SARAH SHOOK & THE DISARMERS : YEARS

1. Good As Gold
2. New Ways To Fail
3. Over You
4. The Bottle Never Lets Me Down
5. Parting Words
6. What It Takes
7. Lesson
8. Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don't
9. Heartache In Hell
10. Years

Label : Bloodshot Records

Release Date : 2018

Length : 36:47

Review (Pop Matters) : In damn near every picture taken of her, Sarah Shook stares right back at the viewer like she’s sizing ’em up. Both defensive and defiant, her expression suggests someone who won’t take any crap but also someone who’s been dealt more than a fair share of it. That attitude inhabits her songs, where she personifies tough women who have suffered some pain but are equally capable of inflicting the same. The whole package comes together in that voice: equal parts anger and regret, soul and sacrifice. Shook sings from the perspective of a problem child of the highest caliber: impulsive, unapologetic, and impassioned. The songs she sings and the music she makes with her band the Disarmers on their latest record Years is the kind of stuff that defies a calendar. Could be 1962, could be 1974; that it’s 2018 only makes these songs sound more ageless. Shook’s songs and the personas she inhabits therein seem lived in, rather than assorted poses. She sings with sincerity and conviction, bringing a pissed-punk attitude to her honky-tonk songs that could evoke comparisons to Chrissy Hynde or Kathleen Hanna. Bloodshot’s 2017 reissue of Sidelong introduced Shook’s hard-living and poetically profane songs to a broader audience from its initial regional release. Years picks up where that collection left off with brawling songs like “New Ways to Fail” and “The Bottle Never Let Me Down”, but also introduces new wrinkles to the band’s sound. Having spent most of the previous two years touring, the unit has grown as tight as they come, and they demonstrate both the breadth of their chops and the broad expanse of country music’s potential by refusing to limit themselves to a singular sonic palette. The primary focus is always going to be on the name that comes before the ampersand in any group, but make no mistake that the group of players on this record come across as a defined and refined unit. Everyone is playing that the top of their game and contributing to the whole of the sound. Nothing that this band was playing two years ago sounded like “Over You”, which comes across as a straight-up pop song, “Heartache in Hell,” a gorgeous ballad, or the rockabilly jaunt of “Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don’t”. And as fresh as Sidelong struck listeners, Shook’s growth as a lyricist makes Years an even more revelatory collection.

Review (Highway Queens) : So I was trying to write a punchy little introduction to this review that explained how Sarah Shook & The Disarmers’ new album Years is full of personality and brutal truths in the best outlaw country tradition, but then I realised that I had to start with one simple point: you need to buy this right away. Scroll to the end of this page and click the link. Go on now. Part with your cash and fund this band’s future because it’s a tough life out there for working class musicians and they need our support more than ever. If you’ve already got it then that’s awesome, well done. So with that sorted let me explain why this is one of my favourite albums of the year so far. Sarah and the Disarmers released their first album Sidelong in 2015 and last year it was reissued by her new label, the brilliant Bloodshot Records (also home to the lovely Ruby Boots whose album I reviewed earlier this year). Now the album came out just as I was starting this blog and for some reason I didn’t even listen to it let alone review it, which now looks like a really stupid oversight on my part. By all accounts Sarah has taken time to develop her songwriting and singing in particular before releasing this follow up. Her distinctive punky warble is still present but she has strengthened the quality of her vocals. Throughout the album she sings about all the crap she’s had to put up in life and isn’t it ironic how the worst relationships end up inspiring the best songs? I was hooked the first time I heard opening track ‘Good As Gold’, so much so that I had it on repeat about twenty times straight and months later I’m still not sick of it. Thankfully the melancholy subject matter never stops the melody from being infectious enough to sing along. ‘New Ways To Fail’ has the most perfectly brutal lyrics, but it’s also the catchiest honky tonk floorfiller you’ll hear all year. She’s going to ‘speak with perfect candour’ and roars out her frustrations about life and love with the killer line ‘I need this shit like I need another hole in my head’. Everyone knows how that feels. Over You is about the aftermath of a fight when she’s sick of the mess they’re in, ‘I can’t cry anymore I’ve had enough/ You can’t tell me that this is love?’ The more downbeat introspective tone of the music echoes her mood. Drinking songs that reference Merle Haggard can verge on cliche but just like Jaime Wyatt , you know this girl doesn’t walk the line – she is the real outlaw deal. ‘The Bottle Never Let’s Me Down’ is slurred and woozy like a night out that ends up in a screaming match and smashed glass on a dive bar floor. And ‘Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don’t’ sounds like it’s being sung by Elvis’ drunk granddaughter as she staggers home from the best night out of her life. On Parting Words the quality of the band shines through and credit must be given to the Disarmers: Eric Peterson on guitars, John Howie Jr on drums, Aaron Oliva on bass and Phil Sullivan on pedal steel for bringing such energy to all these songs. What It Takes has a rockabilly core to it and that combination of country and punk is perfect throughout. On Lesson she’s learning from her mistakes and is ready to move on. The chorus really bites. Heartache in Hell is just a brilliant song title, and lyrically the whole album is full of fucking genius moments of humour and heartbreak. The pace of the songs is so fast that when this slow song hits it really cuts deep. Vocally she is able to tone down the punky sneer and turn it into something that sounds bruised and beautiful. The title track was the last song written for the album and so she rakes over the coals of her dead relationship one last time. She sings ‘There was a time when you were kind to me but baby it’s been years’, stretching the final word out with wistful resignation. The restart at the end of the song signals a more hopeful future. Sometimes the right songs just come along at the right time and Sarah Shook has given us ten of them. Years is cool as fuck and catchy as hell, so get out of bed and quit complaining about the state of ‘country music’ because this is the twangtastic tour de force you’ve been waiting on.

