Album of the Day — June 12
Lucinda Williams — Good Souls Better Angels
Lucinda Williams — Good Souls Better Angels
10.June.2020
Lucinda Williams
Good Souls Better Angels
2020
Being the daughter of one of the most respected American poets in modern history might mean that a love of language and structure is hard-coded into your DNA.
Fortunately, that’s the case with Lucinda Williams.
As the daughter of famed poet and scholar, Miller Williams, Good Souls Better Angels highlights that Lucinda Williams's verbal prowess isn’t just hard-coded in her DNA, she’s got her own language as an artist — and this is an artist firing on all cylinders.
The lyrical genius on Good Souls Better Angels leaves little doubt that she has a master's grasp on the power of words … and the music adds an added punch in its sparseness.
It also leaves little room for discussion on how she feels.
The three-time Grammy winner (15-time nominee) has long been one of the most respected voices in music. In 2002, Time Magazine voted her “America’s Best Songwriter” and VH1 ranked her №97 on their 100 Greatest Women in Rock & Roll and Lucinda Williams was selected by Rolling Stone as the 79th greatest songwriter of all time in December 2019.
She’s been recording since 1979’s Ramblin but found a lot of her success from having others cover her songs like Mary Chapin-Carpenter and Emmylou Harris. Her first Grammy Award for Best Country Song was for Chapin-Carpenter’s cover of “Passionate Kisses” in 1994, a song she had herself recorded for her self-titled third album in 1988.
Known for working at a glacial pace, her 1998 album Car Wheels on a Gravel Road became her breakthrough album. The Americana scene was in full bloom and with Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, the genre had found a matriarch. The record also gave Williams another Grammy, this time for Best Contemporary Folk Album.
22 years and nine albums later on April 23, 2020, Lucinda Willams, at 67, unleashed one of the angriest and most relevant albums today.
Don’t let Lucinda Williams laconic style fool you into thinking there isn’t anything here, Good Souls Better Angels has real bite.
Despite the genre, there is as much anger in these songs as any punk song, perhaps even more. These are just more melodic songs with better word choices and easier to listen to.
Often times, we look to artists/musicians to provide a way of seeing the world through their eyes. Hopefully, it reflects what we see and there is some common ground and then we can look/listen to the work and say “Yea, this captures the mood of that moment.”
Good Souls Better Angels is the first album I’ve heard that captures this current feeling in American history. The album was recorded before the events of the past month … but because so many of the songs are rebellious and angry, they still work in light of the pandemic and BLM movement.
The first two songs read and sound like an indictment against the current media environment. On “You Can’t Rule Me” Williams lets the world know that the spirit of rebellion doesn’t have a target demographic — young or old, you can still rebel.
Despite the efforts of many, the message is clear — the first amendment is a right … not a privilege:
You Can’t Rule Me
Yeah man, I got a right
To talk about what I see
Way too much is going wrong
It’s right in front of me
You can’t rule me
You can’t rule me
You can’t take my money and try to rule me too
Yeah, you might expect me to follow
But I ain’t gonna fall inline
I tell you what, this much I know
The dotted line ain’t been signed
You can’t rule me
You can’t rule me
You can’t take my soul and try to rule me too
Keeping that in mind, she rolls into “Bad News Print” which is both a statement on the first amendment as well as a flogging of the corporate media’s negative messaging that’s so prevalent in our culture.
The blues backbone is what drives the song. Its groove is as inescapable as the bad news Williams is singing about:
Bad News Print
Bad news on my TV screen
Bad news on the magazines
Bad news on the newspaper
Bad news on the elevator
Bad news on the street
Bad news in my car
Bad news under my feet
Bad news at the bar
No matter where I go I can’t get away from it
Don’t you know I’m knee-deep in it?
Who’s gonna believe liars and lunatics?
