The Youngers – Eight Years on

There is a lot to love about The Youngers. For pop lovers, there is melody, hooks galore and just enough country twang to keep things interesting. For country lovers, the country twang balances the pop perfectly. Indeed, any track on this album could be played on any country station without disturbing the playlist. It’s just plain good stuff and well worth checking out.

I wrote those words eight years ago when I reviewed The Youngers’ last album, Heritage. They apply to the brand spanking new Picture of You as well. Country. Pop. It is, after all, the mix and I can tell you right now that the mix is good. Eight years have not changed a thing except the songs and the fact that maybe the band has gotten even better.

I didn’t find Picture of You. It found me. A few weeks ago I received an email. “Hi, we’re The Youngers and you might not remember us but you reviewed our last album and we were hoping you might consider reviewing our new one.” Might not remember them? I remember them well and remember the review. I don’t have to remember the music because more than a few times over the past eight years I have made time to listen. For me, music doesn’t die, or at least music this good. It just gets delayed while other music works its way through the system. I knew Picture of You would be worth a listen. And it is.

This is the country music that left Nashville when Nashville gave up on country music. It makes me happy. It is cool. While so-called Modern Country is making deals with Bud Light and Walmart and sounding like lame heavy metal or bubblegum, real country is being made by the likes of The Youngers. Think Waylon and Willie. Think the late-sixties and early seventies country push which made songwriting stars of guys like Tom T. Hall and Bob McDill and Roger Miller and so many others, names of real worth. Mix in some of that unmistakable late-sixties and early-seventies country rock and you’re beginning to get the picture (See what I did there?).

One man’s country is another man’s sweathog these days. There is a lot of genre-crunching going on— soul and country, rap and rock, jazz and classical. Americana is not even a real genre when you come right down to it because it does not really use roots as muc h as it IS roots twisted into different forms, maybe, or maybe not.  

Words cannot even begin to tell you what a band sounds like anyway. Have you ever read a review of Pink Floyd which made you really hear the music? Thank the gods for videos, then, eh? Take a listen. Seriously. Cut off all other noise, lay back and listen. That’s the way we used to find what we really liked back in the Stone Age. We just listened.  Try it.  It used to work pretty good.