Jake Bugg continues to confuse and dismay, as nothing on Hearts That Strain is expected.
If anything, it’s a lot more passionate and sincere than anything else he’s recorded. Gone is the fiery blast of his debut. Gone is the production shimmer and sheen of On My One. Instead, Hearts That Strain delivers a tender, delicate set of songs designed to stroke, rather than punch, you into submission.
And if this was the intention, then it’s mission accomplished. Each track has a story to tell and takes its time to do so. But they are charming, forlorn tales that really feel like they mean something to Jake Bugg.
Southern Rain is as near to Glen Campbell’s legendary Wichita Lineman as someone from Nottingham is ever likely to come. But this is no crass ripoff; Bugg’s reimagined the sound into something that feels linked to his own roots.
In The Event Of My Demise, on the other hand, is folk – exciting and not strictly folk folk (as it were) – but definitely with something of a Pentangle/Fairport Convention/Steeleye Span twang to various parts of it.
It’s not all serious though: This Time feels almost like one of those cheesy country numbers, the type that artists like Pat Boone used to do. Think Moody River. However, the cheese is no a bad thing at all – in fact, it gives the track an incredible amount of nostalgia. It makes the listener warm to it as it’s so familiar, and also something no one does anymore. It’s earnest schmaltz, and that’s hard to do well, or at least has seemed so for a few decades.
Alternately, Waiting starts like a classic country duet, think Islands In The Stream, until it really gets going. The track is phenomenal and much more soulful than anything else on the record, more Ray Charles’ Modern Sounds In Country And Western Music than Johnny Cash. Perhaps not that much soul, but a lovely little moment of passionate, natural, loose delight on an album of more carefully crafted songs.
Bugg then reigns it in and is back on plan with the more tender and considered approach. The Man On Stage is impassioned and beautiful, although it’s easy to feel the track would hit harder if he let rip a little more vocally. Burn Alone does go at it a little harder with a southern rock feel, not as rampant or unhinged as something from Lynyrd Skynyrd or Molly Hatchet, but still packing a considerable punch.
This is really the story of the album. Everything has been weighed, considered and perfected. Nothing is left to chance. And while that maybe loses a little of the excitement of his debut, it adds a lot more emotional depth and feeling to the songs.
It’s also a country album. The rockabilly tendencies of Bugg’s early work seem to have mellowed into a more classic sound. Not even alt-country like all the kids are doing these days; this is the proper stuff. There’s hints of Merle Haggard or Conway Twitty and so on. Very slight hints, but hints nonetheless.
It’s a brave, ultimately successful move, with the success coming less from the country tinge, but from the relevance of Bugg’s own experiences. He’s from England, and he never loses sight of that. Hearts That Strain works not because of its influences, but because of the influence it has.
It might sometimes sound exotic, but it always feels like home.
