This talented 24-year-old newcomer arrives on the scene with a discload of catchy, energetic self-penned tunes that show both a strong knowledge of hard, traditional Texas balladry and an accomplished ease in delivering them, learned as he’s taken his band across the Southwest.
From the openers — the title cut (a sprightly salute to a woman who’s endured tough times), followed by a cover of Kasey Chambers’ “Last Hard Bible” — and on through his collection of narrative ballads and evocative scene-setters, Atkins drives the ballads with fluid electric guitar runs, western swing fiddle, flowing pedal and lap steel (from Lloyd Maines, no less), and even some fiery bluegrass picking.
Atkins is finding his music compared to ’80s-era Steve Earle, probably more for the accent and scruffy vocal tones than for any great similarities of sensibility. Like early Earle, he’s arguably “school of Guy Clark,” fast and slow varieties included, with lots of attention to detail but less tendency to mythologize than either predecessor.
For change-ups, Atkins’ lyrics head for surprises — evoking an uncle as a 17-year-old on D-Day, for instance — rather than typical “songs addressed to attractive girls” territory, though there’s a little of that, too. But they largely stick to the homey, even homely details of small-town and rural life. (“That’s what you see here every time you turn around,” one song puts it — and he’s referring to fruit stands!)
That tendency to focus on the everyday may prevent these well-wrought tunes from grabbing some listeners by the throat, for all the finesse and fluidity of the sounds here. But Atkins’ restrained, cliche-avoiding words are strong enough that they, too, show substantial promise of singular results in the future.