John Baumann Brings Back Something Lost on ‘Country Shade’

 As his new record, Country Shade, opens, John Baumann laments what at first seems to be the lack of authentic country music on the radio, singing on “The Country Doesn’t Sound the Same,” “Songs for the working class, and those looking for love / They took you to a place deep inside or up above / I don’t hear them on my FM radio / I don’t know why they all had to go.” It doesn’t take long to realize Baumann’s sorrow isn’t rooted only in the change of country music over the decades, though, but in the change of the country around him.

“I fear we’re living in the strangest of times,” he sings near the end of the track, “where no matter where you stand you’re always on opposing sides / As the noise runs around the clock and no one can cut through / I don’t know when it will end / I don’t know what we can do.”

Though “The Country Doesn’t Sound the Same” was written before COVID-19 ravished America — and before cities across the country were burning as more and more citizens woke up to the racism that has long plagued this land — Baumann sings with an almost prophetic tone as he steeps himself in an unforgettable narrative of reality.

The rest of Country Shade does its best to bring back the sound of the country that Baumann misses, though he isn’t always as universally introspective as he is on the opening track. On “Flight Anxiety,” one of the funnest and most rollicking songs on the record, he spins an autobiographical tale about, well, hating to fly on planes. It’s guaranteed to get stuck in your head as he sings, “For once in my life I don’t want to be / Stevie Ray or Buddy Holly / With my flight anxiety.” On “Daylight’s Burning,” he takes a more serious, deeply personal tone as he mourns love lost, admitting there’s no way to speed up the recovery process: “It hurts, it’s gonna hurt for awhile / There ain’t a way to skip a couple minutes / But the world is turning and daylight’s burning.”

Country Shade finds Baumann and his beautiful lyrics surrounded by a near-flawless band scattered all over the record, including pedal steeler Doug Pettibone, bassist Aden Brubeck, guitarist Nick Gardner, Michael Ramos on keys, Wes Hightower on background vocals, Jeff Saenz on harmonica, and Nate Coon and producer Justin Pollard on percussion. The result is one of the Texas songwriter’s finest accomplishments in his career. Considering this marks his third full-length, there’s no question that his honest, revelatory voice is just beginning to command an ever-growing audience.