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by Megan Bledsoe, Zackary Kephart, Grant Ludmer, Nathan Kanuch and Julian Spivey  Photos by Julian Spivey Best Songs:“A Better South” by American Aquarium There are a handful of songs I’ve really dug this year: “Neon Cross” by Jamie Wyatt, “Pawn Shop” by Brandy Clark, “Old Men” by Corb Lund and more, and I must admit I haven’t delved far enough into one of my all-time favorite singer-songwriter’s Jason Isbell’s latest album, but the one that has most stood out to me in this god-awful hard year for seemingly all of us is one that really fits the now – American Aquarium’s “A Better South.” As a Southerner who isn’t always proud of the things I frequently see in the south I often will cling to songs that speak of this idea of a better south and folks like B.J. Barham, lead singer and songwriter of American Aquarium and proud Southerner, give me hope that I’m not alone. It’s an anthem that certainly won’t be taken kindly by some, but it can serve as a reminder to those that they’re quickly becoming a minority in a growing world. I particularly enjoy the vigor with which Barham sings the lyrics, “they say sing your song, boy, and shut your mouth.” He might hear the bullshit of the complacent, but he refuses to relent and give in to it. I stand with American Aquarium and also believe in a better south. Julian Spivey, The Word “It’s About Blood” by Steve Earle The best song of the first half of 2020 contained a number of strong contenders. Jaime Wyatt channeled her inner Tanya Tucker with the lonesome and desperate “Mercy.” Indeed, Shooter Jennings firmly cemented himself as one of the best producers in country music with Wyatt’s latest album. Kip Moore released “Payin’ Hard” as the final track off Wild World and let listeners into the mindset of a touring artist who sacrificed quite literally everything. Jimmy Buffett also released a new batch of songs, and “Tides” would not have sounded out of place on his early ‘70s records. The slide guitar is at once calming and wistful as the lyrics paint a vivid picture of the magnificent life Buffett has lived. But, for me, there’s one song that stands above the rest for the best of what 2020 has offered thus far. Steve Earle’s “It’s About Blood” is a straight-forward, angry and essential offering to the canon of country music. Featuring guitar work reminiscent of Earle’s mid-‘90s output and biting, poignant lyrics about the betrayal of Appalachian coal miners in modern times thanks to the chasing of greed over the safety of human life, “It’s About Blood” says everything needed to be said about what happens when the value of the dollar is ruled to be more important than flesh. Nathan Kanuch, Shore2Shore Country “Small Town Hypocrite” by Caylee Hammack It’s such a great thing to be able to say that my favorite song from the first half of 2020 came out of mainstream Nashville. From the first time I heard this, it connected with me on a personal level, and that is what sets country music apart from other genres, the ability to tell stories and touch our hearts with genuine, relatable emotions. As for this particular song, it can speak to anyone from any little town across America and the world, whether they left to follow their dreams or got stuck in their town holding on to long-lost wishes, or as Caylee Hammack so eloquently puts it, "phantom pains for the wings I lost.” This is the story of a woman who gave up all her plans for high school love, only to have her heart broken; now she’s left with bitter memories and shattered dreams, wishing she’d chosen to leave it all behind and yet still blaming circumstances for the turns her life has taken, "like a small-town hypocrite.” It’s the honesty in her delivery, the little details in every line like the seven years that she spent circling wedding rings in bridal magazines, and the relatability of this story that will make “Small Town Hypocrite” nearly impossible to top for my favorite song of 2020. Megan Bledsoe, Country Exclusive/Farce the Music “Only Children” by Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit There’s a strong sense of duality that colors Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit’s Reunions. In this case, some have interpreted the tale of two sordid friends on “Only Children” as Isbell just having a conversation with his past self. It’s an interpretation I can understand, but don’t quite fully agree with personally. To me, it’s about two broken friends who share an affinity for music and writing. One is lucky enough to escape the bad conditions that imprison them as children while the other surrenders to a downward spiral, and the emotional gambit of that situation is presented with such a harrowing empathy. There’s a mix of sadness, bitterness and even guilt from the friend “who made it.” For me, it paints the full picture of empathy and humanity that’s colored Isbell’s best work, and if that all wasn’t enough, I love the ghostly swell the production adds to it all. There’s Isbell songs I like more, mind you, but as of the midyear point for 2020, “Only Children” is my favorite song released so far. Zackary Kephart, The Musical Divide/Country Universe “Forgot About You” by Triston Marez Triston Marez is a Texas country artist that is making damn good traditional country music. “Forgot About You” is a first person narrative about a guy that finally realizes he is completely over his ex. He thought at one time that this woman was the one and that he would never get over her. But not only is he over her but he is hopeful that she is doing well and will find love like he has after their split. This song is a great example of how a healthy adult acts after a breakup, a perspective you will rarely hear on country radio. Grant Ludmer, Critically Country Best Album:Lamentations by American Aquarium If I’m being frank, American Aquarium only just won me over with their last album, 2018’s Things