Paul Thorn has guts.
He got into a ring
with Roberto Duran and went 6 rounds.
He makes a living touring roadhouses and making people get up and dance
to his blend of blues, rock, country, southern rock and gospel. Whatever he has, he’s earned the hard way,
and my hat’s off to him.
All that said, his latest album shows a quality that often
goes along with tremendous guts – poor judgment. From a guy who portrays himself as a rowdy
bad boy with a heart of gold, this album is a bit too full of the heart of
gold. The first three songs are a
treacly trio assuring us that “Everything is Going to Be Alright”, praising
family reunions with shirts announcing “Too Blessed to be Stressed” and
pointing out that “Everybody Needs Somebody.”
And, no, those titles are neither ironic nor mere set-ups for a darker
edge.
Paul Thorn is a charmer, but there has always been an edge
to him. He’s good looking, has a
southern accent, and he’s the sort who would win a bar fight and talk the
preacher’s wife into going home with him.
His best work portrays a good man struggling with his inner bad
nature. In this album, the good side has
mostly won, and you start to wonder if his next song will be about cuddly puppies
or snuggly kittens.
Over at Deliberate
Obfuscation, Robin takes a far less jaded eye to the album. She gushes about how sweet he is, and
flat-out challenges anybody to not like him.
She also points out that he is a truly great live performer, which is
absolutely true, and reminisces about the first time we saw him at
Knucklehead’s. Perhaps Robin is too
darned nice, and actually enjoys sweet, uncomplicated songs about the nice
things in life.
In a Rolling Stone interview, here’s what he had to say
about the dark place these songs come from: "The
songs on Too Blessed to Be Stressed come from little nuggets of
wisdom that friends and strangers alike have shared with me," Thorn says.
"This project became an opportunity for me to pay it forward." Good God, my rowdy friend has gone soft.
Some of his later songs reflect the more ambiguous and
troubling side of him that I prefer. “I
Backslide on Friday” is a fun, though cutesy confession, and the following
break-up song “This is a Real Goodbye” finally includes the phrase “Kiss my
ass” to you finally get a song that doesn’t belong in Church more than a
roadhouse.
The worst song on the album is unironically titled
“Mediocrity is King.” It’s a rousing
ditty designed to get a crowd to sing along, but it 10 pounds of mediocre in a
5 pound sack. I realize that the average
dolt drinking Bud Light at a roadhouse is going to sing along and shake his
fist in the air to lyrics like “Republicans and Democrats are breaking my
heart/I can’t tell them sons of bitches apart”, but that sort of
pseudo-populist crap just sticks in my craw.
Really, Paul, you can’t tell them apart, in the most divisive political
era I’ve lived through? That’s just
stupid.
The strongest song on that album reflects the “struggling
sinner” persona best. In “Old Stray Dogs
and Jesus”, the singer mourns the death of his pot dealer whose head got
chopped off by a Mexican cartel. It’s a
good song, and I look forward to seeing him perform it.
Another great song lacks the edge I look for in Paul Thorn songs,
but “There’s No Place I’d Rather Be” is a sweet love song, and there’s nothing
wrong with that.
All in all, this is a nice album that is a little too nice,
but, with the exception of the moronic political commentary in one song, it’s
inoffensive and enjoyable in small doses.
But, by all means, get yourself to one of his shows, and I promise you
will be a fan of the live Paul Thorn.
Next up: Art Official Age, by Prince
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