Americana Music Reviews

 

Ben Wright
345 Miles

Independent
by Al Kunz

Believability is one of the key elements in a singer-songwriter connecting with his audience. In Rodney Crowell's "I Walk the Line (Revisited)," one can't help but picture Rodney and his dad as they drive to the fishing hole. Dawn breaks as the radio plays softly in the background. Little Rodney peeks over the dashboard for a glimpse of the East Texas countryside when for the first time he hears Johnny Cash singing "I Walk the Line," changing his view of music forever. Crowell says it happened just like the song. And it's believable. While real experience isn't the only route to believability (otherwise the Reno police should have a little talk with Cash), it is the quickest and surest. On the best cuts from Ben Wright's debut disc, 345 Miles, he sticks to what he knows with stories of growing up a small town Texas boy.

Whether singing about the age-old refrain of parents and teachers (concerned listeners will make the same mistakes as an older sibling on "Brother Song") or about those friends parents accuse of leading good kids into trouble on "Sweet Lucy," Wright shows a talent for turning common experiences into songs.

Girls they love Sweet Lucy and the guys they do too
We'd do things with Lucy that we wouldn't used to do
Sweet Lucy makes you laugh, she makes you better lookin' too
But you better watch out or she'll get the best of you

But as can be expected from a relative newcomer, Wright makes some miscues, the most prominent being "Radio Song." The Hat Act country-music-pretenders that get radio play while the true country singers are left to perform "on the front porch at parties and honky-tonk bars" are an appropriate target, but it's been done to death. Not as clichéd as the expression "done to death," but damn close. Now they're even playing these songs on the radio. Does "now they sound tired but they don't sound Haggard / they've got money but they don't have Cash" sound familiar? Mothers of songwriters need to start giving new advice. If you can't say anything new (or at least say it in a clever new way), don't say anything at all.

Tried to write a country song, get 'em to play it on my radio
But they said they can't do that
Said "son if you're gonna sing country you've got to look like a cowboy"
But I don't have a cowboy hat
Guess I can't do that

Falling into cliché while writing a love song is a pitfall the best songwriters have trouble avoiding. On "Dairy Queen Girl," Wright skirts the trap and gives us a gem. He uses the common love song theme of obsession with a woman who doesn't know the singer exists, adds a little humor, and sings from the perspective of a "small town guy who has big time dreams." In less than three minutes Wright has us pulling for the guy, hoping he works up enough courage to make the first move and someday get his wish to put that "ring on layaway at Walmart."

Well she works full time she got her G.E.D.
You know an educated woman is the kind for me
I don't care if she's half my age
She gets forty hours a week at minimum wage

She's my Dairy Queen, Dairy Queen girl
She's mine, mine, mine
She's my Dairy Queen girl

Wright says it best when talking about his future as a songwriter in his web site bio. "There's a million people doing it, trying to do it for a living before it's their time. There's so much stuff to see and do and learn and love and hate before you can really develop any perspective that's worth writing about." Wright may still be developing this perspective. He'd also benefit by varying his sound with a bigger variety of tempo and tone in the musical accompaniment. But his best songs show enough promise to warrant encouragement.

* Visit www.stingerweb.com/benwright for purchase information.



Contact Al Kunz at kunz-at-rockzilla.net

 
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