John Moreland, the Falling Star of Oklahoma

Nobel Laureate Gunnar Myrdal famously wrote, “America is continuously struggling for its soul.” And so too, it seems, is Americana upstart John Moreland with his soon to be released, High on Tulsa Heat. (April 21,) Identity has long been a central theme to the American consciousness. With a famous history of defining ourselves less by what we are and more by what we’re not it’s a mere eventuality the poets and musicians born of this nation should burden themselves with that same struggle.

When you look at popular music you’ll find young people defining themselves through their projects. Often a record’s title serves as both appellation and manifesto. Consider releases by any number of artists: Hurray for the Riff Raff’s triumph from obscurity with ‘Small Town Heroes,’ the travelogue tour of David Dondero’s painfully overlooked ‘South of the South,’ or the rootless promise contained in ‘The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan.’

To apply the same concept to Moreland’s willowy High on Tulsa Heat a bit of history is in order. Moreland’s story begins with his infancy, when he first began playing music influenced not by the big radio hits of the mid-nineties, but rather by the hymns of the Southern Baptist Church. Like many young men, Moreland began to rebel against the familiar and by high school found himself involved in the local metal scene. If there could be a genre further from the sacred Moreland never found it. This radical departure from the past weighs heavily on the singer’s concious, and has perhaps cemented the feeling of isolation that bleeds across and unites his solo work.

          “Religion wasn’t as big a part of this record as it was the last one.” He says, “‘In the Throes’ dealt with growing up in a church scene and how I think about all that as an adult. I’m no longer an impressionable kid, I’m in a much different place in life. I’m not going to say I’m done doing that, I don’t think I’ll ever be, but I don’t think it was at the forefront this time as it was before.

With songs from past albums ‘Earthbound’ or ‘In the Throes,’ featured on the popular network television show, Sons of Anarchy Moreland is a finding an audience with a similarly outcast portion of society.

          “Man I don’t know.” He answers when asked about the type of audience connecting with his work. “You can’t really think about that stuff. You can’t figure it out or plan it. I’ve always tried to make the best music I can and be honest about it. I’d like to think that’s what people are responding to. I’ve had opportunities to play listening room type shows that attract older audiences, that whole folk thing. But I’ve also played with Lucero and Two Cow Garage to more rock crowds. So I get both those type of crowds when I play my own shows now. I’ve never really been sure where I fit in. I’ve always had one foot in all these different scenes and it seems like it’s all finally coming together.”

High on Tulsa Heat is not an easy album to digest. In keeping with past efforts it is a decidedly mid-tempo affair carried primarily by the soul bruising honesty of the lyrical subject matter. What separates Moreland from the glut of singer/song-writer narcissists is his ability to transform personal emotions into the universal. The title or the record alone should nod in the direction of Moreland’s ‘personal.’ Like a local boy done good Moreland references his home state over and again. It almost comes to the point of monomania.

              “After putting out the last record I started over. ‘Tulsa Heat’ was almost a whim. I wasn’t planning to record yet, but the opportunity came up and it felt right so I thought to myself I should just do it now. I wasn’t writing a record, I was writing songs. So when I was done and sequencing the record I noticed in the song titles alone there’s repeated references, Cleveland County Blues, Tulsa County Stars, Cherokee… It ended up having this weird geographical theme to it. It’s about home, I guess, just trying to figure out what that means.”

Lead in track, “Hang me in the Tulsa County Stars,” is the perfect example, setting the pace for the work as a whole. In it Moreland contrasts the ephemerality of guilt and regret against objects more eternal: the earth, the moon, and the stars.  But with regards to heavenly bodies Moreland’s work best resembles a comet streaking through the night sky free from the pull of larger forces. It carries along with it the icy remains of an unlikely past on a return trajectory from somewhat darker parts of the universe. The music is neither celestial nor earthly, rather it cuts a fine path between the two. It can be beautiful at times, but it also threatens destruction with every pass.   

          “There’s something about being sad that makes me want to write songs. So many people might think I’m depressed. But I’m a pretty average, well-rounded person. I feel pretty good most of the time. Sometimes I don’t, and I guess those are the times I write songs.”

But also like a comet, Moreland’s work is cyclical. It returns over and again to his home state of Oklahoma. As the name would imply, “High on Tulsa Heat,” is both celebration and mournful ode to a flyover state many would willingly write off. Scott Nolan sang, “Indian summer Oklahoma sunset, if there’s a finer place I haven’t been there yet.” Very few others are willing to sing praise for what many consider a desolate state.

          “It’s home.” He explains. “Sometimes Oklahoman publications want me to sell the state. I never really know what to say. I’ve lived here since I was ten so I don’t know if it’s any better or worse than anywhere else but it’s familiar. There’s a love/hate thing with where you’re from and that’s really what ‘Tulsa Heat’ is about.”