| Popmatters |
In concert last year in Kansas City, Jamey Johnson played a regular set of his own songs, then left the stage and returned for a second set that started with him proclaiming that he and opening act Randy Houser were going to get drunk and play country music, and he didn’t care who left or stayed. The lengthy set that followed revealed Johnson’s idea of a drunken party to be less rowdy than you might expect. It was two guys kicking back and playing dour, heartbreaking old country songs, slowly and earnestly. Though it’s mostly original songs, Johnson’s third album The Guitar Song, a double LP, is entirely in that mold. He’s in that same relaxed mode. Its 25 songs each take a while to end and begin. He lets the musicians play on. There’s a thick, colorful atmosphere of guitar, piano, steel guitar, and more. Some songs go for high drama (“Macon”, “My Way to You”, “Heartache”), though always with an intimate tenderness within. The overall scope of the album is grounded enough to leaven the most histrionic moments, human enough to lighten the consistent intensity of Johnson’s worldview. For a double LP, it’s not trying too hard to make one grand statement, not screaming out its own importance. For all its ease, The Guitar Song has a real sense of purpose to it. The songs, split into a “Black” album and a “White” album, are arranged around a concept with personal, historic, societal, and spiritual components: the struggle to make your way in this mean world, to move from darkness into the light. That concept isn’t overstated at all, rather moving forward subtly. The focus is on the songs themselves....full text |
| Monstersandcritics |
| Country musician Jamey Johnson’s double album ‘The Guitar Song’ is simply incredible, and one of the best country albums to be released in a long time. The singer/songwriter blends elements of traditional country with outlaw Southern rock for 25 tracks that have been divided up between “Black” and “White” discs. The album could be described as a concept project with the “Black” disc starting in a dark place with songs that tend to look on the sadder side of life, and the “White” album featuring tunes that start looking up (he even tacks on a spiritual tune by the time the album is over). The “Black” disc gets things going with “Lonely at the Top” where Johnson takes a look at his own success (or any superstar’s success) and the trappings that come with it. The singer makes sure to point out that life might not be a great when you are rich and famous, but it can be even worse at the bottom....full text |
| Rollingstone |
| Jamey Johnson's fourth album opens in a bar, the singer talking to a workingman. When Johnson offers him a drink, the guy orders a double, then puts the singer's problems in perspective. "It may be lonely at the top," he says, "but it's a bitch at the bottom." Johnson's 2008 breakthrough, That Lonesome Song, established him as an heir to "outlaws" like Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard. The Guitar Song aims even higher, with 25 tracks that take the pulse of a country hitting the skids and a country singer hitting the big time. The first disc is called the "Black Album," and black it is — like coal dust. "These are sad times/World-gone-mad times," croons Johnson on "Even the Skies Are Blue." On "Heartache," he sings from the point of view of country music's defining emotion. As a storyteller, Johnson is not short on ambition. Musically, Johnson is happy to mess with tradition. "By the Seat of Your Pants," from the more upbeat "White Album," rides a funky Stevie Wonder-style keyboard riff, and there's honky-tonk jamming throughout the album. Johnson isn't trying to appeal to everyone. "California Riots" is Johnson's "Okie From Muskogee," a statement of Southern allegiance that imagines an unspecified Golden State uprising: gays vs. fundamentalists, legal-weed fans vs. teetotalers — who knows? It's a bit reactionary. But like the entire set, it rings true to one man's unshakable vision....full text |
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In concert last year in Kansas City, Jamey Johnson played a regular set of his own songs, then left the stage and returned for a second set that started with him proclaiming that he and opening act Randy Houser were going to get drunk and play country music, and he didn’t care who left or stayed. The lengthy set that followed revealed Johnson’s idea of a drunken party to be less rowdy than you might expect. It was two guys kicking back and playing dour, heartbreaking old country songs, slowly and earnestly.