ALBUM REVIEW: Ron Pope’s ‘American Man, American Music’ Measures Up Something Other Than Toxic Masculinity

For Ron Pope, American Man, American Music  is as advertised. The album even kicks off with Pope singing a jaunty bro country-inflected song about picking up “a brown-skinned doll” in Panama. The song swaggers with an easy-going attitude even as Pope reminds us of its title: “Nobody’s Gonna Make It Out Alive.”

Pope engages that truism through a record that considers how to spend the time we have. The album is earthy and folksy – a throwback to Pope’s earlier music that will perk up the ears of American Aquarium and John Moreland fans. American Music serves up straightforward truths with straightforward music: it centers Pope’s storytelling and, in turn, our own.

These stories muse on mortality and the sum of our labors. “Klonopin Zombies” decries the opioid epidemic and the toll it’s taken on our communities, as well as the sour taste of Christian platitudes during funerals for people dying far too young. “I Gotta Change (Or I’m Gonna Die)” serves as a prelude to these small tragedies: the obligations men (in particular) feel to provide for their families through physical labor, and doing what’s needed to do so for as long as possible. 

“Mama Drove a Mustang” and “The Queen of Fort Payne, Alabama” celebrate the mothers who help their wayward sons get to that point of responsibility. Pope infuses all of his songs with warmth and humanity – even the confessional “I’m Not the Devil” – that make these recollections of fast times feel immediate, with no patina of nostalgia. Remembering things in an idealized light, rather than how they actually were, is dangerous. After all, we know that the flip side of these songs are the protagonists in “Klonopin Zombies.”

Pope introduces complexity to American Man, American Music by juxtaposing these stories. There are no fingers pointed, nor any directly political songs. But Pope’s portrait of men and the way they try to make their way through life points to an alternative to the toxic masculinity that surrounds us: the “measure of a man” Pope sings of is one who is dependable, joyful, and appreciates their loved ones both for who they are now – and their potential. 

Ron Pope’s American Man, American Music is out Feb. 14 via Brooklyn Basement.