Poor David's Almanack marks
David Rawlings' fourth headline date, and he leaves his
Machines out of the studio. That said, his singing and songwriting partner
Gillian Welch is here as always on harmony vocals and percussion. She also co-wrote five of these ten songs. It's difficult to discern how the pair divide the creative labor and its accreditation, but it must make sense to them.
Produced by
Rawlings and engineered by
Ken Scott (
David Bowie) and
Matt Andrews, these tunes are arranged to reflect not only
Rawlings considerable gifts as a guitarist, but the fleshed-out sound of a full band that easily balances American folk music and roots rock (the
DRM will be playing these songs on the road). Other contributors include fiddler
Brittany Haas,
Willie Watson,
Old Crow Medicine Show,
Dawes, and
Punch Brothers' bassist
Paul Kowert.
Opener "Midnight Train" hovers between country gospel and country blues. It's the first instance we hear the gorgeous entwining of
Welch's and
Watson's voices in harmony supporting
Rawlings' slippery drawl.
Haas' fiddle and
Rawlings' lead guitar share breakdown space in front of
Watson's banjo in the hokum blues "Money Is the Meat in the Coconut," a seemingly simple allegory that barely disguises the lusty overtones in its lyrics. "Cumberland Gap" is framed in stark, minor-key folk-rock with a popping bassline, and wound-out electric guitars and drums; it owes a deep debt to
Neil Young. The highlight here is "Airplane," a tender yet passionate country-soul tune that employs a string section framing the lovely harmony singing and
Haas' solo. It features the most passionate lead vocal
Rawlings has ever delivered. "Guitar Man" is another rocker; it could have come right from
the Band's fakebook and briefly references "The Weight." At five minutes, "Lindsay Button," sung with the refrain placed after every line, is the set's longest track and it feels like it. "Yup" and "Good God a Woman," come from the same humorous terrain that "Money Is the Meat in the Coconut" does, and like it, they offer something lyrically darker underneath all that sprightly playing and singing. "Put Em Up Solid" is a tender meld of country-gospel and folk. The harmonies frame
Rawlings' vocal in a basket of sweetness and light as sweeping fiddle, strummed guitars, and banjo cover the backdrop. It's very difficult to argue with what
Rawlings and company have assembled here. Aside from one misstep (that, to be fair, others might find less wearying), it's every bit as good as
Nashville Obsolete. ~ Thom Jurek