Beck and Andrea Bocelli join the country universe this week.
“Johnny Moonshine”
Maggie Antone
Written by Maggie Antone, Natalie Hemby, and Aaron Raitiere
Jonathan Keefe: Antone’s gearing up for the release of her debut album, and she’s gotten quite a bit of support and even more hype from within the country industry. That’s something of a surprise, since none of the singles she’s dropped so far really map to what’s going on in the mainstream in 2024. A lifetime ago, “Johnny Moonshine” would’ve been tagged as “alt-country” and would’ve been one of the most fun singles of its era.
The polish and professionalism of co-writers Hemby and Raitiere are evident here, even as the production takes a rougher approach that’s perfect for Antone’s tale of falling for “a menace to society” who’s content to make his own ‘clear and grow his own weed. There’s a swirling sense of romance to this record that’s infectious, even as Antone waxes rhapsodic about this guy who sounds like kind of a dirtbag. It’s like the sonic equivalent of all of the horny AF “Yes, chef” memes about The Bear.
In this context, Antone’s wobbly sense of pitch works pretty well. It’s still something of a concern in the long-term– there are far worse singers currently making it big in Nashville– and may be less effective on her other material. But she sells her love letter to “Johnny Moonshine” with real aplomb, and she’s for sure someone to watch. A-
Kevin John Coyne: This is straight up hillbilly and I love it.
She’s howling at the moon while she pines for a lover named Johnny Moonshine! It could’ve been a Hee Haw sketch as easily as a country classic if this came along fifty years ago.
That someone created this out of thin air in 2024 and put it down on tape is fascinating to me. Bonus points for the best opening line I’ve heard in a long time: “He’s an unmarked mason jar.” B+
“Lucky Sometimes”
Midland
Written by Jess Carson, Matthew Dragstrem, Cameron Duddy, Josh Osborne, and Mark Wystrach
KJC: I guess it’s the little things that can make you feel lucky.
Midland’s dreamy, twangy ode to a run of good luck is all understated gratitude. It’s got a cool harmonica track that feels like a throwback to early Clint Black, and the harmonies are used tastefully to brighten the landscape.
It’s relaxed, rootsy, and real, like we’re on the back porch with a family band. Pencil them in as my Vocal Group pick for twelve months minimum. A
JK: As someone who rejects arbitrary constructs of “authenticity” on principle, I’ve been at least partially on board with Midland since their debut and increasingly so ever since. They’re the rare act that legitimately gets better and better: To their credit, they seemed to internalize some of the early– and some of it unjust– criticisms of their work and put in the effort to refining their craft.
“Lucky Sometimes” brings that effort to bear. Their best songs to date have been some of their rowdiest and most ribald, but there’s a clear-eyed, sober perspective to this song that suits them just fine. Like Kevin noted, there’s a feeling of gratitude to this record that is so refreshing– it’s something that surely sets Midland apart from their contemporaries.
To that end, I don’t suffer any delusions that this will be the single to return them to favor at country radio: Even among the slate of more trad-leaning acts who have made some inroads of late, this is the kind of record that does more than just pay lip service to the sounds and spirit of the 90s. And we’re certainly all the more lucky for that. A
“Death Valley High”
Orville Peck and Beck
Written by Beck, Dan Nakamura, and Orville Peck
JK: I’m still super annoyed that Peck chose to record with known predatory sleaze Diplo, so I’m trying not to let that color my perception of this record. Beck actually has some solid country credentials– I’ll forever go to bat for Mutations as part of the alt-country canon, and his “Your Cheatin’ Heart” from the ages-ago Hank Williams tribute record is tremendous– so this collab makes a lot of sense on paper.
In execution, it’s a whole lot more of a Midnite Vultures-era Beck track than one that’s more clearly drawn from his or Peck’s country work. There’s an “Uptown Funk” vibe to this that is all right, if a bit too derivative and slightly less convincing than when Bruno Mars was doing his Honors Student best. I do like how Peck provides a deep baritone harmony to Beck’s lead vocal– that element works really well, even if the rest of this is less than the sum of its many disparate parts. B-
KJC: This is so theatrical and dramatic that it sounds like it was specifically written as the soundtrack for an R-rated comedy set in Vegas.
Peck and Beck sound great together, and the way they go low in the chorus is so wavy, to borrow a word from my son’s generation. It’s a total earworm, that bit.
Both artists have very strong public personas that feel one cool remove away from whoever they are offstage, and I often struggle connecting with both of their catalogs because of it. But here I am, going back to listen to that chorus again, so I won’t pretend that I don’t like it. B
“Da Stanotte in Poi (From This Moment On)”
Andrea Bocelli and Shania Twain
Written by Robert John “Mutt” Lange and Shania Twain
KJC: “From This Moment On” is a beautiful song that worked better as a solo Shania Twain joint than it did as a duet with Bryan White.
But as a duet with Andrea Bocelli? That’s something else entirely, because he treats this song with the reverence it has earned. What once was a country crossover hit has been a wedding standard for a quarter century already.
I appreciate Bocelli’s deference to Shania Twain even more than his reverence to one of her classics. Bocelli can belt with the best of them, but he stays true to the understated delivery of Twain’s original, and keeps his own singing in line with Twain’s currently heavy use of her lower register. And when he takes flight with the melody on his own? I never realized how beautiful the melody is until I heard him sing it.
I think that the latter half of the song would’ve worked better with Twain taking the lower part. Their harmonies at the end of the bridge clash because of that.
This Lincoln Center take on “From This Moment On” might not reach the heights of Sug Daniels’ recent cover of “You’re Still the One,” but it’s a lovely listen nonetheless. B
JK: Listening to this made me think of another of Bocelli’s duet partners: Celine Dion. The recent documentary I Am: Celine Dion is a fascinating and difficult watch that finds the pop diva reflecting with real vulnerability on how illness has robbed her of her voice. Dion struggles with how to balance the severe limitations of what she can do with her perfectionism and what her voice sounds like now.
Shania Twain is an interesting counterpoint, in that she has continued to record even as her voice has been irrevocably diminished by her Lyme Disease. That’s fitting, somehow, with an artistic persona that’s driven by a fundamental sense of optimism.
Still, even in her prime, Twain wouldn’t have been a likely duet partner for a classical vocalist like Bocelli. She’s a singer who, at her best, maneuvered well within her technical limitations. Now that she’s far from her best, hearing her with a master technician is just rough. As deferential as Bocelli may be to her current capabilities, there’s just nowhere for her to hide on this record.
The upside here is that, as Kevin noted, the arrangement does highlight the lovely melody of “From This Moment On.” As Twain’s catalogue has been re-evaluated more favorably over the last few years– which is fully deserved– it’s nice to see that she and one of her songs would have this level of respect from Bocelli at all. Certainly, her gift for melody is one of her real strengths, and her post-Mutt compositions have retained that gift in such a way that it should put to bed the lingering disparagement of how much she did or didn’t contribute to her peak era.
Even if this doesn’t work well as a duet, it does have a place in the ongoing evaluation of Twain’s work and in her getting her flowers. C
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