featuring the very best of americana, alt.country and roots music
October 15, 2022
Scott Foley, purveyor of dust
During the five years spanning 2016's Honest Life, 2018's May Your Kindness Remain, and 2020's Old Flowers, singer-songwriter Courtney Marie Andrews metamorphosed from a lovely young Joni-esque folk songwriter to a genre-fluid gamechanger. The period also followed her artistry into the dark, as the Grammy-recognized Old Flowers addressed issues of separation and loss. On her newly released Loose Future (Fat Possum), Andrews isn't necessarily rising victorious from the wreckage, but she adopts a new perspective that carries from her lyrics to her musical choices.
Those earlier albums provided no shortage of memorable material, arguably as strong as any other contemporary writer in our kind of music. But the depths of feeling on Old Flowers were unsustainable, making a follow-up of a different spirit essential to avoid indulgence and to demonstrate Andrews' range. Part of that responsibility on Loose Future lies with producer/instrumentalist Sam Evian and the insular ensemble of Chris Bear and Josh Kaufman. Despite the smaller band, the overall sound of these new sessions is more expansive. Andrews' Spotify playist, Loose Future Inspo features artists such as Stevie Wonder, Paul Simon and the Cure.
The thrumming "Satellite" suggests an appropriately far-out vibe, even as the skittering percussion and strummed acoustic offer a more organic anchor. Andrews described this as a love song without caveats, a song of devotion and abandon to My favorite piece of the sky. With its burbling undercurrent and major-key leanings, "These Are the Good Old Days" is a retro-pop treat. The song also allows the songwriter an arena to demonstrate a touch of self-deprecating levity: People like me think feelings are facts / Falling in love gives us a heart attack. No longer surfing atop waves of sentiment, the narrator demonstrates more patience and perspective in the face of love's roller coaster.
Let's be honest, Andrews admits on "Older Now": It's not what / Our parents all said it was / No one stays together now / No one gives a damn about / Pushing through until the end. The cascading chorus recognizes this as the wisdom of age as opposed to a jaded surrender. A curious vocal oh ... oh bounces through the title track. Pedal steel pairs with a rubbery bass as the narrator learns to more confidently embrace the uncertainty of her loose future: There's parts of me I can't give away. The singer's distinct vocals are as much a part of this collection as they were on Andrews' earlier, more folk-oriented work. But, like Erin Rae or the Soderberg sisters of First Aid Kit, they're allowed more room to roam in these larger arrangements.
Andrews' vocals are also at the root of her ability to maintain the intimacy that's always provided much of her appeal. "Thinkin' On You" acknowledges the absence of a loved on without giving into melancholy. Strings and a layered vocal define the lush and lovely country-pop number. Songs like "On the Line" and "You Do What You Want" dwell in a warm, organic space. The latter is a graceful full-band track, recalling an earlier abandon: You and I in a truck bed / High off our asses. The newly adopted maturity arrives in the form of forgiveness: I still hold space for you / Even with all you put me through.
Loose Future has already earned Courtney Marie Andrews a new level of review attention from sources that only occasionally flirt with roots music. The record's soulful rhythms and engaging juxtaposition of organic and processed sounds lend the project a lure of contemporary relevance. Andrews' origin story tells of her earlier stints with indie artists Jimmy Eat World and Damien Jurado, reminding us that this is not new territory for the artist. What might be less familiar is her comfort with the unpredictable. She sings in retrospect: I'm not used to feeling good ... I keep looking for new ways to be let down. On the album's bluesy closer, "Me & Jerry", she is carried headlong into her future on whorls of processed strings and an only somewhat distorted vocal chorus: I'm falling down the rabbit hole / And he makes me wanna strip down to my soul ...
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