Review (Saving Country Music) : Sarah Shook and the Disarmers’ second record Years doesn’t exhibit what would generally be considered incredible songwriting. The tunes aren’t performed by a top notch collective of hot shot players who are known as titans in their respective fields. There is no innovative or evolutionary musical leaps performed on this album, no underlying conceptualized approach that works towards a greater understanding, nor is it a sweeping thematic undertaking that resonates with the listener on a grand scale. There are no timely political narratives, no cross-genre collaborations or blending of influences in novel or inventive ways. Conventionally speaking, you probably wouldn’t even regard Sarah Shook as a great singer. But what Years has that so many albums that boast some or all of the aforementioned attributes lack is what all true listeners ultimately come to music for—a trump card that supersedes all other concerns, benchmarks, and gradients. It’s the part of music you can never learn, never practice up, never teach or toil to capture. Either you have it, or you don’t. And Sarah Shook has it. She has it in spades, while so many others fail to grasp even the mere notion of it. You think music is a skills competition? You think what speaks deeply to people in music is the perfection served through drum loops and Auto-Tune, or technically adept musicianship, or even vintage styling conveyed through cute production techniques trying to emulate past greatness? Four scraggly dudes and a single mother from North Carolina just proved they can supersede all other efforts simply by assuring the pain and the blood of real life experiences are sown straight into your songs, embedded between the notes, and born out in the melodies. Years is soaked in whiskey and sweat, tenderized through conflict, forged from 700-mile van rides to play $200 shows, and ultimately captured in studio recordings that like a great sponge, are able to soak up all of that pain, and convey it with lossless quality. Sarah Shook is the badass woman we’ve been waiting years for. She can play the guys off the stage and drink them under the table, all on a half night’s sleep and her eyelids at half mast. Years is the exact type of country music album you crash little music websites and Spotify playlists searching for—that album that immediately sucks you in, and promises years of enjoyment and recurring listens, even in the world of endless audio variety. It’s a record that feels like it was made specifically for you, regardless of you’re in the midst of a breakup and a bout of drunken depression, or you’re beyond all of that and enjoying a stable, sober family life. It’s an album where every song begs to be heard, and not one gets passed over. There’s nothing expressly special about any of it. But there’s something especially warm about all of it, making you say, “This is what I’m talking about when I say I love country music.” Sarah Shook and the Disarmers have the lovability of your favorite local band, yet with an international appeal. It’s not their skill, it’s their hustle. Sarah Shook’s songwriting is never challenging to the intellect, but it’s always clever. In the intangibles such as heart, soul, authenticity, and emotion, Sarah Shook scores off the charts, and makes it look easy. And it’s country, served with no prefixes, suffixes or hyphenated qualifiers needed, except to say this is country from the shadows, and the underground. In fact one concern you may feel bubbling under as you listen is if enough variety will present itself to keep you engrossed from cover to cover. But as soon as this thought enters your brain, Shook pulls out the song “Lesson,” which has just enough of a mod and surf feel to spice things up. This is chased by the swinging “Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don’t” that you could hear Bloodshot Records label mate Wayne “The Train” Hancock do in his prime. If there is one thing you could pull out of this music and identify as to why Sarah Shook is so immediately infectious beyond the intangibles, it’s her ability to construct melodies, and ones that so perfectly fit with the mood she’s looking to convey. This is the portion of songwriting that so many of today’s top wordsmiths struggle with, while Sarah seems to effortlessly allow her choruses to become whirlwinds of emotion and appeal, rendering them so pleasantly inviting, no matter the dour mood of the often depressing stories she unfolds. As inviting as the melodies are, you almost have to remind yourself this is music from the dark underbelly of country, full of alcohol, depression, and conflict. And you cannot overlook what Sarah Shook has accomplished without giving at least a mention to her ace in the hole, guitar player Eric Peterson. Just like Sarah, Eric Peterson perfects the blue collar approach to music with licks and tones and leads that you would never look to teach to others as technical fundamentals, but blow away what so many others players do because he comprehends the mood of a song, and is able to draw the emotions out of a piece of music while minding the melody by listening just as much as playing, as do all the Disarmers. Also, finally we have a performer who will be lauded by certain critics due simply to identifiers and other non musical concerns whose music is actually superior to the standard Americana or mainstream fare instead of being judged on a sliding scale—that is if the often exclusive east Nashville media syndicate will give Sarah Shook and the Disarmers the attention they deserve. Sarah embodies the very roots of country music rebellion, and the staunch, independent approach first sparked by the original Outlaws, and embedded into the founding of organizations like Bloodshot Records. Sarah Shook was first championed here on Saving Country Music when she was unsigned and still very much a local personality simply looking for an avenue to share her music. Now she is a name everyone should be paying attention to for setting the bar for infectiousness and authenticity. The Years may have been hard on Sarah Shook, but they’re kind to us from the results that bear out in her music, and hopefully they finally pay off for all the sweat and toil she’s captured in this record.