Ian Tyson – Songs From The Gravel Road

In his 72nd year (and 40th making records), Ian Tyson knows who he is. Completely immersed in Alberta ranch life, he could no sooner forsake horses and horizons than Johnny Cash could avoid sin and salvation. His best work has always raised the range to the status of an archetype, yet so romantically detailed that nostalgia seems less like an escape and more an inseparable part of human nature.

Songs From The Gravel Road, however, is far from his best work. Tyson’s voice is smooth and deep, his melodies as light and inevitable as the breeze, but the lyrics (whether his own or from other writers) feel forced. On fellow Canadian Cindy Church’s “Range Delivery”, a girl’s affections are compared to a cattle drive, while on “The Amber Saddle”, Tyson adopts the point of view of, yes, a bronco saddle. He dreams of springtime along the great divide and the return of the buffalo, but when offered as a literal plea, as in “Land Of Shining Mountains”, his heartfelt pastoralism signals a withdrawal from an incomprehensible contemporary life. That retreat is no more inspiring or energizing than alienation itself.

Sonically, Tyson opts for plush Americana — pianos and organs sweetly complement interlaced acoustic and electric guitars — but the tasteful approach sounds conformist rather than individualist. The occasional trumpet and saxophone are welcome, but, like his prairie portraits, they feel merely pretty and free of provocation.