It has been some 13 years now since Kevin Morby started building a name for himself through his previous seven albums under his own name, bringing us to this point with Little Wide Open, his eighth. He’s become one of those artists whose music is the type that seemingly evolves slowly, with every listen exposing the complex layers he develops through practically every song he has recorded.
None of his previous efforts has been a dud, and his audience has grown along with his stature. Anyone who lends his music and ear, including many fellow songwriters, can hear his penchant for building each song, whether it is his music or lyrics, with obvious meticulous care. And whether he does it naturally, or through a learned process (probably both) makes no difference, his combination of what some would consider singer songwriter music with a hefty touch of roots and indie ethics has some touches that many other similar artists can only dream of.
For Little Wide Open, his stature among other artists has come into play. Along with the production from The National’s Aaron Dessner, who has become one of the most sought after producers in his own right, he has enlisted cooperation from Amelia Meath, Andrew Barr, Justin Vernon (Bon Iver), Katie Gavin (MUNA), Lucinda Williams, Meg Duffy (Hand Habits), and more. They’ve helped him to further stress not only the complexity of his music, which makes it sound so deceptively simple, but also its ability to be so easy to pick up on.
Of course, when other established artists come into play, there is always a possibility that they might overshadow the artist whose project it is. Yet, throughout the 13 songs here, it is Morby who keeps the focus, through his possibly strongest songwriting yet. Additionally, Dessner’s touches give full clarity to what Morby achieves here, with songs like “Natural Disaster” and “100,000” fully exposing the excellence of his music.
It also seems that Morby’s lyrics are growing with each album, with some here able to reach Dylan-esque heights. They could have political and social overtones, like in “100,000”: “Ugly boys, ugly brothers / Die for your country / Or one another / Muscle cars in the front yard / Master of puppets / And kill them all/ Don’t question god / Don’t question mother.” Or they can be more personal and introspective, as on “Bible Belt”: “Well time takes its toll heaven knows why / And I know all that you loved passed by / But don’t cry my child / Life on Earth takes a little while”.
Musically, he shifts from the contamplative to the purposeful. He fires his eye across the American landscape on the devilishly catchy “Javelin”, then we find him under expansive skies on the drawn-out beauty of the eight-minute title track. From the poetic appraisal of the confounding status quo on the country hug of “Badlands”, to the banjo-bolstered sigh of summer aimlessness that is “Cowtown”, he consistently proves that his ear is as sharp as his tongue – and it all captures what he sees with his unique eye.
With all that evolves on this album, there is just one question that remains open: how high can Morby go in raising his musical bar even higher?
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