Change. Which makes sense, given how it was a complete reworking of the band around front man BJ Barham. But time and experience? That will make all of that seething potential erupt in a white-hot core, and though one could argue otherwise – it couldn’t have come at a better time. To step away from the musical conversation for a second, though, most of the turmoil surrounding current events boils down to a regard for empathy of fellow human beings – not strict left or right politics. On Lamentations, Barham not only understands that, but seeks to challenge those different perspectives. And like any great songwriter, he’s going to offer a voice to the oppressed, all while uncomfortably acknowledging he’s one of the lucky ones: he didn’t have that late night drunk driving escapade; and he isn’t the father who threw it all away hoping his daughter will someday be able to see some shred of good in him; he rose above his demons. His stories, however, often show those who didn’t, either by choice or by situation – sometimes both, which makes the celebratory tracks of enduring that long haul seem more cathartic in comparison. And when Shooter Jennings’ weathered production cracks depict the ragged edges of that journey, it makes for the band’s most tempered project, but also their best yet. But like the final track suggests, it’s all a battle of survival, and it could snap out of place at any moment. In other words, a timely listen for now. ZK Ghosts of West Virginia by Steve Earle & the Dukes This is both an excellent tribute to the 29 miners who gave their lives in the Upper Big Branch mine disaster of 2010 and a thoughtful, loving ode to the state of West Virginia and its people. It perfectly captures the duality of hope and hopelessness so common to these people and really to all of us in some measure, the toil and hardship of this life mingled with the ever-present hope for joy and peace in the hereafter. Happiness and sorrow exist side by side on this record, and giving the best of yourself and your years for a coal company’s dollar is portrayed as the natural path and indeed the best option in a world where the only certainty seems to be hard times. There is a fierce pride in the people of Appalachia and a deep, abiding love for their mountains, both of which Steve Earle highlights here on this album. Underscoring all of this is the declaration by Earle himself that he wanted to make a record that spoke to people who likely did not vote the way he did. This is such an important album in 2020 where political divides have led to the erosion of understanding and intelligent conversation in favor of narrow-mindedness and hate from both sides. Steve Earle is a notoriously outspoken figure when it comes to politics, and yet he leads the way by example here, not preaching to the choir but instead seeking to bridge gaps before they become impassible. This is an excellent record, both in its inspiration and execution, and it’s a shame to see it getting somewhat overlooked. MB There are two types of country music critics: 1.) Those who consider Steve Earle essential because they’re supposed to, and it’s trendy 2.) Those who understand and realize the impact of what Steve Earle gives the genre and the importance of his words and convictions. Steve Earle is a living legend. He sat at the right hand of Guy Clark. He came of age with Rodney Crowell. He was championed by Waylon Jennings. He sank to the darkest of places and emerged somehow even better than before. Steve Earle has a lot to say and nothing stopping him from saying it. Ghosts of West Virginia isn’t just a protest album. It’s a cry for compassion and empathy. Sure, it’s got the angry albeit excellent protest song “It’s About Blood” and the brutally honest writing of “Black Lung” and “Devil Put the Coal in The Ground.” But above all else, Steve Earle is seeking to understand why others have different beliefs and trying to have open, honest and frank discussions with people from diverse backgrounds. That’s why Ghosts of West Virginia is such an important record. Earle is about as left as someone can get on the political spectrum; yet, he’s willing to engage in a respectful manner to start essential conversations. In 2020, what more could we ask for? NK Megan said it’s a shame to see Steve Earle’s Ghosts of West Virginia getting somewhat overlooked, but if that’s the case we damn sure aren’t overlooking it here. I too have chosen it as my favorite album in the country and Americana genres of the first half of 2020. I don’t believe I could say anything about the album that better captures what Megan and Nathan have said about it, but I will add that the album, which is certainly a concept album (maybe Earle’s first?), was created in collaboration with a play called “Coal Country,” about the same mining disaster, written by playwright couple Jessica Blank and Erik Jensen. Blank and Jensen work in a medium called documentary theater and according to NPR 95 percent of the words in their script come straight from interviews and the rest is told through Earle’s songs, seven of the 10 from his album appear in the play. The play opened at The Public Theater’s Anspacher Theater in New York City on March 3 just days before COVID-19 essentially shut the country down. Ghosts of West Virginia has a very theatrical feeling to it as a result that makes for an incredibly cohesive piece of work in a time when many performers simply try piecing together singles and filler tracks to form an album. I’m so thankful we still have a few artists like Steve Earle. JS Wild World by Kip Moore Calling Kip Moore country may be a bit of a stretch but at times so are other artists that we love - cc Eric Church. Whatever you want to call Kip Moore’s new album Wild World, it is my favorite album of the year. There are moments of fun that you will find on the lead single “She’s Mine” and “Southpaw.” You also get the introspective, regretful