Red Dirt’s Favored Sons: Turnpike Troubadours

Modern country music faces a crisis of identity. While the more cosmopolitan genres of rock, hip-hop, and pop are free to explore modern topics and urban issues using the most up-to-date technological instrumentation, country is by and large relegated to subjects associated with its very name. While sales remain undoubtedly healthy, the top tier acts are considered by many to be disingenuous at best, full on commercial exploitation at worst. As generational demographics continue a long shift toward urban and suburban locations, the old fashioned tie-to-the-land-and-people themes of country music seem less and less relevant. Increasingly, we find young musicians more involved with the concept of country music than any sort of authentic artistic expression.

We’ve all heard the efforts by folks trying too hard to sell themselves as salt of the earth sort. Big Country Radio saturates airwaves from the Smokies to the Cascades with anthems focused on the proud American tradition of patriotism, alcohol abuse, and ill-planned romances. But we don’t believe it. Dirks Bentley uses police code as the title for one Gold Single, as if the jargon alone convinces anyone that that pretty-boy banker’s son ever spent a night in the clink or dealt with the police. The feminine equivalent on Big Radio country is sadly stuck in the sad gender role of women from past decades. Bombshell starlets need not cultivate their talent so much as their wardrobe. Tired clichés like “Before He Drinks,” still receive regular rotation, as if to finish the line from that Sinatra classic, “These Boots Are Made for Walking.”

Much like our politics, country music has come so far from its origins, it’s nearly unrecognizable in its modern, commonly accepted form.  While the tabloids keep us up to date on who’s screwing whom, and who’s screwing whom over, something’s been lost. It’s in the music. If one were so inclined to sink right to the heart and soul of the genre in its original sense, to see past the glossy-paged glit and glimmer to actual ties to life in lyrics and instrumentation, I have a secret for you. Should one concern themselves with the heaven discovered in a new face to be adored, the glorious midnight drunken ramble, the repetitive purgatory of endless toil for diminished returns, or the finality of hell and rage in taking on a fight that cannot be won, then look to the Turnpike Troubadours.

You can order BBQ in NYC, but I advise against it. You can also listen to the hype centered out of Nashville or Austin, but if you want the real deal you have to travel out and away from the bright city lights. From the red dirt depths of Oklahoma, something exciting’s been brewing with the Turnpike Troubadours over the last decade.

The year 2007 saw the group’s introduction with the humble, hopeful Bossier City, which detailed life in the land of drought, Res Casinos, and 3/2 beer. Momentum grew with 2010’s Diamonds and Gasoline and saw the first signs of national exposure, along with extensive touring. There was something exciting to be found in the track listing. Opener “Every Girl” introduced their growing audience to the dark-haired figure who would feature so prominently throughout songwriter’s Evan Felker’s canon. Inclusions like “Whole Damn Town” or “7&7” proved the group was radio-ready, but the real triumphs were found in the peerless songwriting of McClure’s “The Funeral” or the sing-along ode “1968” to Dr. King. Powerful pieces each, invoking both tears and pride for the conflict woven throughout our lives. (“Why’s it take a funeral, boy, to bring you back to town?”)

The next addition, 2013’s Goodbye Normal Street, would cement the group as both consistent and immediate. With every release from a now-stellar discography, the Turnpike Troubadours have proven that the underdog is damn worth your last dollar, and never moreso than with Normal Street. “Wrecked” is oft-played at the last bastion of popular Americana, SiruisXM’s Outlaw Country (channel 60) and hyped by industry darling Elizabeth Cook. But the album was so much more than that radio friendly tribute to love lost. “Before the Devil Knows We’re Dead” holds all the intensity of Flogging Molley’s underground anthem “Drunken Lullabys.” One part Springsteen and two parts Shane MacGowen, Felker’s approach to songwriting matched appeal to Americana. As opposed to sinking down from the top of society, tracks like “Gin, Smoke, and Lies,” rise from the bottom. They don’t necessarily glory in despair, but honestly reflect the depths of any mid-20-something figuring out the make of the world around them, mistakes intact and learned by. On it, Felker returns to Lorrie, this dark-haired beauty for perhaps the most arresting inclusion on the album. “Good Lord Lorrie,” isn’t just well-written and well-executed musically, it’s good and honest and true. It’s a song that lies in glaring contrast to the blame game coming out of Nashville or the lost-without-you drivel from singer-songwriter peers. Emphatically fantastic, there are few tracks in the last 60 years of popular music that pin down the duality of a relationship so well.

