[rating=3.50]
There is an air of authenticity lent to Field Songs, William Elliott Whitmore’s second full-length release. Growing up and residing on a farm in rural Iowa, Whitmore has worked on and reaped the benefits of the land that he praises and exults throughout the album’s eight tracks. Hence, lines like, “Let’s go to the fields/We’re gonna do some work/Spend our days digging through the dirt” are no mere vicarious proclamations. Had he not lived it, the subject matter on Field Songs would ring hollow and trite. However, Whitmore’s biography lends credence and respectability to this collection which proves a worthwhile addition to your music collection.
Essentially a one-man band, Whitmore plucks his banjo, keeps the beat on his kick drum, and sings with a ferocious and grizzled passion that pays homage to Dust-Bowl era blues singers. One can close their eyes and picture an elderly African-American man singing of hard times in a worn-down juke joint somewhere in Mississippi: “I should have been a steamboat man/Pushing on down to Louisian’/But here I am working in the fields/If the heat don’t get ya then the sunburn will/I don’t need it all”. In a past life Mr. Whitmore fronted punk bands, an experience he claims gave his voice the power it now possesses to not only encapsulate the song but also command the room in which he sings. That voice comes at the listener with a purpose demanding to be heard and taken seriously. Coupled with the hard strums of the banjo and drum, Whitmore brings more fury to the plate than a good majority of full ensemble rock bands out there making noise. For a quick taste of this notion, one need not listen any further than the opener, “Bury Your Burdens in the Ground”, five-plus minutes of heartfelt strumming and singing that recalls Soundgarden or Mudhoney unplugged.
If there are a few complaints to be made, one can point to the similitude of the lyrics and subject matter, but Whitmore has made a conscious effort to sequence his album like a novel, where each song resembles a chapter that furthers the plot and brings the theme to a whole. Sure, the songs all talk about hardships, financial ruin, and persevering in the face of adversity, but such is the life of the working man, both white-collar and blue these days. Despite a rustic air, these songs resonate in 2011 as much as they would have in the 1930’s and that is the point of Whitmore’s work. There is hope and positivity in the details, but for Whitmore to write a flat-out “happy” song would defeat the purpose of his concept. And despite the overall strengths of his vision, there are still some missteps, most notably on “Get There From Here” where Whitmore’s normally sharp lyricism takes a lazy and clichéd turn that robs the album of some of its momentum. There is also a little debate about the length of the album. In some regards, eight songs is perfect; the tolerance for a one-man band tends to temper after about 40 minutes and the listener can get antsy for something more. However, when the final chords of album-closing “Not Feeling Any Pain” end and the album finishes spinning, there is a slight feeling that remains of wanting more, another chapter or two to fully flesh out the story.
Minor hang-ups aside, Whitmore has made a striking and distinctive album that sounds unique among his contemporary songwriting ilk. It’s not a collection of songs meant to be heard at random, but rather a collective endeavor that deserves time, attention, and space to appreciate. At a time when the album is losing its relevance, Whitmore has released a banner statement pronouncing the album alive and well.
