featuring the very best of americana, alt.country and roots music
June 20, 2022
Scott Foley, purveyor of dust
In the larger what I did during the pandemic conversation, BJ Barham apparently engaged in some woodshedding. In addition to uploading several kitchen table videos of acoustic covers, the American Aquarium frontman released a pair of records: Slappers, Bangers & Certified Twangers, Volumes 1 & 2. These entertaining sessions featured Barham's band enthusiastically sharing their faithful take on familiar mainstream country hits from the 80s and 90s. American Aquarium sounded great, like a group playing from their pocket, communicating in their mother tongue.
The band seemingly leaves that woodshed for their ninth album, Chicamacomico, a collection that shares more with Barham's 2016 Rockingham solo set than with American Aquarium's rowdier early work. This has been the trajectory since 2012's Jason Isbell-produced Burn Flicker Die, as the songwriter has focused more on issues of domestic drama than navigating the potholes of a life on the road. While this new project bears the name of his evolving backing band, Chicamacomico is the product of the songwriter's vision.
Barham's ten new songs address issues of loss and recovery - loss of a friend to suicide, of an unborn child, of a spouse after a lifetime together. Rather than raging against the dark, we catch American Aquarium reflecting on lessons learned and on possible ways forward, not unlike the stages of grief as set to a simmering americana backdrop. On the title track, the narrator feels the full brunt of the loss of his unborn child: I swear I'm gonna lose my mind / If I have to hear about God's plan one more goddamn time. Hand-in-hand with his spouse, they step off the North Carolina coast in search of a cleansing. Building on its rubbery guitar and tick-tock percussion, "Wildfire" finds the cleansing in flames: If there's one thing I've learned / There's a part of death that's magic.
Chicamacomico is not a full-band album per se, at least not in the way we've grown accustomed to American Aquarium. When pedal steel and electric guitar kick in, it's in service to Barham's songwriting. "Just Close Enough" is a shuffle, its short solos like embers of hope as opposed to raging fires. These new songs are relatively brief and direct, with no sprawling passages, the individual parts in support of the simmering whole. And with so much focused on his writing, Barham's lyrics shine brighter than ever. The narrator of "First Year" experiences the passage of time in the wake of his mother's death: All my friends say it gets easier / All my friends have been known to be wrong. So much light and shadow is communicated in a turn of phrase. Singing to a departed spouse on "Hardest Thing": The flowers you planted in the Spring / Even though my thumb ain't green / I think they're gonna make it.
BJ Barham is a different man than the guy who posited himself on the losing side of 25. He might still be subject to the Southern sadness that has always been a part of his muse, but he's matured and become more mindful. He's earned perspective even during the pandemic. With its barroom piano and lighter touch, "Little Things" shines a light on these changes: I used to be a singer with a family back home /And now I'm just a father and a husband / Who knows his way around a microphone. The sessions are given such a thoughtful touch by producer Brad Cook, who also served behind 2015's Wolves and Barham's game-changing solo set. Kate Rhudy's backing vocals provide a worthy complement to the singer's own voice.
Time will tell how the songs of Chicamacomico sound from the stages of Summer and Fall, how they might fit alongside early ragers. There are moments where the members of American Aquarium might kick up more of an instrumental fire. "Built to Last" is an electric relationship-as-automobile track, acknowledging These scars are just the stories of the storms we've made it through. Appropriately, the collection draws to a close with a paean to the redemption inherent in music. The record's strongest moment of abandon, the full band force of "All I Needed" speaks to how a song can change our perspective: It was a savior in 3/4 time. It's a moment of integrity on a collection that wears its well-worn heart on its sleeve. American Aquarium's ninth project won't offer slappers 'n bangers, but Chicamacomico speaks truth to the source of BJ Barham's power as a songwriter. And we can't deny the power in a collection with the quiet strength of this one.
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