Punch away at what makes love so brutal with those sharp breaths and harmonica introductions. Willi Carlisle wastes no time on their third album Critterland. He is the fine blur of country charms and singer-songwriter heartbreak. There are the edges of stomp and holler trying to push their way in but this piece from folksinger Carlisle is wise to its ways. He knows where the path leads and instead heads for bluegrass country, a fine decision which benefits the beautiful and estranged comparisons between vermin and volatile love. The titular place where these creatures lay is a comfort and a collision course for hard truths and wonderfully warm experiences. Carlisle opens his emotional strengths with a friendly smile and honesty which keeps him from getting too gritty or overwrought with experiences unlived.
Instead, his focus remains on the real, no matter how plain it could be. No chance of it being static when he hits out at the generational fears of communism and queer identity. All this crashes through on the intense, tremendous opener. Apocalyptic claims and protecting familial opportunities. He does not seek out the dangers but sees himself as a calm gunslinger hoping for self-preservation in a time of global crisis. Who can blame Carlisle for this? He will make those bold last stands on his own terms, as we all should. Carlisle engages a classic country tone through this. Dry Country Dust has those loving flutters of acoustic joy. There is no sense in dipping this consistent and heartfelt tone, the accordion additions to Two-Headed Lamb are the necessary variables to keeping Carlisle’s vocal work the centre of Critterland.
And rightly so, his voice provides some truth and beauty to a genre not exactly popping to the top of the charts. We are damned if we think the likes of Higher Lonesome stand a chance. But therein lies its beauty, this desire to uncover the greats and walk the same path as legends of the genre. Carlisle, like The Lemon Twigs or Dea Matrona, has accessed a classic piece of music history and overhauled it with slick productions and dedication to the glory days of its popularity. Critterland lasts on evermore and sidesteps those stomp-and-holler expectations, thankfully. If this one devolved into some Mumford and Sons, knee-slapping twang it would be hard to face the day head-on. Critterland has all the homegrown country twang necessary to keep its bluegrass appeal right at the core, it is a joyous occasion, and we should be thankful for it – the trust put in the instrumental work of the likes of Jaybird is monumental.
When the Pills Wear Off is certainly the high point. High-strung string work and a sense of crashing back into the ground below as reality takes hold and overcomes those shots of optimism we cling to in opportune moments. What could happen to us and where we may head because of those hopeful seconds is intoxicating and Critterland does well to defy the odds and pool its positivity. There are remnants of Marty Robbins and Johnny Cash in the album closer The Money Grows on Trees – though whether this is because of the perplexing spoken word style or from the binge listens of both artists in quick succession is unknowable. Firm work and a real revival of the bluegrass form means Critterland has all the sparks of country charm necessary to carry it through as one of the better offerings of the genre from the last few years.
