Growing up listening to as much music as possible, obsessing over every detail, and continuing up to my present age — late twenties, if you’re curious — those precious new music diamonds coated in fresh sounds become increasingly rare.
In many ways, the lack of artists — particularly new ones — who challenge the notion of what can be done in the music has defined the new releases I’ve heard in the 2010s. With obvious exceptions, such as Kendrick Lamar and Tyler Childers, it’s been unexpected old guard acts sch as Nine Inch Nails who have been responsible for innovative and surprising new work.
With each passing year, this feeling that we’ve gotten to a cultural point where new musical avenues are a thing of the past keeps creeping in at every turn.
Then, certain artists come around and stomp that sensation into the ground. This was my first impression of Sturgill Simpson, who I regard as the great new music innovator certainly of the last decade — if not the last two decades.
I first discovered his music perhaps the same way many of us did: via his piece “Turtles All the Way Down.” It stopped me in my tracks. Hearing its deceptively mellow, laid back country arrangements become laced with lyrics like “There’s a gateway in our minds that leads somewhere out there, far beyond this plane. Where reptile aliens made of light cut you open and pull out all your pain” was a breath of fresh air and exactly what I needed to hear. Upon listening to more of his work, it becomes quickly apparent a great deal of emotional resonance exists complimenting the sound experimentation.
Whether Simpson consciously creates with an intention of challenging musical boundaries or not, experimentation has always been a defining element in his work. He’s made an impression on me with arrangements peppered in bluegrass, the blues, classical, rock and even some over-the-top “big bang” moments.
His albums have always had an intense, rebellious edge. The tune “You Can Have the Crown” from his “High Top Mountain” album blends traditional country/bluegrass tones with a bluesy, almost bitter vocals and lyrics that all struggling artists can relate to.
The howling “It Ain’t All Flowers” off of the album “Metamodern Sounds in Country Music” is borderline heavy in music and vocal delivery. The album “A Sailor’s Guide to Earth” even features a version of Nirvana’s “In Bloom.”
His latest album, “SOUND & FURY,” is the most experimental yet, keeping up his tradition of throwing in the unexpected while still sounding like Simpson.
The 2019 released album lets listeners know early on they’re in for a very different ride from previous Simpson cuts. It opens with “Ronin” with lines including from what sounds like Alex Jones bleeding into a hypnotic trail of electric guitar work spaced out like a trailing line of vultures circling overhead a desert where one solitary figure blots the land with his shadow in each passing step. The Simpson bluesy sound is definitely here, but a bit harsher.
The next track, “Remember To Breathe,” cements listeners are in for something completely different from him and, simultaneously, much contemporary music.
Opening with what has to be a flute, the album takes a samurai film like shift, followed by rugged Simpson vocals, with an element of hurt immediately signifying the downtrodden and jaded Simpson you’ll often find on “SOUND & FURY.” It’s an effective introduction to this and sets the stage for what’s to come. “Having one way conversations with the darkness in my mind. He does all the talking ‘cause I’m the quiet kind.”
Beyond its darker lyrical content, “Remember To Breathe” is quite catchy and funky. This duality is another recurring element in the album, due to the electronic sounds intermingling with non-electronic instruments throughout it.
At one point, his “Let it happen” line screeches in “Remember To Breathe” hits heavy metal levels of cathartic rage release. This album is by far his most venomous work and I love every minute of it.
Simpson hasn’t exactly been quiet about his grievances in what press he has given. Just check out stuff like this.
A feeling of being wronged, damaged and even lost thrives throughout this album’s tale. This is alongside a thirst for and arrival at vengeance expressed in a samurai movie vibe. It’s hard not to conjure these images, particularly considering the Netflix anime, Sound and Fury, featuring the album’s cuts. It’s a thing of beauty in itself, and should be watched at least once. A samurai in a dystopian-like land set to the sound of funky electronic rock. Do I need to say more?
Although I’ve listened to each song on the album countless times, and all speak to me, the track “Make Art Not Friends” reached the most.
It starts with a quiet flurry of electronic tones, gradually building into soft guitar work eventually flowing into an air guitar worthy display of riffs and equally satisfying electronic work like a psychedelic alarm. It blares a sense of doom and weariness. This weariness is ironically calmly thrown out there. Unexpected as it perhaps might be, it gives the album an extra boost of coolness while remaining a prime example of how different its material really is.
The urge to stay inside, avoid the insubstantial, repetitive noise devoid of substance in favor of creating to be found here can be all too relatable.
“Best Clockmaker On Mars,” with its repeating finger tapped sounding flow is like the French metal band Gojira meets Simpson.
The album’s venom reaches its highest level in the track “Mercury In Retrograde” like the hot acid dangling from a xenomorph of Alien fame who patiently lurked in the shadows, now seething in plain sight, second away from striking in full force.
The song carries the greatest levels of disgust over the music industry and possibly detailing the most character actions justifying this disgust on the album. “They come backstage and on my bus pretending to be my friend. Shaking hands behind grandstands all wearing the same old grin.”
Simpson’s slash against his fake natured seekers is in full throttle here. Every word a like a deep lash against skin.
He sounds perhaps the most country/bluegrass vocal-wise on the album here, spelling out damage in front of almost disco-like synth work. Nothing I’ve heard quite sounds like it.
It’s also the most darkly hilarious track on this album. “And all the traveling trophies and award show stands. And all the haters wishing they was in my band. Sorry, boys, the bus is plumb full.”
2019, with “SOUND & FURY” and other releases, signaled a resurgence in exciting new music. 2020 promises to keep that tradition up, perhaps with even more to tout.
For now, go listen to “SOUND & FURY” and the rest of Simpson’s catalog. You won’t be disappointed.
Writer and artist Miles Bates became infatuated with the arts at an early age. A former student of The Kubert School, a sequential art school in Dover, N.J., his entertainment loves include television, film, video games, books and comic books. Since having been introduced to Metallica in middle school, music has remained a key conversation starter and puzzle piece in his life. His joy is to expose others to all things art related, particularly music.
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