songs like “Payin’ Hard,” which is a real standout track on the album with the outstanding line “My life’s a credit card, play now, pay later and I’m payin’ hard.” And my personal favorite song on the album “Red White Blue Jean American Dream,” which has an infectious chorus. The album certainly isn’t perfect but in a year with releases being pushed back it’s certainly an enjoyable record. GL Worst Song:"Let Merle Be Merle" by Wade Bowen and Randy Rogers I’ll begin by saying I like Wade Bowen and I like Randy Rogers and I particularly like it when the two collaborate. I was excited to hear their second collaborative album Hold My Beer, Vol. 2 when it was released in early May and there’s certainly some good stuff on it. When thumbing through an album’s track list you’ll often find song titles that immediately pique your interest and the one that instantly stood out to me on their latest album was “Let Merle Be Merle,” written by Josh Abbott, Randall Clay, Ross Cooper and Casey Twist. I’m sure there’s probably worse country songs this year – probably many of them, in fact – but I swore off mainstream country radio years ago so thankfully I haven’t heard many, if any, of them. But I can tell you I was immediately disappointed in “Let Merle Be Merle” and don’t believe parts of this song have any business being around in 2020. It’s a song about being nostalgic for what are essentially in the narrator’s mind the good old days featuring the chorus: “Let a boy be a boy/let a girl be a girl/let a nut be a nut/let a squirrel be a squirrel/yeah, some things don’t need to change/in this ever-changing world/let rock and roll be rock and roll/Let Merle be Merle.” Now, I could be reading too much into the first two lines of the chorus thinking it’s discriminatory against members of the transgender community, but even if that’s not the case (and I hope it’s not) it’s still too gender stereotype confirming for today’s world. JS “One Margarita” by Luke Bryan I’ll admit there’s a great deal of mainstream country music in 2020 that my ears are never forced to hear. I’m 100 percent sure that there were worse songs released in 2020 to country radio than the idiotic pointless song “One Margarita.” Luke Bryan to this point has made a career off of dumb, meaningless pop-country songs and this fits right into that category. This honestly sounds like a Spring Break EP reject song that somehow was one of the best-selling songs in all of country music this year. GL “Trash My Heart” by Walker Hayes I’m more disappointed in mainstream country music this year than I am outright angry. The industry’s response to addressing the COVID-19 pandemic is to have artists release upbeat, nihilistic drinking songs that resurrect some of the worst elements of bro-country (“Cobronavirus,” as one writer puts it). Philosophically, then, I’m angrier at songs like Brad Paisley’s “No I In Beer” and Lady A’s “Champagne Night” (from the band, that is) than I am at objectively worse material this year. If I had to outright pick a worst song, though, I’d go with Walker Hayes’ “Trash My Heart,” which is a new low even for him. I can’t even discern everything going on with the production, though I can say the stuttered guitar pickups and snap percussion chop any semblance of groove this song might have had. To be fair, Hayes certainly throws himself into his performances … but that’s not a positive element. He’s completely overdoing his attempt at half-talking, half-singing the track, and his stabs at falsetto on the chorus are even more ear-splitting. As for the lyrics, however, Ashley McBryde attempted this theme of one-night stands with much more class and nuance last year on “One Night Standards,” highlighting the genuine pain and loneliness that comes with giving in to these sordid affairs. Hayes, though, is so “Holiday Inn” to his girl - which, in the context of the song, is one of the worst sexual innuendos since the pink umbrella line from Florida Georgia Line’s “Sun Daze” - and says his girl can “steal his kisses like it’s free shampoo.” At least it ends with him repeating the word “trash”; it’s the most fitting end to this nightmare. ZK “God Whispered Your Name” by Keith Urban It’s not really this song itself that is my least favorite thing about 2020 musically; in fact, I could have picked half a dozen different equally generic, cringe-worthy songs to represent this awful trend of boyfriend country. That’s part of the point of why this trend annoys me so damn much; these songs are all interchangeable, shallow pieces of nothing that are worse for the genre than almost everything bro-country ever gave us. That subgenre at least had catchy hooks and some country instrumentation, whereas this largely leans toward R&B, and worse, is about as boring as watching paint dry. It’s great to have respect for women, but these songs are so pandering that they become as insulting to women as tailgate anthems, only these are wrapped in prettier packaging. With this particular song, as with so many of these boyfriend country numbers, Urban is exalting this woman to the point of worship. I can’t take this song or any of these songs seriously as a woman, and not only that, they are so generic, lacking any specificity or sincerity like the great love songs that have always been a part of country. There’s nothing moving in this song, no beautiful sentiments like in “When You Say Nothing at All” or “Cover Me Up” or even Urban’s own “Making Memories of Us,” nothing to make it believable or even specific to one woman. It feels like a trend-chasing cash grab disguised as showing respect toward women, and that makes this song and all of its clones the most unbearable thing to happen to country music in 2020. MB Do you have a favorite song or album in Country Music or Americana thus far in 2020 or a least favorite song? Give us your choices in the comments section below!
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