At the beginning of Jason Isbell’s career, he was writing one or two of the best songs on albums by a band stuffed with excellent and prolific songwriters. As the George Harrison to Patterson Hood/Mike Cooley’s aught’s alt-country version of Lennon/McCartney, Isbell contributed two songs to Decoration Day (2003), four to The Dirty South (2004), and two to A Blessing and a Curse (2006).
During these times, anyone paying attention to the liner notes could have pegged Isbell as a hidden gem; writer of the majestic and heartbreaking “Decoration Day”, about a family feud that no one even remembers the beginning to, and the protagonists hatred for his father for continuing a cycle of hate; of “Outfit”, a seemingly autobiographical song about a house-painting father giving his son advice like “Don’t sing with a fake British accent,” “don’t ever say your car is broke,” and “call home on your sister’s birthday”; of “Danko/Manuel” about the complex relationship between the members of the legendary Band. So when the gem stepped out and became a little less hidden in 2007 with Sirens of the Ditch which was only sprinkled with such songs, rather than beaming with them, it was a little bit disappointing.
Jason went from including his best material and only his best material on publications, to having to come up with an entire records worth of music. I personally don’t think this transition went that well for him. Both Sirens of the Ditch and Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit (2009) follow this pattern of containing a couple of excellent standouts amongst mostly middling songs.
(For the debut album, it’s “Brand New Kind of Actress”, “Chicago Promenade”, “Dress Blues”, “In a Razor Town”, and “Shotgun Wedding”. For the self-titled, it’s “Seven-Mile Island”, “Cigarettes and Wine”, and “Streetlights”, if anyone was wondering.)
Here We Rest (2011) is where things started looking better. It’s a great little album, with a solid track-listing and standouts that accentuate the other songs rather than make me forget about them.
Of course, in 2013, Isbell released the album that I’d say is the best since at least 2009, probably longer. There’s no other album released by anyone in the 2010s with the depth of songwriting as Southeastern, which I’ve already written about extensively here.
So the thought coming into Something More Than Free, for me, at least, was this: is Southeastern the exception, or the new rule? Did this album spring forth as a fluke of excellence, spurred on by Jason’s return from rehab and a blossoming marriage to fellow singer-songwriter Amanda Shires? Or could we look forward to a newfound standard of greatness within the releases of this Alabama native?
Something More Than Free hears the question, and answers resoundingly. Not only is the follow-up a great album, it’s a great album in a totally different way. It’s sonically similar, but there’s more joy and optimism, and a greater range of sound. It’s not a repeat, but it’s still great. It proves there’s a little bit of credence to the claims that Isbell is the savior of modern country music, because he often taps into oft-forgotten modes of country music. Along with the Southern rock that makes people immediately think of the word “country” Isbell also includes songs in the vein of a traveling bard, of Appalachia, of Hank Williams, Merle Haggard, and Neil Young. And of course, there’s plenty of wrestling with liberal life in southern America, including religion, working-class life, and lineage.
The songs sound like they’d make you smile if you weren’t listening to the lyrics. There’s jubilance front and center; violins flit about, bass lines steer happily, Jason’s voice is less raspy than it is assured. As always, the songs are great individually, but together they are something coherent and special.
“24 Frames” is an immediately catchy song, with a rousing chorus: “You thought God was an architect, now you know, he’s something like a pipe bomb ready to blow/Everything you built, that’s all for show goes up in flames, in 24 frames.”
“Flagship” is a lovely, lovely little song between two lovers who beg for life not to become stale while they’re together, featuring romanticisms like “I’ll throw rocks at your window from the street,” “I’ll drive you to the ocean everyday,” and “I’ll cancel all the plans I’ve ever made.”
If I had to choose a song on this album as a spiritual successor to Southeastern’s “Elephant,” a heartbreakingly sparse song about cancer sung in conversational lyrics, it’d be “Speed Trap Town,” a combination of Jason’s classic struggling with his lineage, a sick father with an attitude less-than-sympathetic towards women and even worse towards his children.
“Palmetto Rose” continues the traipse through other types of country, with a bluesy guitar riff kicking off a song, and “Children of Children” is a slow burn, if a little bit misplaced in the track listing.
I had originally thought that the closer, "To A Band That I Loved" detailed his relationship with Drive-By Truckers before, during, and after his stint with the band, but Jason has since said that it's about the band Centro-Matic, a Texas-based alt-country group that Jason played a couple of shows with. Regardless, the thought behind the song is about finding fellow progressive thinkers in conservative areas of America at a young age, and being shocked and joyed that he's not alone.
And the song that brought it all together for me is the title track. The first couple of times I listened to this album, “Something More Than Free” just passed me by, and eventually, I even wondered why Jason would name the album after this song, except that it was a pretty cool title. But it’s my favorite song on here now. I’ve done my fair share of manual labor, but nothing quite like doing it day-in day-out to make a living. I’m more like on the verge of such a life, so I’m at a point where I understand the feeling, but haven’t actually lived it. The song’s protagonist works his fingers to the bone, but he never complains about it, always gracious just to have the opportunity to work. This man is not working towards a life without work, a life with the freedom to do whatever he wants, because he knows that’s impossible for someone like him. He’s looking for something more than that. Something somewhere in his life that’ll make him feel like it’s all worth it. And the song's best line: "The day will come that I'll find a reason somebody'd brag to love a man like me."
All of this said, Something More Than Free isn’t quite better than Southeastern. But it proves that Jason Isbell is here to stay.
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