or unique quality, but he’s out here giving lip service to unique individuals who made classic albums. My dude, I don’t care if you own a listicle of some of the greatest musical albums of the past century. Like, reflect that a little in your milquetoast life.
[5]

Brad Shoup: “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer” — if he’s talking about Thorogood, he’s hit rock bottom. It’s a good conceit, and it leads to some great lines: the title, sure, but also “countin’ on a needle to save me.” But it’s hard to celebrate a bunch of tunes while distinguishing yours: Jimmy Eat World pulled it off, and Arthur Conley. Church has that subdued rubbery figure to start, then pulls a pop-rock arrangement off the shelf. He doesn’t even give the band a bridge upon which they can make their own memories. Spotlight on James Brown already.
[5]