I had a really long post written about how great Son Volt are, a comparison to Buffalo Springfield splitting up for Uncle Tupelo, the academic album for album review of Wilco and Son Volt and the importance of both bands and the futility of comparisons.
I then deleted the whole thing and decided to go with this:
Son Volt Live at the Bottomline 1996 is straight up how Americana if that is what we are going to call it should sound. Heartbreaking vocals, twangy guitars screaming and funnily enough odd time signatures. It’s the sound of whiskey and beer and the smell of the shampoo of the girls hair you are dancing with as it brushes against your face. Its long rides on open roads and longer rides on winding roads through the mountains at night with the smell of pine trees and rain coming through the open window. It’s coming over the hill and seeing the endless highway stretching before you with the heat haze hovering over the asphalt. It’s blue jeans and flannel shirts worn by working men not hipsters.
“If living right is easy, what goes wrong
You’re causing it to drown
Didn’t want to turn that way
You’re causing it to drown”
timeweleftthisworldtoday 