I don’t feel much like walking and I sure as hell can’t drive

Streetlights – Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

The Drive-By Truckers has always been one of those bands that I casually liked but never thought too much about. “The Day John Henry Died” is a truly fantastic song, and The Dirty South is a pretty solid record. And while I never spent a ton of time listening to them, whenever I did hear a song I always enjoyed it.

I saw them last fall on their tour with The Hold Steady. And while it was a decent show something felt really missing. That something was Jason Isbell, erstwhile Trucker and now solo artist. Turns out he’s responsible for almost every song of theirs I really liked. The funny thing is, I saw Isbell right after he left the Truckers when he was opening for Son Volt a couple years ago and was pretty unimpressed.

Turns out it had a lot more to do with the specific songs he was playing at the time. I was also quite disappointed in his debut solo record. On Jason Isbell And The 400 Unit, his follow-up, all the stuff I loved from his previous work shines through.

It’s full of character sketches, lyrics that manage to capture in one line what many artists fail to communicate over a lifetime, and a bluesy roots sound that merges seamlessly with good old fashioned bar-band. In the fine tradition of many predecessors, it’s the sort of record that sounds off the cuff, natural, loose. And, most surprisingly of all, Isbell even gets his croon on here and there, revealing a voice with a lot more range and diversity than you might expect.

“Cigarettes and Wine” is a great boozy singalong – the sort that suggests a night that ends asleep on the floor. Fortunately, “However Long” lifts you back up off the floor, gives you a good shake, and sends you out into the world with a pat on the back and a word of quiet encouragement. And “Streetlights” is as fine a song as you’re likely to hear in this genre: moody, disquieting, beautiful, and sad beyond words. Even the bits I don’t particularly like often pay off. I could do without the dissonant build-up in “Sunstroke” for example, but even I can’t help but admit that the re-emergence from the chaos is an excellent moment.

Hopefully this record sets the stage for more efforts along these lines. When he’s on, Isbell tells stories through music about as well as anyone around these days. And after a bit of a misstep last time around, this record represents a fine return to form.

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