Thank god it’s better than “Dirty Work“…
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[6.29]
Thomas Inskeep: Well-meaning, earnest Americana-cum-country from the former Drive-By Trucker. Its quality can’t be disputed, but it’s like a museum piece, ossified and uninspiring.
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: Even if you find country music in need of saving, the diluted warm milk of Isbell’s voice won’t do for heroics.
[5]
Edward Okulicz: I don’t know, it’s only that little violin over the second half of the chorus that brings the music into the mood the lyrics suggest. Most of the song’s pretty tastefulness suggests the contentment of Isbell’s last few years as a successful, sober solo artist, which undermines the text. Still, that likeability of his counts for something.
[6]
Anthony Easton: The ability of country music’s Raymond Carver to discuss emotionally ambiguous details about the economic basics of the New South gets him NPR points for authenticity, but for a whole region trying to figure out what work means, or what church means, this apologetic seems more modest than it does political. Not that the two are mutually exclusive — that line about the hammer and the nail reminds me of the folk song “Peg and Awl,” which still makes me scared about the town I grew up with. The song is beautiful though. Isbell knows how to craft a hook, how to sing over it, and write long narratives that function with a tight elegance. The guitar is pitched to sound a bit like a banjo, which is a nice effect, and the fiddle punctuates without overcoming the voice. It’s a subtle song, and I can imagine people thinking about it as dull or polite, but it is a lovely artifact: craft for artisanal power.
[10]
David Sheffieck: The production could use a bit more grit — it’s too laid back for Isbell’s examination of the struggles and triumphs and quiet hopes of everyday existence in a society that undervalues its members. Isbell manages to be just detailed enough to suggest working class life while still allowing the song to function as a metaphor for any kind of job that crushes you slowly: “And every night I dream I’m drowning in the dirt” is the climax, chilling if it weren’t quickly elided by the open strumming and swooping strings.
[7]
Brad Shoup: The part about heavenly reward clangs against the bulk of the song, which hopes for a reward every bit as tangible as the injuries done to his body. The line about the Father and the Son puts this in a Protestant realm that I’m just not buying. I enjoyed the bit about having no reason to care where the clothes are left, but then he goes wishing for a partner. I’m more interested in what happens between shifts, not what he’s thinking during ’em. Anyway, the track cradles the text like none of my quibbles exist. At least the violin aches like his hands and back.
[6]
Alfred Soto: In the Drive-By Truckers, Jason Isbell contributed some of the band’s most incisive songs. At his solo artist he’s an NPR poster child for respectable songwriting and a menace. Isolated from its parent album, the title track’s smarts stand out. Thanks to the violin, the “thank god for the work” hook has pathos.
[6]