Between Elvie Shane and Jelly Roll, the modern surge of country musicians peddling their faith has taken a dive. It is not new to the genre and should not be congratulated as such. Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan did it to varying degrees of success and the key to their popularity was subtlety. The Man in Black grew beyond his faith through sharp lyrical displays and the sense of being more than a collection of genre stereotypes. Whether Damascus, the second record from country artist and American Idol alumni Shane, can develop further than pickup trucks and sun-kissed horses is yet to be heard. We should not mock the faith of those who believe in higher beings. For someone with fifteen years of Catholic School education behind them, it would slap of irony, but we can find routes to bashing Shane for peddling faith as a hollow and tradeable experience.
Does Heaven have a creek? Nobody knows for sure but on the list of innovative ponds, lakes and bodies of water, a creek is likely low on the list. For Shane, it poses a grand question for his final track. Shane finds himself titling this record after the place Paul found salvation and hones a vocal performance trying to emulate the whining rise Dylan perfected through the 1960s. But the likes of opener Outside Dog do well to demonstrate Shane as a man of the people – whether they want him or not. Sincerity is key to these tracks and while the likes of Baptized and Does Heaven Have a Creek can be knocked for their unsteady observations, there is a real, experimental desire running through Damascus. Experiments can be fatal. What Do I Know sees Shane compartmentalise the drinking culture of country’s lowest rung.
He, like many of the other country outfits circling the contemporary drain, mistakes booze and hard work as a refined and unique quality. It is a specifically American outlook, and it will grate on the mind of anyone who does not end their day of flogging themselves for a nondescript company by supping Bud Light in a dingy bar. Shane holds a tone of salvation through hard work, but it could not be further from the truth. For a man constantly reminding listeners he is a voice of the working class, his old school values feel company-first, family second. Odd for a country artist but at least it marks a sliver of variety. Churn out as much instrumental experimentation as you like – it matters not when it all bleeds together and the church choir has their foot in the recording booth door. A lot of Bruce Springsteen-like sentimentality with the chimes of Forgotten Man but lacking the depth The Boss would administer to those working themselves to the bone.
Shane struggles when observing the real world. He sees it all unfold, notes it as a problem and believes hard work is the answer. At least there is truth and honesty in his words – frequently underdeveloped but charming at times. Drink yourself into a stupor of forgetfulness as First Place insists. Damascus uses religious imagery and references as a see-through sheet, a way to hook the devout on generic country rock which boils down more to drinking through the hard times than looking up and out for the almighty. Swinging trivialities on the flabby blues rock attempt Fan on High is as vacant as the rest of the countrified generics found within. A real shame for those who found even an ounce of their faith placed in the hands of Shane, who crumples those emotions up and swings it down into the bar bin.
