THE LEG UP: Shitkickin' Edition

ARE YOU READY FOR THE COUNTRY?

Upcoming albums from a Nashville veteran in exile, three scionesses of outlaw country, a British wanderer, and a young Midwesterner with album-of-the-year ambitions.

Fall is already crowded with big country albums—Tim McGraw, Kellie Pickler, Lucinda Williams, and, um, Darius Rucker and Jessica Simpson—but a few strong efforts by two rookies and two vets promise to sail under the radar, through not fault of their own. Four to watch out for, and don’t miss this first one.

(Photo: Joshua Black Wilkins)

Jessica Lea Mayfield: With Blasphemy, So Heartfelt (Polymer, September 16)

If the women of Carter’s Chord sing about “Young Love” from an older perspective, Rust Belt belter Mayfield reports from the front lines. On the eighteen-year-old’s debut, the dark mood (courtesy of producer Dan Auerbach, who dueted with Mayfield on the Black Keys “Things Ain’t Like They Used to Be,” from Attack & Release) hooks you, Mayfield’s haunted voice reels you in, but it’s her songwriting that keeps you on the line. “I was walking with your left hand in my back pocket,” she sings on “For Today,” “and I stared at the sky while you kissed me.” But the chorus carries the kind of weighty confession that Lucinda Williams used to pen with her grocery list: “I could care less about you, care less about you/I love the sound of you walking away.” Young love isn’t sweet; it scars. That Mayfield can sound so much older than her years gives With Blasphemy So Heartfelt its dire gravity and invites you to obsess over it.

On repeat: the whole damn thing

Rodney Crowell: Sex and Gasoline (Yep Roc, September 5)

“This mean ol’ world runs on sex and gasoline,” Crowell sings on the title track to his thirteenth album, which is equally angry and randy. The singer/picker is outraged, but he’s not pining for some idealized past. That title track ends with an apt punchline: Same as in your mother’s day. The world’s always been screwed, in other words. Producer Joe Henry gives Crowell’s dissent a dark, smoky sound but mostly and wisely steps aside and lets the singer rail like Dylan, even wondering what it’d be like to be the first female president—his empathy is both comic and deadly serious. Most of all, the album runs on sex: “Moving Work of Art” (as in, “she’s a…”) is the seduction, “I Want You #35” is all taut tension with no release, “The Night’s Just Right” is pretty much self-explanatory. The world’s falling down around him, but Crowell just wants to make time.

On repeat: “I Want You #35”

Carter’s Chord: Carter’s Chord (Show Dog Nashville, September 16)

You could argue that Carter’s Chord are Toby Keith’s own Dixie Chicks. After all, he signed the all-female trio to his Show Dog label and co-produced their self-titled debut. While these sisters—Becky, Emily, and Joanna Robertson, daughters of parents who toured with Waylon Jennings back in the ‘70s—may lack the Chicks’ playful defiance (I’m thinking more “Goodbye Earl” than “Not Ready to Play Nice”), they have enough personality and songwriting chops to excuse themselves from the crossfire from that culture war. Their voices meld beautifully on these rock-country arrangements, especially on “Young Love” and “Dear Baltimore”. Only real dud is “Summer, Early ‘60s”, written by their mother, Carter Robinson, and closer to Garth Brooks’ “Thunder Rolls” than “Ode to Billie Joe”. On the other hand, opener “Boys Like You (Give Love a Bad Name)” sounds one power chord away from Bon Jovi, although it’s tough to tell if they’re in on the joke. Probably not, and more power to them.

On repeat: “Young Love”

Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs: Dirt Don’t Hurt (Transdreamer, October 14)

There’s only one Brokeoff, and his name is Lawyer Dave. He and Golightly team up for her fourth album, playing down-and-dirty country-folk numbers and rural blues stomps that sound like De Stijl-era White Stripes or Giant Sand relocated to the Ozarks. Their voices—hers high and clear, his low and gruff—meld nicely amid railroad harmonica, muddy guitars, and pots n pans percussion. They do right by Claudia Swann on “I Wanna Hug Ya, Kiss Ya, Squeeze Ya” and they do even better by Traditional on “Cluck Old Hen”, but the best songs here are Golightly originals like the clattering “Accuse Me” and the uptempo gospel “Gettin’ High for Jesus,” which is the country cousin to King Missile’s “Jesus Was Way Cool.” The big guy coulda turned wheat into marijuana and sugar into cocaine, but Golightly and Dave turn blasphemy into something resembling salvation.

On repeat: “Gettin’ High for Jesus”

Stephen M. Deusner is a freelance music journalist based in Washington , DC. Don't ask him about Norwegian pop or house rabbits, unless you have a few hours.