Peace Trail (2016)

When historians look back at this time period, 2016 will undoubtedly be one of the most consequential elections in the United States. I won’t be apolitical here, the election of Donald Trump was an evil moment in my country. It exposed a long festering malignancy that was finally manifested in one sociopathic grifter. Knowing Neil’s politics, it’s not hard to imagine what it was like for him to be recording this album in the days before the election. Is it therefore political? Yes, but not in the way one would think. He won’t necessarily cover Trump until the next album, but the feeling of that time, that unease, pervades Peace Trail. Shortly after recording the album, though, he did record an open letter about the Standing Rock pipeline. Supporting the indigenous community has been close to Neil’s heart for many years, and it was wrapped up in all the politics of the time for this album in particular. So when I say it’s not political in the way you think, I mean that Neil doesn’t particularly get into partisan issues, but addresses the larger way in which politics hurt people.

The sound of Peace Trail is unique, especially legendary session drummer’s Jim Keltner’s brush stick drumming, and the subtle bass of Paul Bushnell. Neil employs the distorted harmonica he used on Greendale, but it feels angrier and more effective here. Recorded by John Hanlon over four days, it seems clear Neil picked these venerated session players so that he could just quickly get these songs down and out in the public as quickly as possible. Apparently sometimes they wouldn’t even rehearse a song. Keltner and Bushnell would just pick up what Neil was starting with and they jammed it out. That’s what you get with session players, an innate feeling where to go and what the songwriter wants. It’s a great sound and I enjoy listening to this album quite a bit.

The title track starts things off with a potent concoction of Neil on acoustic and electric as well pseudonymously (as Joe Yankee) on pump organ along with Keltner and Bushnell. The downside is he also employs some auto-tone (another kind of crime circa 2016). The lyrics are lovely and evocative and seem to be about refocusing on what matters to him by going back to his roots. There’s been a mounting sense about Neil of making an impact with the limited time he has left on things he cares about. He came to the conclusion that climate change issues is where he wants to make a stand. In this instance, climate change and Standing Rock reservation coincided. That mounting sense is also present on “Can’t Stop Workin’,” a less effective song, but fitting for this feeling of purpose.

“Indian Givers” was the first single for the album, and came with a video that included Standing Rock protest footage (along with Neil singing a long in the car and shaky footage of Daryl Hannah’s PROTECT shirt). At first, it seems odd that Neil is naming a song after this ongoing slur, but he somewhat clumsily makes the point that the US is practicing this “taking away what was given” with all of their broken promises. In that way, I can accept it. I love the sound of the drums on this song and Neil’s jaunty guitar sells it. If there’s one fault, it’s Neil’s repetitive chorus. The best song on the album follows with “Show Me,” just a beautiful, slightly Latin sounding blues lament. He earns to be shown a world in which justice reigns for women, indigenous peoples, and the earth. It’s a simple song, but devastatingly effective.

Unfortunately, the next song is the worst on the album, “Texas Rangers.” Its just goofy and messy and I can’t even concentrate on the lyrics that Neil delivers in a clumsy sing-song interplay interspersed with loud distorted harmonica. No clue what he was thinking with this one. If this song wasn’t here, we would go from “Show Me” to the second best song on the album, “Terrorist Suicide Hang Gliders,” a shockingly epic song contained in three minutes. Beautiful guitar and drums anchor this tale of paranoia and fear of the other. “Hidden there in the darkness / Behind the reasons that you're free” indeed. The distorted harmonica comes like an air raid warning at intervals that still shock you. In keeping with this good/bad/good/bad cadence, “John Oaks” has Neil doing some odd spoken word storytelling over a pretty nice instrumental. But the way that he just repeats the song title brings to mind Americana’s annoying “Tom Dula.”

The auto-tune is back on another spoken word forgettable track, “My Pledge.” Honestly, I might have to change my mind and say this is the worse song on the album. It’s seemingly very “old man rambles about old man stuff” as some kind of metaphor, but the lyrics are quite good, frank, and meaningful. The composition is just a mess and it’s hard to follow along as Neil auto-tunes with himself. Thankfully, “Glass Accident” is a proper song (with more than a passing resemblance to older Neil songs but delivered at a glacial pace). It’s dark and foreboding, with an edge you don’t normally hear from Neil. There’s a metaphor going on here that I can’t parse, but it seems like an allusion to an unfixable mess he left behind (this is possibly the most personal song on the album). “My New Robot” closes us out with the most conceptually weird Neil song has ever done. A sparse song about being morose while opening an Alexa and setting it up. Layers of computer talk get more and more dystopic until the song just cuts off, almost like Neil smashed the Alexa in frustration with its intrusiveness.

Overall, Peace Trail is extremely 2016, for better or worse. He’s grappling with how to make his voice heard in the new age, knowing he needs to speak out. It’s a morose album, especially when you look back on it. I know his feeling. I think its half a good album, but with some idiosyncratic quirks that just seem awkward now.

Top 3:

1. Show Me
2. Terrorist Suicide Hang Gliders
3. Indian Givers

Cut song: My Pledge

Thanks for reading Only Castles Burning! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.