Willi Carlisle – Work Is Work

Work is Work is Julian’s pick…

[Video]
[7.71]Al Varela: I have so much love for Willi Carlisle and his sharp satirical writing as a notable queer artist in the bluegrass scene. His production is pristine, as shown through the plucky banjos and hollerin’ backing vocals that make this sound like a true working class anthem. Despite the jovial tone of the song, there’s still nothing but resentment and exasperation within its lyrics grimacing at the rich folks who profit off of his work. “Work is work, or it wouldn’t pay” is as much a statement of “it’s a living” as it is descriptive of the sacrifices that come with simply needing money to live. A delightful piece of a great album, with even more songs I hold near and dear to my heart.
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Ian Mathers: “Work is work, or it wouldn’t pay” is a hell of a line in both power and ambiguity. And I’d argue it even hits a little harder over the energetic bluegrass backing.
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Claire Davidson: Anyone from a rural area will recognize the portraits that Willi Carlisle crafts in “Work is Work,” conjuring images of burnouts, addicts, and a clown who “laughs at his own joke/At his wounded pecker and tortured throat.” These are people who push through the daily grind in spite of themselves, not because they see much in the way of a higher purpose, but because they have no other choice in their desolate towns. That sense of hopelessness grows more palpable as the song progresses, becoming more acquainted with figures who have resigned to their fate with each passing verse. Crucially, though, Carlisle also makes sure to pay tribute to the bonds that are forged in these small-town characters’ reluctant tenacity, suggesting that though the friendships forged in these places may be meager dividends, they still provide some real vitality all the same. The song itself feels a bit disjointed in capturing that weary energy, the pluckier clip of its banjo strumming pairing oddly with Carlisle’s more morose, flowery lyrics. Still, “Work is Work” is that rare song which can blend poetry with a real sense of humor, all while remaining grounded in the working-class struggle it chronicles.
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Alfred Soto: Classic bluegrass in the obvious senses: the violins and plucked guitars, sure, also the eat-the-rich lyric. But Willi Carlisle leaves ambiguity in his lyrics so that he can nail them down in his gnarly twang.
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Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Doesn’t say much beyond the tautological, but the phrases — both melodic (those mandolin riffs!) and prosaic (“scene girls”! “reluctant pilgrim”! “the worm is turning”!) — are so ear-catching that I can’t help but try and figure out how to make it cohere into a grand statement.
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Nortey Dowuona: “The thing that you learn is that so much of America is homogenous, regardless of geography. So much of the conditions that create crushing poverty are the same nationwide,” [Willi Carlisle] said.” This quote jumped right out at me at first – until I began to think about it. This article I read about a pilot program taking place in St. Louis, which gave struggling families $500 as a guaranteed basic income program, gave me some surprise in that not only did it work, and researchers from the Brown School at Washington University confirmed that the pilot program was a success, that seven months went by with a court ordered pause. The pilot program itself was funded by the American Rescue Plan Act of 2021, when then-mayor Tishaura Jones and Treasurer Adam Layne sent direct cash payments of $500 to 9100 families and $5 million for the pilot. But St. Louis had gotten $500 million in those ARPA funds – they could only afford to allocate $5 million? 39 cities launched pilot programs similar to this one, but as of now Cook County is the only county in America to establish a permanent guaranteed basic income program. This year Mayor Brandon Johnson ended his plans to relaunch the Chicago GBI pilot program, which was in the 2025 budget but eventually got cut. As for the St. Louis pilot program, the payments were sent to a debit card that had no enforced restrictions on it (except for use at casinos, thank goodness) but those payments were at first threatened, then paused. That was a year and five months ago. To finish the program in May 2025, the city had to then rely on philanthropy from a foundation formed in 1950, and 3 years later the Pruitt-Igoe housing projects were being erected and were already plagued with crime and 2 years later had to be desegregated. “So much of the conditions that create crushing poverty are the same nationwide,” Carlisle said, but just a dip into the history of Missouri’s biggest city makes it abundantly clear whose crushing poverty is still endemic, and how much it refuses to be uprooted. The song still goes though. And Carlisle is from Kansas City, not St. Louis. But unfortunately, their history might actually be worse.
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Julian Axelrod: 2025 was my first year working a full-time office job after spending eons in the food/customer service trenches. It’s easy to grass-is-greener any job situation, but it was equally terrifying and comforting to realize that each job sucks in its own special way. No song captured the surreal mundanity of clocking in as the world burned like “Work Is Work,” a feverish plucker from Fayetteville legend Willi Carlisle. My fiancé put me onto his album Critterland years ago after a stint in Arkansas, and it’s been exhilarating watching his songwriting get sharper and funnier without falling into A Mighty Wind-style folk parody. It’s hard to do traditional bluegrass in a modern context without going full Mumford, but hearing Carlisle rail against capitalism over ragtime banjos reminds us our modern horrors have persisted for centuries: the rich get richer, the sick get sicker, and the desperate are punished for doing what they have to do. “Work Is Work” feels fresh and exciting and unpredictable; it’s everything that an office job isn’t.
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