This week has been an exciting one for any fan of the Turnpike Troubadours. The band’s fourth release, the eponymous Turnpike Troubadours released on Bossier City Records. With support from Outlaw Country radio, you might already be familiar with third track single “Down Here.”  It is a song out of time — one that would have topped the country chart 20 years ago, before the industry was hijacked by pretty faces with pop dominance agendas.

It’s alright.
You’ll be fine
You can have a nickel out of my last dime.

The song’s chorus contains comforting words for any young person entering the hangover of their 30s after a decade of running around, chasing dreams, and partying throughout their 20s. The song is infinitely catchy; its chorus dares you not to sing along.

The bulwark of the album improves upon a process that has placed the Troubadours in a group of far more seasoned peers like the Bottle Rockets, the Old 97’s, and the Drive-By Truckers. Perhaps informed by these acts, the Troubadours’ songwriting contains a mixture of go-your-own-way exuberance met in equal proportions by old-soul reflection. Tracks alternate between the glorious abandon and abundance of youth and the fine tradition of licking your wounds come Sunday morning. The sentiment is captured best in a single line from deep album inclusion and strong contender for second single, “Long Drive Home,” where Felker sings:

They all want to be Hank Williams,
but they don’t wanna have to die.

The new album’s music is equally alluring. The Turnpike Troubadours have always been hot on the heels of mainstream country, showing the genre how the music can be done with integrity while still containing mass appeal. Their sound isn’t shaped in the form of the currently popular stadium anthem. Rather, they’re written to be performed in the clubs, honkey-tonks, and bars from which the industry “discovers” new life.  Kyle Nix’s flawless fiddle work compliments the mid-tempo acoustics and baleful, steel guitar twang, flitting in and around Felker’s lyrics like a bird in flight. The instrument isn’t used as a crux (country’s answer to the infamous roaring guitar lead). Instead, it maintains an even balance between rhythm and melody, propelling the songs to their own ends.

Whereas on album closeout “Bossier City,” the harp and fiddle combine forces, on “7 Oaks,” the harmonica lines dance over the juke-joint piano rolls and pre-war fiddle work with ease. Blown with the excitement of a kid out in the rain the harp lines display a touch of both blues and jazz to steal the show from all the competing instrumentation in a song about a plot to burn down the farm before the bank can claim it.

At this point, big country radio is stuck in the same place the rock market found themselves during the 80’s. Slick recordings dominated by saccharine sax and guitar leads have simply been replaced with banjo and fiddles. The top-tier musicians themselves aren’t artists any more than they are personalities. And if this be the case, then the Turnpike Troubadours are the modern country equivalent of R.EM. While a nearly impenetrable genre reigns around them the Troubadours are quietly amassing a following at the fringes of the industry. Their music isn’t concerned with trend jumping or following the herd, and neither does the group require insider connections or million dollar production shoots to gain attention. The Turnpike Troubadours have seen a rise from the cusp of obscurity based on quality alone. Their songs make the personal universal through detail saturation and modest delivery, so you probably won’t hear tracks from the self-titled ‘Turnpike Troubadours,’ on big radio country stations. Still, relevancy prevails over hype, and while many of the big names of today will doubtlessly merge into opaque memories, the consistency and quality of Turnpike Troubadours releases means their brand of bawling and brawling, loving and leaving outsider country balladry will persist against time.