Self-titled, with all the idiosyncrasy of form and focus that implies, this follow-up to 2011’s ‘Barton Hollow’ turns inward in a way few songwriters dare, and fewer still pull off. It looks at all the rabid, hungry thoughts that eat away at you when you’re alone – truly alone, with nobody to tell you you’re going a bit crazy and lovesick.
Sinners, criminals and widows speak their piece in turn, fleshing out ‘The Civil Wars’ with the depths and dark regrets of relationships torn apart with good intentions. And it’s all strung together with that triumphant vocal harmony, shared by Joy Williams and John Paul White, back for another round of eloquent anguish and melodic heartbreak.
Lead single ‘The One That Got Away’ rankles with fiery resentment, not for lost love but for a love that should never have been. It flings the door open on a record bristling with quiet anger, as Williams throws words like “I wish I’d never seen your face” at some unseen lover. Tender, acoustic arrangements set the tension high; guitar strings ring as crisp and clean as if they were in the room with you. This sense of immediacy and stillness rings true for anyone who’s ever endured long, terrible silences in the company of the one they love.
‘The Civil Wars’ moves with grace and barely concealed power, but its finest moments are when all that tension breaks, and we get a glimpse of unintended truth amongst all the bitterness and spite, such as in the exultant ‘Eavesdrop’: “Let the wind eavesdrop/I don’t care/For all that we’ve got/Don’t let go”.
It’s the undoubted highlight of a record full of highlights, possessing the unique charm and attraction of a well-judged mandolin part (still a criminally underused element in even the greatest of folk acts). Like another up-tempo cut, ‘From This Valley’, it’s joyful and glad and you can stomp your foot along too if you like.
That’s not to say Civil Wars’ sad songs aren’t worth the rich, sincere approach they lend them on this record. ‘Tell Mama’ howls and moans with White’s sublime slide guitar as Williams’ voice pours down like silver, finely pitched and paced to every passing moment.
‘D’Arline’, nothing but finger-picked acoustic and those two incredible voices in a barn (one assumes; it sounds roomy, wherever they’ve recorded this take) make for a humble bow out of this intensely personal collection of songs. Whatever the writer and ‘D’Arline’ had together sounds distant; the song stands as a kind of fond remembrance of two lovers’ promises, once sincerely felt but long since faded by time and circumstance.
It’s a record that draws from the darker, deeper palette of country roots music, and there’s little doubt it befits most of the material here. Only three songs really feel out of place: ‘Dust To Dust’, ‘Sacred Heart’, and Smashing Pumpkins cover ‘Disarm’. Put simply, where everything else here feels so heart-achingly truthful, these three songs don’t.
Their cover of ‘Disarm’ simply lacks the vital stabs and orchestral thrusts of the original version’s visceral melodic attack. As anyone strolling past buskers on the South Bank will know, you can’t simply slow a song down, turn it acoustic and expect to turn it into a decent ballad.
‘Dust To Dust’ sounds jarringly electronic and overly slow. Williams’ French accent is impeccable, but the words on ‘Sacred Heart’ just don’t flow or fit with the prevailing Americana. Rootsy, electric blues like ‘I Had Me A Girl’ and gospel confessions like ‘Devil’s Backbone’ and ‘Tell Mama’ are so strong as to dislodge anything else on the tracklist that’s in the least insincere.
It’s because Williams and White embrace the truth and pain of what they see and experience that ‘The Civil Wars’ is such a pleasure and a privilege to listen to. Americans are keenly aware of how utterly vast and relatively young their country is. That’s why real country music, like Hank Williams, like Josh T. Pearson, like The Civil Wars, deals with such foreboding themes. Love, death and everything else that brings one to the other’s door all turn up in a country song sooner or later.
If there’s one thing that sums up ‘The Civil Wars’, it’s a line Bob Dylan sang nearly half a century ago: “It’s a restless, hungry feeling, that don’t mean no one no good.” This record is full of those kind of feelings; the ones you feel in the pit of your stomach, the ones you know won’t go away from thinking about somebody. But you’ve got to think about them.
That’s why records like this strike such resonance, and why we can’t stop listening to them.