Fools and thieves and clowns and hypocrites
Gluttony and greed and that ain’t the worst of it
The cherry on top for these first three songs is, “Man Without a Soul”. There is no mistaking who she holds responsible. I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that to Lucinda Williams that the “Man Without a Soul” is President Trump — the lyrics certainly lean that way:
Man Without a Soul
You’re a man without truth
A man of greed, a man of hate
A man of envy and doubt
You’re a man without a soul
All the money in the world
Will never fill that hole
You’re a man bought and sold
You’re a man without a soul
You bring nothing good to this world
Beyond a web of cheating and stealing
You hide behind your wall of lies
But it’s coming down
Yeah, it’s coming down
In “Big Black Train” she employs one of the oldest literary devices, the anaphora. Its purpose is to emphasize certain ideas by repetition. On “Big Black Train” — which is either about mortality and death … or a very bleak outlook on love.
Depending on your perspective it works either way, but doesn’t paint a vibrant picture:
Big Black Train
I can hear it comin’ from miles away — x3
And I don’t wanna get onboard
I can hear it comin’ on down the track — x3
And I don’t wanna get onboard
I don’t wanna be no special rider — x3
I don’t wanna get onboard
I don’t wanna get onboard — x2
That big black train
Last time through it took me far away — x3
I don’t wanna get onboard
Didn’t know if I was ever comin’ back — x3
And I don’t wanna get onboard
Gonna take me through the darkest night — x3
And I don’t wanna get onboard
Didn’t know if I was ever comin’ back — x3
And I don’t wanna get onboard
These first four songs set the tone of the album. They also highlight the high art of album sequencing is not lost on producer’s Ray Kennedy, Tom Overby, and Lucinda Williams.
I can’t help but wonder who Williams thinks the good souls are on Good Souls Better Angels. Because on “Wakin’ Up” she continues her assault:
Wakin’ Up
Yeah, I threw a punch, somehow, I missed it
I should’ve split, thought I could fix it
He pulled the kitchen chair out from under me
He pulled my hair and then he pissed on me
Next thing, I swear, he wants a kiss on me
After all this, he wants a kiss on me
But I’m waking up from a bad dream
I’m shaking up, it was a bad scene
But I’m waking up from a bad dream
It shook me up, it was a bad scene
But I’m waking up, it shook me up
But I’m waking up, it fucked me up
But I’m waking up from a bad dream
This is exactly the kind of album we need right now. It’s exactly the kind of album you’d expect from an artist who has built her career on writing and singing with pure honesty … with passion. Lucinda Williams’ passion here on Good Souls Better Angels, is speaking her mind.
And that passion belies the fact that she’s pissed off at everything … and that includes herself on “Pray the Devil Back to Hell”:
Pray the Devil Back to Hell
You know, inside the dark, behind these walls
Yeah, inside the dark, behind these walls
There used to be a spark, but now the Devil calls
And so I run somewhere I can hide my shame
Oh, I run somewhere I can hide my shame
But I swear I hear him calling my name
He says, “Come to me, let’s play some more”
He says, “Come to me, let’s play some more”
Guitarist Stuart Mathis rips a page from the Bo Ramsy (who played on Car Wheels on a Gravel Road) playbook. The haunting muddy simplicity he plays adds a gothic vibe to the album. Accentuated by drumming troubadour Butch Norton, who brought his cross-genre skills with him.
Critics have found the timeliness of the album refreshing and universally praised the album.
Jon Breen of The Irish Times said that Good Souls Better Angels “punches with a dark, almost biblical vengeance but also, importantly, balances vitriol with solace, hellfire with a hand in need.”
Kyle Mullen at Exclaim simply said: “The devil has met his match, and it’s the 67-year-old Queen of Southern Gothica.”
Hal Horowitz in American Songwriter concluded his review by saying: “This is a devastatingly in your face, take no prisoners presentation from Williams and her band that will leave most serious listeners shattered and perhaps shaking. Few albums connect with this much pure emotional fury, let alone those from artists well into their 60.”
On Good Souls Better Angels Lucinda Williams sounds as though she has captured the zeitgeist of the Trump era … anger.
If you’re looking for the feel-good album of the year, this is not it.
However, if you are looking for the best album of the year, it’s Good Souls Better Angels.