We thought we were finished with this thing, but you (or one of you) asked for it.
[Video][Website]
[5.82]
Katherine St Asaph: There are two ways to hear “Calm After the Storm.” The first is as a gimmick: ersatz country from Eurovision with the showmanship showing. These Linnets rely on the “Every Breath You Take” chords like other countries’ songs did the “I Will Wait” banjos, wear their modest name and sepia whispers like others might wear Hunger Games inferno dresses, to mask that they’re a country B-lister and a guy who literally just goes by Waylon. (As in Jennings. His name is Willem.) But that’s cynical; lots of bands form this way, just not so publicly; the argument accommodates too much American lulzing; contrasting the “authentic” rustic Linnets with the “inauthentic” drag Conchita Wurst — because that’s what you’d be doing, if you scratch the argument — is a dangerous game. And besides, authenticity games are boring, especially when the real authentic country currently consists of X Factor-like amalgamations of unshowered sorority swain. Meanwhile, “Calm After the Storm” is by the guy who wrote “Concrete Angel” and a whole lot besides, and the musicians are largely Nashville session players, so maybe the differences don’t really exist and maybe they don’t matter. This is the second way of listening, and why “Calm After the Storm” has charted for more than a blink. “Tears on the highway / water in my eyes” is exquisite turnabout, “I can’t keep on chasing what I can’t be for you” is wrenching, and the chorus melody is both unassuming and luxuriated over. The craft is understated, but craft it is.
[7]
Patrick St. Michel: Elegant in the most boring way possible.
[2]
Stephen Thomas Erlewine: Maybe the Common Linnets didn’t win Eurovision because they take their time to get to the chorus — and once it does arrive, it never announces itself, as the chords don’t change and the duo doesn’t suggest it’s time to notice either the words or the melody. The Common Linnets don’t want to draw attention to themselves or the song they’re singing and there’s something comforting about their anonymity. Like many Eurovision contestants, they’d prefer to be known than recognized, which is why the brand transcends its contestants, but it’s still hard to endorse a record that’d rather be ignored than heard. That said, I’d never switch away from this if I heard it on the radio.
[5]
Alfred Soto: Harmonies entangled like vines, closely miked sincerity, Lady Antebellum in the bones.
[4]
Mallory O’Donnell: Context isn’t everything. It was just as well this didn’t win the ESC, but its palliative qualities are still universal enough that we can embrace it without too many cares about whenceforth it came. In this case, listeners are charged to forget everything dismal about alt-country’s post-90’s path and remember when nice little tunes and plaintive guitar plucks roamed around the pasture making us feel emotive things without having to shuffle through interminable quantities of Ryan Adams selfies. Wait, maybe context is everything.
[6]
Thomas Inskeep: They’re the Netherlandian Civil Wars, no more, no less. Perfectly fine and perfectly unexceptional.
[5]
Anthony Easton: Country music from Europe is either a greasy pastiche (see Lee Hazlewood), a camp parody (see 2006 German Eurovision contestants Texas Lightning) or an oddly aspirational obsession with American purity (see Heidi Hauge from Norway or country music festivals in the Czech Republic or Poland). This seems something genuinely different: sweet, gorgeous, quiet and isolated. Almost a bit too polite, it reminds me of late Roseanne Cash, and almost not country at all in other places — just like the Tracey Thorn song about divorces could have been recast as a Nashville weepie, this could easily be recast as an indie bedsit anthem. All of that said, I think I love it.
[8]
Abby Waysdorf: The Netherlands has a tradition of sending things that are not only completely wrong for Eurovision, but terrible (Anouk excepted). But the more I listened to this, the more it really grew on me. A bit Chris Isaak, a bit the prettier side of X (think “Fourth of July” rather than “Adult Books), a lovely, understated gem of a country-pop song. It shouldn’t have been so surprising to me- Ilse de Lange’s had six number-1 albums here, while Waylon is a veteran of Holland’s Got Talent, and the combination meant they knew how to perform and make it work on camera. Austria deserved to win on the night but it’s not surprising that this is the one that’s breaking radio — it’s a more complete studio track, more suited to a quiet listen at home or the car. A few weeks after Eurovision and I’m still listening to it myself.
[8]
Brad Shoup: It’s fine lonesome-prairie stuff, but the rhythm section knows no tricks. The guitar solo’s closer to soft rock, which could never be disqualifying by itself, but that steel makes me yearn for Chill Out, of all things.
[5]
Scott Mildenhall: Is this what you’re against Farage? Perhaps the choice of “mile marker signs” over kilometre ones could sway him – it’s certainly a hot potato issue among his councillors in East Sussex – perhaps the lyrics’ gentle romance in general could elicit a soupçon (or hint) of humanity. Perhaps he might even like to note how this understated humanity and harmonious acknowledgement of difference got votes while the UK’s rabble-rousing populism didn’t. Which is maybe where this analogy breaks down.
[6]
Edward Okulicz: I just listened to the Common Linnets’ album. Yes! There’s an album! It’s fine and not without other enjoyable songs, but the whole thing really emphasises the flukishness of “Calm After the Storm.” Amidst a bunch of competent country pastiches with no particular distinguishing features other than what particular artist they sound like, the male/female vocal interplay on here feels so intimate, so refreshing. That steel solo is not just inevitable, it’s like a light splash of water to the face to stop the rest of the song rocking you to sleep. The coos and whispers of the melody give it the feel of the night-time drive that was exploited so well by its live staging. It’s a gentle, pretty song that, be it amongst peers on the Eurovision stage, on the radios of Europe (it’s a continent-wide smash), its parent album, or just as one single amongst many reviewed on a website, somehow stands out despite its modesty.
[8]